You're Cursed

by Kat Quinn

  “No it’s not, you liar!” We’re long past summer at this point, and the sun’s getting low in the sky; no way in hell is that water even close to ‘fine.’

  Monty lays out a blanket on the grass and, in a way, mirrors Kieran by laying back on it, but with both hands tucked under his head. Obviously, this is the correct choice.

  “This seat taken?” Monty cracks an eye to look at me, then nods towards an empty section of the blanket, which I plop down onto. Kieran kicks his feet hard, splashing dangerously close to where us smart people are settling in.

  Yup. Settling in. Smarrrrrrrt people. I fiddle with some of the blanket’s fringe, waving it back and forth like a bunch of wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube men advertising the finest of awkward comforts for all your middle-of-nowhere picnics. Humming to myself idly, I look around, taking in the view. There’s quite a lot of view to take, too.

  Wild grasses spring up all around us, plenty of different heights and colors. There are a few large boulders on one side of the pond, tall cat-o-nine tails on the other. The big hill behind us hid most of this valley, blocking out the pretty expansive tree line a few hundred yards past the swimming hole. Aside from Kieran’s splashing and the small plink of tiny rocks as Aria builds a pyramid on top of his discarded clothing, it’s so… quiet. Crickets and birds make their usual music, but it’s almost invisible compared to the hustle-and-bustle of real life.

  It’s weird to realize that our senses are constantly under assault, something I never would have noticed if we hadn’t come out to this extra nowhere-flavored nowhere.

  Taking in a deep breath, savoring the taste of smog-free air, a long sigh slowly floats its way from my lips, entire body practically collapsing as the stress stored in it is exhaled away.

  “There it is,” Monty says.

  Melting, I slowly slide down into the same position, staring up at the sky. “Yeah, there it is, I guess.” A firefly floats over us, yellow glow just visible in the slowly waning light. “I get why you guys wanted to come out here.”

  “I’ll admit, it’s one of Kieran’s finer ideas. Wish we’d come here sooner–could really do with visiting my folks, too. It’s just so easy to get swept up in the day-to-day that you forget to check in with the people who love you. Taking a step back to recharge gets overlooked way too often.”

  Rolling onto one side, propping my head up with an arm, I face him. “What’s your family like?”

  Eyes still closed, Monty smiles warmly. “They’re great. Better than great. Mom’s a pro fighter so she can be kind of intimidating, but she’s got a fierce heart. Taught most of the kids how to defend themselves, especially the ones who came from a rough spot. Keeps threatening to quit going to matches and open a gym in her retirement, jokes she’ll call it ‘Gettin’ Jacked with Jack.’ Not enough people nearby to keep it in business, though, and she’d never want to make our family move. Stability’s better than more change, you know? Growing up in the system, she’s pretty firm on making sure my foster siblings get the best life she can give them; tries keeping surprises and shake-ups to a minimum.

  “Pops, Remy, is a healer, too–runs a clinic the town over but makes house calls out in places like this when he can. Like you said, it’s quieter out here, so he’s had to be more flexible with who and where he takes appointments–usually has more on his plate than he can really clear up. Him working with Al and Molly is how I ended up out here on this farm while finishing up my training. Well, almost finishing. Took some of the load off of my Pops, and ended up being better than any classroom, anyway.

  “And Daddy? He’s sweet as candy.” Monty’s smile blooms even brighter, “If you’re having a bad day, he’s always got a good word and tight hug for you. Has them ready to go on a good day, too. He taught me everything I know about baking, and about making a home to heal someone’s heart when they need it.”

  Monty’s eyes open and he looks somewhat wistfully to the sky. “Guess I didn’t realize how much I miss them until now.”

  “How far out are they?” I ask. “Maybe we could stop by after that supper thingy?”

  “Yeah? They’re only about an hour away, give or take. I’d love to drop by, meet the new kids, steal some of Daddy’s snack stash.” He chuckles. “Always keeps the homemade stuff in plain sight, but has a secret hoard of coveted candy bars squirreled away. Only brings them out in case of emergencies, like scraped knees and monsters in the closet.” Popping up suddenly, “Oh! Right! We brought them all this way, you want one of those cinnamon buns?

  My stomach instantly perks up, growling its awakening. “Thought you’d NEVER ask.”

  Impatient grabby-hands really put the pressure on while he’s rummaging through the basket, stomach more than ready for the sweet treat I accidentally forgot I’d been drooling over all morning. Funny how horse stuff’ll make you forget your priorities.

  Still naked, dripping wet, Kieran flops down face-first next to me, frosty droplets splattering everywhere. “Not as fun in the water if there’s no one there to throw.”

  “Yeah, that was never gonna happen, Beefcake,” I talk around a huge bite of pillowy-soft pastry. “Mmmm. Now this? This cinnamon roll was my destiny.” With soft, slightly-tart apples sandwiched in each sweet and spicy swirl? “I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you, now come to momma.” It’s paired perfectly with the bottle of plain iced tea Monty also passes over, bitter lack of sweetness only serving to emphasize the roll’s true powers.

  As I’m raising the pure, magical pillow of heaven to my mouth for another bite, Kieran snatches it from my hand. “Oh yeah? Your whole life?” In barely a second, half of the entire thing is just… gone. Vanished into someone else’s stomach. My jaw hits the ground. Is this a crime punishable by death? Is there any court in the land that would convict me if I executed his sentence immediately and just straight up murdered Kieran? “Hmm, yeah, I guess it’s a worthy quest,” he says dismissively. The bastard!

  Kieran slides the remainder into my hand, still frozen right in front of my gaping mouth. My eyes shoot daggers as he just grins like no terrible offense was committed and he’s completely innocent of all charges.

  “Put your danged clothes on, Kier,” Monty chides. Honestly not even a concern right now, given the horrible misdeeds in need of priority addressing. Kieran hops up from the blanket, stretching both arms above his head, not at all bashfully waving his dick around. I’m still slack-jawed, so it’s understandable that he assumed throwing me a wink in that moment was fully appropriate. Considering my thoughts revolve around how to go about grinding his bones to make me more cinnamon bread, he assumed incorrectly.

  Monty jostles me with an elbow after the thieving cad turns, strolling towards his clothes. Aria stands watch by the miniature mountain of stones she’s piled on top of them, a glare daring him not to accept her bounty. “Psst. Take his, too.” Monty offers up a second roll, angels and bluebirds and rainbows all sprouting forth and singing, balance and rightness returned to the world.

  Quickly, I shovel the last hunk of partially pilfered roll into my mouth, greedily accepting the second cinnamon bun of destiny, cupping it protectively. Eyes shifting back and forth as I hunch over it, I silently dare Kieran just to try and take my precious from me. Quick bites ensure he never gets the chance.

  Aria screeches at Kieran, who probably tried to take a second pass at that thanks-but-no-thanks argument from earlier. Doesn’t he know? She’s undefeated.

  By the time he comes back, I’m already laying down again, watching a sky streaked with rainbow sunsets, an orchestra of crickets singing to greet the moon. A gal could get used to this.

  37. Kieran

  With two fingers to his mouth, Monty lets out a piercing whistle, all three horses quickly galloping towards us. He holds the reins of Dizzy’s massive black stallion, giving her a boost before handing them over. Clouds move to block out the full moon, Monty squinting up at the empty sky. “Man, I forgot how dark it gets out here at night.”
>
  “Eh, this ain’t shit compared to the woods. It’s plenty bright to me,” I say, easily swinging a leg onto my pale mount.

  “Not all of us are lucky enough to have your keen senses, Kier,” Monty replies, digging in his saddle bag. There’s a click, and a wide, blinding beam stretches out to illuminate our path from his flashlight. More like a handheld spotlight, the thing’s so damned strong. “There’s a second one if anyone wants it,” he offers.

  “I’m good,” the artificial light mostly fucks up my night vision anyway. See better without it.

  “Probbbbbbbbbbably shouldn’t tempt fate by not keeping both hands tight to Thunder’s reins, huh? I’ll leave lighting the way to you, Monty.” Dizzy sweeps an arm like she’s letting royalty pass or some shit, Monty taking his cue to mount his horse and get moving.

  Dizzy hums to herself as we trot along, Aria occasionally throwing in a harmony. Other than that, the first length of our trip back is blissfully quiet. Not really meaning to, I feel myself and my horse swaying along to their song, my soul feeling renewed enough to enjoy the moment easily. With all the shit that’s been going on lately, I forgot how good it feels to commune with nature and all that crap. Dizzy was right–we really need to make time to do more than fight, fuck, and work.

  “Man, they really have downsized since we left,” Monty comments despondently. “Remember when we had to haul seed all the way back here?” I survey the overgrown landscape, echoes of hoots and hollers sewn into their neglected rows. Yeah, plenty of good wheelbarrow races were won and lost out here. “I wonder if any of the kids would want to come out and help?” Monty briefly looks at me, “You up to seeing my folks after? Diz already said she’s on board.”

  “Won’t it be kinda late? We’d be dicks if we don’t show, sure, but we’d be assholes if we stroll in there after bedtime. Jack scares the shit out of me, Monty. Rather not have your mom decide I’m an asshole.”

  He shakes his head a little, “Kier, you know you’re family. Short of getting one of us killed, mom would probably forgive you for anything, especially something as dope as stopping by when they haven’t seen us in a year. Heck, she’s more likely to kill FOR you than to take a swing AT you.”

  Grunting, my wordless response is skeptical. Tyson, Daddy, is the only one I could imagine not flipping a shit at us for showing up after bedtime. Especially if they’ve got little ones refusing to go down. Big bro Monty coming home is always an event.

  “Got any more bribes on hand, Monty? Or maybe we’ll set up a double bribe and get some candy bars on the way, but save a second secret stash to butter up your Daddy?” Dizzy recommends. “Them’s the big bucks in your house, right? Certain victory!” She crows, shooting a finger upwards. At the exact same moment, the pitch black sky bursts with light, illuminating her brave and powerful silhouette. “Woah,” she says, drawing her finger down and staring at it in disbelief.

  Two more lightning strikes explode up ahead, the concussive blast from such a force of nature felt even at this distance.

  Quickly turning our heads to each other, Monty and I yell the same thing.

  “Molly!”

  Not stopping to explain, we both snap our reins and lean in on the horses, urging them forward. Only an elemental could make lightning hit three times in the same spot, and Molly would only do that if she was well and truly fucked.

  Faster, faster, we race towards the house; a beacon of light compared to the shadowy farmland. There’s a loud pop, one less light guides us home. Small tendrils of lightning erupt from the arms of a cornered silhouette, surrounded by multiple figures. Hold on Molly, we’re coming!

  “What’s going on?!” Dizzy shouts, only a few paces behind us.

  “Don’t know, but it can’t be good,” Monty says. “Molly’s a storm witch, and if she’s throwing around lightning… well, we need to get there NOW.”

  “You think it’s them?” She asks, “The guys from the shop?”

  “Better fucking not be,” I snarl. “Not unless they want their fucking heads ripped off.”

  Another blast explodes from the sky, shockwaves slapping with such force I almost lose my balance and tumble backwards. In the center of the lightning, there’s a woman with both arms raised up, hands formed into claws. A huge burn pattern fireworks out from below; everything scorched in sharp, jagged knives from the middle. We’re just close enough to see her collapse in the center, but too far to stop one of the imposing figures from diving at her crumpled form.

  “No!” Dizzy screams, one arm reaching out towards the scene. For just a moment, the air around us is sucked away, lungs empty and screaming for relief. Even our horses stumble a step. Just a second, no more, but it was such a fucking shock it’d’ve been hard to miss. From Dizzy’s outstretch hand, a visible cone of force blasts forth, aimed right at the figure set on taking out our fallen host. The shadow explodes into a fine mist of dark particles, which quickly pull themselves back together and reform into a standing humanoid shape; burning red eyes glaring at us.

  “Shit, is it that fucking dickhead again?” Bunching my knees up, I prepare to leap from my horse and tackle the bastard. Not on my fucking watch do you take any of my pack, ever. EVER. My blood boils, skin prickling with the urge to change. Razor-sharp claws explode from my humanoid hands, ready to rip apart anyone who tries to stop me.

  Taking in the scene as fast I can, I count bodies. Including Molly, there’s four down, five more up. Our truck is on its side, windows shattered and flung away from the battleground. Part of the house has caught fire, growing blaze the largest light source aside from a few weak solar bulbs along their drive and the nearby barn. “Monty, get Albert and Molly to safety! I’ll hold them off.”

  “We’ll hold them off,” Dizzy corrects, stern glare daring me to contradict. No time to argue–if she’s in, she’s in. Time to put that training to use.

  Monty splits off, heading towards one of the prone figures closer to the house.

  Aria launches herself from Dizzy’s horse, wings tucked in as she shoots like an arrow directly at one of the smoky, billowing figures. Less than a foot away, she spreads them out wide, catching the air like a sail and coming to a stop right in front of it. A shrill, angry screech announces her battle. The smoky figure in front of her becomes more firm around the edges, solidified arms rising to cover where its ears should be, falling to loosely-formed knees.

  Just as Aria’s target is neutralized, Dizzy and I make it to the scene. Leaping from the back of my horse, I aim straight for the opponent down on its knees, claws mercilessly slashing where its throat should be. The feeling as I make contact is cold and smoky at first; a solid, fleshy layer hidden beneath. Hitting hard and without hesitation, I rip apart anything my claws make contact with, glee vibrating through every nerve as the shadow before me collapses. Wisps of smoke disperse around it, leaving behind a greyed, leathery corpse, thick black ooze seeping from its ruined neck. It doesn’t get back up.

  “What are you doing here?!” Dizzy yells, pleading with the assailants. “They didn’t do anything! Leave us alone!” She’s back on the ground, large black stallion not sticking around for the chaos.

  David’s haunting, discordant, layered voice scratches against my ear drums. “Darling. I’m here for you. We’re always here for you. I told you, we said, I told you, darling.”

  “But why this? What happened to you? The David I know wouldn’t hurt a fly, you don’t need to do any of this!”

  “Yes,” three separate tones screech in his voice, “Need. We need you. I need you. You already know, just come with me, I promise, I promise, we promise.” David glides towards her, arm-like shapes spread wide in an open gesture, encouraging her to trust him. “Promises, just come, you are mine. Need. Help, need.” His voice sounds strangled, cut off at the peak of the last notes. It changes, one voice dominating the others, “Come, now, and I’ll go easy on these fools you insist on hiding behind.”

  I’ve already started barreling towards my next ta
rget, one far enough from any light source that I pass right through its incorporeal body. A frustrated snarl scratches through my throat–if these fuckers are untouchable ghosts, how the hell are we supposed to get rid of them? Aria shrieks again, this note different. She’s flitting between two of the figures, both of whom slow until they’re frozen in place.

  Aria.

  The clever goddamned nuisance. Burying my hand into one overflowing pocket, I let my magic seek out phosphorus, separating it from anything available. Hucking a handful of alchemist fire towards my opponent, the piece of shit is forced solid by the light. Before it can launch an attack, I dive straight at it, raking my claws, now coated in an impenetrable layer of metal, down the length of its gut. It screams, collapsing to its knees, but makes a swipe of its own. Just in time, I leap over its arm, death black talons flickering unsteadily, not quite able to hold their shape. Releasing the metal from my own claws, I throw them like a fistful of needles into its still-burning chest. The shadow dispels again; bony, withered frame all that remains, this one even more decrepit than the last.

  “Don’t you dare fucking negotiate with this shitbag, Fireball!” Digging into my pockets, I form a long spear, alchemist fire blazing on one end. I’ll be damned if he gets away this fucking time.

  Monty roars, charging at one of the two frozen figures, blinding flashlight focused on it. With one running punch, he socks the shadow in its head so hard it goes flying backwards like the victim of a wrecking ball. It doesn’t dissolve, but it also doesn’t get back up. Monty keeps running forward, stopping next to Dizzy’s side, not holding her back but not leaving her to fend anyone off alone.

  “Was it all just a lie?” Dizzy’s brows are raised in the center, the tiniest fucking hint of mourning marring her face before she stiffens up that bottom lip and takes back control. “I don’t want to hurt you, David, but I will if you give me no choice,” she says, fists up by her face, legs spread in a stable stance. That’s my girl.