Curse Reversed

by Rebecca Royce

  He laughed, which was a great sound. One she was sure she’d never get tired of hearing. “It seems that way, right? This ridiculously expensive life on the top of society and people are hexing and cursing? I’m a college professor. Or I used to be. Who knows if I’ll ever get my job back. I shouldn’t know so much about this stuff.”

  So, she hadn’t been wrong. He was really, really smart. “You kept answering my questions with questions yesterday. You didn’t even flinch. I knew you had to be really bright. And look, I was right.”

  He gave her another slow smile. She warmed in places she didn’t usually find herself warming. He threw in his cards. She grabbed his pretzels, and then she shuffled the deck again.

  “You helped that woman. You didn’t have to. I have no idea what to do for people when that happens. I’ve seen it maybe four times since I arrived last year. The best I can do is magically signal the doctors.”

  “That’s getting help. After ten years? Yeah, I kind of know what to do.” She dealt the cards again. “I guess they got the curse off your fiancée?”

  He nodded. “Ex, but yes. She’s married to an Enforcer. He figured it out.”

  Eleanor had dealt with Enforcers. When you were on a list as being unstable they periodically showed up to make sure you hadn’t turned into a raving killer. She shuddered at the memory. Those were scary dudes.

  “I’m sorry. I mean, I know I said something flippant yesterday but that had to be beyond painful.”

  He raised his gaze to regard her. “I’m sorry that you have spent ten years in places like this. I hate that idea. I never want to see the inside of this place or anything like it again. I want to know I am well enough not to be here. I hate thinking of you here.”

  There really wasn’t anything to say about that so she didn’t try. Mitchell didn’t seem like the kind of person she had to make conversation with. He was comfortable with just playing cards. Or if he wasn’t, he hid it better than he did his hand.

  Eventually Dr. Ruttan arrived. He observed them silently before he spoke. “I’m glad to see you two getting along.”

  Mitchell set down his cards. “Doctor, hello. How are you today?”

  He was so polite. She couldn’t imagine he’d be trouble for anyone to treat. “I am well, and I see Eleanor is doing better, too.”

  No thanks to him. So much for his “I can cure you” speech. “I am, thanks.”

  “That’s good. Maybe the two of you would like to take a walk.”

  Was he kidding? His words so distracted her that she dropped the cards. They flipped out of the air and onto the ground, spilling everywhere. “Oh, whoops.”

  She yanked them up magically and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Every once in a while she hated embarrassing herself. Just when she thought she’d really gotten used to it, she hadn’t.

  “Would you like to take a walk?” the doctor asked her again. Hadn’t she answered? “Get some sunlight?”

  The dream from the night before rushed to her, and she nodded. Yes, it would be great to prove she was just as capable of standing in the sun as he was. Even if that was dumb.

  “I can?”

  The doctor smiled. “I think you’ll be safe with Mitchell. He has an abundance of magic. He’ll call for help if he needs it.”

  Mitchell looked between them. “Forgive me, but she doesn’t seem dangerous. At all. As we discussed earlier, I don’t think treating her the way you would a hardened criminal is exactly the way to go. Should I be concerned for my safety? She’s mid-level magic and tiny to boot. Why would I need to call for help?”

  Mid-level magic? She didn’t think she’d ever been considered that high. He was being kind. “I can be violent during the spells. I don’t remember. So if I lose it, run away. Call for help.”

  She really wanted the walk outside. More than she’d maybe ever wanted anything in the world.

  Mitchell scowled. “I doubt very much that will be necessary. Yes, we’ll go for a walk. Come on.”

  They were halfway out of the building when he took her hand. Mitchell didn’t so much as link their fingers as cup her hand in his. It was kind of… sweet.

  She’d never had someone hold her hand before. Well, maybe her mom had. Who remembered?

  They’d made it through the magical barrier, thanks to having permission, when she finally hit her first burst of sunlight. She stopped moving. It was blissful. Eleanor closed her eyes.

  Mitchell didn’t drop her hand, and when she lifted her lids, it was to find him smiling at her. “There was no way I wasn’t getting you outside. The way you lit up when he said it. Yes, you were getting out here. I’m not afraid of you. I think I could manage if you lost it and did whatever you do.”

  She never wanted him to see her like that. “You’re very, very good looking.”

  Mitchell grinned and then steeled his face. “Ah, thanks?”

  “You’re welcome. I mean, it’s just a fact. I know a lot of men. I’ve met them during the times I’m back home. And my family is rich. So they come by to see if they can tolerate that I’m a half-breed and nuts.”

  He shook his head. “I like that word less than crazy.”

  She kept going. “And they’re plenty good looking but not as good looking as you. It’s not like that’s something you can control. Good genetics, I guess. But you are.”

  He held up his free hand. “No more about how good looking I am, okay? They come by to see if they can tolerate you? I don’t understand.”

  “Pretty sure my grandfather would pay someone to take me off his hands. His twenty-four-year-old problem granddaughter whose mother died and saddled him with her only offspring.” Eleanor continued, Mitchell keeping pace with her, not letting go of her hand. “Or be okay shoving me at some unsuspecting human with enough of a witch fetish to get over the fact that I’m nut… not normal.”

  He sighed. “I almost don’t want to ask. Witch fetish?”

  “You know, humans who get off on witches.”

  He snorted and then stopped walking to shake his head. “I’ve never heard that before. How does the getting off on witches work exactly?”

  “I don’t know.” She was being honest. “I’ve never had sex, so it’s all just hypothetical anyway to me. Like something I’d read in a book.”

  “What?”

  She tried to walk on, wishing she’d not gone where she had in her happy rambling, but there was no taking it back now. Mitchell had planted himself pretty soundly in the spot he was in, and despite her tugging, he didn’t move. She supposed she had to address it.

  “I haven’t had sex. I don’t really inspire those feelings, and even if I did, I come back and forth from the hospital so much, who has the time?”

  Mitchell let out a loud sigh. “You don’t inspire those feelings? Of course you would. You’re beautiful. If you can say it, I can say it. That long, thick almost black hair? The dark eyes? Your… your whole physique. I promise, under the right circumstances you do.”

  Did he really think so? “Well, that is awful nice of you to say.”

  “I’m stating fact.”

  A thought dawned on her. “Hey, Mitchell. I’ve never been kissed. Think you might do it? Right now, really quickly? So I can always know I was kissed, once? I’m twenty-four years old. It’s kind of pathetic. I won’t… it’s not like we are ever going to see each other again when you leave. I promise not to go and fall in love with you or anything stupid.”

  He rubbed his forehead. If she had a different kind of life, she thought she might be able to do a study of Mitchell’s expressions to see all the various ways he displayed what was going on inside his head. Right now, he waged war. He wasn’t sure he wanted to kiss her. She quickly dropped his hand.

  “That wasn’t nice of me to ask you that. I’m sorry. I forget myself sometimes. Like yesterday when I plopped down at your table. I’m… I mean well. I just talk too much, and I’ve spent too much time away from others. Sorry.”

  Mitchell took one step f
orward and clasped her cheeks in his hands. He stared into her eyes just long enough for her to gasp before he kissed her lightly on the lips. They stood like that for a second in the warm sun. He never pressed forward, never did anything more than just lightly kiss her.

  After a second, he pulled back, but didn’t let go of her cheeks. “Don’t ever apologize for being you. I’ve known you for a whole day, and I can say, honestly, that I’ll never forget you for the rest of my life. You were exactly who I had to know right at this very moment, in this place. Even if we’re only friends for one day of our hopefully very long lives, I’ll always be so glad we were friends for this split second.”

  She decided right then and there that was the most perfect first kiss anyone had ever had, ever.

  That night she dreamed that she walked through a tomb. It wasn’t ancient, not like the ones she’d been in with her mother when she was young but somewhere else. There was writing all over the walls and it wasn’t Middle Eastern. No, almost… Germanic. It had been so long since she’d been schooled, and she wasn’t sure how she knew that so completely, but she did.

  She was barefoot. Her hair fell past her waist, and she became aware of it brushing her arms as she moved. That was when she realized it wasn’t just her feet that were bare. No, it was her entire body.

  Eleanor knew exactly where she was headed. The altar awaited her. With her power on and the blessing of the goddess upon her, she lay down on the altar and waited. It was cold outside, but she couldn’t feel it. Goosebumps of anticipation broke out all over her body.

  He came to her. Tall, dark haired, ready… the length of him hard.

  He would take her body on this altar. He would possess her, own her, and together they would make such magic the world would never be the same.

  She looked up at his face and then gasped. The man waiting—the man with whom she would make the divine offering—was Mitchell.

  Eleanor woke still gasping for… for what? She didn’t have answers. What a weird, weird dream.

  Chapter 3

  Eleanor hated group therapies, and thankfully almost never got put in them. Unfortunately, Doctor Ruttan seemed to be throwing all the possible fixes at her, hoping one would work. She’d heard his theories before. If she just opened up about whatever had happened then the spells and odd behavior would go away. They were the symptom not the problem.

  But you can never tell, Eleanor. Or we’ll all die. We will.

  I believe you, Mom. I’ll never tell.

  So, they might be right. But she was going to lie forever, so she’d never get better. And therein lay the rub.

  Still, she sat in group, and she listened. Every so often a healer would come in the room and grab someone for private therapy. She had yet to have that happen. It was possible the healers didn’t consider her safe enough to leave in a room with an unsuspecting soul healer who might not be ready to deal with her potential outbursts. She had to go a period of time remaining unthreatening to earn that privilege. Truth was, she might very well do things just to avoid the experience. There was nothing she hated more than meditation. Witches loved it, but that was just another example of her human side rearing its head into her life.

  Although, humans loved the practice too.

  “Would you like to share? Eleanor?”

  Would you like to kiss my ass?

  Wait… what was she thinking? She blinked, lost in her own head wasn’t a good thing, not when it came to her.

  She tuned back into the conversation. Mitchell sat directly next to the man running the group, and he raised his eyebrows slowly. “Come on, Eleanor. Share.”

  This was day three of knowing him, and she could hear the challenge beneath the kind façade. Mitchell was as nice as a person came but that didn’t mean he wasn’t edgy. If she ever met someone without any kind of an edge at all, she’d wonder if they were really alive.

  He’d gotten better here. She was glad it worked for him. He would be leaving soon and in the meantime he’d jab at her when he wanted to. Or at least that’s how she read his eyebrows. His little taunt might also have to do with the hard time she’d given him at breakfast over how he drank his coffee. For someone who pushed her on protein—eat the eggs, Eleanor, not just the fruit—he certainly liked to make a cupcake out of his coffee.

  Coffee with your sugar, Mr. Sharpe?

  Okay, they were all waiting for her to share. She’d share. Fine. “My mother died when I was fourteen.”

  “Ah.” The clinician looked all around. “We were talking about times we remember really enjoying something.”

  “Oh, well, obviously not that, then. I did not enjoy her death. It really sucked, actually. She got smooshed to death in an avalanche. I mean, can you imagine it? What witch can’t get out of the way of falling rocks? Not me, mind you. I’m only half a witch. I can’t teleport myself around. That’s not a power I have. But she should have been able to. And didn’t. Never mind. No, I don’t want to share.” The one time she might actually open up and they took it right away.

  Mitchell’s eyes had widened. “She got smooshed? That’s how you said it? Smooshed?”

  “That’s what happened.”

  “I…” Whatever he would have said was interrupted. His soul healer showed up and took him from the group. Eleanor watched them walk away, her detest for the woman helping Mitchell growing with every step they took.

  Wow. Eleanor rubbed at her forehead. She was in a bad place today. Maybe she was allergic to the sunlight from the day before.

  “Eleanor?” The clinician wanted her attention again. “You don’t have any time that was pleasant?”

  The problem with the woman taking Mitchell was that they looked really perfect together. She was tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. She moved with the grace of a person who felt confidence in her world. Maybe at some point she’d been a dancer. Worse, she wore no wedding ring on her left hand.

  Not that she’d be interested in Mitchell. They were clearly in a doctor-patient relationship. But there were women like her everywhere. Educated, classy, and perfect looking. And they would be out there with him soon when he left.

  Oh, dang it. She’d fallen for him. He’d kissed her, and she’d turned pathetic.

  “Eleanor?”

  She sighed. Okay. Fine. Good memory? “I used to love to try new foods. When my mom and I would travel around, she’d always insist we ate like the locals. Either witches or humans, she wasn’t discriminating.” She touched her chest. “Obviously. One of those humans was my father. But I liked the food.”

  The memory of one particular meal wafted through her mind. What had that been? Some kind of goulash. She’d not cared for the taste, but the memory was fun. Her mother had laughed the whole time. Eleanor blinked. Okay, she was done with this. It had been ten years since she’d heard her mother say anything except don’t ever tell and we’ll all die or something like that. She didn’t care for the reminder that for most of her life, Vivian St. Vincent had been a loving, vibrant woman who had taken the world by the horns and ridden it hard.

  And that Eleanor had none of her love of life.

  Her mother would never have let herself be locked away.

  “Sorry, I can’t do this today.”

  The clinician gave her a sympathetic nod before indicating she could leave the room. That was nice. Some places pushed. She would probably not be invited into group again.

  Eleanor rounded the corner. If she was heading straight for the private healing rooms then so be it. She’d take one last look at Mitchell, and then she’d get over him. He’d be leaving soon. She never had to see him again.

  She’d just avoid him until he left.

  This was what came from kissing in the sunshine.

  She stopped to stare through the window in the door. Everything here was so open, so public. Some institutes were all about privacy but here everyone was on display. She forced herself to breathe. What was the matter with her?

  Forget, kissing. This was what ca
me from leaving her room. She wanted things she’d never get to have. She wanted to be able to know when she could leave and be considered really cured. That would never be possible. Not as long as there were secrets to keep.

  You promise?

  Yes, she’d promised.

  And then her mother had…

  She shook her head. What good did thinking about her dead mother do? None at all.

  Mitchell sat meditating on the floor, and the blonde perfection of a woman walked in a circle around him. Eleanor couldn’t hear what she said. This was bordering on pathetic or maybe it was full on pathetic. Even in an institution she had to somehow manage to not become dumb over some guy just because he was nice to her.

  She stepped away, heading down the hallway to her room.

  A flash of light burst in front of her and a pen appeared. She jumped backward, her arms out as if she could protect herself from whatever was about to happen.

  Where are you going? The pen wrote in the air in what looked like black ink before it faded away.

  She swallowed. How was she supposed to answer and to whom was she speaking? “Who wants to know?”

  Who would be communicating with you in the hall? It’s Mitchell.

  Eleanor laughed. She couldn’t help herself. For a second, she’d thought the bad things had come. But then she couldn’t remember what they were. “Well, that’s a relief. You don’t know. There could be other men wanting to know where I’m going. Every guy in here could be asking.”

  His response was to post a frowning face in front of her. It faded away like the writing. She swallowed. “I… How are you doing this? I’ve never seen this before. How powerful are you? How are you hearing this?”

  Never underestimate the power given to a professor of runes. He followed this up with a winky face like he was kidding.

  “I never would. Runes have to do with psychic abilities, right? You’d have to be powerful to really understand it, let alone teach it. To answer your question, I am going to my room to sulk.”

  Don’t sulk. I’ll be done soon and then we can do something fun.