Sealed with a Curse

by Cecy Robson

  My sisters giggled uncontrollably as if tickled. I didn’t share their reaction. Mostly I just relished the soft caress against my muscles, massaging my remaining weariness away.

  A loud creaking snapped me out of my mellow haze, just as gentle fingertips swept along my jawline. I jerked away from the touch in time to see Misha surface, the water slicking his long hair behind his head like a drape.

  I glanced around. My sisters appeared relaxed, as if they’d woken from a good, long sleep. Yet their physical appearances couldn’t mask the smell of their apprehension. “What did you do to us, Misha?” I demanded.

  Misha swam to the ledge and rested his muscular arms against the dock, beads of water cascading down his masculine face. All he needed was a bottle of Gucci cologne at his side and the photo shoot was good to go.

  “Are you angry, my love?” he asked.

  “Just tell us what you did, damn it!” Taran yelled.

  Misha leaped onto the dock in one smooth motion. And suddenly, Taran didn’t seem so irate anymore. Droplets of water glistened and streaked down his freshly regenerated physique as he stalked toward me, a perfect replica of man and Greek god.

  Taran, dear, unapologetic Taran, fixed her eyes on Misha’s backside, mesmerized by the tightening and relaxing of muscle as he walked. I don’t even think girlfriend blinked.

  Emme and Shayna stumbled backward, knocked off balance by the might of Misha’s corporeal hotness. Yet if my sisters’ actions made them prudes, they should have hailed me as their queen. At least they kept their eyes open. I buried my face in my hand like a displaced virgin at a nudist colony. Shrinkage, for sure, was not an issue for Misha.

  He chuckled. Not that I could blame him. When it came to the male species, there was no cure for my supreme dorkiness. Even sweet little Emme had more experience than I did.

  Misha placed his hands on my shoulders and spoke softly—mostly, I suspected, to hold in his amusement. “You were attacked without cause. My desire was merely to invigorate your spirits. Please forgive me, ladies, if I offended.”

  “Oh, no. No. Not at all,” my smooth-as-sandpaper sisters insisted all at once.

  The mounting number of naked studs I’d seen tonight had reached exorbitant heights…not that I was complaining or anything, but my lack of sexual encounters hindered my ability to respond with confidence. I’d been dropped into unfamiliar territory, without food or a compass, and with a bare-ass lothario for a tour guide. Hell, most women would have flipped.

  My tigress flicked her tail with excitement, wondering what was next. Between the bare bodies and the brawls, this was her idea of a fun night. Me, I’d rather have spent the evening consuming large quantities of buffalo wings.

  Despite my beast’s growing anticipation, she allowed me to draw from her courage. I dropped my hand and shrugged Misha off, focusing on his face like life, death, and a shipload of preschoolers depended on it. “Misha, I—”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Emme whispered. “Look at the house.”

  What I saw made me step back. Tahoe’s light blue sparks slowly dissipated over where Misha’s house had suffered the most damage. The terrace stood tall, grand, and whole above the fully restored beam. The loud creaking sound I’d heard must have been the wooden planks repositioning. I blinked. Even the cracked floor-to-ceiling windows had been repaired.

  A vampire appeared in front of the dining window with a bucket, a towel, and a bottle of Windex. She plucked something that resembled an ear from the glass, pausing to squint at it before tossing it into her pail. In the library, two vampires pointed to the bloodstains on the cappuccino-colored walls. They seemed to be arguing about what kind of blood it was. The taller of the two sampled it with his tongue. Werecat, he mouthed. The other went for a taste until she noticed Misha watching. They noticeably paled before grabbing their mops and resuming their cleaning.

  I faced Misha. “You combined Tahoe’s magic with your own.”

  He nodded. “The energy I gathered will last me a few days at best, but it comes with a price. When Tahoe demands its return, I will be left weakened and possibly comatose for a period of time.”

  “Is that wise, dude?” Shayna asked. “I mean, what if another master challenges you while you’re vulnerable?”

  Misha glanced in Shayna’s direction. “Considering my fate will be decided at the rise of the next moon, young miss, it’s unlikely an issue I will have to deal with.”

  Taran scoffed. “Then why not conserve your energy instead of wasting it on home improvements?”

  Misha regarded her slowly. “I own many houses throughout the world, dear Taran. Yet this is my home.” He looked back at me. “Should I survive, I would like something beautiful to return to.”

  My eyes widened; I hoped he didn’t mean me. “Um. We need to go,” I said quickly. “I’ll call you in a few hours.”

  Misha kissed the back of my hand before backing away and gracefully slipping into the water. My sisters exchanged glances, but failed to comment. They hustled up the small incline toward the front of the house, hurrying to get the hell out of vamp turf.

  “Come on, Ceel,” Taran insisted.

  I didn’t follow right away, choosing to trek to the edge of the pier where Misha effortlessly treaded water. He smiled. I didn’t return his grin.

  I straightened my shoulders. “Just so you know, I don’t belong to you.”

  Misha’s gray eyes reflected silver in the moonlit water. “I never claimed you to be mine, my darling,” he answered patiently.

  The nerve I’d built up to confront him disappeared, its empty space replaced by a sudden wave of foolishness. Me thinks I presume too much. I cleared my throat. “Good. So long as we’re clear.”

  I hurried away, but not before I heard Misha whisper, “Unless, of course, you desire to be.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Taran rolled our Subaru into Emerald Bay, a former state park situated on the southern end of Tahoe, and the place Zhahara called home, sweet home. Before she moved in, I didn’t think anyone could buy a state park. But when you had the amount of moola master vampires possessed, laws, politicians, and the constitution were just minor inconveniences.

  “This shit’s fucked up.”

  “I know, Taran. You’ve mentioned it once or twice.” I rubbed my eyes. It was close to two in the morning. We should have been in bed with visions of half-naked werewolves dancing in our heads. But none of us could sleep following a steaming cup of Misha java. “Reenergized” was an understatement. My legs itched to run a few marathons while I read War and Peace and created origami birds with my free hand. We’d gone home, showered, and Googled directions to Zhahara’s estate—much to Taran’s audible hems, haws, and “F this”es.

  “Maybe we should contact the wolves,” Emme said quietly. “I mean, they are the experts in these matters.”

  Shayna turned around to face Emme. “Dude. Are you nuts? After what happened at Misha’s do you really think they’ll do anything to help him?”

  “Maybe not him…” Emme glanced my way.

  I knew Emme meant “wolf,” not “wolves.” I also knew which wolf in particular she thought might rush to help me. But Aric had proved…distracting. My fierceness tapered in his presence, not a good thing in the dawn of a bloodlust epidemic. I needed my tigress to protect me and keep me focused, not some starry-eyed tabby who developed a bad case of nipplus erectus at the sight of Aric shirtless.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts from the intensity with which he regarded me…before his pack hauled him away. “I’m not involving Aric in this. He and Misha obviously hate each other.” I shrugged. “Besides, he told me to skip town.”

  “Smart wolf,” Taran muttered from the front.

  My shoulders slumped; I was tired of arguing. “Taran, people are being gnawed on like trail mix. They’ll continue to die if I don’t do something.” I stared out the car window into the pitch-black night. “Still, I can’t help Misha unless I know for sure Zhahara is
involved. Let me snoop around and see what I can find. If she’s running a soup kitchen or nursing orphaned monkeys, I promise to never mention Misha, bloodlust, or withered corpses again.”

  Taran’s narrowed eyes cut to the rearview mirror. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to that.”

  Zhahara’s compound wasn’t hard to find, seeing as a twenty-foot stone wall encompassed the fifteen-plus acres of her land. Taran drove until she found a small road leading to a probable service entrance.

  I opened the door the moment she parked. “Wait here. I’ll look around for anything suspicious.”

  Taran fixed her scowl on me. “Ten minutes. That’s all you get.”

  I pushed my hair aside. “Trust me when I say I don’t really want to be here.”

  “Be careful, dude,” Shayna whispered.

  “Shift out of there if you see anything creepy,” Emme added.

  I nodded and disappeared into the woods that ran opposite the wall. My predator side moved swiftly and almost silently through the cold night. Pine needles crunched softly beneath my feet. The temperature had dropped considerably, but my thick sweater, jeans, and UGGs kept me warm, especially at the speed I stalked.

  The night fell silent except for my movements, which didn’t make sense. My sensitive ears should have picked up the scurry of field mice, the flutter of bat wings, or even the hoot of a few owls. Yet nothing, just me. I continued along the thick pines until I reached the rear entrance and shifted across the narrow road for a better look.

  I didn’t get far.

  Remnants of a shredded UPS uniform lay a few yards from the metal gates. Teeth sparkled in the moonlight against the black tar road like scattered pearls. A foot shoved into a big brown boot teetered near the edge of the road where thick ferns had begun to overgrow. Most of the skin had been torn from the bone except near the ankle, where dirt and bodily fluid flattened the short curly hairs against bits of leftover flesh.

  I forced my legs to move past the foot and tattered pieces of cloth to where the nauseating odor of death grew more rancid. The road leading up to the back of the house glistened with what I only wished had been rain. The stench of rot and the hungry bugs crawling over the festering mess told me otherwise. A spinal column with protruding capillaries lay on the grass, the ends shriveling like drying leaves on a long-stemmed rose. Blood soaked the path, pooling at the bottom, where a brunette with matted hair lapped voraciously with her tongue, despite the flies swarming around her. She paused and sniffed, her stomach growling. She’d caught my scent.

  I shifted before her head could snap up.

  “Yup. Misha’s got the right gal.”

  I slammed the car door shut and locked it. It took me a few tries, as my hands shook like I gripped a jackhammer. It was asinine to think the lock to our SUV would keep the bloodlust vamp slurping rancid blood from breaking in. But when your own blood turned to ice, and you were eight shades paler than you were when you woke up in the morning, you started wishing for crazy shit.

  “Dude, are you sure?”

  “I saw teeth, a spinal cord, and someone’s shoe with a foot still attached.”

  Taran stomped on the accelerator.

  The rows of thick firs spun into a blurring mess as we sped away. I scanned the trees, searching for any blood-guzzling monsters huddled in the branches, or a brunette munching on a kneecap giving chase behind us. Taran’s Mach 1 speed made me dizzy, and so did the lingering scent of decomposing flesh. But no way in hell would I ask her to pull over. If I hurled it would be in the car and far—very far away—from any creatures capable of feasting on human flesh like rotisserie chicken.

  “Oh, my God. We have to do something.”

  Taran glared at Emme while taking a particularly sharp curve. The wheels screeched and we coasted a few feet on two wheels. “What we have to do is get the hell out of Tahoe. We’re packing our shit and leaving tonight before we’re next!”

  Emme shook her head feverishly. “No. We can’t. We have to help Misha.”

  Taran’s screams at Emme blasted my eardrums. “Didn’t you hear Celia? Teeth and a goddamn spinal cord!”

  She swerved around another corner. I gripped the “oh, shit” bar, cursing myself for not letting Shayna drive. Although Shayna’s speed would have been faster, and more hair-raising as a result, her reflexes were lightning quick and she always managed to stay in control. Taran’s driving currently mirrored her volatile personality.

  Taran barely avoided crashing into a guardrail as she jetted down a steep incline. “We’ll call Bren and Danny from the road. They need to haul ass, too. Celia, you snag our birth certificates and passports—they’re in the safe. Shayna, grab our laptops and cell phones—don’t forget the chargers. I’ll write our resignations and call our managers. We’ll put the house on the market online.” She huffed. “Though who the hell is going to want to live in Tahoe now?”

  Taran tore into our neighborhood minutes later. She screeched to a halt in front of our house and bolted inside without glancing back. The rest of us ambled out slowly, with Emme on the verge of tears. I didn’t know what to say. My tigress paced restlessly. It was wrong to die like that. Wrong, and horrid, and terribly heartbreaking. Those poor women and the UPS guy hadn’t stood a chance. They could have been armed and it wouldn’t have mattered. Guns would do jack against preternatural creatures whose thirst would never be quenched.

  Until their deaths.

  “He probably had a family.”

  Shayna’s head whipped in my direction. “What?”

  My fists clenched against my sides. “The guy. Missing the foot. He probably had a family.”

  Tears glistened in Emme’s eyes. “I’m sure he did. And I’m sure those women did, too.”

  Taran stormed out of the house with an armful of clothes, tripping over the long sleeve of one of her sweaters. She toppled onto her knees, dropping her things when she attempted to break her fall. “Son of a bitch.” She caught us idling by the car as she struggled to round up her belongings. “What the hell are you doing? We have to get out of here now!”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going, Taran. I’m staying to fight with Misha.”

  Taran threw the clothes she’d bunched onto the lawn. “You are out of your goddamn mind if you think we’re leaving you by yourself!”

  Emme placed her small hands over my fist. “I’m staying with her, Taran.”

  Taran’s blue eyes widened. “No. No freaking way. Goddamn it, what is wrong with you?”

  Shayna approached her, palms out. “Taran. Innocent people are dead. And they’re going to keep dying. We have the opportunity to help. Can’t you see that?”

  Taran’s face darkened with rage and something else I couldn’t recognize. “We already help people every day as nurses. That’s more than enough. We don’t owe the goddamn world our fucking lives. For shit’s sake, how much more can we go through?”

  And there it was. Taran was afraid. And rightfully so. Our past was mired with sorrow and wickedness no one should ever experience. She wanted to end the nightmares. Not to create new ones. Here I was telling her that not only would I willingly subject myself to torment, but that our little sisters might come along for the ride.

  Emme surprised me by smiling softly. “Don’t be bitter, Taran,” she said gently.

  I just stared at Emme. As the smallest and most sensitive, she had been the most wounded by our past. And yet she had been the first to say we should help. She was the first to step in, ready to fight, despite her escalating dread and fear of pain.

  Taran didn’t say anything, stunned into fuming silence.

  Shayna slung an arm around her. “Look at it this way: Maybe we’ve been given our abilities for a greater purpose. Maybe this is what we’ve always been meant to do.”

  Taran shrugged Shayna off. “March into impending doom? I don’t think so. Quit fooling yourself into thinking we’re something special. We’re not. We’re just a bunch of freaks.”

  Shayna smil
ed patiently. “Taran, you know that’s not what I’m saying.”

  Emme squeezed my hand again. “What are you thinking, Celia?”

  I sighed. “I think we were better off when no one knew about us. That said, we can’t pretend to be blind.” My face met Taran’s. “Nor can we run away.” Shayna started to say something, but I cut her off. “I’m going to do this. I’m going to help Misha. But I don’t…I can’t let you come with me.”

  Taran threw her hands in the air. “What the hell? Do you really think we’ll let you do this on your own? It’s all of us or none of us.”

  I cursed under my breath, certain we were signing our death warrants, but knowing we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if we ran.

  Taran fixed her glare on Emme and Shayna. “You two better know damn well what you’re signing up for. Celia and I know what we’re capable of. The blood from our first kills still stains our hands.” She closed her eyes tight and shuddered. “That shit stays with you forever—no matter if the kill was righteous or not. If you can’t deal with it—don’t. We’ll leave now and drag Celia’s ass with us.”

  Shayna exchanged glances with Emme before stepping forward. “These aren’t people we’re going after. They’re monsters.” She shrugged. “Monsters have no place in a world I want to belong to.”

  Emme nodded despite the tears moistening her soft and trusting green eyes. “I never wanted to know what it’s like to take a life. But if it’s between our lives and theirs, I’ll do what it takes to make sure we live through it.”

  The breeze from the lake brushed against my back like a gentle encouraging nudge forward from a friend. I clenched and unclenched my fists, terrified and yet raring for a fight. “Fine. I’ll call Misha.”