The Curse

by Ts McKinney

  “If…if Nicodemus and Corbin were lovers, and Nicodemus committed suicide on his twenty-fifth birthday, where did I come from? I mean…well, you know what I mean. It sounds like it should have all ended with the death of Nicodemus, but the family name, and curse, made it through several more generations.”

  “I don’t know, Nico. There was never anything written about Nicodemus having a child, nor did he have any brothers or sisters. It doesn’t add up, but trust me on this, there’s no doubt you are one hundred percent Bailey, a direct descendent of Nicodemus Bailey.”

  “Morgan said something as she fired me. Something about him getting one of her associates pregnant.”

  Alastair’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, that would explain it, all right. If it’s true.” His frown deepened. “What’s this curse you keep talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing important,” I said sarcastically. “I just found out that apparently, all the Bailey men commit suicide on their twenty-fifth birthday. Dead and gone. Happy one day. Suicide the next. Sometimes they shoot themselves. Sometimes they hang themselves. One drove straight off a cliff. Nicodemus started it all by walking off a cliff.” My eyes returned to the house. “And I’m up to bat next.” I tried for a grin but probably just ended up looking sick. “My twenty-fifth birthday is coming up on May fifteenth.”

  “Shit,” he whispered in disbelief. “Shit, Nico. This is bad. They all committed suicide? On their birthday?”

  “All of them,” I confirmed. “On a bright note, I don’t feel suicidal,” I said with a weak laugh. “I hate pain, and I kinda like me.”

  “Not funny, Nico. If it’s a spell, placed by a witch, how you feel about living or dying won’t matter. If the witch is powerful, the spell will succeed.” He started walking toward the Ninja. “Come on, Nico. Let’s head back to town. I need to talk to my mom and some of the other coven members. I don’t have a clue how to keep you safe from this spell.”

  Ah, a spell instead of a curse, but just as bad. Perfect. I followed behind Alastair. “Who would cast a spell that caused the Bailey men to kill themselves? And why? From the information I received, none of the other descendants lived in Salem or Marblehead. They all moved away and tried to start a new life. What witch would benefit from making them suffer and then die?”

  Alastair climbed onto the bike and motioned for me to hurry up.

  “Tell me, Alastair,” I demanded. “Morgan? No, Morgan wouldn’t have been alive then. Who?”

  “Maybe Corbin himself,” he whispered.

  “Corbin?” I asked in disbelief. “But…I thought he and Nicodemus loved each other? Why would he cast a spell that would hurt the family of the man he loved?”

  He shrugged. “Gotta talk to the coven, Nico. Give me some time. Can we meet for lunch tomorrow? I’ll know more by then.”

  I climbed onto the bike and answered, “Sure.” I forced my eyes not to look up at the house again. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to make myself leave, as the urge to go inside was almost too strong to ignore. Instead of following my heart, I pointed the bike back toward the hidden drive and started back in the direction we’d come. With every mile that passed, my heart grew heavier and heavier.

  Other than Nicodemus’s past life, what was my link to that house? Why did I feel like that when I’d pulled away, I’d made the biggest mistake of my life? Was there something to this reincarnation thing after all?

  Chapter Four

  After dropping Alastair back off at the beach where we’d met earlier, I’d hunted the small coastal town for a package store, bought the biggest, baddest bottle of whiskey that they had to offer, and went straight home to my cozy cottage. I was more tired than I even realized and after a few drinks, I couldn’t keep my eyes open—just a little nap would set me up for a long night of research. I was sure of it.

  I stretched out on my back and the next thing I knew, I heard the water running in my shower. Not even stopping to think it was strange, I got up off the couch and wandered into the bathroom. Some part of me knew I had to be sound asleep, but another part of me was intrigued by this dream and wanted to see where it was going to lead.

  I stepped into the bathroom and saw someone moving behind the glass shower door. The door was fogged up with steam, but I could still see pretty well. I leaned against the bathroom sink to watch.

  After letting the water run till it was nice and hot, the man that I somehow knew was Corbin took some liquid soap in his hand and slowly worked it into a lather. “This is nice,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “We didn’t have this in my day.” He slowly rubbed it over his chest, making sure that I was silently watching his every move. Smiling a little, he turned to face me and lowered his hand to his own beautiful thick cock. I’d never really looked at another man’s junk before. I mean, not really looked at it. That kind of thing was frowned on in the locker room and the showers by other guys as a rule, so I had always stifled my interest before. Now I could look all I wanted to. I glanced up at Corbin’s face and we locked eyes. Having all that potency and intensity directed at me gave me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt suddenly shy and wet my lips. Turning my head and pretending not to look, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing another quick glance, and I saw that Corbin was smiling gently at me.

  “Come in with me,” he said, but there was too much heat between us, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I stirred restlessly, and Corbin repeated his offer. “Come on, sweetheart. I want to touch you again.”

  There was no way for me to be unaffected. I met Corbin’s scorching gaze and slowly nodded. I didn’t even hesitate much because I knew this was just a dream and people always did crazy things in dreams that they’d never have the courage to do in real life. Right? I began taking off my clothes, my hands trembling as I continued to steal glances at Corbin. He rubbed his hand slowly, sensuously, up and down his engorged shaft, knowing I was watching. He stood with his strong, muscular legs apart and lazily stroked his cock, his eyes half closed. He was a lot bigger than I had imagined him to be. His hair was a lighter shade too. I thought that when it was dry, it would probably be a dark blond. He opened his eyes a little more to look at me—those sinfully long, wet eyelashes had been covering some amazing, sapphire blue eyes. God, I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Or so hot.

  I tore my clothes off faster, and soon I was naked and taking the few steps over to the shower to climb in beside Corbin. I was still feeling shy, but my excitement was even greater.

  “You’re so beautiful, Nico,” Corbin said as he stepped back to let me in, opening his arms for me to step into them. He pulled me close, and the first touch of his hard, hot body was like coming home. I shivered and pressed my body even closer, gazing up at him.

  “I-I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I came for you. I’ll always come for you, darling. You know that.” He dropped a kiss on my upturned face, grinding his cock against me.

  “Tell me this isn’t just a dream and you’re not dead. I can’t bear the thought of it.” I pressed my face into Corbin’s throat and rubbed my erection shamelessly against Corbin’s thigh. He moaned, picking me up effortlessly with one hand so that I could wrap my legs around him. I did it too, shamelessly, feeling like he was my anchor in a storm. I clung to him harder, and I guess I must have murmured something about hoping this wasn’t just some crazy dream because he smiled at me.

  “This isn’t just a dream, sweetheart. I’m waiting for you.”

  I pulled my head back and gazed up at him. “For me? But I’m not your Nico. You know that, don’t you?”

  Corbin smiled down at me. “You’re different from my Nico, but you’re the same too. I’m glad of that.”

  Corbin reached for a bottle of bath oil on the tile shelf in the tub, holding it out to me so I could spread some on my fingers. “Get yourself ready for me.”

  I looked up at him with some real trepidation. “I-I’ve never done this.” />
  “I know, baby. It’s all right. I promise to take care of you.”

  I put the oil on my fingers and slowly reached around behind myself to prepare, feeling awkward and embarrassed. I really had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed like a good idea to get as slick as possible, and I was glad Corbin had let me do this to myself. It would have been embarrassing either way, but he was still a stranger to me in so many ways, even though in others I felt like I’d known him my whole life. I closed my eyes and my breathing came faster as I touched myself. Corbin kissed me again and I nuzzled against him, overcome by the idea of what he was about to do to me. Corbin had one hand braced on the tiles above me, but after a moment, he seemed to be getting too excited watching me to keep still. He brushed my fingers aside and pushed in his own oily finger instead. I jerked upright and gasped as Corbin found my prostate. Honest to God, my toes curled and I made noises like a little girl. My head fell back on my shoulders, and Corbin chuckled softly and kept stroking me relentlessly. “That’s right, sweetheart. I want you out of control—as mad for me as I am for you.”

  My hands were on his chest and I could barely catch my breath. My cock was painfully hard as Corbin worked his finger inside me. Why had no one ever told me about this? I was going to come in seconds if Corbin kept touching me that way. Overcome, I threw my arms around his neck and captured his lips again, moaning into them. They were so sweet and soft. I could have stood there tasting him forever, with Corbin’s fingers deep inside me and his hard dick nudging my body, but my need to have Corbin bury himself deep within me—to claim me—was becoming urgent. I had no idea where it was coming from since I’d never been with a man before this, but Corbin was making deliciously aggressive sounds of pleasure that sent little shock waves through my body and headed straight to my dick. Corbin pulled one of my legs up higher on his hips, pulled out his finger and suddenly buried himself inside me. We both groaned and Corbin pulled me even closer.

  There was a little pain, but nothing like I’d thought it would be. Just an uncomfortable feeling of fullness until Corbin raked his big cock over that spot inside me again and lit me on fire. I cried out and put my head against his chest, overcome with emotion.

  “It feels so damned good to be inside you, wrapped up in you like this.” Corbin whispered. He pulled out and then pushed back in again, impaling me. “That’s it—let me all the way in.” Corbin thrust against me, pushing in and sliding back out in a rhythm that hurt a little at first, but the longer it went on, got sweeter and sweeter. Soon it made me wild with passion and I couldn’t stand still. I moaned and cried out, as Corbin delivered hard, quick thrusts into me that lifted me up to my toes and made me grip my cock and begin working it. I sucked in a deep breath as Corbin pushed deeper into my body. This wouldn’t last long. It was too powerful, too wonderful to be real. I could feel the heat coiling and curling in my belly and knew I was about to come.

  Corbin brushed my hand aside and wrapped his own hand around my cock, moving the skin up and down in the same rhythm as he thrust into me. He was like silk over steel. He smiled and kissed my throat as I arched my back and opened my mouth in a wordless cry.

  Corbin’s orgasm overtook him suddenly, exploding out of him in a rush, and he strained against me and shot again and again deep inside my body. It felt like little licks of flame, but it didn’t burn me. It filled me with pleasure. I began to spurt long, milky streams of cum into Corbin’s hand.

  When it was over, I felt boneless and breathless. I slid gently down Corbin’s body, unwilling to be parted from him so soon but literally unable to stand. Both of us trembled with passion, but Corbin reached for me and pulled me back up to rest against him, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  I clung to his shoulders, and after a while, Corbin gently held me under the spray from the shower, his hands moving lazily over my body and washing me off gently. I felt totally spent and looked up at Corbin to see him smiling down on me. I was almost asleep, standing up in the shower. Corbin smiled and settled me more comfortably in his arms. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ll always have you. This is exactly where you need to be.”

  I opened my eyes and looked up at him through a blur of tears. Where had they come from? I’d never felt so emotional after sex before, but now I felt so full of happiness and passion that it filled me completely and had to find some outlet. “I love you so much,” I murmured, and closed my eyes, again, rubbing my cheek against Corbin’s chest. “Nothing could ever change that, could it? We’ll always be together, won’t we? Will you promise me?”

  “Of course, darling,” Corbin said, but I heard the slight hesitation in his voice. I shook off the shiver that came over me and pulled Corbin closer, whispering in his ear. “I won’t let her come between us. Not ever again. I’ll never let you go. And if we’re separated, I’ll come and find you wherever you are. I’ll come to you over and over again. I promise you that.”

  I woke up alone, and it hurt me so much that I couldn’t even breathe for a moment. I lay there for a long time, telling myself it had only been a dream—a wonderful, passionate dream, but that’s all it was. It took me a long time to get a grip on my emotions, but finally, I was able to sit up. I buried my face in my hands and just trembled for a long time. The dream had seemed so real.

  Later I was able to get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. I hadn’t had a wet dream like that since I was a kid, and never one so intense. So real. I took a long look in the mirror and then walked back out to get back to work. I must have been much more tired than I’d realized.

  For hours, I did online research to see what I could learn about Nicodemus Bailey and Corbin Hargreaves. There was a significant amount of information about Corbin, but none of it involved questionable tales of witchcraft or an illicit affair with Nicodemus. The internet contained plenty of information about his significant contribution to Marblehead society, his love of nature, and his dedication to the growth of their small community. When I read of his mysterious disappearance, tears had streaked down my face. He’d simply vanished, and eventually, his friends had put up a marker to him in the Old Burial Hill Cemetery next to his dear friend and acquaintance, Nicodemus Bailey. As far as Nicodemus Bailey went, there was mention of his birth on June 3, 1792, and his tragic suicide on June 3, 1717. He’d been born in Salem and died in Marblehead.

  For Nicodemus, that was all the internet had to offer. I suspected the local libraries wouldn’t offer much more, but planned on digging around in the archives tomorrow. The one glaring tidbit missing was the mention of a child belonging to Nicodemus. The tiny obituary had said there was no family remaining and Corbin had paid for all the arrangements before he disappeared.

  Since I was sitting in Marblehead, Massachusetts, getting shitfaced on whiskey while researching fucking witchcraft, there was a fairly significant problem with the fact that Nicodemus had no remaining relatives. There had to have been a child. Per the documentation my father and mother had left behind, his name had been Noel. He’d lived in New York, and he was born on January 5, 1718, and died on the same date, twenty-five years later. He was married to a neighbor girl, Tabitha Winstead, and they’d had one son, Nathaniel Bailey. Both Noel and his wife, Tabitha, had died during an Indian attack. When their bodies had been recovered, they’d been holding hands. Their son, only seven months old at the time of the suicide had been found completely unharmed.

  It felt strange reading about the family I’d never known, especially because I’d finally found out about my own father and mother, the couple I’d spent most of my life disliking since they clearly hadn’t loved me enough to stay with me. After today’s shit-show, I questioned whether their suicides were beyond their control. There they were, staring back at me from the computer screen of my laptop—Nigel and Rosalie Bailey. It was a wedding photo, and they were smiling from ear to ear, looking at one another like they were madly in love. Apparently, my mother came from money, and the family had funded a rather extravagant
wedding ceremony and reception. Like I already knew, they’d been married in 1991, and I was all too aware of when they died the following year.

  My mother’s family, Edgar and Glinda Banks, may have hosted a huge wedding, but that was where their generosity had apparently ended. Maybe my dad was too proud to accept money from them. My parents had lived a lower middle-class life for the brief time they were together.

  Like the rest of the Bailey men, my father didn’t leave much behind to be found online. He’d died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, after ending the life of his young wife with the same gun. That was about it. It was as if the entire universe was working against me. Hell, when I couldn’t dig something up on the internet, the shit was buried deep.

  Frustrated and about three whiskey sours past being sober, I closed the lid to my laptop, stripped out of my clothes, and tumbled into bed. As I closed my eyes, I realized I’d accomplished close to nothing today. Sure, I’d gathered more pieces of the puzzle, but I was still no closer to solving it than I was on the day I read the letter my parents left me. I was, however, very possibly, one day closer to dying.

  It was that horrible thought that accompanied me off to a night of nightmares.

  They were both beautiful people. My father was tall and lean, with dark hair like my own, and bright blue eyes…drowning in tears. My mother was petite and curvaceous, inky black hair that was a tangle of curls, and angry brown eyes. Like my father, tears streaked her face, but her eyes were flashing with defiant anger and hatred. The only time they would soften was when she’d look down into the crib. When she looked at her tiny baby boy, love would immediately overtake the other emotions swirling around. My father, though, was broken. The pain radiating from his body took my breath away and caused my heart to seize. The guilt he felt was only surpassed by his heartbreak.