You're Cursed

by Kat Quinn

Aria swats at Kieran’s hand, still petting the horse, and waits for him to present her with his palm, in which she places a small, shiny pebble.

  “Thanks. Again.” Kieran says flatly, scowling, Aria following up with a delighted trill. He tosses Aria’s gift casually onto the ground, the start of an argument I already know he’s lost, and easily reaches over his head to grab me by the sides and lift.

  “Wait!” I sputter, “What do you… What do you think you’re doing?!” I clutch at Kieran’s shoulders, “Don’t put me down!”

  “Come on, Fireball, you’re being ridiculous. She’s just a horse, and barely older than your breakfast.” Kieran admonishes, firmly returning me to the ground and holding me in place.

  The monster’s preposterously long muzzle edges towards me as I squeal, trapped like a fly in sticky paper, unable to make that olympic escape I should have performed.

  “Easy, girl, show her how gentle you are,” Monty coos to the devil-in-training. Through its black pit nostrils, it huffs a breath, tainted demon wind rippling across the fabric of my jacket. My heart races; who knows what could have happened if it had touched my skin. Maybe that’s how it bespells its human victims? Maybe years of contact with them is how Monty and Kieran were ensnared? Maybe they haven’t lost their minds, so much as their minds are now controlled by horses?! No wonder they’re so eager for me to make friends!

  “For crying out loud, Fireball, she’s not going to bite!” Kieran grabs one of my arms and forces it to extend towards the creature’s mouth, right where it hides those can-crushers. I wriggle uselessly against his strength, an obstacle I’ve overcome so many times in training but apparently can’t work my way around during a horse panic.

  “Noooooooo!!!” I cry out, defeated as one silky nostril grazes my fingertips.

  “Go on,” Monty urges softly, further ensuring my doom. His grin widens as, despite myself, my fingers lightly glide cross the soft planes of the fearsome, but admittedly kind of cute, Terror. And her hair? Totally fabulous. Combined with that deep chocolate body, her glossy black mane, still in need of a bit of growing-in, will make her a total stunner. As she stuns her enemies into submission with her fearsome looks, of course.

  Fascinated by my fingers rippling over the peaks and valleys of Terror’s musculature, I step forward, following a path until I’m unexpectedly right at her flank. Hidden amongst her deep umber coat, two small, black spots are barely distinguishable amongst her otherwise solid brown hide. Fully aware this is part of her deceptive horse magic, I can’t help it as each inch I explore connects us stronger and stronger until I can’t quite remember what the big deal about this whole horse thing was in the first place. Horses are cool–they’re magnificent and beautiful, but powerful. Terror’s going to grow up to be fierce, and mighty, and fearsome, but she’ll use her strength to break down obstacles, not break down innocents. She’ll run from danger, but be brave and run towards need. There’s so many possibilities built into this creature, still growing into the paths she could take, infinite choices and experiences ahead; limitless potential. There’s a bright, pure, innocence in her brand new soul, blazing with the hope of what could become, if given time and a tiny push.

  “Goddamnit, stop that!” Shaking out my train of thought, I tilt my head to see Kieran swatting Aria away. “I’m not going to carry your fucking junk for you.” More forcefully than I’d like, he pushes her away as she clings to the hem of his kilt and reaches into his pocket. A fire lights itself inside my ribcage at the idea he might harm her, even accidentally. NOBODY hurts Aria. EVER.

  Both of my hands are loosely cupping each of Terror’s cheeks–her black eyes lit up with youthful excitement. Dropping my arms, I swivel fully towards Kieran, one accusatory finger thrust forward towards the hulking hunk. “Hey, no, YOU stop that!” I shout. “You’re like a million times bigger than Aria, don’t think I won’t kick your shins in if you hurt her!” Smacking away Kieran’s hand hard, I snatch Aria and cuddle her protectively to my chest.

  “She’s being a nuisance, shoving stupid shit into my hands and hiding it in my kilt if I don’t take it. It’s fucking irritating!”

  “So? What’s the problem? Most of the time when Aria gives me stuff it’s either useful, or a snack. You should consider yourself lucky she’s looking out for you!” I pet the top of Aria’s head vigorously, “Right? You’re just being nice to this ungrateful dumb-dumb. He’s the one who doesn’t know how to handle a gift.”

  “It was cute at first, maybe even funny, but this is out of control!” Kieran shoves a fist into one of his pockets and pulls out a mound of loose nuts, bolts, screws, washers, pebbles, wire, and other, admittedly, shiny nonsense. “I’m not a fuckin’ walking, talking purse for some glittery damned trash hoard!” With force, Kieran chucks the handful of tiny treasures into the dirt, eliciting an angry hiss from Aria. She immediately leaps from my arms and gets right into Kieran’s face, chittering and growling angrily, fur along her back standing tall as she works into a fine frenzy.

  Kieran growls, Aria throwing a screech back in response. She crashes hard, down to the ground, snatching up a couple of the discarded pieces, launching herself right back up into Kieran’s face. Yipping, growling, hissing, and sputtering, Aria refuses to give Kieran any ground, especially now that he knows he’d have to contend with both our wraths if he fights back.

  Terror’s hooves clop excitedly as she gallops away, running free after Monty’s dropped her rein. “Woah, woah, what’s the big deal?” Aria looks at Monty and keeps chattering, obviously screeching about how Kieran’s being a stubborn jerk and won’t take the things she’s giving him.

  “I’m not carrying around any more of this fucking garbage!” Kieran starts pulling more and more loose bits from his pockets, an almost alarming volume considering she can’t have been at it for more than half a day. “I’m almost out of room, and definitely out of fucking patience with it!”

  Aria howls like mad, then screams a note so piercing my ear drums nearly bleed, clutched hands against ears doing nothing to defend from the auditory assault.

  “Stop! Stop! What if I take it for you? Plenty of space, see!” Monty waves his hands desperately, then points to the row of pouches lining either side of his cargo pants. Bending down, Monty scoops up a small handful of treasures and starts to slide them into a pocket, but Aria turns on him and kicks at his hand until the bits tumble to the ground.

  With as much force as her tiny body can muster, she springs back towards Kieran and crashes into his chest, small hands still clutching at her bounty. She growls, and yowls, throwing in a hiss or two here and there, jabbing her balled-up fists into Kieran’s chest like an ant trying to punch down a mountain. Propelling herself upwards like a rocket, Aria spins and solidly thwacks Kieran in the face with her bushy tail, resuming her argument at eye-level this time.

  Fists bawled up, fuming so hard cartoon steam may have been coming out of his ears, Kieran lets out a heart-stopping guttural roar, shutting all of us up.

  Growling again, but more quietly, Kieran sneers and squats. “Fucking women,” he grumbles. “Their way or no way at all, right? Fighting’s not worth the fuss.” Kieran scowls, muttering to himself as he angrily snatches up clusters of Aria’s bounty at a time, scornfully shoving them back into his pockets. “I’m nobody’s goddamned servant,” he mumbles, but keeps picking up the mess and placing it back into his kilt. “Need to set some fucking boundaries, think I’ll just roll over and do tricks like a fucking dog. I’m not a fucking dog, I’m a free goddamned wolf,” his tantrum continues.

  Aria flits over to me, curling up in one of my arms and rumbling a low purr, victory ensured. Years ago, I tried to do the same thing, so it’s not like I can blame Kieran for getting annoyed with feeling like a mobile garbage bin. Nowadays, she doesn’t even ask before shoving things into my pockets, so at least Kieran got the polite version to start with. Funnily enough, can’t think of a time there wasn’t something she brought me I wasn’t eventually happy
to have.

  There’s a nudge at the back of my elbow. Unthinkingly, I reach out and run a hand along Terror’s neck, the automatic movement barely even registering.

  34. Kieran

  “You and me are gonna have a talk when we get home, pipsqueak,” I grumble as the flying rodent smugly shoves another stupid stone at me.

  Dizzy’s legs swing cheerfully, sitting happily atop the wooden fence I’m leaning back on. We’re both watching Monty as he tries to keep up with Terror’s excited running. She mostly keeps letting him almost catch her before putting another burst of speed on, leaving him in her dust. Dizzy, especially, seems tickled by the obvious game.

  “Think you’d be up to giving riding a chance?” I ask.

  The swinging of her feet stills for a moment. “Maybe. I dunno. Ask me when I’m on the horse and we’ll see what I have to say,” she replies, eyes squinting in thought towards the end. She shrugs, feet resuming their merry rhythm. “You know, I hung out with a bear, once. Walked right into its cave and gave it a warm cuddle in its sleep. Didn’t even think about getting ripped to shreds at the time, mostly wanted to take a nap and thought it was a particularly fuzzy rock. Horses were always way scarier to me than fuzzy rocks. Kinda silly now that I think about it, isn’t it?”

  This seems like a trap. I don’t answer.

  “Anyway, maybe.” She continues, “Which gets upgraded to a full-blown yes if you just happen to have a spare suit of armor lying around that’s bite-proof.”

  I chuckle warmly, “What if I promise to give your horse a stern talking-to and to fuck up anything that tries to take a chunk out of you?”

  Dizzy’s nose crinkles, her lips pursing so high they almost join with her nostrils. “Deal, but if I end up dead you have to also give a really moving eulogy about how I was the coolest person to ever walk the planet, who had lots of skills, and friends, and also invented the wheel but was taken out by a tough gang of business competitors as part of a scheme to corner the market, not by trying to ride a horse. The last part is really important. Need to maintain my street cred.”

  Rolling my eyes, I reply. “Sure thing, Fireball. If a horse somehow manages to find a way to get the better of you, I’ll be part of the damned cover-up.” Dizzy takes my hand as I reach up for hers, easily acting as anchor while she hops down from the fence. “Check out the chickens while we wait for these two bozos to wear themselves out?” I jerk a thumb towards Monty, starting to lag behind Terror further than a few minutes ago.

  “Oooh! Yes, please!” Dizzy claps both hands together excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Especially if they’re those weird fluffy ones with the crazy long hair, or the giant ones that are the size of a person in a bird costume!”

  “Not quite, but the sheep probably haven’t been shorn for a while if you’re looking for some fluffy. Molly used to save some of the wool and make us something new every year before Winter.” I automatically scratch the side of my cheek at the memory of a particularly warm but itchy hat. Cupping both hands around my mouth, I shout “Taking a tour of the livestock. Back soon.”

  Monty bends over, breaths heaving as he rests both hands on his upper thighs for a second before giving a thumbs up and waving us away. We’ll still be well within earshot if he happens to need relief.

  “Come on, I’ll show you the way,” I say, extending an elbow for her to grab onto. She loops one arm through the gap and gives an excited scurry in place before easily taking my lead.

  “Are there going to be any baby chicks? Oooh! I love their little peep-peeps! I found a nest of babies one time when I was a kid and hid them in my room until they were big enough to get flying lessons from Aria. It’s a miracle mom never noticed or she probably would have told me to leave them outside! Chewing up worms is super gross, though, and I really wouldn’t recommend it as a hobby.” Aria stops by and presents another ‘gift.’ Begrudgingly, I stash it with the others. “Aria’s the one who did all the hunting for them, actually. She’s way better at catching bugs than I am–except for the worms, of course. They’re not all that fast when it comes down to it.”

  Laughing easily, I enjoy the sense of home that comes with being out here. Didn’t realize how tensed my shoulders had been until they relaxed the second I caught sight of the forests and fields. There’s a tiny pang of bitterness, remembering why we left in the first place, but nostalgia rings louder than the pain. Outside the borders of the fields, the forests were my pack land; where we roamed free for generations. Beyond that, mountains where we trained and hunted–many good hours spent with my father and his Betas. And here? This was where I met humans that showed me family, even without being pack. Met Monty, met the Jacksons, learned to trust and rely on each other. I learned more in those jam-packed years about the goodness of both people and life outside my pack than could be permanently erased by one day of evil.

  It’s just taken me a long fucking while to remember that. Being back here helps.

  “See that wheelbarrow over there?” I point to a barely discernible pile of rust and rotting timber, pausing.

  “Maybe?” Dizzy squints, then shrugs.

  “We used to give each other rides in it, racing to see who could haul our load across the fields fastest.” Conspiratorially, I whisper, “I always cheated.”

  “No!” She gasps, eyes twinkling despite the confession.

  “Mm-hmm,” I nod. “Me and this skinny farmhand always partnered up, him in the seat and me at the helm. Even loaded up with what we were hauling, he was still easy to sprint with. Just in case, sometimes I ‘accidentally’ added an extra layer or two to the metal after our turn, or transmuted some of the regular steel to much heavier-duty tungsten steel. You know, to make sure the bucket was really stable and nobody would get hurt. Just an extra thirty or forty or two hundred pounds. Nothing outrageous. Nothing anyone could prove.” I flash my sharp canines in a wide grin. “Of course, there was one time someone tricked us back. Wheels got all full of straw, didn’t notice until we were already halfway up a hill and they jammed to a stop. Can’t say for sure why, but I always had a feeling Monty was part of the payback. He’d gone before us and taken his sweet time on the run, not even trying for speed. Said something about taking longer to unload the seed than expected.”

  “Oooooh,” Dizzy teases. “You got in troublllllle.”

  “Nah. Just didn’t get caught cheating again after that. Stopped winning by huge margins any more, but never stopped winning.”

  She gawks, “Then why go through the trouble in the first place?”

  I shrug, “Just part of the game, I guess. Pretty sure the other guys pulled tricks of their own, just I’m the only one who could work the metal itself without detection.” Tapping my bearded chin as we continue our short stroll, “Thinking on it, the path did seem suspiciously overgrown after certain groups ran it. And one guy always conveniently seemed to only need to haul his partner without an additional load for one reason or another.” There’s a slow, even comfort that beats through my blood stream. Like a warm summer’s day, just at the start of the season; real sunshine after wading through a month of rain. “It was good back then. Good people, good fun.”

  Surveying the space, I take in the extra patches of rot along the base of some fence posts. The constant racket of animals isn’t nearly as pronounced as my memories. What crops I can see don’t look nearly as large and lush as they once did. “Seems like they might’ve done some downsizing since we left.”

  “Why’d’ya think that is?” Dizzy asks.

  Shrugging again, “Dunno. Been about eight years since we left, a year since we visited Monty and Connor’s folks nearby. If I had to guess, I’d say they couldn’t keep up without us. There was a fox shifter who helped me keep out local predators, but the other farmhands were a combination of slates and casters, even had a couple with some naturalism in their bag of tricks. Monty’s the only one for miles with healing, aside from one of his dads, and he’s busy running his own practice one town
over. Couldn’t really take over Monty’s full-time spot.” We stroll casually up to the edge of the chicken enclosure, a few wayward hens pecking at barren earth. “Population out this far isn’t exactly booming, so there’s not a bunch of bozos knocking down doors looking for work. Plus, with us taking the truck… Probably stopped making as many trips into town to sell. Not like they need much more than what’s on the farm itself anyway. Life’s simpler when you’re this far away from civilization.”

  “Mmm,” Dizzy hums, arm slipping out of mine as she squats down and pokes at a hole in the fence towards a nearby bird.

  “We’ve carved out a good space for ourselves back home, as close to this life as we could. But it’s still so… loud. Forgot how much less there is out here to be bombarded by.” I take in a deep breath, savoring the layers of familiar scents. Even with all the muck and sweat, the air out here is cleaner; less tainted by modern progress.

  Aria dives from high up, landing on the back of a chicken like she intends to ride the steed. The unsuspecting hen lets out a startled squawk, turning its head to try and peck at its intruder unsuccessfully. Aria stands on her hind legs and places both hands on the chicken’s head, her leathery wings stretched wide, fluffy tail arched upwards as she crows a battle cry. Bobbing its head erratically, still trying to peck at the intrusive creature, the chicken is otherwise motionless. The rest have scattered away, giving the pair a wide berth, most taking shelter in a nearby henhouse.

  Dizzy giggles loudly, the high-pitched notes tinkling like a joyful melody. “Leave them alone, you goof!” She directs at the troublemaker. “Besides,” Dizzy continues, “there’s way more room on a sheep!” Turning to me with mischief twinkling in her bright, golden eyes, Dizzy lets out an excited cackle. “Bet they race better than a wheelbarrow any day!”

  Challenge made, she springs to her feet and dashes off.

  “Their pen is that way!” I shout after her, pointing in almost the completely opposite direction. After already lunging towards them, of course; cheating’s part of the game, after all.