Cursed

by Shawntelle Madison

  “You don’t have to stay that way,” Pearl said. “I bet the right man is looking for you!” She then went on about seniors having virtual Facebook parties, hooking up through websites, and such. As if that was what the hip and happening retirees were doing.

  With those words, Grandma gave me a small smile. That bless-her-little-human-heart look.

  Renissa’s head turned our way again. I tried to return her open stare with a bit of a glare, but even most werewolves didn’t find me intimidating. A growl under my breath usually sufficed, too. Unfortunately, from where she sat she wouldn’t hear that shit either.

  I could practically see the hamster wheel turning in Renissa’s head. Lasovskaya matriarch on the prowl, wives hide your husbands!

  By the time we finished our meals—all of it—Renissa still hadn’t eaten her food, but I had a sinking suspicion she’d had her fill of something much tastier.

  Chapter 2

  Two days later, I was at my parents’ house eating an early dinner in the late afternoon. I hadn’t invited myself over, I just showed up to eat, especially since my mate, Thorn Grantham, was out of town handling pack business.

  My mom had worked all day and hadn’t cooked any food, but one thing was certain in the Stravinsky household: leftovers could be procured in any corner. Whether it was the freshly baked bread, the rogaliki pastries from breakfast, or the roasted lamb from yesterday, food was readily available to warm up.

  I was relaxing in the living room with Grandma and Aunt Olga, who is Grandma’s caretaker during the day.

  Mom and Dad had yet to come home from work—which meant I gobbled up good food while Grandma and Aunt Olga watched Russian television. Instead of the old, loud tapes they loved to watch all the damn time, I finally hooked them up with a Russian channel through satellite TV. With pride, I turned on TVCI.

  As to why my parents hadn’t done it yet, I didn’t know. I guess it was much more nostalgic watching VHS-taped shows from their generation.

  A variety show was on and couples competed for a vacation in the Baltics. Apparently, all they had to do was embarrass themselves singing badly to their significant other. The audience voted for the winner. One guy crooned like a howling monkey about to fling shit at people. I about choked on my food laughing my ass off. When I turned to look at my relatives, their straight faces said their disapproval in my taste of shows.

  With a sigh, I switched back to the VHS tape. A show that they’d seen over fifty million times was better than watching something completely brand new.

  I mean, who wouldn’t want to watch some dude try to make his lady happy?

  The doorbell rang, which I took as a sign from heaven to get a break from watching a show I’d seen before. On the way to the door, I caught our visitor’s scent. It was just another human, but the subtle aftershave, a rather nice one with a hint of black pepper and spice, tickled my nose.

  I peeked through the hole and saw a dapper elderly man clad in gray trousers, a dark blue vest, and a baseball cap.

  I opened the door. Maybe he was selling tickets for the Shriners. I didn’t mind those visits.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Carlson McGraw,” he said crisply. He took off his cap. “Is Svetlana home?”

  “Huh?” My mouth opened then dropped.

  A car pulled up and a second elderly man—this one bearing flowers—climbed out. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing aloud. That busybody Renissa struck again. Was that chick patrolling the senior center looking for lonely dudes?

  “Svetlana who?” I peeked over my shoulder. Aunt Olga stood and walked toward the door.

  “What is it?” she mouthed in Russian.

  “Gentleman callers for Grandma,” I replied in Russian.

  “What?” Her reply in English pretty much reflected how amused she was. Like any demure woman who had beauty queen experience, she touched her hair and straightened her shirt. The woman never left the house looking unpresentable, but that’s the way she was.

  “Please come in.” I couldn’t resist. This was much more interesting than any TV show.

  I gave them five minutes with our pack before they’d be shuffling away screaming.

  Carlson nodded to Aunt Olga on the way in. I was about to close the door when I noticed the second guy had reached our sidewalk.

  I took a step toward the stairs, but he waved me away. “Almost there. I’m coming, Svetlana.”

  I bit back a chuckle. Did Grandma even know these guys?

  “Grandma,” I asked her in Russian, “what have you been doing during your outings?”

  Instead of shrugging—like I expected her to, she’d adjusted her brown stockings and the scarf covering her head. Was she seriously primping herself?

  Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Might as well let her have some fun.

  The second guy, Gary was his name, made it up the steps and both men took a seat on the couch near Grandma. At Grandma’s insistence, Aunt Olga hurried into the kitchen to prepare a service of tea along with some of Mom’s scones.

  The gentlemen sat silent looking at Grandma for the longest time before I spoke.

  “So umm, where did you two meet my grandmother?” I asked.

  “Oh, everyone at the senior center knows Svetlana,” Gary said before Carlson could jump in. He’d given her a bouquet of flowers and Grandma practically beamed.

  Grandma had a caretaker during the day, so when did she go there?

  “In what way?” I had to know. “How often have you all talked with her?”

  “Every now and then—not as often as I’d like—she visits during Bingo night.” Carlson’s grin was infectious. Just watching these two guys, one with a cane who barely made it up the driveway, try to mac on my grandma was hilarious.

  “She’s quite feisty with those chips,” Gary added.

  “You don’t talk to anyone, but I think that makes you more mysterious, Ms. Svetlana.”

  Did either of them know her English wasn’t very good?

  Carlson said, “One night she had five cards instead two.”

  Did a higher number of Bingo cards mean Grandma was a hardcore player?

  Aunt Olga brought out the tea and scones. As she handed Carlson his cup, he spouted, “How lucky I am to spend some time with three pretty ladies this afternoon.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Gary’s hand tightened on his cane. “You say the same thing to the physical therapist at the center. Come up with some new material.”

  Carlson grated back. “I made it up the driveway. Is your performance guaranteed?”

  I hesitated eating my next bite for fear of choking from laughter.

  Carlson continued. “If you’re interested, Svetlana, Bingo night is coming up again. I’d be happy if you and I could sit next to each other.”

  Heh, heh. Grandma just got asked on a date. Nice.

  “Bah. What are you gonna tell the gals who like to sit next to you?” Gary asked.

  “Sadly, they’re gonna have to be disappointed,” Carlson replied.

  I glanced at Grandma who watched their exchange with amusement.

  “Do you know these two?” I asked her in Russian.

  “I’ve seen them before, but that’s about it,” she said.

  “And they just showed up. Do they know how old you are? That their ancestors hadn’t reached America yet when you were born?”

  She chuckled. “My Nat didn’t know Grandma could still bring ’em. Eh? Before my Pyotr I had plenty of gentlemen callers. All around the village, the werewolves came running—while the humans ran away. This change is rather nice.”

  “What is she saying?” Carlson asked with a toothy grin. “She’s so soft-spoken.”

  “She remembers you two from the senior center,” I lied. “Who wouldn’t miss two handsome young fellows like yourselves?”

  Gary took a bit of scone and had to quickly adjust his upper denture. Mom did make her cookies a bit harder than most. Once he got his teeth back in his mouth, he spoke. “If you’re n
ot going to Bingo on Saturday, we could always go out for a chicken dinner at the place off Main Street. I can pick you up around four o’clock.”

  Carlson wasn’t about to let his friend ruin his chances. “You’re not picking anybody up. Your fifty-year-old ex-wife dropped you off here.”

  Ouch. Now that was an equivalent of a low-blow. Too bad he liked ’em young.

  Gary grunted. “And how long did it take you to get here? We passed you going twenty in a twenty-five mile per hour zone.”

  “I happen to be safe,” Carlson spouted. “Since I drive a car I enjoy that privilege.”

  “You and your piece of shit—I mean, crap—Lincoln Crestliner barely made it here, too. Did Ford pull that off the assembly line back in the 20s?”

  The wolf in me, usually gleeful with the prospects of a fight, didn’t expect much. Maybe shoving at some point. Things were about to get heated—if you could say that—when the doorbell rang again. Aunt Olga didn’t bother to get up. She was far too busy enjoying the impending scuffle.

  “Natalya,” Grandma said with a strange tilt to her head, “Answer the door, devushka.” She ignored the two men already vying for her affection and her attention was on the new arrival. If she hadn’t used the endearment, I wouldn’t have bothered.

  So I became the doorman yet again. Who would it be this time? Another senior center dude on the prowl? Somebody’s elderly dad looking for a Russian hottie? This time, on the way to the door, a new scent hit my nose. One I hadn’t smelled in a long time. Sulphur with a tinge of rusted iron. A tightness bit into my chest.

  Did I dare look? I paused before peeking through the peephole. All I saw was the top of a dark green hat. Whoever was standing there tilted their head forward to obscure their face.

  My hand rested on the doorknob. Should I ask who it was first? Only a fool invited trouble across their doorstep.

  But Grandma had told me to open the door, so I complied.

  The hat slowly rose, revealing a brown-eyed, olive-skinned gentleman with wrinkles all over his face. Most of them vanished when his lips stretched out into an unsettling grin.

  “I’d like to call on Miss Svetlana,” he said crisply.

  Chapter 3

  Now most folks, those who still carried around their common sense in their back pockets, would’ve lied to weird-smelling strangers and shut the door.

  The wolf in me whined. Tingles of dark magic raced up my fingertips and bit into my palms.

  This guy wasn’t from the senior center.

  The new arrival, who stood no higher than my shoulders, walked smoothly into the living room. Compared to the other two dressed in their casual Sunday best, this gentleman had on a garish dark green suit. The pants were too big while the suitcoat looked tailored to fit his lanky frame.

  “You two,” he said to the guys without missing a beat. “Out.”

  Right in the middle of arguing, the two men stopped and stiffly rose.

  What the hell was going on here? At a time like this, I wished I had my goblin knife. I’d stowed it away in the back of my car. The last time I’d put it into my purse it had turned into a battle-axe. I had nothing left but tattered leather.

  “Grandma,” I whispered. If something happened, she’d never outrun him. Yet I’d been wrong to underestimate her before. When the Long Island Pack cornered me, my grandmother protected me using werewolf magic.

  Her hand rose to silence me. Her face, which only held the hint of a smile, didn’t reveal much else. Sweet Svetlana was gone.

  It took a while for Gary and Carlson to leave the house, but leave they did. Before I shut the door, I caught Gary on his cellphone talking to his ex-wife. “Come pick me up, Betty …”

  On the other side of the room, our new visitor had taken a seat on the La-Z-Boy Dad usually claimed. He wasn’t interested in the warmed up cushions near Grandma. I sat there instead.

  Briefly, he glanced at me and offered me that unsettling smile of his. “Good afternoon, Svetlana,” he said in crystal clear Russian. “Long time no see.”

  Aunt Olga stiffened. Even she knew this guy smelled weird.

  “Philip Divine. This is an unexpected pleasure,” Grandma replied in Russian.

  My gaze flicked from Philip to Grandma. Then back again.

  “All this time I thought you were lying low,” he whispered. “But I overheard you might be open to meeting people again.”

  Renissa Delaney-Danford. Was she putting up fliers in hell or something?

  Grandma harrumphed. “Philip, you’re the last person I’d expect to believe in rumors.”

  His grin somehow widened. “In every rumor, there’s often a grain of truth.”

  She snorted then turned to Olga. “Go for a short walk.”

  Aunt Olga looked to me as if she expected me to protest. I shrugged.

  “Mama?” Aunt Olga implored.

  “Now.”

  I’d never seen my aunt move as fast as she did to scamper out of the house. Once the door slammed shut, Grandma leaned forward. “How long did it take you to follow me this time?”

  Follow? This shit was getting weirder and weirder.

  “How much time doesn’t matter.” He placed his long fingers over his knees. “What matters is you and I may have the dinner we missed out on all those years ago.”

  Grandma’s eyebrows rose. “The last dinner didn’t go as well, Philip.”

  “Can’t a man have a second chance? I see you’ve opened your home to those bags of bones.”

  “You caught me at a vulnerable time back then.”

  He nodded. “Pyotr had gone to the great woods for his final rest while my pretty Svetlana sat all alone with children. It was a perfect time for companionship.”

  “Not your kind,” she bit out. “Like I’d sleep with you after your sorry, little serenade.”

  Questions rested on my lips, but I didn’t dare speak. Had she really known him since Grandpa died centuries ago in the 1600s?

  “One dinner with me won’t change a thing.”

  “That’s what you said in Minsk.”

  “Aren’t you curious to see what would happen?” His fingers twitched, and my eyes focused on the way his fingers resembled spider’s legs. He sucked in a deep breath. “Your perfume has changed over the years. Back in Russia, you smelled like the spring, practically full of new life. Now there is an underlying musk that I find rather attractive. You've touched the shadows.”

  This shit had grown from slightly odd to beyond weird now. I inhaled a scone to stop the nervous sparks in my stomach.

  Grandma crossed her arms, and a pensive look flashed over her face. For a brief moment, I caught a hint of her youth, the purse of her thin lips, the way she tapped her foot as if unnerved or impatient.

  “What I’ve done over the years doesn’t involve you, Philip.”

  He laughed softly. “What would one dinner cost you? We could eat at this nice Italian restaurant called Roger’s Place.”

  I immediately flinched. Roger’s Place was where I had an unfortunate date with a fellow employee that hadn’t ended well. His zombie minion showed up to serve us our dinner since his waiter wasn’t worthy.

  “Uh, how about Jake’s Burgers?” I intervened. “The place is really clean and the food is totally sanitary—”

  “Do you seriously think I’d take my Svetlana to that dump?” Philip cut me off.

  My mouth snapped shut. Roger’s Place wasn’t much fancier. This was a small town after all. If he really wanted to impress her, he should offer to take her to NYC or Atlantic City, but then again, why was I even trying to communicate with a creature I had yet to identify?

  “One dinner,” she said. “At Roger’s Place. Tonight.”

  “Wha?” I mumbled.

  “Splendid.” He stood without making a sound. “I look forward to our tête-á-tête.”

  “I’m sure.”

  The moment Philip walked out the door I stood to go after him.

  “Sit down, Natalya.”
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  I gawked at my grandmother. “Are you seriously going out on a date with that thing?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Are you that lonely—”

  “Sometimes.”

  I took the free seat next to her on the couch. “All this time, you’ve never been with someone else. I just find it hard to believe you’d—”

  “Accept time with another man?”

  “Accept time with a creature that smells like death smeared on a shoe!”

  She chuckled and reached over to cup my cheeks. “There are many things you still have to learn and one of them is about sacrifices. As much as I can never replace Pyotr, I must be the one to open myself up to enjoy companionship if I need it.”

  “But what about Bingo night?”

  “Bingo night with those humans?” She snorted. “None of them would know what to do with me.”

  “And that thing would?”

  Grandma rose from the seat, ignoring my question. “I’m going to take a nap before my date.” She even giggled. “Tell your aunt I’m fine.”

  Fine? Grandma had jumped off the edge of the deep end of the pool, and I didn’t know if she could swim, let alone if I could save her.

  Chapter 4

  Two hours later, I still hadn’t left the house. Matter of fact, I’d camped out on the steps of my parents’ home with my goblin knife. I’d acquired the weapon from a tricky goblin while trying to save my brother. I waited patiently with the knife tucked behind my back for that creature to show up to get Grandma.

  Soon enough, the blade would reveal what I dealt with. Maybe it would turn into a spear or something. I laughed a bit. It had been a while since I’d hunted.

  Time passed, and no one came to the front of the house. Six P.M. came and went. By quarter after, my heart fell a bit. Was my grandma stood up by that creepy asshole?

  I marched into the place, ready to rant, when I noticed only Mom and Dad sat at the kitchen table.

  “Where’s Grandma?”

  “She went out the back door not too long ago,” Mom replied. “Said she was heading out to meet with a friend.”