The Curse

by Harper A. Brooks

  Her stomach lurched. The figures in the snow—not just bodies, but her friends and pack mates—didn’t move. Tears prickled in her eyes. No, they couldn’t be dead.

  Astrid launched herself forward, wanting to help them, but Erec’s hold tightened, keeping her against him.

  “Wait,” he ordered. His voice was nothing but a buzz near her ear. “Jerrick’s trying to draw us out of Svanna Rock. More arrows will be coming.”

  As the words left his lips, another wave of arrows flew over the wall. This time, their tips had been lit on fire, so when they landed on the wooden or cloth roofs of houses, their flames spread quickly. Smoke billowed to the sky, and the memory of what had become of Mikel’s pack flashed across her eyes—a field littered with charred bodies. Men, women, and children, all brutally murdered and fed to the fires.

  Astrid’s bones seemed to be rattling beneath her skin as her panic mounted. That wouldn’t happen to their pack. It couldn’t.

  She needed her spear. They couldn’t just stand here and let Jerrick destroy everything they had built and slaughter everyone they loved. They needed weapons. To fight. Something. This wouldn’t be another massacre.

  Astrid ripped Erec’s hands away from her and sprinted away. His shouts followed her, as did his footsteps, but she had to get to the weapons in the training area and fast. She ran as hard as she could, and when she reached the back of Svanna Rock, she was thrilled to see the men and women from the sessions already passing out weapons to any waiting hands. Filip was there, too, but Astrid’s relief quickly turned to dread when she saw the blood coating her brother’s upper back at the shoulder blade.

  “You’ve been hit.” She touched the red stain on his coat.

  Filip winced but only slightly. His determination reigned over all other emotions in his face. “It’ll heal.” He unsheathed the sword at his hip. “This is it, Ash. We can’t let Jerrick take us, too.”

  He was right. She couldn’t be afraid now. She had wanted to fight alongside her brother, and it was time to do just that. Time to defend her family, her home. Astrid nodded.

  Erec was at her side in the next second. He held out a spear to her and gave her a wary smile. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She wrapped her fingers around the wood; it felt good to have her weapon in her hand, like she was reuniting with an old friend. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Erec pulled out a pair of daggers from a belt around his waist and turned to Filip. “The arrows are meant to draw us out. Jerrick knows there’s only one way in and out of here, so we can cut him off if he enters. He has more of an advantage if we leave Svanna Rock.”

  “So we won’t then. We stay put,” Filip said.

  Astrid glanced at the stone wall in the distance. No more arrows sailed across the blush-colored sky, but that didn’t stop the worry lacing through her veins or the frantic beating of her heart. “What about the arrows? What if there are more?”

  “If that happens, stay close to the wall,” Erec answered. “It’ll keep you out of their trajectory and safe when they land.”

  Filip repeated those orders to the men and women then said, “We do not leave Svanna Rock. The moment Jerrick’s men cross through the entrance, we attack.”

  The group grunted in unison and raced across the camp, weapons in hand. Filip went, too, and when Astrid tried to follow, a hand wrapped around her wrist and spun her around. Erec’s mouth was on hers suddenly, kissing her hard and desperately, stealing her breath. When he pulled away, his gaze searched hers for a long moment, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His kiss had said it all. He loved her, and if this truly was the last time they were together, he wanted her to know it.

  All she could do was offer him a faint smile.

  Erec grabbed her hand, and together, they dashed toward the entrance of Svanna Rock. An eerie silence had engulfed the morning. At the front of the campsite, her father had joined the others, his giant axe in one hand and a shield in the other. A look of childlike excitement was on his face. He glanced their way, and to Astrid’s surprise, he didn’t say anything about her being a part of the fight, instead giving her a firm nod of approval.

  The thunder of footsteps snapped her attention back to the entrance’s passage. Heart pounding, she held her breath and widened her stance, spear pointed forward. Tension rolled through every muscle, and for a split second, Astrid wondered if she really was ready for what lay ahead. Maybe Filip, her father, and Erec had been right. Maybe she shouldn’t be fighting. This was real. She could die.

  No, you’re just as good as the rest of them. Her grip tightened on her spear as her courage pushed past the doubt. It’s time to show them all you aren’t the little girl they think you are. You’re a warrior.

  As a parade of grotesque-looking men pushed through the sliver between the pink rocks, a fierce growl rumbled in the back of her throat. Ready or not, it had to end here. Now.

  The rising sun’s rays glinted off the men’s weapons as they stormed into the clearing. She didn’t have time to count those she could see, but she estimated about thirty of them, tall, with bloodthirsty snarls on their faces. Her brother’s mighty howl split the air, followed by her father’s. Their group rushed forward, clashing with the oncoming wave of Jerrick’s fighters. Henrick and a few others dropped to the ground immediately and let the shift take over. They charged the enemy, jaws snapping at flesh and tearing.

  Before Astrid could blink, a skinny man with missing teeth rushed at her, snarling. She spun last minute, dodging his dirty fingers from snatching her, and smacked him hard in the back with the blunt end of her spear. He stumbled forward before whirling around, shock casting over his sunken features. His foul odor assaulted her senses, making her eyes water. He smelled like urine and decay.

  “Oh, this little miss likes to play.” He grinned. She didn’t have time to respond. He launched himself at her again, this time wielding a knife. He sliced at the air so fast, his blade was nothing more than a blur of silver. Astrid whirled the staff, deflecting two of his blows, but the third one skimmed her cheek. The pain was quick and needle-sharp but not enough to slow her down. It only annoyed her.

  She planted her spear into the ground and used it as an anchor as she leaped forward and kicked him hard in the center of the chest. He flew backward, his head hitting the stone wall. There was a loud thud and a strong whiff of blood, and then he was deathly still.

  That’s for all the innocent people your pack has killed. For Mikel. For the children. For Henrick and Dana’s mates.

  The skinny man had to be dead, but she didn’t have time to check for sure. Nails bit into her shoulders and terrible scents filled her nose again. Instinctively, Astrid threw her head back and connected with something solid. Pain exploded behind her eyes and bursts of colors danced in her vision, but the audible crack behind her confirmed that she had broken bones—most likely his nose. When the man staggered back, cursing, she dropped to the ground and swung out her leg at the same time. She caught her assailant around the ankles, and he fell on his bottom in the snow.

  And this is for my pack family who died from your arrows. Before he could climb back to his feet, she ripped her spear out of the ground and stabbed him once in the chest. The man’s hateful stare stayed locked on Astrid as he squirmed for a few breaths, then shuddered one final time.

  Pulse racing, she ripped out her spear and scanned the area. Jerrick’s men stopped spilling in from the entrance at least, but everyone was locked in heated battle. Erec fought off two wolves, narrowly missing their teeth every time they snapped in his direction. Besides a split lip, he didn’t seem to have any injuries that she could see.

  Filip was withdrawing his sword from a man’s stomach when her eyes found him. The enemy’s blood coated the blade. He kicked him onto the ground, near three other slain comrades.

  Their father was not far off, either. He ran full speed, shield out, at a wave of charging foes. When they collided, Boden managed to knock every o
ne of them down without so much as swinging his own axe. Then, he rushed forward, grabbing any enemy he could find within arm’s reach, and took them down in a matter of seconds.

  Astrid had seen her father fight a handful of times before, but he was still a terrifying sight to behold. With his enormous size, power, and ruthlessness on the battlefield, there was a reason their neighbors had given him the nickname Boden the Warrior. He was more beast than man in a fight.

  Someone shoved her from behind, and she smacked face-first into the snow. Her breath rushed out from the impact. Laughter erupted over her, a high-pitched cackle. She tried to get up, but the man jumped on top of her, pinning her down. His massive weight was like a boulder on her back.

  “I like them fiery.” His hot breath spilled past her ear, smelling of spoiled fish and making her gag. What made her stomach churn even more was the hardness pressing into her backside, telling her that this man had other things in mind than just killing her. A sickening thought crossed Astrid’s mind. Did Jerrick’s men rape the women in the packs they invaded before killing them? Anger lit her insides. What vile pigs. There was no way she was going to let that happen.

  Searching through her memories for a training technique that might save her, she came up empty. She was on her own here. Rocking her body side to side, she tried to pitch him off, but he didn’t move. Just laughed. Her fury grew, and in one swift motion, she threw her elbow back into his ribs and whipped around so that he was on his back and she was on top of him.

  “You little bitch!” His arms wrapped around her middle, keeping their bodies pressed against each other. “Now you’re asking for it.”

  She twisted against him.

  There was a whoosh of air, a loud thump, and the man’s body sagged under her. As soon as his grip loosened, Astrid jumped to her feet. When she turned around, she saw Erec standing there, his shoulders trembling with rage. A sword was in his hand now, and the man that had been holding her was missing his head. Erec had decapitated him.

  Astrid swallowed roughly. “That was a little close, don’t you think?”

  When she and Erec locked eyes, his expression was all seriousness. “Be careful, Astrid,” was all he said before rushing back into the throng of battling men and women.

  She picked up her spear. A wail to her right captured her attention. Filip was surrounded by another group of men. Crimson stained his clothes and smeared across his forehead, but he was moving faster than she’d ever seen him move, deflecting every one of the three attackers’ blows. He struck one in the back of the head with his fist, sending him stumbling, as the other two threw punches his way. Filip swiped his sword, the blade whistling through the air with its speed, and cut off one of their arms. Blood spurted from the wound, and the man howled in pain. As his weapon plunged into the gut of the last man standing, a fourth appeared and hurled himself at Filip, jumping onto his back. That’s when Astrid saw the flash of metal in his meaty hand.

  “Filip!” Her strangled cry hadn’t come out quick enough, and the man stuck the knife into Filip’s side. Her brother groaned and dropped to his knees, his face turning a ghostly shade of white. “No!”

  The battle around her blurred as Filip’s pain and panic collided with her aura. Her own side throbbed unbearably, as if his wound had become hers through the pack ties that bound them. Or maybe it was because they were siblings and their connection had always been a little stronger. Either way, the pain was excruciating; it was enough to make her dizzy.

  Then, Astrid’s feet were moving without thought, forcing her through the mass of warring men and women toward her brother. She didn’t care about the danger hovering so close. She had to get to him. But no matter how fast she told her legs to run, her body seemed to be going in slow motion. Every step dragged. Every movement was strenuous and difficult. Whether it was from her brother’s pain invading her spirit or from her own paralyzing fear, she didn’t know. But it left her powerless to watch Filip’s opponent rip out the knife and hold it up again, ready to thrust it once more and finish the job.

  “No!” She didn’t even hear her scream over the roar of the fighting around them. Fumbling with the grip of her spear, she pulled her arm back and flung her weapon as hard as she could in his direction. It seemed to hover in the air in its sluggish momentum, but to her relief, it hit her target square in the chest. The man fell off Filip with a grunt.

  Only when she reached her brother’s side did her senses return to normal and the actual speed of events returned. She dropped to her knees beside him and saw the knife half buried in the white fluff. Its one edge had been crafted with jagged points, like a saw. That kind of weapon was meant to deliver as much damage as possible and render a slow and painful death. Dread engulfed her, her chest tight. At least Filip was still upright, but he clutched his bleeding side, his face paler than the snow.

  “You’re going to be all right,” she whispered, pressing her own shaking hands against the wound. With the battle still raging around them, she needed to get Filip out of harm’s way first. He was losing too much blood and too fast. “Keep pressure on it. I’ll bring you to Mila.”

  His brown eyes snapped her way. “No,” he croaked out. “No, I’m fine. Help me up.”

  “Filip—” But he was already hauling himself to his feet. She rose with him and steadied him when he stumbled a bit. His pain lanced her side again, making hot bile rise in her throat. She clenched her teeth. “We have to get you out of here.”

  He didn’t argue this time as she draped his arm around her shoulder. When his weight leaned against her, she almost toppled over.

  “Here. I got him.” It was Bec, naked, fresh from the shift back into human form. His left eye was blackened and swollen and there was a nasty bite mark marring his forearm. He took Filip’s arm from Astrid and supported his limp body. Filip’s eyes were beginning to roll back into his head.

  Her heartbeat sped up with worry. “Take him to Mila,” she shouted. “Hold the bleeding off as long as possible, so it can heal.” A normal wound would have taken a couple of hours to clot for their kind, but Astrid had a bad feeling that weapon’s jagged edges had done more damage than what could be seen on the outside.

  He won’t die. He won’t die. He won’t die.

  A knot sat in the bottom of her throat, and no matter how hard she swallowed, she couldn’t push it down. Bec nodded and walked toward the cabins with Filip in tow. Thankfully, most of the fires started by the flaming arrows had been put out by whoever was left not fighting, and only smoke rose from rooftops, not flames.

  When Filip and Bec were out of sight, Astrid turned back around. To her surprise, Jerrick’s men were retreating back through the hidden entrance. That tickled her as odd, but she wasn’t going to complain. And where was Jerrick? She’d never seen the alpha before or knew what he looked like, but with all the stories she’d heard about him, she was sure she’d be able to pick him out of a crowd. Maybe her pack had surprised them with their numbers and skill, like Erec had suggested they might, and he’d thought it best to have his men leave now while they could.

  Or maybe this was all part of Jerrick’s plan, and he wasn’t through with the west-side pack yet.

  A chill raced down her spine at the thought. She scanned the area. Thanks to Erec’s advice, their warriors had been able to keep Jerrick’s army confined to the small space in front of the entrance. None of his men had gotten past to the actual camp. Still, bodies littered the ground around her. The heavy scents of blood and death clung to the breeze, making Astrid nauseous.

  From the looks of it, most of the casualties were Jerrick’s men. There were only a few faces that she recognized from the training sessions, and she forced herself to look away as sorrow stirred.

  “Get off me! I’ll kill you, you bastards!”

  Astrid’s gaze whipped toward the angry shouts, and there she found two of Jerrick’s men clutching Erec by the arms and hauling him toward the passageway.

  Erec!

 
; He kicked the ground, trying to dig his heels in, and tugged against their hold. He was able to land a punch in one’s stomach but couldn’t wrench himself free from the other’s tight grip. When the first man regained his composure, he clocked Erec hard in the temple with the back of his blade.

  Erec’s head fell forward. Astrid sensed his mind drift away through the pack bond, and it frightened her. Heart pounding, she sprinted across the clearing, spear in hand. But they were already too far from her, and a second later, the men and Erec disappeared through the crystal entrance.

  She was about to rush after them, but fingers wrapped around her upper arm, drawing her to a halt. Glancing up, she saw Henrick. He was back in his human form, his beard soaked with blood. Red-stained teeth flashed when he spoke.

  “It’s too dangerous to go after him,” he said, his voice gruff. “It may be another attempt to draw us out.”

  Astrid didn’t care. Jerrick’s men had Erec. She couldn’t let them just take him. Who knew what that monster alpha would do to him once he got his claws on him.

  She tried to shake off Henrick’s hold, but his grip firmed on her, hard enough to bruise.

  “What if they hurt him?” she sputtered. A terrible ache gripped her chest as the next words left her mouth. “What if they…kill him?”

  “They won’t,” he assured her. “He’s the only captor they took. That means Jerrick wants him for some reason. He needs him. I should know.”

  She peered up at him. His expression was as hard and certain as his words. He was speaking from experience, trying to comfort her that way, but she couldn’t shake her growing anxiety. Their pack may have won this battle, but her brother was severely hurt and now Erec had been taken hostage.