4-Ever Cursed (4-Ever Hunted Book 2)

by Kasi Blake

  Scarlet smiled, but her eyes were filled with sadness. “Let’s watch a slasher film. I feel like seeing blood and guts.”

  Trick swallowed the lump in his throat. An image of himself ripping into Dani’s throat made him sick to his stomach. He nodded with reluctance. Slasher film? Great. He didn’t protest because Scarlet seemed happy with the choice. Still, he couldn’t help but think his life was worse than a horror movie and didn’t seem to have a hope of getting better.

  ♫

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hungry Like the Wolf

  Saturday detention was the worst sort of detention. Trick hated wasting his favorite day of the week sitting in a stuffy room with a resentful teacher and troubled kids. But it was Jersey Clifford’s turn to babysit the class. The chance to corner the werewolf-teacher made the lost hours worth it. Jersey couldn’t walk out of detention any more than Trick could. That’s why Trick had thrown mud on Principal Kale’s car in full view of the man’s office window. He’d wanted to get caught.

  Principal Kale had given him a bonus two weeks of detentions on top of that; Trick still thought it was worth it.

  Saturday detention was only handed out for the most heinous of crimes. So it didn’t surprise Trick to find the room empty of students. Jersey Clifford sat at his desk reading a large hardcover book that was as big as a dictionary. Without looking up Jersey said, “You’re late.”

  Trick grinned, feeling lucky to get the werewolf alone. “I wanted to make an entrance.”

  Now that he was in the empty room with only the werewolf for company second thoughts filled his brain. He was meeting Bash later for their first hunt. Maybe he should have invited the hunter to join him in detention. The two of them could easily kill the werewolf.

  “Are you going to take a seat?” Jersey asked. “Or are you planning to stand there gawking at me all day?”

  “Where is my—”

  Jersey opened the top drawer, grabbed an object, and slapped it down on the wood surface. The Sugar Bomb looked like a huge jawbreaker, cotton candy pink with vanilla swirls. Whoever held it got a rush of power that was intoxicating. Trick had only used it once so far; he’d destroyed the Shadow Faerie thanks to the magical treat. For the most part, he saw it as cheating. He preferred to fight fair, knowing he’d win anyway. But he might need the Bomb to destroy the faerie king.

  He retrieved it from the teacher’s desk with a swipe of his hand. A rush of energizing power titillated his senses. His eyelids went down for a moment as he enjoyed the sensation.

  “You’re welcome,” Jersey said. “I don’t suppose I can get you to sit and do homework?”

  Trick put the Bomb in his pocket, and the urgency to use the incredible power faded. His muscles relaxed. Sitting on the edge of a front row desk, he asked, “Did you know Oberon cursed me with an insatiable need to feed?”

  Even now Trick was having trouble concentrating; he smelled blood. A few teachers and the new janitor were in the building. The glorious scent threatened to overwhelm him. Didn’t matter that he’d downed a couple blood bags before school. He teleported to the mansion throughout the day and night to drain their supply. It only took the edge off his thirst these days. He still wanted to kill. The vampire in him yearned for fresh, warm human blood. He was becoming a monster, and every day he wondered if he should get someone to stake him before the sun went down.

  Jersey smirked. “That’s a good one. Inventive. Oberon has a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not laughing.” Trick lit a cigarette to help dull the smell. There were rules against smoking in school, but he was already in trouble. Besides, the only witness to his rule-breaking was a werewolf. “How do I reverse the curse?”

  “What makes you think you can?”

  “Research.” He didn’t bother to mention it was Scarlet who had done the work for him. “Faerie law states the curser must give the cursed a way of escape. I’m willing to do just about anything.”

  Jersey closed his book and shoved it across the desk to Trick. “War and Peace is a classic. Read it. Then I’ll help you with the curse.”

  Trick’s eyes narrowed, and his face scrunched up in stages. What kind of maniac was he dealing with here? Cowboy was right about the guy. Obsessed with literature, Jersey Clifford kept pushing him to read, but Trick hated books. Why bury your nose in one and live the adventures of others when you could live your own? He didn’t get it. Even if he was willing to comply, he couldn’t sit still long enough to read anything longer than a Tweet.

  “Forget it. I don’t need your help.”

  Jersey sighed. “Broaden your mind. Take a chance. You might learn to love reading.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “I enjoyed my relationship with your brother, but you are exhausting on an epic scale.”

  The werewolf-teacher picked up a red pen and began grading papers. He talked to himself while doing his job. Trick had the feeling the incessant muttering was for his benefit. He paid close attention. His father had taught him it was important to get to know the enemy.

  “Fate can be an amusing temptress,” Jersey mumbled. “Sometimes she’s a playful minx, but mostly I find her to be a twisted scatterbrain with a love of irony. Why else would she choose a hairless monkey that doesn’t read to carry so much power? It’s unthinkable.” His hand tightened around the red pen. “It’s maddening.” He stabbed an essay with the red pen, leaving a tiny hole. The pen leaked. A tiny drop hit the paper, and it grew, spreading like blood on a white background.

  Trick couldn’t take his eyes off the growing red dot. Blood pumped harder through his veins, and his mouth went dry. The need to feed became nearly impossible to control. He envisioned attacking the werewolf. Could a vampire feed on a werewolf?

  Jersey continued. “Why would Fate choose a child to bestow such a great honor upon? He didn’t do anything special with his life. He killed a few vampires—”

  “A few?” Trick choked on the last word. The insult brought his mind back around to the conversation. He regained control over himself. He stood taller, shoulders back. “I slaughtered hundreds of vampires, and don’t forget I’m the one that took out a Shadow Faerie.”

  Hundreds was an exaggeration. He didn’t bother to keep track anymore. In the beginning, he had kept a journal hidden behind his dresser. Each X represented a vampire kill. After he got to fifty, he stopped counting.

  “With the help of a Sugar Bomb.” Jersey laughed in derision. “I dare say any boy in this school could have defeated a Shadow Faerie with that bauble in his pocket.”

  Trick opened his mouth to defend his record, but the werewolf teacher waved his protest away.

  “Shut up while I think,” Jersey said. Then he returned to mumbling. “He didn’t do anything special, so why was he given the power?” Jersey shrugged. “It’s a fluke. He got the power because Oberon’s son chose the Carver family to infiltrate. Because of that wicked faerie, the power slid from one eldest son to the next until it found Ian Carver. When he died, the power should have gone to Jack, but Jack was technically dead. Undead. Whatever. The power skipped him and went to his brother Billy. Then Billy was killed. All Oberon had to do was arrange for Trick to inherit the power. He agreed. It was luck, not fate.”

  Trick interrupted with, “But you took the power. You stepped between me and the Shadow Faerie. The power is in you.”

  “True.” Jersey leaned back in his chair and tapped the pen on his teeth a couple times. “However, the eldest sons in your family were all born with a touch of magic already in their veins. You got more than a touch, didn’t you?”

  The gypsy woman’s voice haunted him from the past. “The wee lad was double blessed wid da magic.”

  Trick swallowed hard, shaken by the memory. “I was born with magic in me, but it’s not enough to grab Oberon’s attention. You took the power he wants. I should just tell him.”

  “We have already gone over this,” Jersey said with a sigh. “Oberon will kill you on
the spot if you reveal I have the power and not you. The only reason he hasn’t killed you yet is that he thinks you have it.”

  The logical side of Trick’s brain agreed with the werewolf. From what he’d heard Oberon wanted him dead along with everyone involved in the demise of his son. But Trick’s reckless nature wanted to toss caution aside. That part of his brain was ready to tell Oberon everything. Could he shoot a text to that weird number and get the guy?

  Something was still bothering Trick about the whole ordeal. “How did you take the power from the Shadow Faerie? I was told it had to be me.”

  Jersey grinned. “Haven’t you figured it out? The Shadow Faerie was the other half of me, the original werewolf. Remember? I’m sure I mentioned that Oberon’s son brought me back to life after I died. He reached into the past, far into the past, and grabbed me when I was known as William. So when I later returned to life as myself, there were two of us.”

  Two Jersey Cliffords? Trick did not want to imagine such a thing was possible. A disaster waiting to happen, he was surprised the world had survived.

  Jersey added, “I knew my body would accept the power because it was in me already, in William.” He shrugged. “Same thing.”

  So that was how he’d done it. Trick pictured the Shadow Faerie and cringed. That hideous monster had started out looking like Jersey? Didn’t seem possible, but he believed it because it explained a lot.

  Grim expression, Trick demanded, “Tell me how to reverse the curse. You must know something.”

  “What makes you think the faerie king would share his diabolical plans with me?”

  “Summer and I need the cure before Oberon comes for us in person.”

  “Never fear. Oberon is only getting started.” Jersey snickered. “He will play with you in the same way a cat plays with a mouse. He will step on your tail. Then he will watch as you try in vain to escape. Once he tires you out both mentally and physically, after you beg for sweet death, he will kill you.”

  What else could Oberon do to him? The faerie already fixed it so that he couldn’t be with the girl he loved. He silently amended, the girl he thought he loved. Until he got over the temptation to feed on Dani he couldn’t be with her. In fact, everyone he cared about would be better off without him.

  Maybe he should end his own life while he still could.

  ♫

  Bash turned off the radio and headlights as he rolled down a dark, unfamiliar street. Trick sat in the passenger seat, quiet. He studied Bash’s profile in the jeep’s dark interior, watching for a change of expression. The guy could make a killing on the poker circuit. His features seemed to be carved in granite. If he was thinking about anything at the moment, Trick couldn’t tell.

  As arranged, Bash had met Trick after detention. That whole ordeal had left a bad taste in Trick’s mouth. What a waste of time. If Jersey knew anything important, he wasn’t willing to share. Trick had threatened him until he ran out of things to say, but the werewolf hadn’t budged.

  Trick knew one thing for certain: if Jersey found a way to strip him of his power, the werewolf would do it in a heartbeat. Trick didn’t just have to worry about surviving a battle with Oberon. He needed to find a way to get rid of the werewolf before Jersey got rid of him. Their war was quiet, more manipulative than physical, but it was as real as his upcoming battle with the faerie king.

  Bash lit a cigar, and the flame illuminated his murky green eyes with a golden light. The old hunter had finally agreed to take Trick on a job with him, but he refused to say what they were tracking. Trick couldn’t wait to fight side by side with the man his father had called friend. He just hoped he fought well. He wanted to impress Bash with his skill without giving away his vampire status.

  Smoke from the cigar helped mask the smell of the Bash’s blood. Trick was grateful. At least he wouldn’t lose control and try to feed on the hunter. Adrenaline pumped through Trick’s veins and energy had him on the edge of the seat. He couldn’t sit still. The urge to use vampire speed to race inside the house was difficult to resist. Somehow he managed. He clenched his fists and waited on Bash.

  When Bash continued to sit in silence, puffing on his cigar, Trick decided to start a conversation. “Are there vampires inside?” Trick asked.

  “Werewolves,” Bash said without emotion.

  Trick froze as his heart began to sprint towards an invisible finish line. The beats quickened to an irregular tempo, and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. No way could he fight a bunch of werewolves in front of a seasoned hunter. Werewolves were especially dangerous to vampires. One scratch could kill him. Hadn’t Summer and Cowboy warned him multiple times? If he went into the house, he’d have to use his supernatural powers to survive. He would give himself away. Then what? Bash would kill him on the spot.

  Trick swallowed the building knot in his throat and contemplated the situation. How was he supposed to get out of battling werewolves without giving his condition away? If Bash suspected he was a vampire, it would be over for him.

  Stalling, Trick asked, “How did you find werewolves? I thought they were extinct, other than the one working at the high school.”

  Bash didn’t blink at the mention of Jersey. “We’ve noticed a growing number of them stemming from this area. That’s why I’m here. I was supposed to scout the town, figure out why they’re back, and uncover their plan if they have one. Then the group asked me to talk to you.”

  A growing number? Cowboy was right. Jersey Clifford was up to his old tricks, turning people into werewolves. Despite his denials, the werewolf teacher was assembling a new army while Trick was busy with Oberon. Sneaky. Did Bash and his hunter friends know Jersey was the original werewolf?

  “Well?” Bash gestured to the ranch style home. “What is your first move?”

  Think like a hunter. Trick cleared his throat. “I would want to know how many werewolves there are, what sort of weapons they have if any, and whatever else I can find out before barging in there.”

  Bash nodded once to show he approved. “There were six last count. Could be more now. No way to be sure without going inside. They’ve been sticking close to home. I have a bad feeling they’re planning something big.”

  “Jersey Clifford, the teacher I told you about at my high school, he’s the original werewolf.”

  Bash’s laughter echoed in the dark interior of his jeep. His teeth gleamed white as moonlight touched them. “If I had a dollar for every time some werewolf or vampire claimed to be the first, I could retire.”

  “I’ve heard from my share of liars too, but my gut tells me this guy is for real.”

  “You want me to trust your gut?” Bash sent him a sideways glare. “I need proof. Can you give me that?”

  Could he? Doubtful. Cowboy and Summer insisted Jersey was the original werewolf, but Trick couldn’t mention them.

  Then he remembered something.

  “John Foster told me about the day the werewolves were wiped out.” Trick knew better than to mention that others had filled in the blanks. He didn’t dare throw Cowboy’s name into the mix. “My father was there. He got help from my brother, some vampires, and a few other people. They killed a werewolf named Jersey Clifford. When they did that, all other werewolves became mortal. Haven’t you heard the story?”

  Bash blew out a steady stream of smoke. “Heard? Yes.”

  “You don’t believe it?”

  “Do you want to kill werewolves or talk about them?”

  Trick leaned forward until he could see the house through the driver’s side window. The structure was small, one bedroom, two at most. He didn’t relish the idea of being trapped inside with a gang of werewolves, especially not with Bash watching his every move.

  Trouble was, he couldn’t continue to stall without making Bash suspicious. As his father would say, it was time to put up or shut up. He jumped out of the jeep and came around to Bash’s side. The seasoned hunter probably had some last minute instructions for him.

  Plus, he wo
uld need a weapon; he only had a few wooden stakes on him.

  Bash joined him on the street with another glare firmly in place. “Where do you think you’re going?” Trick gestured to the house, and Bash shook his head. “You aren’t going inside. This is my hunt. It’s my kill.”

  “Why am I here then? You’re supposed to be training me.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t kill them all. I’ll send out a little one for you.” Bash winked. “Wait on the sidewalk.”

  Trick bounced between relief and anger. He was tired of being jerked around by the moody hunter. On the other hand, he could handle a solitary werewolf without using his powers. But how was he supposed to impress the man with a single kill?

  Bash reached behind his front seat and pulled out a wicked looking sword with razor-sharp teeth on one side. Without another word, he headed for the house. Every step he took underlined the confidence the man had in himself. People thought Trick was over-the-top arrogant, but those people hadn’t met Bash. The man would have to take it down a couple notches to be labeled as simply arrogant. He could, no doubt, handle double the amount of werewolves inside.

  Trick folded his arms and leaned back against the jeep. A childish voice inside warned him not to wait on the sidewalk as the other hunter had ordered. He shook his head. He didn’t have to listen to that man. Trick idolized him, but Bash was not his boss.

  Bash knocked down the front door with a single kick.

  Violent sounds drifted across the street to Trick’s ears. He took a few steps, eager for his turn. Glass shattered. A body flew through the front window. Trick’s heart thundered in his chest. He drew closer, hoping the werewolf was still alive. Halfway across the dead lawn, his gaze fell on a headless body.

  What if Bash killed them all?

  Trick kicked at a small rock and considered rushing inside. He had been a great fighter before turning vampire. He could take out a couple werewolves without revealing his fangs. Couldn’t he?

  But what if being close to them brought the fangs out?