Deadly Curses

by Donna Shields

The priestess woman, Letti, was calling upon North, East, South, and West quarters to protect the circle she created as she walked around the two of them clockwise. Once Letti faced the back wall again, she turned to them and began walking around the table clockwise again and stopping at each of the four corners. She chanted as she cast the circle. Then, once done with closing her circle, she sat down at the table. “Please do not leave the circle or you will break our protective barrier. This barrier is set in place to keep all negativity out as we commune with the positive light of the Goddess.” Then, pinching some cinnamon between her fingers, she sprinkled it over the ribbon, beads, glitter, and the jar. “Herb for healing, and for hope, and for health, herb to help us cope. I call on thee, spirits of water, earth, fire and air, to aid me in this healing.”

  Ciarra stole a glance at Trent. The slight turn up of his lips gave her warning. She nudged him in the thigh. The beginning smirk disappeared, and he sighed.

  Letti wrapped the green ribbon around the jar three times and spoke, “Thrice I bind these, and so with nine calls, you will heal.” She then placed the beads inside the jar and poured the glitter on top. Replacing the lid, she shook it a number of times. “Power of healing, I command you, heal Trent Moore from all sickness.”

  She thanked earth, air, water, and fire and the North, East, South, and West watchtowers. She reversed the circle by walking counter clockwise around the table.

  She grabbed the jar and didn’t speak.

  “So, now am I healed?” Trent stood up.

  “I hold onto this jar with your name on it in case you need me again.”

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  “You’ll soon know.” She faced Ciarra. “Seventy dollars?”

  Ciarra dug into her pocket.

  Trent grabbed her wrist. “Hold up. You have to pay her for this?” He pointed at the Mason jar.

  Ciarra dropped her voice to a whisper. “Of course. No one works for free.” Ciarra jerked her hand away and found the money. “Thank you, Letti.”

  The woman grasped the money and closed her hand. “If you need me, you know where to find me.” She led them to the door, opening it. “Doctor Moore, you need to believe you are cursed. If you don’t begin taking this seriously, the curse will claim you, body and soul.”

  He didn’t say a word in return as he and Ciarra crossed the threshold and climbed down the steps. When they reached the bottom, Ciarra heard the door close behind them.

  Trent faced her. “Now, can we go to a psychic and see if some sane person can tell me what might actually be going on?”

  Ciarra ran a hand through her hair. “Fine. I’ve seen one close to here. Let’s go.”

  Trent began to cross the street. Ciarra saw the speeding truck rounding the corner and yanked Trent backward toward her and to the ground, thus making him landing on top of her. It knocked the wind out of her. It was real hard for her to regain her breath.

  Trent rolled off her and pulled her up to sitting position while she forced her lungs to expand. Then, she let it out in a whoosh.

  “Shit, are you okay?” Trent forced out as he rubbed her on the back.

  Ciarra pushed his arm away. “I’m fine. It was the same truck as the one that nearly hit you in front of the hospital, I swear.” She couldn’t see the damn license plate. Her eyes returned to him. Her heart leapt. She held his face between her hands, looking into his eyes. Her lips touched his, and she ran her tongue across his lips provoking him to open his mouth. He obliged and crushed his mouth against hers pulling her on top of his lap.

  Ciarra broke free to plant tiny kisses across his forehead and traveled to his neck. Trent fought her for control, groaning in her ear. Grabbing her hair, he gently pulled her back and attacked her lips again, nipping at the bottom one and prodding her mouth open.

  Ciarra’s head swam. She hated to admit it, but she had strong feelings for this man. And she had to have him completely. She wanted to go back to the farmhouse or somewhere. Anywhere so she could rip his clothes off and wrap her legs around him.

  Trent pulled away panting. “Ciarra, we can’t do this.”

  She heard what he said, but it wasn’t computing. Of course they could do this. She wanted to do this and so much more to him.

  She opened her eyes and realized they were still on the sidewalk just outside Letti’s place. She held his hand and tugged. “Let’s go. My place isn’t too far from here. There’s a motel down the road a bit.”

  Trent pulled his hand away. “No.”

  Ciarra didn’t understand him. “Why not? You kissed me back. Hell, I thought you were going to take me right here.”

  He touched her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong. I could.” He groaned. “But, we can’t do this. I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m afraid I might.”

  “How so?”

  “I just do. Not intentionally, but I do.”

  He was a player. Plain and simple. “Yeah, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.” Ciarra stood up and brushed the snow off her pants. The tears brimmed to the surface, so she turned away not wanting Trent to see them.

  “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. But I am not good enough for you. I don’t know if I can ever measure up to what you deserve. I’ve never had a solid relationship.”

  Ciarra couldn’t turn around. How stupid could she be?

  “Ciarra, please.” He touched her shoulder.

  “Have you even bothered to try?”

  “Look, my mother and father—”

  She had it. She was fed up worrying about being hurt or not. She just wanted the here and now. “That was them. This is about you. I think you use them as an excuse so you don’t have to care. Someone hurt you so you put up this wall and use your parents’ relationship that you don’t know anything about. You were a boy.”

  “You are a good one to talk. Your husband dies so you built your own wall so you don’t have to worry about being hurt. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close. Her lips touched his in less of a rush this time. The deeper the kiss became, the more Trent relaxed. She pulled away. “Let me worry about it. Let’s go see this psychic.”

  Maybe love could overcome evil.

  Chapter 11

  The lady standing in front of Trent and Ciarra looked the part of the crazy fortuneteller with a tunic on top of her head, huge loops hanging from her ears, and a crystal ball sitting on her table. Her name was Lolita, and according to the sign outside, a world-renowned psychic.

  Trent wanted to turn and run, but this visit had been his idea. Only as a joke, but he had to face the music and sit through it. At least he was facing it with Ciarra at his side.

  They’d traveled six blocks from Ciarra’s place to here in her car. In that time, Ciarra hadn’t spoken a word to him. Was she having regrets?

  Lolita held out her hand. “Let me see your palm.”

  Trent cringed. Why did he have to open his big mouth? He turned his hand face up and placed it in hers.

  Lolita sat straight up and gasped, jerking her hand away. She covered her mouth. “Sorry, but you’re real sick, no?”

  “I was.” Her reaction scared him. She seemed sincere . . . or a damn good actress.

  “Mmmm. Give me your hand back. I’m sorry for startling you.” She ran her finger along a line etched into his hand. “This is your life line. It can tell me much. You’ve had a long lonely life. Problems with your parents?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “No serious relationships?”

  “No ring on this finger.” Trent smirked. So maybe this lady was a fake.

  “You are a healer. You have a genuine heart and you care for your patients deeply.”

  She must read the papers. “Well, Ciarra did introduce me as Doctor Moore.”

  Lolita pointed at a line branched off from the thick one going down his palm. “You lost one of your parents recently, no?”

  Trent rolled his eyes. “Yes.
Are we done here? Anyone who watches the news knows all this.”

  “Then, let me get to the nitty-gritty, yes?”

  Lolita’s cheeks turned crimson, her eyes smoldering with clear irritation. It was apparent she took her ‘work’ seriously. If Trent had been cursed, then he certainly didn’t want any more trouble. “Sure.”

  “You’ve been hexed.”

  “No, I’ve been sick with the flu.”

  She snorted. “No, love. You’ve been cursed. A very bad one at that. I can see it surrounding you. Your aura is green, which is a healing nature, but it’s now turning dark, near black. You don’t have much time remaining. It’s no doubt a Vodun curse.”

  Trent turned to Ciarra. “Do you know this woman?”

  “No. You were the one who wanted to come here.”

  “True, but I don’t know any psychics. You led the way. Why are you so bound and determined to convince me of this crazy nonsense?” Trent stood up and moved away from the table. None of this could be possible. Could it?

  Lolita rose. “Doctor, I assure you we have never met prior to right now. You are very sick. You will die if you don’t go have this hex removed or reversed.”

  “How much?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How much is this going to cost me?”

  “To prove to you I’m not lying, there’s no charge.” She bent over the table and claimed his hand again. Closing her eyes, she held on to his hand as he tried yanking it away. “Aha.” Her eyes opened and she smiled. “Your hatred toward your childhood home and the blame you place is unfounded.” She dropped his hand.

  Trent stood up. “What are you talking about?”

  She waved a hand. “You believe I’m a crazy liar.” She stepped around the table.

  He grasped her wrist as she tried passing him by. “Wait. Please . . .”

  “All right. Your mother worked and loved her homestead nearly as much as she loved you. Your father loved her so much he put his entire being into it.”

  Trent stepped back. “No. My father worshipped the farm. He could have done anything.”

  She touched his arm. “Your father worshipped your mother and would do anything for her. Couldn’t you see that?”

  “Your supposed vision or whatever the hell you want to call it is way off on this one.” He spun around and headed out of the darkened room.

  “Doctor, you must find the person who placed the curse upon you and beg to have it removed.”

  He turned back. Neither he nor Ciarra mentioned the curse. He was about to ask how she knew, but the psychic reached over and took Ciarra’s hand into hers. “Oh my.”

  Trent raised an eyebrow. “Well, since we’re here anyway. Let’s see what she has to say about you.”

  “No, I don’t think—”

  “My dear. Why do you still grieve?”

  Ciarra wanted to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Surely you do. He’s been gone for a long time now, three years?” She closed her eyes for a moment. Trent didn’t know what to think. This was a ploy, wasn’t it? Ciarra wouldn’t really mess with him this way, would she? He didn’t know her well enough. But, there was such a strong connection between them. As if he’d been waiting all his life just for her. If she were using this as a way to get one over on him, he would break. Only Rachel would have pulled such a thing.

  No, Ciarra had been genuine about her husband. Trent didn’t believe she would use the man’s death in such a way to fool him into believing the curse.

  Lolita opened her eyes. “Jack wants you to move on. He’s at peace and wants the same for you.”

  Ciarra’s hand trembled. Trent searched her face. The tears slipped down as she blinked.

  Lolita continued. “My dear, it’s okay to have feelings for the healer. It’s time to be happy again. Of course, that is if his stubborn soul gets the hex reversed.”

  Was this woman for real? Did Ciarra have feelings for him? He placed a hand under her elbow slowly turning her around. “Ciarra?”

  She covered her mouth with both hands. “I’ve already lost Jack. I can’t stand to lose you too. I’m sorry.” She moved past him and out of the room. A few seconds later, he heard the door close.

  “Doctor, go after her. She’s afraid, but she loves you. And you love her. If you know who placed this curse on you, you must find the person. He or she is the only person who can reverse it. No amount of medicine will cure you. I can assure you of that.”

  For the first time, Trent believed he could actually be in danger.

  And crazy in love with the detective.

  Ciarra sat out on the front step of Lolita’s shop wiping the tears away with a gloved hand. The woman’s message from Jack shocked her as she’d never really expected to ‘hear’ from him. All this crying and grieving . . . She was so sick of the heartache and tears.

  She had taken off down the street, having no intentions of returning for Trent. She couldn’t protect him no matter what.

  She did love the big pain in the ass. She just didn’t want to go through the whole anguish of losing another man all over again. If Jack were here, he’d tell her to move on and stop the sadness. He’d say, ‘It’s pointless to grieve for me. Sooner or later we’ll see each other again. In the meantime, be happy.’ He’d probably launch into his favorite song, ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ as it had always made her smile.

  The anniversary of Jack’s death was two days away. “I want to move on. For once since your death, I truly want to live again. But how do I do that?”

  Could Trent ever love her? The psychic must be mistaking lust for love. The doctor had another woman. The blond bombshell. Miss whatever-her-name-was. How could she compete with all those curves?

  “I’m sorry.” Trent sat down next to her. He appeared genuinely apologetic.

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For having to protect me against what’s going on with me. For having to put up with me. For suggesting we come see the psychic. For fighting you nearly every step of the way.” His hand covered hers on the step. “For your loss.”

  Ciarra tilted her head. “Jack was my everything.” Shaking her head, she continued, “He’d been my entire world, the reason I woke up every morning.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Almost ten years.” The emotions welled up again. She fought them back down and cleared her throat. “He tried to make it. He struggled until I couldn’t take it any longer. Three days before our wedding anniversary, I told him it was okay to let go, that he could finally rest in peace and be free of the pain.” She whimpered into her hand. “Of course, it wasn’t okay. I wanted to go with him. He said he’d seen an angel who would walk with him when the time came.” She stood up. “At any rate, he slipped into unconsciousness from the morphine and passed away before the end of the night.”

  “What was he like?”

  Ciarra smiled. “A breath of fresh air. I could have the most insane day out on the streets, get damn near killed. I’d walk into our home, and it would instantly be erased by his presence. Jack was a history professor at the university. The ancient history buff and an archeologist. So, every day when I got home, he’d say to me, ‘Your day’s now in the past. Let’s go watch the sun set and with it, your day’s worries and troubles.’ He had a way of calming me down, de-stressing me.” She took his hand and pulled him up off the step. She was done living in the past. It wasn’t getting her anywhere and wouldn’t bring Jack back to her. She had the here and now that included this incredible, gorgeous doctor.

  Using the back of his fleeced sleeve, Trent wiped away the remaining dampness on her face. “I’m willing to entertain the thought of finding this mother who put whatever hex on me. So, what’s the score, two down with me and the solicitor remaining?”

  She waved a finger in his face. “Not even funny.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I’m no longer finding the humor in this either. The psychic read you on the nose. She doe
sn’t know you at all?”

  “No.”

  He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. She pulled back, but didn’t push him away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let’s go back to my place.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying—?”

  She moved her face close to his. “I’m saying I want you to take me back to my place.” She placed a kiss upon his lips.

  Her apartment building was three blocks away, so they opted to walk the short distance. However, it took them twice as long to get there as they stopped several times to hold one another and kiss.

  Ciarra held his hand and pulled him into her apartment. She closed the door behind him and moved toward her bedroom.

  He stopped in the middle of her living room, but didn’t let go of her hand. “Are you sure about this?”

  She unzipped his jacket and slipped it off allowing it to fall to the floor. After unbuttoning his shirt while placing tiny pecks along his chest, the shirt followed to the ground. She looked up into his eyes. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. She was afraid of what might or might not come of this, but she boxed up her overthinking mind and allowed her heart to take over. Not taking her eyes off of him, her hands traveled down to his belt. She unbuckled it and answered, “Absolutely.”

  Trent crushed her mouth with his in frenzy, rushing to take over the lead. Ciarra’s fingers sank into his shoulders as he swept her up into his arms and carried her down the hall. She pointed to the door at the end. “There.”

  Trent opened it and rushed over to the bed. He laid her down. In one swift movement he undid her pants and pulled them off. Her head was swimming and her body tingled from the little kisses he placed up the length of her leg. Her underwear was removed before she even realized it, and he settled between her legs. He ran his fingers with a light touch over her mound prompting her to open her legs more for him. He stroked her most sensitive spot. She bucked nearly coming off the edge. He repeated the action with added pressure. She grabbed on to the bedspread and arched her pelvis toward him. One finger entered her and then two in a slow teasing rhythm. She attempted to help pick up the speed moving her hips faster, but he laid his free arm across to hold her still. “Patience there. All in good time.”