Cursed: The Girl Who Shook the Earth

by E. C. Farrell

  As he gently unwraps one of my hands, I press the other to my chest, pretending to be scandalized. “You’re not going to start licking my fingers, are you?” I trail off, realizing that terrible joke might not be such an awful thing.

  Ash throws his head back and laughs. “Don’t worry. I fed upstairs. So, I’m good.”

  He tears open a small pouch of alcohol wipes and takes my wrist between his fingers. Large and calloused from years of scrubbing counters and making drinks, his hands work gently, carefully. I stare at the top of his head as he cleans the blood away, starting with my palms. The scent of eucalyptus drifts from his hair.

  Do not sniff him, Case. That’s weird.

  “If you do decide to go talk to your mom, I’m happy to go with you,” Ash says, his breath brushing my skin. “Even if that just means staying in the car. I obviously know what it’s like to have a crap relationship with a parental unit.”

  Voices do funny things to me. Ash’s comes from deep down, not quite like a growl, but close. It warms my chest and melts some of the cold dread currently crystalizing in my gut. Leaning forward, I prop my arms on my legs, my smile no longer quite so fake.

  I swallow a chuckle and restrain my weirdo desire to smell his head. “Thanks.” Lower lip trapped between my teeth, I steer my mind away from the dregs of that still-present fear. “Did you run into the Amazon guards?”

  Ash’s gaze flicks to mine.

  My breath catches in my throat. Up close, his eyes glitter. Actually glitter. Flecks of gold fill the velvety blue like multicolored stars in a country-dark horizon. They drag me by the arm to a memory. To nights at my foster parents’ ranch in West Texas, far from city lights so the wealth of space scattered above us. To tendrils of cigar smoke curling across my view like ripples on a pond.

  Ash rubs his nose on a shirt sleeve, then returns to patching up my knuckles. “I actually managed to avoid them. They like me about as much as Dharma does, and I decided I’d had enough sneers for one day. Thanks by the way. For keeping us from fighting. You’ve saved me twice now. I owe you big time.”

  I nod solemnly as he wads up the towelettes and stuffs them back into their packages. “Yeah, you do.”

  Again Ash laughs. Taking my wrists between his fingers, he examines the damage. His thumbs running over the backs of my hands distracts me. Warmth skids along my skin, racing in a series of tightened muscles and frazzled nerves straight down to my stomach. It pools there, pleasant, comforting, a sharp contrast to the painful heat across my knuckles.

  Giving my hands a final squeeze, Ash lets them go. My chest aches. I curl my fingers into my palms to keep from reaching out for him. Completely ridiculous. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Then again, I’ve fallen faster before. Once in Jr. High, twice in High School. Those break ups sucked, but cutting the cords always brought endless relief.

  With Ash I can’t imagine pulling away.

  “While you’re thinking about whether or not you want to talk to your mom, maybe we can train a little with your magic, and practice resisting mind control,” Ash says, taking the first aid kit back to the cabinet and tossing the bloodied towelettes away.

  “You can do that?” I rest an ankle on one knee and rock back onto my palms.

  Ash shuts the metal cabinet and crosses his arms. “For sure. I’m not going to be the best teacher since I don’t practice mind control, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “It might come in handy for you too.” I tap the mat behind me with the tips of my fingers. “I know you hate the idea, but if you ever want to take down your dad...”

  Shadows bleed across Ash’s face as his features twist. “Unfortunately, you might be right.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I say quickly, attempting to divert his attention. Rubbing my hands together, I hop to my feet. “That would probably be a good thing to learn before I leave again and attempt to find my mom. Which, for the record, I still haven’t accepted I’m going to have to do. In spite of the fact that it’s inevitable.”

  That mischievous grin brings out Ash’s dimples and chases the shadows away. “We could practice now for a bit if you’re ready.”

  I bounce my shoulders. “Want to get inside my mind, Daughtry?”

  Smiling, Ash shoves his hands into his pockets. “It doesn’t exactly work like that. I can’t see your thoughts or anything. And again, I’m not real good at it. So, you’ll probably be able to resist pretty fast.”

  “We’ll let’s give it a try. Anything is better than nothing. And at least I’ll know how it feels when it’s happening.”

  Standing face to face with Ash on the mat, our eyes lock in on each other, and it takes effort not to get distracted by those aqua blues. He’s so pretty it’s almost stupid. Almost like someone carved his features out of smooth stone.

  Ash cracks his knuckles. “When I tell you to do something, you’re going to feel like it’s a really fantastic idea, the best idea you’ve ever heard.”

  I giggle.

  Ash’s grin broadens a little. “What you’ll need to do is basically convince yourself that I’m full of garbage.”

  “Got it.” I give him a thumbs up. “Hit me with your genius idea for my life and I’ll tell you how dumb it is.”

  Ash looks up at the ceiling, then nods and meets my gaze again. “Walk to the stairs.”

  Warmth floats through me, cutting off another giggle as my entire body attempts to move me in the direction Ash just commanded it. The pleasant heat fills my mind too. Every thought centers in on what an absolute genius idea it is to walk to the stairs. By the time I’ve realized I’m supposed to be resisting the rogue urges, I’m already halfway across the mat.

  Shaking my head, I try to get control of my body and brain, but neither listen. At the base of the stairs, I groan and look back at Ash. “That went well. If I can’t resist you, things don’t look good for me.”

  Ash rubs the shoulder his dad cut into earlier. “It’s hard the first time because you’re not really prepared for what it’s going to feel like. My guess is you’ll do better when we try again.”

  “Sure I’m not just weak-willed?” I ask, walking back to my original spot.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Ash says. “Ready for round two?”

  Five or six more tries don’t go any better. At one point, he even convinces me to use my magic and I nearly destroy the weight rack. I flop to my knees on the mat, defeated. This does not bode well. If Masera happens to catch my eyes, I’m going to do whatever it is he wants, and with glee. Apparently, neither my native nor non-native powers are going to help me out here.

  I massage my aching temples. “I’ll just have to keep my eyes on people’s feet when I leave The Mercury Room.”

  “That’s actually not a terrible idea,” Ash says. “And you should definitely keep practicing your magic. That’ll be your best defense.”

  Groaning, I take his hand and get to my feet. “Feels counterintuitive if it’s just going to get me locked up eventually, but like Tamara said, why not try to control it, huh? Wouldn’t want to destroy anything when I go see my mom.”

  “So, you’ve accepted that you’re going to do it?”

  “Didn’t I say it was inevitable?” Mashing my palms into my eyes, I huff. “Time to deal with family drama. Yippee.”

  “Want a chauffeur?”

  Spreading my fingers, I squint up at him between them. “My ego says no, but my desire not to spend money on an Uber says yes.” I drop my hands and rock on the balls on my feet. “I still might ask you to stay outside. Parents are supposed to embarrass their kids, but my mom’s on another level.”

  “Your wish is my command. On our next day off, we’ll go see if she has any answers. Now. Impress me with those non-native powers.”

  18.

  AFTER THIS EARTH QUAKING decision, I plod to the hidden rooms above the restaurant. As is often the case, I find the middle door half open and the lights on. Jeremy sits on the couch in the corner alone. He bends
over the notepad I gave him, adding shading to his sketch of a house.

  Grabbing a bottle of Mexican Coke (real sugar is the best, don’t let anyone lie to you) from the fridge, I flop onto the couch at Jeremy’s feet. Focusing on his problems rather than my own will be a nice break from my ridiculous anxiety.

  “How you feeling, buddy?”

  He yawns. “Tired. Sleeping like garbage.”

  Popping the top off my drink, I study his drawing as I let the silence drag out. Uniformed men and women march around the house in the picture. A few snarl, revealing fangs, many hold rifles with clawed hands, but most disturbing of all, none of them have eyes. Shadows extend from the walls they guard. Dark and thick, they extend from the edges like haunted spirits.

  I swallow a mouthful of Coke, trying to loosen the muscles in my throat.

  Jeremy taps the end of his pencil against his lips, then looks up through strands of messy hair. “You’re going to silent treatment it out of me, huh?”

  “Psh, I don’t care if you tell me or not.” I hide a goofy grin behind my Coke bottle.

  “Reverse psychology? Really?”

  I wave a hand in front of his face, Jedi style. “You will tell me the source of your insomnia and distract me from my own problems.”

  Jeremy blows out a breath so his lips vibrate, appearing for the barest moment like any normal kid and not a rare pureblood vampir-cabra worried his dad is going to munch on his insides. It’s a much nicer look.

  “What? If I have to accept that chupacabra and mermaids exist, then I also choose to believe that the Force does too.” I wink.

  Jeremy taps his pencil again, then sighs. “I keep having nightmares about my dad showing up...”

  “Trying to snack on your innards?” Blunt, but if I’ve guessed right, Jeremy will appreciate this more than eggshell creeping.

  His eyes bug and he drops the pencil entirely. “You know?”

  I sip my drink to resist a triumphant smile. “We found out from a fae when he was telling me about my own weird power. Yeah, my stuff is almost as complicated as your stuff. Almost. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “It’s not exactly easy to talk about, but I guess I probably should have.” Jeremy sniffs, bending over to retrieve his pencil, then darkens another shadow on the page. “Since the fae outed my distinctly weird family drama...I guess I should tell you I dreamed my dad was using a fondue stick to eat my colon last night. It was pretty gross. Apparently, my mind is a very dark and weirdly creative place.”

  I make a gagging sound. “That’s not an image I wanted in my head before dinner.”

  The corners of Jeremy’s mouth sag and he grunts. “Not one I wanted in my head either. Can’t figure out how to dig it out.”

  I trace the logo on the side of my bottle, trying not to stare at Jeremy’s ever-darkening drawing. “Getting stuck with those thoughts is really hard. One of my foster sisters fought some pretty bad memories too. She used to wake up in the middle of the night screaming. It scared me half to death.”

  It’s not a full lie — not really — but I’m not ready to admit my own twisted nightmares. Why yes, yes I am a total and complete hypocrite.

  “How’d she make it stop?”

  Layers of emotion weigh heavy on Jeremy’s voice, making it almost too quiet to hear. A loose string from the bottom of his t-shirt now winds tight around the knuckle of his free hand. It chokes the skin yellow and bloats his finger purple.

  Lips pressed together, I resist the urge to remove the noose from its hold on Jeremy’s finger. “Honestly, I think she probably still fights it. I tell her all the time it’s okay to be sad and angry and scared.” I nudge Jeremy’s foot with my own. “Just like it’s okay for you to be sad and angry and scared. Pretty sure anyone in your position would be.”

  Eyes squeezed shut, he rubs a spot at the center of his forehead. “I feel like I’ve got a permanent glitch now and I’m never going to function right again.”

  “I—um, my friend thought the same thing, but you know what?”

  Jeremy grunts but doesn’t look up.

  “You’re brave and you can beat this and I swear I’ll do anything—” My throat strangles the words. “And everything I can to make sure your dad doesn’t nosh on your innards.”

  Jeremy forces a strained laugh. “Including risking getting arrested by going to the Amazons, apparently. Did you really break their building?”

  I let my head fall back, then dump bits and pieces of what happened and what we learned. “I might find hope in the fact that I come by some of the magic honestly, but I figure the rogue power still means the Tribunal or whatever would lock me up if they got the chance. One of the Amazons definitely wants to make that mess happen.”

  “Don’t let my dad know how powerful you are,” Jeremy says, spinning the pencil between his fingers.

  Cold fear stabs my gut and I wrap an arm around my middle. “He’ll do anything for an edge, won’t he?”

  Jeremy sharpens the tip of a guard’s fangs on his sketch. “He always talked about prevention.”

  “Like eating anti-inflammatory foods?”

  Spluttering a laugh, Jeremy shakes his head. “That would be so much better.” His finger comes loose of the thread. “No, I think he assumes that one day the world’s going to find out about us, and that they won’t react positively. He always said if normal humans don’t accept other normal humans who are a little different, then they definitely won’t accept us.”

  A scowl pinches my face. How could you argue with that logic? I’ve spent my whole life hiding and fighting magic I didn’t understand because I knew if anyone found out, they might throw me in a lab. And in the moments where my foster families realized something was off, all of them sent me away without exception. Fear is a powerful force.

  Even paranormal society wants to lock me away.

  I rub my arms. “I hate to say he’s not wrong, but he’s not wrong.” My eyes jump fast to meet Jeremy’s. “Not that I’m saying the way he’s going about it is okay.”

  Jeremy lets out an overdramatic sigh. “That’s a relief. You had me worried.”

  Combing the curls out of my face, I glance at the door to the roof. “Did you see the Amazon guards?”

  “You mean the stupidly gorgeous women who also looked like they could break me in half just by looking at me crooked?” Jeremy says with a grin. “Oh yeah, I saw them. Max flirted. Kia had to stop one of them from putting him in a headlock. One’s keeping watch on the roof and the other is walking the perimeter, or whatever. They told me to lay low, so I guess I’m basically under house arrest. At least until their undercover spy gets enough evidence to take my dad down.”

  “That sucks.”

  Jeremy lifts his shoulders, then lets them drop so they sag a little. “It’s better than getting eaten alive. Though I do kind of feel like if my dad really wants me, he’ll find a way to get in since he knows exactly where I am.”

  I purse my lips, drumming the tips of my fingers against the glass bottle. It does sound straight up bonkers for him to stay here. Especially if we’re not making any effort to take Masera down. Even with the Amazons’ promises that they’re working on it, it doesn’t sit right to just wait. Not that I can do much about it. The only reason I survived half of the attacks we’ve already been through is sheer luck.

  An idea pops into my brain and I scoot forward. “Where did your dad keep you when he kidnapped you?”

  Jeremy rocks back, color immediately draining from his face. “His compound. Why?”

  “Well, he’s been sending all these creatures and bounty hunters after us, but he’s also probably made a lot of other creatures mad too, yeah?”

  “Sure,” Jeremy says slowly.

  “What if we returned the favor?” I sit up a little higher. “Find creatures who he’s wronged and send them after him? They might not be able to...take him down, but they could delay him, cause a heck of a lot of trouble. At least until the Amazon spy can get him legally.”


  “I mean, that could work, but how would you even start finding those creatures? Plus...” Jeremy’s mouth twists, “what if he ends up killing some of them? Or captures them and uses them in his experiments?”

  I bump my chin with the mouth of the Coke bottle. “That’s true. We definitely don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I just don’t like waiting around. But maybe I’ll find something out when I go talk to my mom. Who knows? My dad might be this all powerful magic user who could be our deus ex machina.”

  Jeremy squints an eye. “With our luck?”

  “Yeah, he’s probably the anti-Christ or something like that. Hopefully we won’t have to deal with the end of the world. Even our luck can’t be that bad.”

  A FEW DAYS PASS WITHOUT any paranormal attacks. Rather than accepting this as a sign from the Fates — or whoever is actually in charge of all of the things — that I can chill out, my anxiety decides to shoot for record highs. Even lunch and dinner rushes don’t distract me from my constant inability to breathe freely.

  Vibrations roll along my bones without ceasing. In the evenings, I practice using my power in the basement, hoping some kind of physical activity will wear out the magical energy pulsing inside me. Rather than bringing calm, however, each session on the punching bag strengthens the violence of the quaking inside me.

  Even the brittle control I’ve had is slipping.

  Near the end of the third night of anxiety and exhaustion, one of the Amazon guards — Nayeli — comes down from the roof. She stands in the doorway to the kitchen, her tawny eyes on the restaurant in general. The more I try to ignore her, the more tremors shake my insides, threatening to send tremors through the floor under my feet.

  I zero in on bussing empty plates and keeping my hands from trembling. Tamara’s words, her promise to keep an eye on me, continue on loop through my head. These guards might have a two-fold mission. One to protect Jeremy, and the other to make sure I don’t cause any problems with my magic.

  So far, neither Nayeli nor her partner, Sillia, have said a word to me, but that only makes things worse. I’m sure they’ve just been focused on their work. After all, they haven’t exactly shared small talk over a coffee with anyone else really either, but paranoia isn’t a big fan of logic. It reads intent into every silent expression, every cross of the arms.