The Cursed (The Cursed Trilogy Book 1)

by Iyanna Orr

  “You’d better be thinking about what the hell you’re gonna say to me after you locked yourself in a public bathroom and had a temper tantrum,” he replied, looking down at his phone again. “And about whatever happened in class today.”

  “I didn’t have a tantrum.”

  “No, but I could hear you talking to yourself. Honestly, is your head okay?”

  “What did I say?” Chandler asked, surprised. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking.

  “Something about monsters,” he answered distractedly. His phone buzzed, and he opened a text; then, flipped the screen around to show Chandler, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “See that? My dad’s recommending a psychiatric evaluation.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my head,” Chandler growled.

  “Sure. Mind telling me what you were thinking about? If you were planning to murder me, I’d like it fast.”

  Chandler turned to stare at him.

  “What the hell?” he asked, slightly exasperated. Rory’s eyes flickered over, his expression pulled seriously. Then he started snickering and dropped his phone into his pocket.

  “You should see your face now, seriously. So… what were you thinking about?” he asked. “Your mom?” Chandler shook his head and turned his eyes back to the table, where the scribbled he’d never looked at faced him. He saw that he’d been sketching a woman. She was completely average, maybe even a little plain, but he couldn’t help but think that he’d seen her somewhere before. She stared out of the paper, almost three-dimensional. She looked sad as if she were living secrets that she wouldn’t wish on anyone. Chandler closed his eyes, crumpled the scrap of paper and then opened them again, looking back to Rory. He was staring at the white paper now bunched in Chandler’s fist.

  “What am I explaining?” Chandler sighed, referring to the earlier conversation as he put the paper in his pocket.

  “Subtle, Dixon…” Rory snorted. “Real subtle.” Chandler gave him a long look at that, calculating, but Rory only shook his head and went on. “You’re explaining what happened this summer. I know you, Chandler, and you sure haven’t been you since I got back. So talk.”

  “You were gone the entire summer. People change.” He shot back.

  “Allow me to repeat myself,” Rory said reproachfully, turning to face Chandler head on. “I know you. Chandler, you don’t change. In all the years I’ve known you, nothing about you has changed.” Rory shook his head at Chandler and pushed his tray away. “Just tell me what happened.”

  “I told you everything that happened. My dad came home and then he left.” Chandler paused and shrugged. “Like that’s anything new. And the rest of the summer, I stayed home with Mom.”

  “No,” Rory denied, shaking his head fervently. “Whatever this is was going on before my parents and me left for vacation. Until I came knocking at your door at the end of the summer, you were hiding in your house. You wouldn’t even come out whenever your scars were gone. Until I know the reason, I’m going to take personal offense to that.”

  Chandler didn’t answer because there was no logical explanation for why he’d stayed away. There was no way he’d tell Rory about the thing he was fighting in his own body, even though he sometimes liked the little things that made him something other than human. Only months after Chandler found out what he was, he made it possible to convince himself that he was dark and that he didn’t deserve to have people who cared. It had certainly explained why his mom had suddenly folded herself away and treated him as if he were a nuisance. He’d given up on the idea of exposing himself, but he’d still wanted people to see that he was dangerous and, more now than back then, wanted someone to just see and kill him for threatening their mundane lives.

  Chandler wanted out, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He knew, also, that if he did tell anyone, his parents would be caught up in the rush of insanity that followed. Not only would his DNA be tested, but his parents would too. They would try to make sense of something like him living among humans, and they would do anything to get their answers. Before he could make up his mind about it, Chandler turned resolutely toward Rory. He was tired of hiding.

  “Do you really want to know?” Chandler asked after some time. Rory raised a brow, leaning forward.

  “Didn’t I ask?”

  “I need—”

  The bell rang then, and Chandler snapped his mouth closed, clenching his teeth. Rory stood up from the table. He could feel Rory’s eyes, but Chandler didn’t look back. As the bell stopped ringing, he sighed and stood, picking up his bag.

  “All right then,” Rory said after a short silence. Chandler looked away from his, and they started toward the cafeteria doors. “Am I giving you a ride home?” he asked suddenly, and Chandler nodded.

  He went through the rest of the day feeling like he was being watched.

  Rory was in the rest of his classes, and Chandler caught Rory watching him on more than one occasion. He was worried, Chandler knew that, but Rory couldn’t see past the problems with his mom. Had he considered Chandler had any other problems? Maybe. There was no way that he wouldn’t have. Rory probably thought Chandler’s mom was the worst of it. He was always watching, waiting to see the sign that something was wrong. It was probably one of the reasons why Chandler allowed him to be his friend, but sometimes, Rory’s strange way of knowing what he was feeling put Chandler on edge.

  “Hey, Tommy,” Chandler greeted Rory’s dad. Thomas Johnson was a successful lawyer and handled more cases outside the state than he did in. He’d gotten and tried cases all the way across the continent and still spent more time at home than in any office. Once, when Chandler was seven, and everyone else had been playing baseball, his dad had been off somewhere he wasn’t allowed to know about. He’d come over to watch Rory and his dad practice, but he’d usually be invited to join. Chandler used to be jealous of what they had, but he was far too used to an absent dad to feel much about it now.

  Tommy’s hair was graying, but he did nothing to hide it. He always insisted he earned every one of them and with some of the criminals he had put in prison, Chandler believed him. Usually, he was dressed in a suit, but today, he’d gotten rid of the jacket and his expensive shoes. He looked up from the paperwork that lay in his lap and gave Chandler a smile.

  “Hey, bud, good to see you. How’s everything at home?” he asked, and Chandler shot a look at Rory. Rory shrugged and turned to the kitchen, leaving Chandler with his dad.

  “It’s fine,” Chandler replied. “Where are Dane and Renee?”

  “Renee took him for a walk. They should be back in a little while,” Tommy answered. “Rory tells me that something’s up.”

  “Nothing really.” Rory came out of the kitchen, gave his dad a wave and then took the stairs two at a time. Chandler followed, leaving Tommy and his questions behind. Inside Rory’s room, Chandler threw his backpack on the bed and sunk into the only chair he had. Rory watched narrowly before shoving Chandler’s bag onto the floor and lying down on his bed.

  “Joey’s having a party tomorrow,” Rory said suddenly. Chandler looked over, and Rory pulled himself into a sitting position. At some point, he’d picked up one of the controllers to the PlayStation in his room, but he didn’t turn it on. Rory rolled his eyes to look back at Chandler. “He said that you could still come.”

  “Yeah, so he and the rest of them can have something fascinating to gossip about,” Chandler snorted. He reached over, grabbing Rory’s football from the side table and balancing it on his palm. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not be the talk of the party.”

  “How far are you going to stretch that, Chandler?” Rory groaned. “Don’t be so paranoid.”

  “I’m not paranoid.”

  “Tell it to somebody who believed it,” Rory scoffed. Chandler felt his blood boil as he narrowed his gaze at Rory. His fingers tightened around the football and squeezed.

  “You think I’m paranoid. You think you know who I am. The truth is that you don’t know ha
lf of who or what I am,” Chandler griped. “I have a reason for being cautious, and I’m sure as hell not going to change because you feel like you know me better than I know myself.”

  “All right,” Rory said, tossing the controller and standing up. “Get out. You can come back when you’ve calmed down.” Chandler glared and stood abruptly. He shoved the football he still held into Rory’s chest and picked up his bag, slamming the door as he left the room. Starting down the stairs, Chandler had to avoid Dane’s large body, as he bolted toward him and wriggled enthusiastically between Chandler’s legs and the wall. Running a hand over the dog’s head briskly, he jogged the rest of the way down. Renee was in the kitchen, so when Chandler stepped onto the first-floor landing, she looked up at him and smiled, but it vanished when she saw the look on his face.

  “Chandler?” she called as he passed through the living room, where Tommy was still going through his papers. The man looked up and started to say something, but Chandler faced him fully and cast him a narrow-eyed look.

  “What goes on inside my house is none of your concern,” he growled. “You stay out of it and leave my mom alone.”

  He left Renee and Tommy staring after him in their living room. Chandler didn’t hesitate as he bolted across the street and into the trees. Concealed, he set his bag down and removed his clothes, shoving them into his bag. He knelt on the soft ground, feeling the dampness of the forest dirt rubbing against his legs. As cool as it was against his skin, it couldn’t calm the raging burn of his blood in his veins. Breathing slowly and closing his eyes, Chandler pulled the picture to the front of his mind, down to the single patch of white fur just over the left amber-colored eye.

  His bones began to shift, and he pitched forward as his new skeleton moved into place. His wings folded back to lay flush against his skin, and then he felt the slow merging as his wings melted into the back and hind quarters. The fur grew on his skin, like the soft press of bristles against each pore, dressing him in a suit of brown and black. Claws pressed through his knuckles, and his groan came out in a whimper that echoed inside his head. His fingers merged with his palms, and then he could feel the pads of four paws pressing into the cool, damp earth. A keen shudder and jerk of his spine made Chandler’s entire canine body tense and then relax as his new tail started beating fast.

  When the transformation had settled, and Chandler had taken a few experimental steps to gain his bearings, he gripped his bag between his jaws and picked it up. Taking one last glance through the trees at Rory’s house, he turned forward and started running.

  He didn’t go home immediately. Instead, he ran as long and as far as the trees stretched. In this new form, easily resembling the German Shepherd he’d just left behind, he could hear and smell things just the same, but it was much more potent. He didn’t spend much time making use of his power, but when he found himself shifting because he wanted to, Chandler found that he enjoyed it. But when he got home, his mom wasn’t around, so he went upstairs, changed back, dressed and slept until sunrise the next day.

  Chandler was able to fly to school, very certain that Rory wouldn’t be going out of his way to come down to get him. The freedom wasn’t as gratifying as it had been the night before, but he stepped out of the trees and into the parking lot after tucking his wings securely. Rory’s car was already there, but Chandler didn’t look at it as he walked across and into the school.

  In the cafeteria, the table was filled, and there was the unspoken assumption that he wasn’t to sit there. He’d known that since he’d told the team his plans the day before, but there was a new powerful feeling there that he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  His classes passed in a blur. Throughout, there was anger and a forced calm that permeated classes with Rory and the others. From what Chandler could tell, Rory hadn’t said anything to the team about why they were at such differences, but nobody intruded or asked, and they observed the silent face off.

  “What’s with you and Rory?” Layla asked at lunch. It was strange, the sudden hostility Chandler was suddenly feeling toward Rory. He’d been angry before, but whatever this was… it was completely different. He shrugged at Layla and stared at the table. He’d sat there, alone, not expecting to have any company, but the girl had abandoned the table when Rory had taken the seat next to her.

  “Differences,” he answered.

  “Did he tell you about the party, then?” Layla picked at the food on her tray, but she hadn’t eaten any of it since she sat down. “Whatever happened between you guys doesn’t take away your invitation, you know.”

  “It’s not that I don’t think I’m invited, Layla. I’m just… not the partying type.”

  “You went to the party at the end of last year,” Layla said archly. “And you promised you would take me to the next one.” Chandler’s mind blanked, and he stared, slowly feeling his eyebrows pull up in disbelief.

  “I did?” he asked. Layla’s eyes met his and then darted back to the table. A flush worked its way through her face, and she pushed aside her tray before she looked back over. Chandler could see that she was trying hard to be nonchalant, but the reddening of her cheeks gave her away. He felt a smile pulling into place as he leaned down and rested his chin on his folded arms.

  “Yes.” The single word was strong despite the trembling he could see in her hands. She didn’t move back as Chandler sat watching her look back with determination. Her lips were pursed tightly as she waited for his response, but Chandler purposely stayed quiet as her mind whirled over the possibilities. Then, he sat back and smirked at her.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” she asked cautiously.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you.” Chandler laughed. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”

  “I didn’t have to ask anything,” she said, turning her head away. He saw her lips turn up even as she tried to hide it. “You already said you would.”

  “I don’t remember that, but I’ll play along if you want.”

  “Shut up,” she laughed, turning and hitting his shoulder. Chandler shook his head and turned away from her, his eyes drifting to rest on Rory. He was already watching, confusion and strained bitterness locked on his face. Chandler looked back, his smile and the moment melting away. After a short time, Rory turned back to the table, answering Chris, who’d been trying to get his attention. Chandler faced his own table and sighed. Layla was watching him, but he didn’t look at her. “Do you know what’s happening with his family?” she asked suddenly. He turned his head to look at her, telling her without words that he hadn’t heard much about Rory’s family since they’d come back from vacation. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Chandler turned to seek out Rory again. Before his eyes landed, the bell’s shrill whistle had the entire cafeteria jumping from the seats. Layla stood and looked down at him, holding her books in one arm and balancing her tray on the other.

  “I think you should ask him,” she said before she turned and walked away.

  His mom was home when he got there.

  He opened the door, and she was sitting with the curtains shutting out the outside light, but a fire was blazing in the fireplace. She didn’t speak or move when he came in, but he saw her blink as she stared at the flames.

  “Mom?” Chandler called quietly. He didn’t want to disrupt the silence that had taken over the house. “Mom, are you okay?”

  That’s when she turned her eyes to connect with him, and he felt himself relax. His mom’s eyes had always been expressive: nearly black with rage, hard and cold with indifference. But at this moment, they were calm. The purple iris’ were melting, swirling until he couldn’t see the distinction between her eyes and her pupils. Chandler set his bag and keys down on the table next to the door and then crossed the room to sit down next to her. Seated, he could feel the warmth coming from the fire, so he removed his jacket and put it on the armrest of the couch. With his back pressed against the soft cushions, his wings sank
in, invisible in the limited light.

  When he was settled, his mom put her hand in his and squeezed it. Chandler started when he felt the chill set deeply into her skin. He moved his other hand to place it over hers and felt the cold recede. She sighed and looked over at him with a smile.

  “How was school?”

  “It was okay,” he answered. “What have you done all day?”

  “I sat right here and enjoyed the fire.” Their voices barely rose above the occasional crackle in the hearth. Chandler’s mom breathed a laugh, leaned back and closed her eyes. “It feels nice.”

  “You’ve been here all day? Why are you so cold?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “I didn’t notice until now. Don’t worry. I’ll be just fine in a minute. Do you have plans for tonight?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to a party with Layla.” His mom turned her head and opened her eyes to look at him. She seemed confused.

  “You aren’t going with Rory? Why?” she asked, voice laced with rare concern. Chandler looked away from her, into the dark that extended into the rest of the house, where he knew the master bedroom and the kitchen were.

  “He’ll be there,” Chandler replied vaguely. “Will you be okay by yourself? Has Dad called?” His mom’s brows furrowed, the small lingering smile melting away.

  “I haven’t heard from him in some time,” she answered. “But he’s a busy man. We know that.”

  “He should be here with you,” Chandler stated dryly, thinking of Tommy and Renee. He’d always managed to come home between cases and court dates, busy or not.

  “It’s all right. We’ll be all right.”

  “Sure.”

  “What time is the party?” she asked, standing. Chandler looked up at her, and his phone chimed in his pocket. He reached inside and pulled it out. Glancing at the message, he shrugged and looked back up.

  “In an hour.”

  “Do you want to take the car?”

  “It never leaves the garage,” Chandler said, throwing a glance at his mom. “How do you know it still works?”