Krysta's Curse

by West, Tara

  As if she sensed my distress, my aunt added, “You just need to learn how to control it. Don’t worry. It will come.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Aunt Bertrice merely smiled. “As long as you keep healing so quickly, you’ll be able to go home in a few days.”

  “Will you be there?” I asked. Even though the doctor said I wasn’t going to die, I still wanted to see Aunt Bertrice when I was released from the hospital. Something about her was so soothing. I felt so much better when she was around. Call me selfish, but I didn’t want her to leave.

  Aunt Bertrice’s face lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. “I wouldn’t miss your homecoming.”

  A wave of fatigue overcame me, and I had the urge to take a long nap. I managed enough energy to smile at my aunt. “You remind me a lot of Grandma. I like you.”

  She tapped a few buttons, and my bed lowered. “Get some rest, dear. The body always needs sleep after a healing.”

  Chapter Four

  AJ

  “Surprise!” The echoing cry filled our living room and made my head ring.

  I smiled at my BFFs, who greeted me at the front door of my house. It felt so good to be home after spending over a week in the hospital. My mother’s living room was decorated in hand-painted “Welcome Home AJ” posters and green and silver balloons, our school colors. The whole house smelled of spices and good food, and I could hear my grandma and Aunt Bertrice singing in the kitchen.

  After my mom helped me to the sofa, Krysta and Sophie sat beside me. My mom disappeared into the kitchen, hopefully to help prepare cheeseburgers or big, juicy steaks. I never wanted to swallow another processed piece of meat or slimy pudding, what the hospital passed off as food again.

  “We wanted to hide behind the furniture and surprise you,” Krysta said, “but your mom didn’t want us to scare you.” Krysta rolled her eyes at that last part. Probably because she was used to being scared all the time by dead people.

  I smiled weakly. I was happy to see her and Sophie, but I seriously just wanted to go to bed. Not have a party.

  “I brought you a cake!” Sophie squealed as she clasped her hands together.

  “And I brought your makeup work. Lots and lots of it.” Krysta smiled to take the sting from the words. She pushed back an errant piece of hair that popped out from beneath her headband.

  My hand instinctively flew to my bald head, which was hidden by one of my softball caps, and I realized how much I’d love to have a full head of hair.

  Krysta heaved a large sack of what looked like a ton of books and papers onto her lap.

  Crapola. I grimaced.

  “You would think your teachers would go easy on you when you almost die,” Sophie said, groaning.

  I gawked at the bag as Krysta hoisted it back off her lap, and it fell to the floor with a thud. I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can finish all this.”

  Sophie patted my shoulder. “We’ll help you.”

  My grandma stepped into the room. She looked just like Aunt Bertrice, small in size but definitely not in spirit. Her eyes always twinkled with something that looked like mischief. I imagined she and Aunt Bertrice had gotten into a lot of trouble when they were my age. Grandma tossed her long ponytails behind her shoulders with a swoop of her head, and then wiped her hands on a flour-stained apron. Gawd, I hoped they were making biscuits. And gravy. Lots and lots of sausage gravy.

  “Never mind about schoolwork, AJ,” Grandma said. “You need to focus on healing.”

  “If my GPA drops, I won’t be eligible for softball.” I shrugged, careful of my arm in the sling. “I’ll heal later.”

  My mother followed Grandma and tapped her on the shoulder. “We should tell her,” she said as she stole a glance in my direction.

  “Tell me what?” I asked as a knot of panic formed in my chest. Had the doctor told them I wouldn’t be able to play softball? Was my fractured arm broken beyond repair? Surely Aunt Bertrice could finish fixing up my wounds now that I was home.

  “Girls.” Mother waved a hand at all of us. “We have to talk.”

  “About what?” I asked, but I didn’t fight her as she took me by my good arm and propelled me into the dining room. Krysta and Sophie fell into step behind us.

  “Why, about your futures,” my mother said matter-of-factly.

  As if that explained things.

  The dining room was really nice. Mom had this thing about family dinners keeping us together, so she always kept it clean and decorated with fresh flowers. The picture window looked out over her flowerbed and was framed by gauzy pink curtains. Kinda girly, but nice.

  Mother and Grandma sat down at the table and smiled demurely.

  “First things first,” Aunt Bertrice said. She crossed the room to stand behind a large cardboard box on the table. There were holes punched in the sides, and I think there was something in there hissing.

  “What’s in the box?” I raised an eyebrow. Grandma always said her sister was eccentric. For all I knew, there were snakes in that thing.

  “I brought presents.” Aunt Bertrice slowly peeled back the four flaps of the box and reached inside.

  I cringed, expecting something icky and slithery to come out on her arm. Instead, she extracted a tiny all-white cat.

  “One for each of you,” she told us with a grin.

  Sophie gasped as Aunt Bertrice held the tiny white feline toward her. She held out her arms and cuddled the fluffy, blue-eyed creature against her chest. “Omigod!”

  Next came a lanky beige-and-dark-brown Siamese. Aunt Betrice deposited the lazy kitten into Krysta’s arms, where it lolled on its back and playfully swatted at my BFF’s silver necklace.

  My heart skipped a beat as another small form emerged from the box. It was a rough-looking creature. Her fur was wild and wavy, and she was covered in different-colored patches: cinnamon, chestnut, black, and white. She was missing a chunk from one ear. When Aunt Bertrice placed her against my chest, her warmth and weight felt right as she settled on my good arm.

  “Are these for us? Really?” I asked, stupefied. What were we going to do with kittens?

  Krysta stared down at hers as if it had fleas, her nose wrinkled. “I’m allergic to cats.”

  “You won’t be allergic to your familiar,” Aunt Bertrice assured her.

  “My familiar?”

  Aunt Bertrice held her hands out to encompass the three of us and our new pets. “Your spirit guide.”

  I shifted the cat’s weight, my arm already tired. Miffed, she flicked her tail and climbed onto my shoulder like a parrot. “What’s a spirit guide?”

  “Every young witch needs one,” Aunt Bertrice said simply. Her ambiguous replies were frustrating.

  “Witch?” Sophie’s voice was thin and reedy. “I am not a witch.”

  “Oh, you’re not?” Aunt Bertrice sat in one of the chairs at the table and folded her hands on the tabletop. “How else do you explain your gifts?”

  “Mine’s not a gift. Mine’s a curse.” Krysta directed the statement at her kitten, who stared back benignly.

  “I’m sure all of your gifts feel like curses when you don’t know how to control them,” Aunt Bertrice murmured. “That’s what your spirit guides are for. They will help you.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Sophie cut in. “We are actually witches, and these cats are going to teach us how to control our powers?”

  Aunt Bertice nodded like a proud teacher. “Yes, your magical powers.”

  I knew my mouth was open, but I couldn’t really help myself. I mean, come on. The calico kneaded my shoulders with her claws, her purr loud as an engine in my ear. “But they’re cats.”

  “They aren’t just cats, AJ. Haven’t you been listening? They are familiars. In each cat resides the spirit of one of your ancestors.”

  Mine, Krysta, and Sophie’s voices blurted out in unison. “What?”

  “I think this is a good transition into what we really need to discuss,” my mother s
aid, clapping her hands to the arms of her chair and pushing to her feet. She left the room, and returned a moment later holding a white wicker basket lined with a few towels. “If you’d like, the cats can rest here for now.”

  Sophie leapt forward and deposited her white, fluffy cat in the basket without a backward glance.

  I caught my calico’s eye—she was still on my shoulder. Reaching up, I gripped her with my one good hand and put her inside with Sophie’s cat. I looked over at Krysta, who just to her Siamese harder.

  “Have a seat, girls,” Grandma told us.

  “Krysta,” my mother said while she toyed with a frayed string on her apron, “we’ve already spoken to your father. Sophie, we need to address your mother and father next. I just don’t know how to go about it. Krysta’s father knows about her gift, so speaking to him was easy.”

  Sophie, Krysta, and I exchanged confused looks. What was my mom talking about?

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  Grandma cleared her throat before exchanging nervous glances with Mother and Aunt Bertrice.

  I got the uneasy feeling that whatever it was they were planning, I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Well, as you know.” Grandma paused and cleared her throat again. “Aunt Bertrice is a retired teacher.”

  “She won Salem’s Teacher of the Year award three times,” Mother interrupted, before exchanging yet another nervous glance with my aunt and grandma.

  “This is an important time for all of you,” Aunt Bertrice said.

  “Your powers are changing,” Grandma added.

  “Adjusting to these changes can be difficult.”

  I don’t know who said that last line. Keeping up with all of them was making my head spin. Didn’t they realize I’d just woken up from a coma?

  “Learning how to connect to your familiar can also be challenging.” Aunt Bertrice flashed a crooked smile as she looked down at her cat—a large, long-legged black one—and scratched her behind the ears. “They may have the spirits of our ancestors, but they are still cats by nature.”

  Grandma sat forward in her seat, fixing all of us with an earnest expression. “You need a mentor.”

  “A strong witch,” Mother said. “And Aunt Bertrice is the most powerful witch we know.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. The reason they were babbling and acting so nervous. They were trying to send us to Salem!

  I stole glances at my friends, who were wide-eyed and gaping at my family. They looked as scared as I felt. “S-so you want us to go live with Aunt Bertrice?” I stammered.

  Mother lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes.

  I’d seen that look before. That was the look she used whenever she knew I was about to talk back.

  She nodded. “We’ve already made arrangements.”

  My pulse quickened. My heart felt like a hammer pounding against my chest. “But what about softball?”

  Mother flashed what looked like a sympathetic smile. “It’s only for one year.”

  Only for one year!

  Had she no idea what missing one year of sports would do to my athletic career?

  “If I miss a full year of sports, I’ll lose my edge.” My voice rose along with my ire. “It’s bad enough I can’t play basketball.”

  “AJ,” Grandma said, “When are you going to realize that sports are not your true calling in life?”

  My hammering heart deflated. Grandma was supposed to be on my side. She was the one adult I could always depend on when the rest of the adults were being unreasonable.

  “Salem has a few private leagues,” Aunt Bertrice said. “I’m sure you could still play softball.”

  Private leagues? Yeah, sure, our town had private leagues, too, mostly a bunch of out-of-shape middle-aged people who were just looking for something to pass the time. I couldn’t be taken seriously in a private league. I wanted to play real team sports.

  “So I’m going, too, and my dad is okay with this?” Krysta asked in a barely audible voice as she clutched her cat to her chest.

  For a moment, I’d forgotten my friends were beside me. Up until now, they’d been quiet while the adults were intent on ruining our lives.

  Mother patted Krysta on the knee. “He knows it’s what your mom would have wanted.”

  When Krysta’s eyes glossed over, I knew it was over for her. Of course she’d agree if she thought it was what her dead mother wanted. What did it matter to Krysta, anyway? She didn’t play sports. All she ever did was watch celebrity television and read fashion blogs. You could do that from any town.

  Oh, so unfair of my mother for pulling the dead mom card on Krysta. I’m sure this was all part of their evil plan to destroy our adolescence.

  Heat raced up my chest and fanned my face. I was so angry, I could practically feel the steam shooting out of my ears.

  “My parents are never going to agree,” Sophie said in a clipped tone. “My mom freaks if I’m gone from home for more than an hour. And you can’t tell them about my gift. They’ll go nuts.”

  Mom smiled and leaned toward Sophie. “I was thinking of telling them that AJ is going there to heal, and she could use your support.”

  Sophie arched away from my mom, emphatically shaking her head. “I’m in all AP classes. They want me to go to an Ivy League college like my sister. I know they won’t let me leave.”

  Thank goodness I had Sophie to talk some sense into my family. Maybe she could make them understand that leaving Greenwood was a bad idea.

  “And what about you, Sophie?” Aunt Bertrice fixed Sophie with a knowing gaze. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What do you want?”

  Please, Sophie, please tell them you want to stay here.

  I looked over at my friend and gasped in shock. Never had I seen her face so flushed. And that look in her eyes. Sweet, innocent Sophie looked like she was about to rip my aunt’s head off.

  With fists clenched by her sides, Sophie slowly rose to her feet. “I want everything to go back to the way it used to be. Back when my gift only worked once in a while.” She began to shake as tears streamed down her face. “Back before people were telling me I was a witch, and I needed a stupid cat to control my powers!”

  I was too stunned to speak. Krysta was as still as a statue beside me.

  Mother’s mouth fell open. “Sophie—”

  “I don’t even like cats!” Sophie screeched and stomped her foot before storming out of the room.

  In the quiet that followed, her little white kitten popped its head over the top of the box and cried, a sad, mournful sound.

  Find Visions of the Witch at Smashwords

  The Whispers Series

  Sophie’s Secret

  Don’t Tell Mother

  Krysta’s Curse

  Visions of the Witch

  Curse of the Ice Dragon

  From the bestselling paranormal author of The Whispers Series comes a new fantasy saga.

  Born with mark of the Mighty Hunter, Markus saves his village from the brink of starvation — for whenever he releases an arrow, his aim is true. But despite his skill and strength, Markus is unable to confront his tyrannical father. Shamed by his cowardice, he distracts himself by needlessly shooting the forest creatures.

  When Markus takes no heed of the village prophet’s warning that his actions will attract The Hunter’s Curse—for every animal Markus kills, his loved ones will suffer the same fate—the Sky Goddess unleashes her ice dragon. Now, Markus must flee the dragon without killing it … or his beloved brother will be the next to die.

  Read on for an excerpt!

  “Hey, ho!”

  The voice startled him. Instinctively, he looked up while reaching for his boning knife. He swore under his breath. What good would a knife do him now he was cursed?

  He breathed a sigh of relief as Zier, the dwarf trader, approached. A mountain of animal skins and other various goods dangled from a large pack atop his broad back. The stocky, red-bearded trade
r visited Markus’ village frequently during the warmer season, trading pelts and just about anything else for fruits and grains.

  Markus wondered how he had failed to notice Zier’s approach earlier, and derided himself for losing focus once again.

  “Put away your knife, boy hunter,” the man chuckled. He thumped his chest. “It is only Zier!”

  Markus could not help but feel annoyance at Zier’s jubilant expression when his foot throbbed, and he was fatigued and famished. But the trader seemed oblivious to his suffering.

  Reminding himself to reign in his temper, Markus fixed his gaze on Zier. “A hand up, please.”

  Holding out his hand, Zier’s smile lit with amusement. “Twist your foot, son?”

  “Aye,” Markus grumbled, pulling himself up.

  Zier did not pull, yet Markus knew his movements were restricted by being laden with so many goods. Zier’s body always moved stiffly under so much weight, making him resemble an extension of his furs.

  “These rocks can be tricky.” Zier nodded at the dark crack from which Markus had dislodged his foot. “Many do not see the ice until they are flat on their backsides or worse.”

  “Aye,” Markus muttered again as he scowled down at the dwarf, afraid to say more lest he berate the trader for his indifference.

  Zier fixed him with a quizzical stare. “Why so few words?”

  Exhaling, Markus rubbed a shaky hand across his sweat-drenched brow. Until this moment, he had not realized how much his limbs shook, but he felt the tremors in the marrow of his bones. Throwing a glance behind him, he swore, seeing how quickly Lydra was bridging the gap between them. “I must make haste.”

  “Why? What brings you so far this side of the mountain, boy?” As Zier spoke, his voice faltered as his gaze trailed to the spot where Markus had been staring. “Great Goddess!” he exclaimed. “What is that creature I see in the distance?”

  “A dragon.” Markus sighed.