A Mongrel's Curse (Breed Matters Book 1)

by Paul C. Middleton

  I tried hard to focus on being safer thinking of Imps as potential romantic partners. Really, really hard.

  I needed to get my head on straight. I was a professional, not some yahoo. Glancing out the corner of my eye at her, I saw the probable futility of that thought. She flashed a stunning smile at me, her cheerfulness infectious without her projecting it. Yeah, keeping my head screwed on might not be happening.

  I brought the shopping into the house while she headed for the shower after I checked the time. The thought trickled through my head that with how she was raised, the second curse, she hadn't had to hide her emotions. Ever. They wouldn't affect her family, who were permanently joyous. Anyone she met would feel joy no matter what her emotions were.

  I'd finally found someone with a worse life than mine. I'd expected to feel exultant when I discovered that. Instead, I felt guilt and a fair dollop of sorrow and shame. There was nothing to exalt. Since she'd been fifteen, from what she'd said, the curse had gone active. It had probably screwed up everything she'd tried to do. She hadn't deserved what her life was, any more than I had. I was, even in my own eyes, an arsehole.

  Bugger.

  Then she walked out of the shower, naked as the day she was born.

  "Where's my suitcase?" she asked, quite reasonably.

  I could feel myself blushing, but was unsure of whether it would show. It wasn't like I checked my face every morning, and I hadn't checked it today. I saw her blush reach from her impressive rack all the way to the tips of her ears. I could also feel my nether part standing firmly at attention.

  "S-s-sorry, I'll get it right away. I'm so sorry. I should have thought of that. Sorry." I stuttered and gibbered. 'Great,' I heard a voice at the back of my mind say, 'Real suave there, she's sure to be impressed.' Its sarcasm was impressive. I managed to hide the wince from the world at large.

  When I walked back into the house, she was still standing there naked, but this time had a subtle smile on her face.

  "If you are interested, we could adjourn to one of the beds. It's been a while since I was with someone for anything other than my needs. I think I'd enjoy it."

  That was when she hit my wall. No way would I sleep with a woman who hadn't seen me after at least three wake ups.

  I shook my head gently and said, not without regret. "I have my own... complications, remember? This tattoo is the only constant in my form." I showed her the Thylacine, mouth agape on the back of my left hand. "Take this as best you can. If we never make it to a horizontal samba, this will be one of the great regrets of my life, but I won't sleep with a lass who hasn't seen me after three different wake-ups. You need to know what happens to me overnight before I'll do that."

  There were regrets when I saw her start to pout. Plenty of 'em. And reasons to relent, both for her good and mine. But I stuck to my guns on this point. You cross a line once, and it's hard to cross back. Or not cross it again with someone else. Impossible most of the time.

  Whatever.

  "Please get dressed." I said through gritted teeth "I really don't want to break a personal rule, and it's getting harder not to by the second."

  "Okay. I'll try to make it up to you in a few days." She said seductively in my ear. My determination almost broke then and there. She blew me a kiss from the guest room door as she walked through it. Damn. This girl had absolutely no off button on her emotions. And they seemed to bounce from one to the next so damn fast.

  I sat in the lounge room trying to gather my thoughts when she walked back in. In a sundress, that wasn't very modest. With. No. Bra. Her nipples were clearly imprinted on the fabric. I did my best to be nonchalant about it.

  I realized I should have set another line. A long time ago. One in my head that separated 'client' from 'woman.' Something tickled at the back of my mind. It was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't concentrate enough to figure it out. She was quickly busying herself sorting the shopping. Humming something to herself.

  When she was about half-way through unpacking, there was a shriek, and she stomped up to me holding something.

  "What are these?" She said, a mix of curiosity and disgust in her voice, holding the Rakshasa teeth.

  "A present for Gran. She'll love 'em. Furies are into trophies from enemies. Those are bona fide Rakshasa noble's teeth. Took 'em from one that was trying to force a little girl to kill and eat her brothers so he could transform her into an appropriate bride."

  I held out my hand "Ick. Yuck. Just take them" she said with somewhat amused disgust in her voice. At least she wasn't completely oblivious to what the nastier creatures out there were like. She rushed to the kitchen to wash her hands in the sink.

  Yes, certain Supernaturals can change humans. Children at least. Sometimes a pregnant woman and the child. It's usually an unpleasant process, but part of the magic makes them feel it is perfectly right to have done what was necessary for the change once it's over. They probably accounted for less than a quarter of missing kids, considering all of those that were gone because of child use and abuse. Humans are the only creatures that are knowingly abusive arsewipe wank rags to their own young. Except maybe chimps. I never bothered researching that. What would the point be? I see enough crap in my life.

  Other times a human can be changed by contract if their nature is close enough to that of the supes. That accounts for about a third of Furies, and all male Furies. To be born a Fury was to be born female.

  I'll let you think of how many types of supernatural that do this. I will say that Imps can't, but they may work with someone who tickles their fancy. Or they may prank them. They're a quirky bunch.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with Fidelma. She asked me about the different supes out there, although I don't remember her asking about any fae. The smells coming from the oven and stove were amazing. Watching her bustle around the kitchen, with such verve and happiness was intoxicating.

  I tried to help several times, but she kept refusing it. I'd relaxed after she handed me the teeth. That must have been what had been worrying me. Dinner was fantastic. As I headed to the bedrooms at the back of the house, I wished her a good night. All this talking, socializing, and... other excitement had exhausted me. I took my boots off and lay my head down. I needed a good night's sleep before matching wits with my Grandmother.

  Chapter 6

  I woke up early and decided I'd better look in the mirror. If my visage was truly terrifying, I could always try and catch another forty winks. Or not. If she regarded me with affection, it might be best to show her how bad it could be.

  Yeah, you know how some women worry about bad hair days? I worry about horrific face days. I think I have it a little bit worse, don't you?

  It was a bit on the terrifying side. One eye was a cloudy white, there were a dozen scars through a thick black beard. The scalp was scarred and bald. Heck, today's face looked like a blacksmith had tested the sharpness of his new knives and daggers on the entire head for a couple of years. Still, It wasn't like the burn victim's faces I'd had for two days last year. That had been actually uncomfortable on top of looking... disturbing. After a couple of hours, I'd taken a nap for a new face, both times. Some faces I just can't deal with.

  I rummaged through my chest of drawers for a pair of undies that fit. I heard a knock on the door and yelled out "Just a tic." I was fairly beefy today, and taller. About Fidelma's height actually. I went to the door, opened it slightly and showed the back of my left hand.

  "I get it. You don't have any clothes on. You saw me naked yesterday so turnabout's fair play, right?" The irritation in her voice didn't speak volumes. Instead, there were libraries of irritation resounding in her tone. I'd not yet convinced a woman before she woke up the next day about the changes. I opened the door, and there was a startled shriek and a very professional punch to my solar plexus. This resulted in me collapsing to a knee, gasping for breath in surprise. This was new. I'd never had a guest attack me before.

  Run screaming from the h
ouse. Check.

  Lock themselves in the guest room and call the police. Check.

  Those were easily solved. Sarge or the SSC were the only police that called in at my house. They rarely bothered checking for the ones that ran screaming.

  Slap me and accuse me of hiding my real visage behind an illusion. Check. That one was a real shame too. She'd been quite a flexible elf. We could have had good times.

  Punch me, take my legs out from under me and put me in a creditable headlock? That was new.

  "I don't want to hurt you Fidelma. I showed you the tat last night." I croaked at her. I held it in front of her eyes and slowly she released the pressure.

  "Thalias? That's really you?" Fidelma said "I heard something from in here. The sound I heard reminded me of a zipper slowly opening."

  I winced "Thal, please." I responded automatically. I paused then continued "No-one's ever told me there's a sound when I change before. I'm sorry it woke you. Now can I go to my clothes room and dress in appropriate clothes?"

  "Clothes room? This I have to see. And men complain about women having too many clothes."

  "I think that I might be the only person who can gain or lose ten or more inches from my waist overnight. I have a better excuse. I wouldn't be able to get my leg up to the knee into the pants I was wearing yesterday."

  She looked at it and stroked it up to the leg. I kept my mind on pissing off my Gran. That was like a bathtub of ice. "Not even gonna tempt me. I don't piss off my Grandma. Ever."

  She looked at me and nodded. "I can understand that. I wasn't thinking I guess."

  I glanced into her room and did a double take. Damned brownies must have changed it to what they thought she'd like. There was frilly and pink everywhere. I shuddered slightly, then became a little thoughtful. It didn't look too bad with Fidelma in the doorway in a skimpy nightgown, the sun rising behind through the window behind her. I sure hoped they had stolen little to make it comfortable for her. When brownies liked someone, they could go overboard. I think my mother had sent me the sheets and quilt. The rest I didn't remember owning.

  I shook it off and walked into my clothes room and grabbed the measuring tape off the back of the door. Quickly measuring my chest and waist, I went to the appropriate wardrobe and grabbed out clothes. I'd gotten a solid twelve hours, so I should be good for three days. I had a companion who could go to the nearest op-shop if it took longer and find something that fit at least.

  I'd given up matching my attire when traveling a long time ago. There was usually a priest or hunter willing to help me out if I had nothing I could wear. I had four different sizes of leather coat that covered a multitude of sins. My clothes luggage was bigger on the inside than the outside, a gift from a family of pixies, but I couldn't account for every body shape I might become.

  I grabbed the appropriate coat off the wall and, looking at the shocked expression on Fidelma's face said "You need to get dressed and pack. I'll call in our breakfast to the roadhouse that's on the route. We have to get moving."

  She nodded numbly and hurried to her room. That was closer to a 'good' reaction to my changes than I'd had in a long time, I thought.

  Ten minutes later we were on the road to the Fury colony. At least it would indicate where her curses came from. If it weren't a Fury curse, it wouldn't work there.

  Chapter 7

  As we drove into the colony, I kept an eye on the humans we passed. Fidelma had toned down her projective empathy, but it was still having an effect. The people we passed shied away from the car and kept their faces averted. So the curse making her project joy wasn't from a Fury. That was good to know. Fidelma was practically shaking like a leaf from her anxiety, so I knew what I was looking for.

  I parked next to Gran's shop. It was a forbidding-looking place. She was a fan of tradition. People looking for curses didn't want gaudy, cheerful and bright. They wanted Gothic and foreboding. The concentric circles of ash, starting thin and radiating out to thicker rings were new. A nice touch I had to admit, sure added to the ambiance.

  "Now, don't drink or eat anything unless I do first. Gran won't be offended. She knows that I know she enjoys poisoning her guests..." When I opened the door, I was shocked to silence with the acrid bite of the air. That was a little intense. And strange. Although part of the smell was wood ash, I couldn't recognize most of it. I guess I'd tell her to tone that part down a bit. It might be part of her trouble with business. Word got around about things like that.

  I looked over to check that Fidelma was following. She was and coughed slightly at the ash. I dashed to her side and rushed her to the door. Damn. Grandma was getting creative. There must be elf-bane smoke in the air. Not much else could cause an elf or a half-elf to cough. Breathing too much of it would make her vomit and, eventually, put her in a coma. The bell tinkled as we entered the fresh air of the office.

  "Dan, did Nana have another vision? Or did an elf really piss her off?" I yelled into the shop.

  "The latter, me lad, the latter. I was off at my weekly golf game, and she won't tell me the details. The bill for the elf bane was... impressive. Not that your Grandma doesn't have the money. She just rarely splashes it around like that," he said. He wasn't in any pain. Maybe it was the case of another rare person immune to projective empathy. It's not so common an ability that people normally encounter it.

  "Well, my client's a half-elf. Get me some of the ariathela," I growled.

  "That'll be one hundred and ten dollars, m'boy." He answered in his businessman's voice. I'd hoped for some family generosity, but no such luck today.

  "Yeah, yeah. Take it off my credit here. I know I still have a couple of thousand for the last time I hunted down herbs for you and Glenda." Glenda was the shop's senior alchemist. "Gran's in her office?"

  "Yes, son. I hope you brought her a gift. She woke up a little testy this morning. More likely to curse than to break a curse."

  "Thanks for the warning. I brought Grandma Rakshasa teeth."

  Dan whistled. "Okay lad, You probably just made her month. Forget about the charge for the ariathela. This will make my life much easier for a while."

  I grinned at him. He did have a heart, even if sometimes his original profession took over. "I'll take it on the way out. We'll have to walk through the Elf-bane again."

  Fidelma paused and looked at me. "Your Grandmother burnt Elf-bane out the front of the shop? I thought that stuff was on the restricted list."

  I rolled my eyes at her "Yes, it is. But most hunters can get it, And really, who's gonna tell the Fury Alecto she can't have something she wants, hmmm?"

  Fidelma shook her head in mild, for her, disbelief.

  We walked toward the spiral staircase. Gran would see people with mobility issues in the sun room. Her office was where she preferred to work. Four stories up, and I knocked on the door.

  "Come in Thalias." This wasn't a good sign. She knew how much I hated my first name in full and was usually sensitive about it. I opened the door. My Grandmother looked, at first glance, like a middle-aged woman with gray hair. Until you noticed two things. Her skin was as smooth as a teenager's, and her hair glistened. It wasn't exactly gray because it held a metallic glisten in it. For one of the more fearsome beings that still regularly interacted humans, her looks weren't all that imposing until you saw the wicked twinkle in her eyes.

  I tossed up how to play it. Yeah, the best way was gonna be tell her the business and then give her the gift.

  "Gran, I got a double cursed here I thought you could look at. The first one is not a Fury curse, the other seems to be. Just looking for a bit of help," I started.

  I hadn't realized how bad a mood she was in. Things went downhill fast.

  "I can't believe you are my flesh and blood Thalias. When you come here, it is always to ask me to undo the work for which Furies were made."

  I snuck my hand into my pocket, grabbed the teeth into my hand and walked up to the desk.

  "Now Nana, that's not fair, and you know
it. You also know I rarely bring a client with me. Usually, I bring a blood sample. That's how bad this curse is. Besides, I do favors for you and the shop."

  "But you've never accepted all of your heritage, boy. I've not felt the tingle of you cursing someone, or even another supernatural. Not once. Nothing like..." I knew this tirade, but when she paused, I was really surprised. She usually ended with 'cousins.' Aha. I had her.

  "Oh, so another cousin has decided to leave the family business? Is that what your problem is?"

  Her eyes flashed. I knew this was dangerous ground, but I needed to know. Then I saw a tear trickle down her cheek.

  This was my Gran, my Nana. She was hard as stone and would harm someone for looking at her funny if she was in a bad mood. Yet she was crying. Yeah, I know a single tear doesn't sound like much, but for my Grandma, it was more... care than I'd ever seen her show. It was more emotion about something than she'd ever shown me.

  I left the Rakshasa teeth on the desk and quickly moved around it. Something had hurt my Gran, and it lit a fire of anger in my heart. I was furious, and I'd never expected to feel that. I hugged her for the first time since I'd been a thirteen.

  "What happened Nan? Tell me, and I'll do my best to fix it." Yeah, I'm an arsehole, but this was family. You look after your family.

  "Your cousin, Isolde. She swore off the curses and the curse magic. Some scoundrels assaulted her, broke one of her wings. She got away but refused to let me curse them. Her life had been in danger, and she would not curse them." She keened softly, sadly. "What good is all the power in the universe if I can't use it to defend and avenge my own flesh and blood."

  Wow. I mean I thought the end of the world would happen before I found out that Gran cared about more than the competition between the various groups that cursed others. Yet here she was crying over an injured grandkid. I was almost touched.

  I racked my brain. Isolde, Isolde. Ah. I remembered a shy, gentle six-year-old from the last family gathering mum had dragged me to. In all honesty, I had thought her a half Erinyes. Maybe even half-Erinyes, half Angel. She had none of the usual venom about her that Furies have.