Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse

by Bullion, Glenn

  He wasn't sure why he hadn't killed Charlie yet. He constantly thought of Erica, their brief time together, her harsh words when they ended their relationship. Jack could almost see what happened as he watched Charlie snore. Charlie, ever the quiet, shy mechanic, watched Erica from a distance. He felt he was a part of her life, protecting her. One day, he raised the courage to talk to her, probably a manufactured accidental encounter while she toured Sandy Cliffs on foot. She rejected him, and he responded in the only violent way he knew.

  "I've given you more time and thought than most mortals."

  Charlie sat upright in bed, alarm and panic in his eyes. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and reached for the lamp next to the bed. A soft glow flooded across the room, but Jack still remained in shadows.

  "You know, I blamed myself at first," Jack said. "And then I actually blamed her, for coming out here. But we have to put the blame where it really belongs. With you."

  "Who are you? What do you want? Look, I don't have any money."

  "What do I want?" Jack said, mulling the question over. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. I'm not here for your pocket change. I'm here for Erica Hernandez."

  Recognition flashed through Charlie's eyes. He sat up in bed, calmly, scooting to the center.

  "Erica…."

  "I already moved the bat from under the bed, and the knife from the nightstand. I almost didn't. It's not like they'd do anything to me, anyway. But I wanted to talk with you without you thinking you were going to make some crazy heroic stand."

  "I…didn't mean to hurt her. I just wanted to talk to her. She wouldn't even look at me. And I just…I don't know. I got mad. People have been treating me bad my whole life. I just couldn't take it anymore. My own father—"

  "Yeah, I know. Blah blah," Jack said. "Your father left when you were young. Your own mother molested you. I'm afraid I don't care."

  "H-How did you know—?"

  "The only thing that concerns me is you've taken someone I used to care for out of this world. Normally, I would have already killed you by now. But you caught me on a good day. I don't need to kill you. You're not a threat to me or the few loved ones I have. Killing you…it's not something Tiffany would do. I don't even think Erica would. But you do have to pay a price. I'm giving you a choice."

  "What's that?"

  "I take you to the police station. You confess everything, accept whatever punishment the mortals think is necessary."

  "Why do you keep saying mortals—?"

  "Or I kill you, despite what I just said. Very slowly."

  Charlie let out a breath and rested his hands on his thighs. He laughed and shrugged.

  "It's not really much of a choice, is it?"

  "One more thing. If you don't get that smile off your face, I'll cut your jaw off."

  Jack gave him time to get dressed, and left the apartment with him. He waited for Charlie to do something foolish. Mortals couldn't seem to resist foolishness. A wild, direction-less run. An errant cry for help. Charlie did nothing but march where Jack directed, to the rental car.

  "Buckle your seatbelt, now," Jack said. "We wouldn't want you getting hurt."

  The ride through town was quiet. The roads and sidewalks were deserted. The traffic lights all flashed yellow and red. Charlie folded his hands in his lap. Jack didn't want to know what was going through the man's mind.

  "I loved her the moment I first saw her," Charlie said. "I looked out my window and saw her moving in, carrying box after box. It was like watching an angel. I asked her if she needed any help. She told me no, but there was something in her eyes. She didn't know it, but she was attracted to me."

  "She didn't know she was attracted to you? Wow, what insight. How many times did your mom drop you on your head?"

  "I used to lay on my couch at night, and think she was doing the same right above me."

  "Charlie, the smartest thing you could do right now is keep your mouth shut."

  "We used to pass each other on the stairs, and she'd smile at me, but then she'd look down. She thought she was better than me."

  "She was better than you. The dog shit I stepped in earlier is better than you."

  "You should have seen her working at the bar. She was amazing. Attentive to everyone. Gorgeous. Everyone loved her. But she wouldn't even talk to me. She used to like going for walks after her shift was done. So, I tried coming up and talking to her." Charlie grew agitated. "I just wanted to talk to her!"

  "Charlie—"

  "She tried to get away. I would have done anything for her. She started screaming. Why would she scream at me? So, I put my knife in her. I showed her she wasn't better than me. I killed her, just like I killed my mother. The only thing I regret is I wish I'd left her alive a little longer. Then I really could have taught her…."

  He went quiet when Jack drove past the police station.

  "Hey, dumbass. You just passed the cops."

  "I know."

  Charlie's jaw fell open when his limited intellect caught up to what was happening.

  "But, you said—"

  "Sometimes plans change. We're off to the woods. I hear it's a great place for hiding bodies."

  Charlie lunged for the seatbelt release, just like Jack expected. He grabbed Charlie's wrist and twisted, and took his other hand off the wheel just long enough to poke him in the eye. Charlie cried out and covered his face with his free hand. Jack released his grip and chopped Charlie in his throat, a move he actually saw Victoria perform over a century ago. Charlie coughed uncontrollably and leaned over in the seat, hacking and drooling.

  Jack was proud. The car didn't even swerve.

  "I'm sorry, Erica," Jack said quietly. "I tried to do what I thought you might have wanted. But…" He glanced at Charlie. "I just have to scratch that itch."

  *****

  Sean sat quietly in the back of the van, trying to calm his nerves. Regardless of how many puppies he'd killed, how many hunts he'd led, the first night of a hunt always carried the same emotions. Excitement, dread, anticipation. As he listened to classical music quietly, and the two men he was with checked their weapons, a new emotion crept in. Anger.

  He looked at the empty space to his right. His brother was supposed to be sitting there. It was all part of a grander scheme. This day, they'd lead the hunts, fire the weapons. Many days down the road, they would be the ones sending the teams out, running the show. The two brothers, taking care of business.

  That day would never come.

  Nolan leaned toward him across the van.

  "Sean, are you sure you're up for this? We can always get someone else. You can take a few days—"

  Sean waved away his concern. "You idiots would fall apart without me."

  Nolan smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Sean pulled out his radio. There were three vans parked around Marie Johnson's apartment, on different blocks. They all were in walking distance of the woods. As soon as Marie left her apartment for her run, they'd close in. The team took turns watching her, safely, from a distance, and he needed to check in.

  "Taylor, what's the word?"

  The radio squawked in return.

  "She's still in her apartment. I'm not sure she's heading out tonight, boss. But I did change positions, got a better view of the apartment. She's got nice tits."

  Nolan laughed, but Sean frowned as he lowered his head. He rested the radio against his forehead and clenched his eyes shut, holding back tears. Taylor's comments reminded him of something Rob would have said.

  "Is that all?" Sean said.

  "No. She's packing up. Boxes are all over the place. I don't think she's gonna be in town much longer. It looks like she's actually getting ready to go to sleep."

  "Understood."

  Sean set the radio down. That changed everything considerably. But, like always, Sean was prepared. Hunts never went by the book. They sometimes had to shift to a second or third plan, other times throwing the plan out the window. The end
result was what mattered, which was a dead pack of puppies.

  "Okay, guys," Sean said into the radio. "Let's go two-delta. You know the drill. Ten minutes."

  The other two vans acknowledged. Nolan stood up and moved to the front. He grabbed three sets of SWAT uniforms and handed them out. They'd been coated in the solution the scientists at the organization created in the labs. It lacked a fitting name, just some long chemistry-class name the scientists gave it. Whatever it was, Sean just called it the goop.

  It made hunting werewolves almost entirely unfair.

  Sean caught Nolan looking at him with concern. He wasn't sure if he could put up with the looks all night.

  "You okay over there, old man?"

  "I'm good. Just keeping an eye on you."

  "Make sure you keep an eye on the puppy we're about to handle. And don't stop to stare at her tits." He grabbed the radio. "Same shit as always. Detain only. We need to find her pack, and that's easier to do if she can talk. Taylor, give us a count sixty minutes after those lights go out."

  "I have to piss," Taylor said.

  "Piss in your hand."

  Sean went through the process of checking his weapons, for a second time. Pistol, rifle, the blade strapped to his leg. Everything checked out.

  The hunt would soon begin.

  *****

  Marie awoke from her dream with a start. There was a loud crash, very close by. She jumped from the bed, wearing only underwear and a bra, and peered down the hall. Willing the darkness to fade away, the black hall turned a lighter shade, and she could see her apartment. Boxes littered the floor, a sight she wasn't used to. The front door suddenly swung open with force as the battering ram struck it a second time.

  She heard the men, their footsteps, their heartbeats. But she couldn't smell them.

  The lead man didn't waste any time. He spotted her immediately and raised his rifle. Marie's eyes lit up as she moved the inches needed to avoid the shot. The bullet grazed her arm and lodged in the wall behind her. She fell on her back and kicked the door closed.

  "Bedroom!"

  That was when they truly opened fire.

  She crawled on the floor as the door was destroyed by their firepower. Wood and drywall exploded around her. Her eyes fell on the window behind her bed. Throwing the curtain open, her hand was nearly to the latch when she saw the slight movement in the trees, followed by the red light.

  The silver bullet shattered the window and struck her shoulder. She collapsed on the floor, her arm feeling as if it were on fire. That wasn't far from the truth. Her lycanthropy reacted to the silver harshly. The wound instantly blistered and oozed. Even if she wanted to embrace the change, the silver wouldn't let her.

  But she didn't need to run on four legs to be dangerous.

  She heard voices in the hall, one of which spoke over a radio.

  "The target's wounded."

  "Good work. Keep the outside covered. Sweeping now."

  The bedroom door had more holes than wood. Marie saw shadows moving in the hall. She thought she saw SWAT uniforms before they opened fired, but knew there would be no law enforcement.

  Keeping low, she worked her way back to the other side of the room, close to the door. She pulled the lamp off the nightstand and ripped the cord from the wall. Her sense of smell was suddenly useless to her, but her hearing painted the scene in her apartment. Seven, maybe eight men inside. They moved in pairs, spreading out. The closest one was inching toward the ruined door.

  Marie carefully got in position.

  The door flew open, followed by the man taking a step inside. She lunged forward and slammed the lamp into his head. The helmet and mask protected him, but a shard or two of glass dug into his exposed neck. He stumbled backwards into his partner and pulled the trigger.

  She shouted as the shot found her thigh. Falling to her side, the pain quickly overwhelmed her. Two men grabbed her ankles while the one she attacked recovered. They dragged her to the dining room.

  "Target's down."

  "Get the shackles."

  The silver restraints gleamed in the moonlight. Her ears picked up two men outside on the landing, running crowd control, as the humans that lived around her flooded the stairwell. They were going to drag her away, in front of so many humans, to a safe location, where they would beat and torment her. She'd lived through it before.

  Marie would not go through that again.

  She summoned what strength she had left. Her body throbbed in agony. The silver inside her weakened her. She focused on her hands, tried to make them change. The pressure in her legs was unbearable, as they wanted to break, the first sign of the change. Marie pushed through it, redirecting the pain, staring at her palms.

  Two men flipped her on her stomach, to cuff her. One of them reached for her wrist and pinned it behind her back.

  She attacked.

  Marie spun to her back once again and lashed out, a claw ripping through the uniform of the man closest to her. Her nails found flesh, and finally her nose picked up the scent of blood. He fell back into his partner, and she jumped to her feet. She knew she needed to go forward. Going back into her bedroom was a death sentence.

  She struck wildly at anything that moved. The hunters were in close quarters and in unfamiliar territory, which gave her an advantage. They bumped into each other as they tried to get closer. One brandished a knife, and sliced her across the face. Marie spun in pain, her claws landing on a box she'd packed earlier in the day. She gripped the sides and tossed it, striking another hunter in the chest.

  Marie took one step in the living room. It almost felt like she was making progress. The hunters were backing up, giving up ground. That feeling didn't last long when one of them pulled out a small pistol and shot her in the shin. She tumbled to one knee; only the boxes around her held her up. The man who shot her stepped forward, clutching a knife, and stabbed her in the shoulder. He knelt in front of her and covered her mouth before she could scream. He pressed the side of the silver blade to her stomach, which was enough to cause her skin to blister.

  She didn't have much left in her. Her claws had turned back to hands. The silver was slowly shutting her down, sapping her strength.

  "Miss Johnson, or whatever you call yourself. It's over. Be a good little pup, and come with us. Now, people are all outside, but don't worry, they think we're cops. If you make any noise—" He grabbed her forcefully by the cheeks, making her stick out her tongue. "I'll cut this off. Got it?"

  Humans. Always so arrogant and full of themselves.

  She spotted the box she threw, not far away. It had busted open when it landed. Cooking utensils that Jack would not have liked were just within reach. Perhaps they would have a better use for Marie.

  "O-Okay," she said, lowering her head. "Just…no more silver."

  He motioned to the man behind him. "Shackles."

  Marie waited for him to get closer. She reached out and grabbed the frying pan, slamming it down onto the man's foot. She stuck again, and heard a bone crack. The man with the shackles tried to grab her, but she bit his finger, nearly ripping it off. He managed to lock one around one wrist, which sent fire up her arm. She shoved him back and ran through the living room.

  The men were shocked, but she heard them raise their weapons behind her. She jumped through the patio window, only stopping when her stomach hit the railing. They fired as she pitched herself forward. She felt pain in her back and other leg as gravity claimed her. She fell the two stories to the ground.

  Marie landed flat on her back. She could smell the woods, calling to her, offering safety. She couldn't breathe as she rolled over and pulled herself up. She saw the red dot moving along the ground, nearly to her. Before the red dot could settle on her, she ran. The woods beckoned. Just a few more feet.

  More shots rang out as the hunters fired from her patio. The trees swallowed her, bathing her in darkness. She pressed on, even as her body fought against her.

  Marie didn't dare stop.

>   *****

  Sean winced as he limped back into the apartment. He was certain the arch in his foot was broken. Nolan reached out and offered to help, but Sean waved him away.

  "I'm okay," he said. He grabbed the radio from his belt. "Pursue. Anyone not injured, pursue. Be careful. She knows the woods better than us. Johnson, stay behind for medical. Taylor, handle the crowd."

  He was proud of all his men as they headed for the door, ready for the hunt in the woods. Smoltz had lacerations across his chest. Trinidad's finger dangled from his hand, held on only by a piece of skin. Murphy has glass in his neck. None of that matter, they all wanted to hunt.

  "No, guys," he said. "Get to the van."

  They grumbled, but obeyed. He signaled for Nolan to stay behind.

  "It's always something, isn't it?" Nolan said, trying to smile. "It never goes how you plan."

  Puppy or not, Sean had to admire her. Strong, tough, resilient. Not many of her kind had control over parts of the change. He'd seen very few able to shift their hands, and with her body full of silver, he knew that couldn't be easy.

  "She's a brutal little mutt," he admitted. "But she's wounded now. She's got so much silver in her we'll be lucky if she doesn't die in a ditch."

  "What if she does die?"

  He sighed. "Then we'll hunt the hard way. Nothing we haven't done before. Just hope her pack is small. But there has to be something here. Help me before the real cops show up."

  They tore into the boxes. Clothes, towels, sheets, DVDs, utensils. Nothing that would point in the direction of a pack. She didn't even have pictures of any friends. The only pictures she had were of an older couple.

  "Sean," Nolan said. "What if Rob was right? What if she really doesn't have a pack?"

  "Then she'd be the first. But, hey, if that's true, then the hunt's nearly over already."

  Something on the coffee table caught his attention, right out in the open. He crossed the room, his foot aching, and picked up the plain business card.

  There was no title, no address. There was only a name and a few phone numbers.

  "You find something?"

  Sean flipped the card to see nothing on the back. His gut was telling him the card was important.