Two by Day, Three by Night

by Breanna Hayse

  “A curse is something negative, something bad that you would never desire. A blessing,” Courtney inhaled deeply, “is something beautiful and good.”

  “Do you think that all blessings come wrapped in pretty paper, Courtney?”

  Courtney frowned, thinking. No. Sometimes blessings are painful, like when a person passes before the suffering was too great to bear. Or a baby who… Tears came to her eyes. Could she bear to face that type of loss again? She stood and walked to the window to gaze over the lush green of the fields and the purple mountains in the distance. She shook her head. “No, sometimes the blessings can hurt terribly, but they end up being the best for everyone involved.”

  “Good girl. And you are correct. Perception determines the difference between a curse and a blessing. You can turn this curse into a blessing by understanding and embracing the lesson being taught.”

  “But, in the end, I will have to give up my life?”

  “You will give up life as you have known it. The question you must ask is if your life today is one worth holding onto or letting go.” Gregor gestured towards a chair. “Sit, please. This Curse of Mirrors is about seeing the ugliness in oneself, the thing we hide from others or refuse to acknowledge or accept within ourselves. Every person is different. If I were cursed, I would probably face the God-fearing man versus the God-loving man. That is my greatest struggle. To love or to fear Him.”

  “Can’t that be one and the same? I mean, I loved my parents, but I feared their disappointment.”

  “And how did you deal with that fear?”

  “I was… perfect. Never allowed myself to do anything that would bring on that type of reaction from them,” Courtney admitted quietly. “I never allowed myself to test their acceptance of me.”

  Gregor was pleased. “Good. Do you see how you hid a part of yourself out of fear of it being discovered and then have to suffer the rejection of it?”

  “Hmmm, yes. I know my parents would still have loved me, but they may not have liked the other parts of who I was. I never allowed myself to face the consequences of my bitter, disapproving side, so I suppressed it rather than tried to change what was there. I think I understand. Marcas’ struggles between his rational, mature, and responsible side collides with his selfish, carnal, and temperamental half, right? It’s not good versus evil, or even bad versus good.”

  “You do understand. You must reach deep inside and understand what you deny about yourself. You must also decide that, if you sacrifice this part of yourself and allow it to die, if and how it will change who you think you are.”

  “So giving up my life isn’t necessarily dying?”

  “It is, my dear. It is dying to self. The hardest request that God has asked of His children.”

  “Marcas might hate me forever if I do this. What if it doesn’t work and I become less to him?” Courtney whispered, wringing her hands in her lap.

  “Child, there is no other way. That is why you must acknowledge and embrace your deepest self conflicts. Face them and then choose to let them die forever.”

  Courtney fought against the tears brimming in her eyes. She loved Marcas enough to do anything to help him, but this could cost her his love. What would she be without her inner struggles? Would she be half a woman, like Marcas would lose half of who she loved? With a deep sigh, Courtney nodded and listened carefully to the instructions: faith, truth, and love. Did she have the faith in herself to know she could face her own truth and still love who she was? That left her with only one thing: hope that she would succeed.

  * * *

  Just before sunset, the monks assembled for evening prayers, gathering Marcus with them. Courtney sat under the trees, watching them and wondering what the future was going to hold for her after this trip. A future without Marcas seemed like none at all. She sighed and closed her eyes, wishing this was nothing but a bad dream. She had to trust, had to have faith that her love for him would be great enough to see them both through. Faith. How she longed for the strength of true faith in something other than herself.

  When certain she could leave Marcas’ sight, Courtney rose and made her way downstairs and into the basement. Slowly she approached the magnificent piece of art, running her hands over the raised carvings of the delicious positions of punishment and pleasure. With a careful motion, she opened and reached into the forbidden canister.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Marcas left the monks in search of Courtney. Now divided, the two halves combed the manor and the grounds, still unable to locate her whereabouts.

  “How many times has she been told not to wonder off?” one part queried.

  “Too many times. You would think she learned to obey from the last spanking she received.”

  “I was not thorough enough. When we find her, she will meet both of us. Do you think she does this on purpose? To gain our attention?”

  “I don’t believe so. As a child, we used to run off when we were angry or upset. Mother worried constantly.” Marcas chuckled. “I remember feeling a little excited over her over-reaction once we returned home.”

  “I also remember Father making us pay for that over-reaction. I miss them,” the other said. “Once Sebastian leaves us, we only have Courtney.”

  “And if she is gone… we only have one another. Gregor would demand we join the Brotherhood.”

  “We cannot allow that to happen. It is better we learn to like one another.”

  The two stopped to look at each other, realizing that they were not only accepting the other’s presence, but also starting to enjoy each other’s company. Yet, they did not merge. Confused, and consumed with worry, they continued their search for the absent woman, their apprehension growing by the minute. They searched through the night, returning to the manor just before dawn and frantic with fear. Wet from plodding through soggy fields, and now merged, Marcas raced upstairs to change and found Courtney curled in a little ball in the center of his large bed, her golden hair strewn about her face.

  “You’re safe!” Marcas exclaimed, grabbing her startled form into his arms and covering her with kisses. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night!”

  “I was down in your basement. I wanted some alone time and it seemed to be the only place in this house that I could go without hearing people talk. Your divan is perfect to read in,” she lied, unable to meet his eye or tell him the true nature of her venture into the basement and the forbidden canister contained there. “Have you ever made love on it?”

  “Our portion of the manor is soundproof. Why did you not bother to tell anyone where you were?” Marcas’ eyes darkened with suspicion as he ignored the question that was designed to throw him off her track.

  Courtney gulped, knowing she was in serious trouble. She summoned up her less than pleasant side, deciding to take the opportunity to ignore her need to control her temper or carefully select her words. “Now you listen here! You are not going to tell me that I need your permission to read a fucking book or sit by myself!” Her voice snapped with anger as she stood up, wide awake, and feeling trapped in her lie. How she hated to lie to him!

  Marcas’ eyes smoldered. “I have told you countless times not to swear. I have also told you to tell someone of your whereabouts at all times. That it for your safety, not for my ego. You best not have touched that urn. If you did, I promise to spank you from now through eternity…”

  “Oh bullshit, Marcas! You tell me what you want me to hear and think I’m so stupid that I’ll buy into it. Well, the buck stops here. I do what I want, and when I want. You don’t fuckin’ own me! Now move your ass out of my way, I’m going back to bed. My own bed, thank you.”

  “You are not going anywhere, Courtney. You will plant your little backside back on the bed and think carefully about what you are going to say next. I don’t know why you are shouting at me, but it had better stop. I am politely asking you to think about what you say next, because words can never be taken back. And I am already quite angr
y,” he growled, battling with his own temper.

  Courtney glared into Marcas’ red, tired eyes. She knew he had been searching for her all night and that he was cold, hungry, and more than a little irritable. She gulped as she chose to explore her fear-filled, insecure and weaker side, and relinquish all self-control. She was terrified of the outcome but knew that she must take the risk and see what was hidden deep within her. What emerged twisted her stomach, said so vilely that she barely recognized her own voice.

  “Think about what I’m going to say? Gladly. Fuck off, asshole.”

  Marcas hissed, grabbing her wrist and flipping her across his lap without a moment’s notice. She yelled for him to release her, knowing full well that she would not be heard or helped by anyone. The broad flat of his rock hard palm landed squarely atop her left round cheek, etching a white handprint in her flesh that quickly turned to a searing red. She screamed profanities as she kicked and twisted to escape his iron-clad grip, finding that she was soon pinned under his strong right leg with his ankle hooked around her calves to hold her still.

  “This is just a taste of what you will receive for your disrespect this evening, young lady,” he scolded, his flattened hand landing smartly on her sit spots. “I do not know what is coming over you, but this behavior is unacceptable,” he stated, smacking her smartly to emphasize every word that slipped past his lips.

  “Leave me alone, you ogre! You have no… right…” She broke into a loud sob as he reddened her bottom with quick, well-aimed strokes. She raged, cursing and fighting him with all her strength, and allowing anything left of self-control to be tossed out the window.

  Undeterred by her cries, Marcas continued to lecture, “You do not know this countryside.” SMACK! “You do not know our language.” SMACK-SMACK! “I have political enemies simply because of my family name,” SMACK! “who would want to hurt you to get to me,” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “and if you think for one minute that you are immune because you are an American, you are wrong! And your language! Appalling!!”

  Another flurry of smacks followed, turning Courtney’s bottom to a bright crimson. She bawled into the hanging material of the bedspread, unable to do anything but cling to the soft fabric. The blatant, disrespectful beast that she had momentarily become had been thoroughly punished, and she found that she was immensely frightened by the degree of his anger. How he hated that nasty, ugly, uncontrolled part of her! She did too. It repulsed her. Courtney folded, no longer able to fight him, or herself. She released her pride as she pleaded for his forgiveness.

  “I’m sorry! Marcas, I am so sorry! Please, no more…” she beseeched softly. “Just love me, please? I beg you, just love me. All of me. Even what’s ugly.”

  “I will always love you although, right now, I am not liking you very much,” he reprimanded her as though she were a small, petulant child. “You are to stay in your room for the day, Courtney. If I come in and do not find you, I promise to take a switch to this backend and make certain that you will feel my anger the entire trip up the mountain. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Marcas. I’m sorry,” Courtney sniffed miserably, sinking on her knees to the floor and crying into her hands. How she hated herself right now! Why did she show him how ugly she could be? Was this to prove something to Gregor? Or to herself?

  “And one more thing,” he stood, his beautiful, sculptured face red with anger as he pointed his finger at her, “if I do find out you touched that canister, I will skin you alive. You will not, under any circumstance disobey me in this. I don’t care what Gregor tells you. If you touch that hideous thing, I swear to all that is good and holy, that we are through. It is what you Americans call a deal breaker. You cannot believe the tales and folklore. There is no cure for this curse! I must learn to live with myself, pure and simple. And you must learn to live with the two of me as well if you want to keep me.”

  “You don’t mean that, Marcas!” Courtney looked at him with panic. He could not be serious! She would lose him if she broke this curse because he would never trust her again! But, if she did not, he would have to live in his own private hell for the rest of his life. Gregor warned her that it could drive him insane. “Please, Marcas. Let me try!”

  His stony face gave the response as he stared at her. “To your room, Courtney. And do not leave it.” Marcas stood aside, holding the door open for her to pass. Whimpering with pain, Courtney slowly rose from the floor and faced him, waiting for a hug. When nothing came, she lowered her face and slowly walked to her room on the opposite wing. Her heart screamed in anguish. She closed her door behind her and climbed into her big bed, realizing that she felt two new sensations: loneliness and unforgiveness. They left her empty, hurting, and completely miserable. Were these feelings birthed as a result of her loss of control, or something else?

  She thought of Gregor’s words about the difference between a curse and a blessing. Was her love for Marcas a blessing? Was the life she had now, with him in it and filled with pain, better than her old life where she worried for no one except herself? But it hurt so badly! She rubbed her stinging rump, wincing at the burning sting. It was earned, she sadly acknowledged, but this had been a side of him she had not witnessed before. He was all business and unwavering, with the sweet, gentle part of him that she loved pushed aside. But what part of him did this newly exposed side belong to? Her viciousness brought it to surface and that was something she wanted for neither of them.

  She looked over at her dresser, thinking about the tiny vial of blue powder hidden there. She had provoked him, using the part of her nature that had never been witnessed by another human being. It disgusted her, sickened her, to know that this kind of malice dwelt within her. Did it have any purpose other than being hurtful? Time for honesty, Courtney, she told herself, closing her eyes. Yes, it had great purpose. Its existence triggered her need for control. It was the building block of the wall of protection she had placed around herself to make her heart invulnerable to the rest of the world. Without it, what would she be? Would it take away her ‘edge’, as Marcas put it? Maybe she and Marcas weren’t so different after all…

  She replayed her conversation with the old monk. If Gregor was right, she was Marcas’ only hope. But now, in view of Marcas’ threat of being a ‘deal breaker’, it would cost her Marcas’ love and any hope for a future with him. Gregor told her that she needed to come to terms with the parts of her soul that are torn, to understand that every person has different conflicts and to be certain before she made her decision. Courtney loathed the foul persona, the part she had dared to reveal as a means of relinquishing her control. Marcas hated it and the prospect of it returning frightened her. Was her pride worth the pain that her unedited words and actions brought upon Marcas and ultimately herself? Would she become a door mat for him without that ‘spunk’ that she believed was part of that nature? New tears spilled from her eyes. She finally understood the monks’ version of chess.

  * * *

  Marcas fumed silently as he packed items for their trip. He was angry beyond his ability to comprehend. Gone was the calm, reasonable, practical demeanor, and in its place was a brooding, irrational and chaotic animal that wanting nothing more but to snatch up his mate and disappear into the wilderness. He struggled with his thoughts and feelings, comparing them to the vivid stories of the legendary werewolves. Disgusted with himself, Marcas finally collapsed on his couch.

  “What the hell is wrong with me?” he asked himself aloud. “This is who I am. I love her passionately, in every way. Why must I have to understand the reason? I’m so tired of fighting. She loves me, despite of me. Why is it so difficult to accept that from her? I’m an idiot.”

  He almost wished it was nightfall so that he could have this talk directly with his other half. It was time to stop grappling and seek a way to unconditionally accept himself as Courtney did. He knew that this would require learning to live in peace and willingly share the woman that both parts loved. Oddly, he felt no internal argument, as tho
ugh his ego and his id understood and agreed.

  Exhausted from lack of sleep, he climbed into his bed and inhaled the lingering scent of Courtney’s perfume. Hmmm, vanilla and sandalwood… it was an intoxicating combination. He sighed loudly, gripping a pillow to his chest and feeling empty without her warm, soft body next to him. Didn’t she see the power she had over him? She made him feel alive and happy and he knew that he did the same for her. He regretted his words, recalling the things said in haste could never be taken back. He had to let her know that nothing else mattered, not even breaking the curse, and that it was only she that he desired. With one arm behind his head, he stared at the high ceiling as he pondered her behavior and her uncharacteristic venomous retort. Was that her hidden darkness? Where did that come from?

  He knew that Gregor had told her the mystery of breaking the curse. Faith once again came to mind; faith in the woman’s love, her strength, and mostly her ability to honestly evaluate and deal with her own fears and self-doubts. Marcas knew that Courtney would never find peace with such a horrid and hateful part living within her soul, forced behind a strong wall of independence. What if she could not accept it as part of herself? If she followed Gregor’s instructions, believing she could break this curse… would he be able to fully love and trust her, knowing that she harbored such poison? If removed, would it change who she was? Marcas closed his eyes. He did not want her to change, any more than she wanted him to. He prayed that they would not have to make that choice and that she would obey his demands. A tiny voice, his other half perhaps, chuckled inside his head and whispered, “you know she will defy you.”

  Marcas awoke shortly before sunset, and sat up to rub his pounding head after a restless night filled with disturbing dreams of being lost in the dark and unable to find Courtney. He closed his eyes as the sun slowly dropped and felt the rippling as he was riven in two. It was no longer an agonizing event and, oddly enough, gave him a sense of comfort and relief as he eagerly waited to settle. He hadn’t realized that he had been anxiously waiting for this moment.