Dark Curse

by Kim Richardson

  The back room was even smaller than the shop, maybe half its size. Crowded around a blood circle along with burning candles and the small, still remains of three chickens and what I’d guess was a goat with blood staining the white fur were six hooded figures.

  “Oh, goodie,” snickered Tyrius. “More dark witches.”

  I could clearly see the dozens of demonic symbols and letters that had been painted in blood around a large circle within a closed triangle. Three additional demonic symbols were drawn inside each triangle corner: The Seal of Solomon. Hell, I’d recognize that sigil anywhere. I’d done it enough times.

  Damn. They were trying to summon a demon.

  The air hummed with pent-up energy, visible as clouds of fluttering sparks, like static, danced along the surface of the circle. I raised a brow. That was new.

  No wonder I had thought the shop was closed. There was a ritual happening, and we’d just crashed it.

  The black-robed figures all turned, shock in their expressions. A mix of young and old, male and female, looked my way. The potent scent of wet earth and vinegar had the cartilage in my nose stinging. Dark witches. Tyrius was right.

  And standing slightly apart from the circle, with long wisps of white-gray hair escaping from her cowl and one milky white eye, was Evanora Crow.

  Her lips were parted, as though in the middle of an incantation. The expression of shock and surprise barely registered around her heavy wrinkles, but I could see it, and it had me all giddy inside. Her good eye locked on me, and then it narrowed.

  I flashed the old witch my teeth. “What’s up, Nora? I thought I’d swing by and see if I could get a discount on one of your broomsticks. Or maybe a pointed hat?”

  Evanora was still, but her lips moved, twisting and rolling phrases as she worked her spell. Shit. She was going to curse me.

  I started forward, but Gareth beat me to it.

  The elf sprang like a cat. Moving like a gust of wind, he threw out his hands and tossed a cloud of shimmering lime-green dust over her, like glowing faerie dust. There was sharp sound like the clap of thunder, and then Evanora’s hateful gaze froze in place, her mouth wide in the midst of her curse, her body ridged like a stone statue, a very ugly one.

  Tyrius leaped from my shoulder and hissed at the remaining dark witches. “I’d stay right there if you don’t want to be turned into human popsicles.” He growled and flicked five razor-sharp claws at them. “If I see any lips moving, you’re dead witch meat. Got it?”

  The witches all clustered together, looking frightened of the tiny Siamese cat. I frowned. He hadn’t even Hulked-out yet. That was a little weird.

  “Good boy, Tyrius,” I said as I made my way towards Evanora. “Keep an eye on them, will you? I’ve got business with the old witch.”

  “Two eyes,” sneered the cat, his blue eyes gleaming.

  Danto crossed the room and planted himself next to the cat, smiling at the witches with a calm indifference, daring them to make a move. I had awesome friends.

  When I reached Evanora, Layla was dancing around the fossilized witch, taunting her with her twin blades. She ran them along the witch’s robe like she couldn’t wait to cut some holes in her.

  “Stop playing with the witch, Layla,” I teased. “I need her alive. Remember?”

  Layla snarled and pointed one of her blades at Evanora’s good eye. “I’ve always hated the way she looked at me. It’s the eye. I want it. I can cut it out of her, and she won’t even make a sound.” She grinned manically. “It won’t kill her. She’ll just be blind.”

  “No, Layla,” I scolded her like a small child and sheathed my own dagger. “She needs that eye.” I needed the dark witch to agree with my proposal. I didn’t think removing her sight was the way to go.

  Layla narrowed her eyes, a faint flush on her cheeks. “What about her tongue? Without it, she can’t go cursing anyone anymore. Tyrius said so. She can’t spew her evil.” She got into the witch’s face. “She won’t be conjuring up any of those nasty spells anymore.” The feral smile she gave Evanora was frightening.

  Crap. I knew getting Layla involved with Evanora was a risk. After all, the witch had twisted the young woman with dark magic, magicked her to grow to adulthood in mere months. That had to screw with someone’s head.

  My chest tightened, saddened at what the witch had done to her. I thought my childhood was messed up, but Layla’s was far worse. She never even had one.

  “I need her to speak to the Gray Council on my behalf,” I said, calmly, and I saw Evanora’s small eye flicked to me. “And for that, she needs her tongue.”

  Brow furrowed, Layla took in a ragged breath and then straightened. I saw an inner pain deep behind her eyes, cemented to her soul. She gave me a pout and stepped back, crossing her arms and looking like I’d just taken away her new puppy.

  My pulse was fast as I turned to the elf. Gareth stood with his hands in his coat—confident, calculating, and looking every bit the wizard he was.

  “Can you do a counter spell so she can have the use of her tongue back?” I asked, glancing behind me at the circle of witches who hadn’t moved.

  Gareth’s face broke into a smile, the faint wrinkles about his eyes deepening in pleasure. “I can,” he said, his hands moving into his coat. “But be warned. She might be old, but she can move her curses lightning fast. Stay frosty.”

  “Got it.” I nodded and pulled out my dagger again. I stepped closer to Evanora. “I know you can understand me,” I said. “I can see it in your eyes—well, just the one, actually. My friend is going to lift the elf curse he put on you... but know this,” I added, pointing my blade at her face. “You try anything. Anything at all, and you will die. If you try to kill me or any of my friends, Layla here,” I said, gesturing with my other hand to the young woman, “is going to skin you alive. And there’s nothing I’d love to see more than her peeling the skin from your old bones. But I need your help. That’s right. I need your help. So, we’re going to set you free now... so that we can have a civilized conversation. You think you can do that?”

  Evanora’s eye twitched. I didn’t know if that was her trying to say yes or just a nervous twitch.

  “Good,” I said, stepping back and deciding to take it as a yes. “Okay, Gareth. Unfreeze the witch.”

  Gareth’s smile was easy and a bit devilish as he reached into his jacket. “One thawed witch, coming up,” he said, making Tyrius laugh.

  “Remember, Evanora,” I said, my face curling into a wide smile, “try anything stupid and you’re witch meat.” I stole Tyrius’s line and I heard him snort.

  In a flash, Gareth doused Evanora with gray elf dust. It settled over the witch like demon ash. Sort of fitting, I thought. She did like to call upon her demon friends for a taste of their magic.

  A loud sizzling sound erupted, like hot oil in a frying pan, and Evanora stumbled out of her petrified state. She took a labored breath. “Let Evanora’s students go,” cawed the old witch, and I heard Tyrius cough out a laugh behind me.

  “Students?” I whirled around. I examined the so-called students. They lacked the confidence and superiority in their posture that I’d come to recognize with dark witches. No. These were something else. Apprentices? Maybe. Or paying clients?

  “Let Evanora’s students go,” said the old witch again, “and Evanora will listen to your request. She swears it.”

  Right, like I believed that. But it wasn’t like I needed hostages, and I only wanted to torture one witch if things didn’t go my way.

  “We don’t need them,” said the elf. Then he came forward and whispered in my ear, “It would be better if we didn’t have any witnesses. Your gift is not something that should be made public.”

  “You’re right.” The thought of my gift reaching the ears of the Gray Council before I had a chance to remove it had my tension spiking and stomach twisting in knots. It would be just like the council to destroy all my friends and family to get to me.

  “Fine.” I nodde
d, turning to Danto and Tyrius. “Let them go.”

  With an amused smile on his perfect lips, Danto raised his arms and pointed towards the exit. “Off you go, witchlings.”

  As one the five witches rushed out of the back room and disappeared through the door curtain.

  “Thank you! Come again!” cried Tyrius, making Layla laugh. “Please join us tomorrow for karaoke night, in our rendition of Burn the Witch.”

  Pressing my lips firmly together to hide the smile that was creeping up on me, I turned around and found Evanora staring at me, her milky-white eye rolling around in its socket as though it was trying to focus. Man, the witch was creepy.

  “You are alive,” stated Evanora, her features twisting in genuine interest. “How? How did you escape the Silent Gallows? No one has ever escaped the island and lived.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” interrupted Tyrius who appeared at my feet. He pulled his lips back in a smile that only cats could do and said, “But you won’t.”

  The old witched looked down at the cat, her grimace curved up into a weird semblance of a smile. “You would have made a terrible familiar. Evanora should have boiled you, you insolent pest. Should have made kitty noodle soup.”

  Tyrius’s mouth dropped open. “You evil witch! You put a collar on me!” he cried, his fur bristling around him like he’d been electrocuted. “You old hag! I should kill you now, just for that!” He made a show of his claws. “I’m gonna rip out your jugular!”

  With a cry, Layla jumped in the air clapping. “I’ve got seconds.” Beaming, she shared a look with Danto and he gave her a proud smile, his teeth catching a glint of the ambient light. This was too weird.

  “Down, boy.” I knelt beside my furry friend. “Remember, we don’t want to kill the witch.” Not yet. Maybe someday I will. “I need her. Alive and unscathed.” For the moment.

  Tyrius’s growl cut through the sudden silence, sounding nearly as loud as when he was in his black panther form. “If she steps out of line, I’m going to kill the bitch.”

  “Deal,” I said and patted his shaking head. His eyes never left Evanora. “Just take it easy. You might get your chance sooner than you think if she doesn’t cooperate.”

  The witch’s face flashed red in anger. “What is it that you want from Evanora?” she asked, her voice low and dripping with venom.

  My gaze coming up from Tyrius, I straightened, my dagger still clasped firmly in my hand. “Still referring yourself in the third person, I see. Well, guess old habits die hard, eh?” And it still creeped me out, just a little.

  Evanora moved her gaze to Layla, and I didn’t understand what I saw there. Neither did Layla and she lashed out at the witch with a hiss similar to Tyrius’s.

  The witch made a disagreeable noise in her throat. “Why did you come here?” asked the witch, watching me, her intelligent eye squinting in question. She knew something was up, just not what. “Everyone will know you came here to see Evanora Crow. The Gray Council will be hunting you soon, Hunter.” Her smile turned evil, feral. “There are worse things than the Silent Gallows.”

  “I know there are,” I answered, thinking of the millions of demons in the Netherworld. “But I’m not here to discuss punishments, unless they’re for you.” The witch scowled at me, making her eyes disappear in the folds of her skin. Damn. That was ugly.

  I took a breath and exhaled, long and low. “I came here because I need your help,” I answered, the words sounding strange and tasting sour in my mouth. God, I hoped I was right.

  Evanora’s eyes widened in wonder. “With what?”

  “I need you to remove a curse.”

  The witch laughed bitterly. “A curse? Any witch can remove a curse.” Irritation crossed her face. “Even you, with the help of Evanora’s grimoire. Why come see Evanora? Why risk it? You have all the tools. You are a fool to come here.”

  “Because it’s not just any curse,” I said, my stomach tightening as my anger of what Lucian did fanned to life. “I’m not even sure curse is the proper term for it. It’s bigger than that.”

  A slow smile came over her, but it was hard to see in the dim light. “What? What is not a curse? You can tell Evanora.” The witch cocked her head, curious, her eyes eager.

  “A gift from an archdemon,” I said finally, seeing the gleam in her eye and knowing at that moment I was right by coming here. “Power.”

  15

  Usually, you don’t give an addict some crack or an alcoholic a bottle of whiskey. Usually you try to avoid having these elements in their company, trying to help them in their recovery by removing their temptations. But I was doing the exact opposite. I was handing an addict her fix.

  Evanora Crow was a power addict—specifically demonic power. It was dark, great, and limitless. She was so far gone in her addiction, so hooked on the feeling of power that I knew she couldn’t resist my offer. She wanted to feel that high, to taste the high of power, of greatness.

  “Imagine what you can do with this well of dark power,” I coaxed after I’d told her about Lucian being the archdemon who had supplied the Unmarked with his blood. She was particularly interested in the part where he’d showed up and offered me this gift. “Think of the possibilities. You might never have to call upon another demon again.”

  The witch’s face twitched at that. “And you are willing to offer it to Evanora? For free?”

  I shared a look with Gareth, and from the deep frown on his face and the tightness of his jaw, I knew he wasn’t exactly happy about what I was offering. In fact, he looked livid, like he was about to use some of his elf dust on me. I hadn’t told him because I knew he’d try to talk me out of it. But this was my decision. And if Evanora could remove Lucian’s gift, she was welcome to have it.

  “This is where my offer comes in,” I said, heart pounding. God, I hoped I was doing the right thing.

  The witch made a disgusting noise in her throat and cocked her head so that her white eye was focused on me. Totally creepy. “Evanora knows you are using her,” she intoned. “Everyone uses Evanora.”

  I shrugged, not feeling any pity for the psychotic witch who’d tried to bleed me to death. “Just like you’ve used others in the past.” I pointed a finger at her. “Like the way you used my blood, Dr. Frankenstein. I haven’t forgotten.” The witch huffed, her jaw grinding like she was chewing on something.

  I looked at Gareth again, but he was staring at the witch, his arms crossed over his chest with a dark expression on his face. My mood souring, I looked past him to the door curtain for a sign of Tyrius. The baal had decided to do a thorough search of the shop for my blood, in case Evanora still had some stashed somewhere. Danto and Layla had gone out to see if the other dark witches had alerted anyone of our visit.

  Restless, I turned my attention back on the old witch. “So?” I prompted, seeing Evanora’s brow furrowed. She was racing through all the possibilities in her mind.

  With a soft click of her teeth, Evanora opened her mouth. “What is it you want in exchange?”

  Okay. Here it comes. “I want you to clear my name. I want you to go to the Gray Council and tell them exactly what you did. Tell them what Lisbeth had you do. What she had you do with my blood.” I swallowed. “If you tell them of her plans to rid the world of half-breeds... they’ll believe you. And I’ll be cleared of all charges.”

  “Impossible,” laughed the old witch. “They will not believe Evanora.”

  I moved closer to her, my nose wrinkling at the smell of an unwashed body. “They will. They will if it comes from you.”

  Her eyes were cross, and she seemed peeved that I’d found a way to satisfy her without compromising myself at all. With her back hunched, she paced back and forth, seemingly thinking my offer over as she shambled around. Her bones cracked and popped like a crackling fire.

  I wasn’t going to wait all night. “Do you want this gift or not?” I asked, my voice rising. “If you don’t, I will find someone else who does. I can promise you that.”
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  “No.” The witch whirled on me, and I saw fear in her eye accompanied by greed. “Yes. Evanora agrees. Evanora will lift the curse from the archdemon and take it for her own.”

  Shocked that it had been that easy, I just stood there looking at her like an idiot.

  “You can do it?” I asked, half amazed, but doing my best to keep my features neutral so as not to look overly thrilled. “You can remove it?”

  Evanora stretched to her full height, which I guessed was about five feet. “If Evanora says she can, then Evanora can.”

  “And it won’t kill me?” My intent was to have the witch shift the curse to her and survive. I wanted to live through it. I hadn’t had Lucian’s gift for very long, and I was hoping that short period would help in removing it as well. If what Lucian said was true about the archangel sigils acting like protective shields, keeping dark and demonic energies from coming in, it made sense that the opposite was also true. It could just as easily be removed as it was fused.

  “It should not,” said the witch, her eye flashing.

  “Wow, that’s encouraging,” I said, feeling ripples of tension along my skin.

  “If the curse didn’t kill you when the archdemon joined it to you,” said the witch tightly, “it should not be any different when removed.”

  I exhaled. “Makes sense.” My heart pounded in my ears and I tried to keep my elation from showing. “Then, do we have a deal?”

  The old witch pursed her lips in thought. “Evanora agrees. A deal it is.”

  A tiny smile quirked my lips. So it begins.

  Adrenaline coursed through me. Beaming, I flicked my gaze at the elf, but he still didn’t share my eagerness. He ran a hand over his jaw. His eyes showed his mood, dark and irate, as he looked over the witch. Thoughts flashed behind his dark eyes, like he was contemplating whether to turn her into a human popsicle again.

  I wouldn’t let his mood ruin this. I was getting this damned curse out of me tonight, and nothing was going to stop me.

  I sheathed my dagger and I stood with my arms useless at my sides. “So what do I do?”