Blood Cursed

by H. L. Graham

  We headed out of town toward Jacob Anderson’s house. Gaven pulled up to the ten-foot-tall wrought iron front gate. The wall extended from the gate in both directions, then turned and disappeared into the surrounding landscape. I got the feeling an attempt to break into this neighborhood would require a ninja degree and some complex computer skills.

  The guard stepped out of the guard house. He was the meanest looking guy I had ever laid eyes on. He was about 6’5” and 250 pounds all muscle, with a thick black goatee. I quickly decided he shaved head due to early male pattern baldness and not a fashion choice. His uniform fit so tightly over his bulging muscles that the fabric strained to hold itself together. He wore aviator style sunglasses. Overall, he cut a pretty intimidating figure. I secretly dubbed him Baldy Bean. Gaven rolled down the window and opened his mouth to speak, but Baldy Bean cut him off with a gruff voice, “Invitations.”

  We handed him the invites. He took his time looking them over, checking the list. He lowered his glasses, handed back the invitations, but refused to release them. He shifted his glare toward me as silence enveloped us. I could feel my heartbeat speed up. I slowed my breathing, fighting to keep control while not breaking eye contact with Baldy Bean.

  “Okay,” I thought. ‘The Who Looks Away First Game’ was going down and I fully intended to win. I held his gaze as the seconds ticked by. I could feel both Gaven and Rebecca holding their collective breaths. I decided if I was going to be the new wolf ruler, I needed to pull out my power and attempt to shake Baldy Bean, hopefully to the core. I willed my eyes to begin to change and dared him to question me further with my glare. At the same time, I pushed power at him attempting to show him a sample and not lose control. Baldy blinked and noticeably flinched. I pulled back my power, sampling him in the process. It felt stronger, older and more masculine than Rebecca. Yuck, I also got a taste of Baldies’ power and it tasted like a gym sock.

  Scrunching my nose, I poorly contained my distaste for his power. I continued to stare him down until he lowered his eyes and said, “Mrs. Hughes. Mr. Anderson is expecting you. Drive straight to the end of the neighborhood, you’ll see the valet parking.” He slapped some kind of visitor sticker on the front windshield, stepped inside the guardhouse and opened the gate.

  “Friendly guy,” I commented to Rebecca who was smiling at Baldly Bean as we drove through the gate.

  “He’s one of us,” Rebecca muttered. “Cute,” she added.

  “Are you nuts?” I asked. “He’s like a giant rock with no ability to show any emotion outside of ‘scary as hell.’ And his power tastes like gym socks.”

  “Naw, he’s a pussy cat. I can tell,” she answered.

  “Whatever.”

  Gaven asked, “What just happened? The air got thick and I was having a hard time breathing, like being in a steam room.”

  “I dominated his ass!” I answered. “I changed my eyes during the stare down, pushed some power at him and forced him to look away first.” I further explained.

  “Do you think that includes getting him to paint the house?” Rebecca joked. “Possibly shirtless?”

  “Gross,” I said giving her a soft punch on the arm.

  “Can we at least attempt to focus on why we are here? This could potentially be dangerous for all of us.” Gaven reminded her. We exchanged looks and giggled as Gaven stared straight ahead, obviously annoyed by us.

  Gaven drove through the amazing neighborhood. Think Beverly Hills mansions lined up one after another. Old-fashioned street lamps lit up the main drag, fire flickered through the glass. It gave off a friendly Disney neighborhood feel. Ironic since we were seeking monsters instead of Mickey Mouse. There were no streets branching off the main drag. It was one long street with these monstrosities on either side. At the end of the street was a cul-de-sac with one Gatsby style mansion. There was second gate with a guard who let us through quickly. The courtyard had a large fountain as its centerpiece. Think ‘wow I can swim in this fountain with my scuba tank’ large. I felt the fleeting desire to dig for a penny and make a wish. The brick paver driveway wrapped around the fountain and disappeared behind the house in both directions. Off to the right was a garage. While it held cars, it certainly did not resemble your typical garage. It looked pristine and was the size of a small barn. I think our house could fit in here twice. The landscaping was also perfect, featuring palm trees, hibiscus plants of all shapes and sizes, specialized lighting and cleverly disguised surveillance cameras. Too which I was quite proud of spotting first, much to Gavens’ surprise.

  “Just remember to stay calm cool and collected.” Gaven was still tense. I touched his arm to reassure him. “Our lives depend on it. I am one hundred percent certain that Jacob Anderson is fully aware of my wolf status, thanks to Baldy Bean.”

  He smiled at me then nodded as he pulled up to the front steps. My door was approached by a young man wearing a red valet vest. He opened the passenger door and assisted both Rebecca and myself out of the truck. He ran around to the driver’s side to let Gaven out, Rebecca gave me the ‘not a wolf’ nod. We agreed it would be a good idea to keep track of how many wolves were at the party. Valet guy handed Gaven a ticket and went zipping through the gate to park. We took a collective deep breath. I couldn’t resist an “its show time,” which was met by groans. One day someone will appreciate my strange sense of humor, I told myself as we approached the door.

  The front door was a restored castle-sized double door with wrought iron handles, a gargoyle door knocker and dragons for hinges. I was getting the feeling Mr. Anderson took his security seriously. Or he really just loved wrought iron decor.

  The doors magically opened as we approached. A butler wearing a tuxedo with greeted us an English accent. How cheesy was that? He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, looked to be in his 60’s and had the best posture I’ve seen outside of a ballet classroom. Mr. Jefferies the butler also wore the most elegant nametag, gold script writing on polished stone.

  “Welcome to Punta Gorda Estates. My name is Mr. Jefferies.” Reaching for our invitations he spoke again, “May I?”

  Gaven handed him the cards. “Please follow me.” We walked through the foyer. Imagine Gone with the Wind, but bigger. The foyer opened into a larger extension, decorated by someone who really loved Mediterranean style. The marble floors were embedded with fossils, polished to a high gloss. The ceilings must have been thirty feet high due to the grand staircase that wound its way upward and disappeared. I caught my mouth hanging open at the opulence surrounding me. I couldn’t fathom this type of rich.

  Mr. Jefferies led us under the staircase and toward the back of the building. The hallway ended at another set of double doors, which seemed to be made of oak and looked thick and heavy. He opened both doors at once with a smoothness that indicated years of door opening training and practice.

  “The ballroom,” Mr. Jefferies announced.

  Another decorating and architectural marvel. At the far end of the room, floor to ceiling windows overlooked the expansive lawn and swimming pool. At the end of the lawn stood a boathouse and large dock that extended into Charlotte Harbor. Everything was well lit and decorated with hanging lights to make the outside area as welcoming as the inside. I wondered about the Florida mosquito issue, but spotted CO2 machines which attracted and trapped the ravenous bugs. These wondrous machines could cover large outdoor areas, keeping the outside as bug free as the inside.

  The ballroom had marble flooring and thirty-foot ceilings with several crystal chandeliers. People milled around holding drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Some were dancing to the fifteen-piece band. Others inspected the silent auction carefully placed throughout the room. When I spotted Gaven’s piece, I felt a rush of pride.

  Mr. Jefferies pulled a small bell from his pocket and rang it once. He cleared his throat and announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Dorian and Miss Hughes.” The action paused for a moment and then resumed. We received a few nods from some familiar faces.

  “Boy, that
was as awkward as finding yourself naked on stage during a spelling bee,” I remarked, trying to break some of the tension.

  “You’d know,” Gaven joked back.

  “Ha Ha,” I replied.

  Rebecca piped in, “Okay, should we split up and mingle? I’m picking up some scents, but they’re all mashed together at this distance. Too many people. I’ll need to get closer.”

  “Sure, we’ll meet you at Gaven’s sculpture in twenty minutes.” Gaven and I headed toward the bar while Rebecca perused the auction items. The place was packed full of doctors, lawyers, bankers, and prominent businessmen as well as local and state level politicians.

  At the bar, we picked up two glasses of champagne and began to stroll around the room so I could sniff out the bad guys. I caught the scent of several wolves and made a mental note from which direction the scents were permeating.

  Looking up from my drink, I noticed we were heading straight for a group of social climber wives. Oh, crap. I dubbed these women ‘the Mrs. Meanies,’ aptly named for their snooty and rude behavior. I hadn’t had much contact with them recently, but when Gaven and I first moved here, I joined a book club and met these women. They were worse gossips than Kevin and really had nothing good to say about anyone. They judged people by their bank accounts and their Louis Vuitton bags. After one meeting, I decided to take my bobo purse and run. Whenever we saw one another around town, we smiled and said hello, but it usually ended there.

  I put on my best fake smile, “Hello Janet, Candice, Kimberly, Amanda, this is my husband Gaven.”

  “Hello Gaven, they chirped in unison,” checking him out for much longer than socially appropriate.

  “Ladies,” Gaven smiled back, enjoying the attention.

  Janet stepped forward, tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder, “I saw that you had a sculpture on display for the silent auction. It is quite lovely. I would love to talk to you about commissioning some pieces for me. My husband and I just built a new home and would really love some original art to decorate it.” The other three women flocked around Gaven with the amount of interest that a lion pays to his dinner.

  I stepped back from the action, gave Gaven a ‘have at it’ look and wandered over to the far wall. This corner was ignored by the partygoers. Set back in a small alcove, a sofa faced a small framed oil painting illuminated by a horizontal lamp that hung directly over the work. The painting depicted a thick wooded scene. At first glance, only the trees were apparent. If you looked closer, eyes stared back of the darkness. I caught the scent of the forest and realized they were wolf eyes.

  Just then I felt a surge of power run down my spine. My breath caught in my chest. The power smelled of pine, maple and the musk of moss from a decaying old forest. It reminded me of the Adirondacks where I grew up. Turning slowly, a man stood next to me staring at the painting. He turned his head and looked at me with caramel brown eyes that stood out against his black tux, obviously more expensive than the one we bought for Gaven at Dillard’s. His dark brown hair was a wavy curly mess making him look boyish. He stood about 6’2” and grinned at me in a way that made me feel transparent.

  “Mrs. Dorian, my name is Jacob Anderson. Welcome to my house. I’m glad you and your husband could attend my little party.” I felt another surge of power wash over me, but this time I pushed back and Jacob’s smile intensified. The woodsy smell also radiated from the forest depicted in the painting. It intensified, and I tasted a warm earthy flavor. It reminded me of mushrooms very ymami.

  I decided to play it cool. “Please call me Hannah,” I said as I offered my hand.

  He took my hand, “and please call me Jacob.” His voice had the hint of an accent, but one I couldn’t place.

  I saw Rebecca hovering about fifteen feet away to my right. She was paying very close attention to my conversation. Gaven was still caught in the web of the Mrs. Meanies, but glanced in my direction.

  “Well Jacob, you sure have some nice digs here. Thank you for inviting us to the party. Gaven is delighted to have his work on display,” I babbled. I was unsure how to progress so I figured small talk was a good place to start.

  “Should we discuss the weather next?” He asked. “I’m sure we have more important topics to discuss.” His tone remained friendly and neutral.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?” I asked innocently.

  “Well it seems you and Rebecca are a most delightful addition to our little pack family here in Punta Gorda,” he replied quickly. His manner remained unthreatening.

  “But you are different,” he breathed in my scent, “and still unchanged. But very powerful.” He sniffed again, “A touch of the Magique, how unexpected.” His gaze turned toward Gaven then back to me, “Lovely.”

  Oh crap, note to self, this guy was powerful and was obviously no one to mess with. Proceed on eggshells!

  “Roger informed me of the power struggle at the front gate,” he explained.

  So Baldy Bean’s name was Roger. I would have to let Rebecca know later since she seems to have developed a crush.

  He continued, “I’m very aware of your power and potential. I also know of your unique ability to change without the moon and that you can share that ability a pack.”

  “So, you’re the local leader?” I asked to clarify.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know so much about me?”

  “I’ve studied the history of the wolf people for years. I have an extensive collection of books, stories and lore. I’ve followed your particular story for the past 50 years.”

  I gave him a once over since he looked 30 at most.

  Noticing my shock, he offered more. “I was bitten 50 years ago and since that time my aging process had slowed considerably. The average life span for wolf people reaches well over 150 years. When I discovered your particular story, I was intrigued by your ability to decouple from the moon’s cycle. I decided further research was necessary to determine if that possibility existed for my pack. I followed your bloodline and it led me here to Punta Gorda and now to you and Rebecca.”

  “What about the murders, I’m assuming you are not behind it since you are asking me to join you?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Correct. My ex-pack leader, who is also my ex-wife, discovered my research and was afraid of what it would mean for her. If a new female entered the pack with your level of power, Kristi would lose her Alpha status. I assured her she would still be my wife and I attempted to explain the benefits to the pack, but to no avail. She left me and went rogue.”

  “Rogue? That’s what we’re calling it?”

  “Yes. She left town and has been out of my territory for more than a year. I believe she is the one behind the murders. She thinks if she can destroy all of the descendants of your ancestor, then her Alpha status will be restored and she can come home.”

  “I hope I’m right in assuming she’s wrong?” I asked sarcastically.

  Jacob smiled and continued, “As much as I once loved her, my position as leader and Alpha takes precedence over my marriage.”

  “How romantic,” I quipped.

  “I enjoy your sense of humor, Hannah,” he remarked.

  So, there was someone out there who enjoyed my special brand of jokes. Not as satisfying as I’d hoped.

  “Okay, if you know who is behind it all, why throw this elaborate party and raise all this money for a reward? Why not just turn her over to the police?” I eyed him again. I really couldn’t believe this guy was over 50 years old. Glass half full moment! I would never need Botox or a face lift and end up looking like the Mrs. Meanies. Cool.

  “Well, it becomes quite complicated. I believe she’s taken refuge with the Ft. Myers pack. Their leader and I have had some territorial issues. They’ve been protecting her. I think she may have promised to help take over this territory if they help her with her mission, destroying the cursed one.”

  Great my new nickname is the Cursed One.

  “Also, how would I manage to keep our li
festyle secret if I went to the police? They would want to know the how’s and why’s and those are answers I cannot give without compromising my pack.”

  Rebecca stood her post while taking in the whole conversation. Jacob kept his voice low enough so only we could hear him with our heightened hearing. I glanced over at Gaven who pretended to mingle as he monitored my situation closely. I smelled the faintest scent of sea air. ‘Careful Gaven,’ I thought.

  I decided to get right to it. “So, you throw this party to draw me out, because it’s less threatening for me to come to you when I was ready,” I summarized. Jacob smiled. “And you could get a feel for my power level to decide if I was worth your time,” he continued smiling. “I assume it was also to lead your ex-wife to me so I could clean up your mess.” I was getting pissed, the nerve of this jerk. He should clean up his own mess. So like a guy to leave it for the woman to clean up.

  Eggshells be damned!

  “That sums it up,” he answered. “You’re cleverer than I had originally suspected.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” my voice filled with annoyance, becoming a bit louder than I intended. The spike in my tone drew curious glances from several of the other guests, especially the Mrs. Meanies. “I’ll have you know I am an intelligent, highly educated person.” Maybe that was a little overkill. Doth protest too much, crap.

  Gaven circled closer and Rebecca’s body visibility tensed.

  Jacob looked down at me, humor still in his eyes. “I apologize for insulting you, for it was not my intention.” He paused as he causally glanced around the room. “I must warn you that Kristi will most likely attack at the next full moon. You must prepare yourself for she is very strong and has received training in combat in both human and wolf forms.”