Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame

by E. C. Farrell

  Out of habit, I snag my phone off the nightstand next to the half-empty bottle of tequila, spinning it on its pop socket. The screen lights up with a message from Hank. Relief soothes the cramped muscles along my neck as I punch in my security code. If Hank’s texting, he’s probably safe. Not that I really thought the Amazons could do much to a gargoyle, but with his moral conflictions, I worried he might not do much fighting back.

  Hank: Make it to the safehouse?

  I rest my hip against the windowsill with a small smile. From buying me replacement shirts to checking up on me, the big sap acts more like family than my blood relatives ever did. Since I left the fae realm, none of them have reached out, probably happy to be rid of their black lamb. Or whatever people in this world call an outcast family member.

  Me: Without any trouble. Did Guidry’s survive the attack?

  While I wait as the little dots bounce, I nudge a thick wood blind up a half inch to look outside. Condensation spreads across the glass panes. Beyond them, I can just make out the fence surrounding the safehouse. No shadows shift. No sounds disrupt the quiet until my cell buzzes.

  Hank: All in one piece. Amazons followed Yaritza somewhere. Haven’t seen them since. The Guild witch wiped memories easy enough.

  Me: Good. Stay safe.

  Hank: U 2

  Chewing a corner of my mouth, I pace the room again. That one Amazon who saw me on the roof might still be on our trail. Though we weren’t there long, even a few seconds can leave enough for them to scry on us, which might make this trip much more of a headache than I bargained for.

  Unlocking my phone, I tap the Paranormal News (PNN) app, and scroll through headlines about unusual monster attacks across the country, debates in the Tribunal about revealing ourselves to the humans, and the upcoming trial of crime lord Aiden Masera. Typical gloom and doom stuff. With a yawn, I scan the list of new bounties next. Max Avila is at the very top. Priority number one.

  Two things stand out. One, the contact name is clearly not a real name, but a username complete with numbers and symbols. Usually, our Guild would rarely consider taking a job without knowing the identity of who put out the bounty up front. It tends to cut down on scammers and grifters.

  And two, there’s an asterisk at the very end of Max’s name.

  Picking at the plastic on my cell case, I tap that little star. A new web page glides up. This, however, is as far as I get. A box asking for a passcode pushes to the front, blocking me from getting any further. I blow a raspberry. Yaritza probably has it. I could ask her for access, but she might consider that overstepping.

  Curiosity niggles the back of my neck. With a huff, I turn off my cell and pull open the door to glance into the living room. The lamp still emits a warm glow from the side table, on which also sits nearly ten empty water bottles. No sign of the mark. When I peek into the bedroom next to mine, however, I find the bed empty as well.

  My pulse picks up a little. Rationally, I know worry is ridiculous. With the cuff magically attached, he can’t go anywhere. I spelled it myself. If he even tried to leave, he would hit the end of an invisible tether, trapped within a very small radius. Not to mention the fact that my tattoo would light up bright red as a warning.

  Scowling, I check the next two bedrooms but still find nothing. When the bathroom and closets all come up empty as well, panic and confusion close in. This is impossible. No, I’ve never had a water spirit as a bounty before and they are strange creatures, but that shouldn’t change the way my spell works. He should be here somewhere.

  But he’s not. The mark is gone.

  3.

  RUBBING MY WRIST TATTOO, I turn in a jerky circle, casting around the house. “Okay, where in the nine realms are you, you stupid, cocky, arrogant—”

  “Tell me how you really feel.”

  I nearly spontaneously combust into phoenix form at the sound of his voice accompanied by a gurgle of water behind me. Jumping like a startled cat, and squawking just as loud, I spin to face the mark. His thick brows lift as I straight up growl at him, pouring every ounce of my magic into the sound so the lights flicker.

  “Where were you?”

  He raises his hands and takes a step back. “Calm down, mama. I just went to sleep in the pipes to rehydrate. It works faster than anything else.”

  Gulping in air, I cross my arms tight over my chest and look him over. Sure enough, the dry patches of skin have smoothed out, the dark circles have faded, and cracks at the corners of his mouth are almost gone. Only the tinge of black to his veins remains as a loud reminder of how dried out he’d gotten while with Yaritza.

  Heat streaks across my nose and I curl my toes in my shoes. “Well ... warn a girl next time. I don’t process conundrums after midnight well.”

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, the mark grins. “Yes ma’am.” His forehead wrinkles. “What were you doing up anyway? Trying to catch me without a shirt on?”

  I cock out a hip. “Would I be impressed?”

  “That depends entirely on what you find impressive.” He laughs, then flexes an arm. “My only muscles come from waiting tables. Helpful, but nothing to text your friends about. Now my buddy Ash? The universe sculpted that vampire from straight up marble. Perfection.”

  Snorting, I rest against the doorframe, now way too hyped to go back to sleep. “Little man crush?”

  “Whew, major one.” The mark laughs again, and flops onto the couch, waving his hand with a flourish. “But vampires and water spirits are like that. We’re made to make people fall for us. It’s woven straight into our magic. Now phoenixes? I can’t say I know as much about them. There aren’t too many in this realm. You’re definitely the first one I’ve met.”

  I push off the doorframe, then prop myself on elbows against the back of the armchair. “Like every other creature around here, we lean into human myths, but the reality is, of course, much different. If it’s our first life, we’re born like most creatures are. Any birth after that comes out of the ash we leave behind when we die. A new start with a wealth of wisdom learned from seventy plus years.”

  The mark sways his head to one side with a fluidity similar to the way Yaritza moves. “Unless you’re cursed.”

  Running a finger along the pointed tip of my ear, I nod slowly. “Unless you’re cursed.”

  “But you don’t come back as a baby?” He looks me up and down. “Clearly.”

  I jut out my jaw with a little grunt. “Clearly. I come back as a sixteen-year-old, the age I was when this whole thing started. It’s a pain in the wardrobe, let me tell you.”

  “Wardrobe?”

  “I burst into flame and disintegrate to ash.” I make an exploding motion with my hands. “So, if I’m killed, it torches my clothes.”

  The mark wiggles his brows again. “So, you come back naked. That’s hot.”

  “It’s expensive.” Hard as I try, I can’t suppress a small chuckle. “Amazon — the company, not the virtuous warriors — makes a lot of money off me.”

  Threading his fingers through his thick, black hair, he rests his head on the heel of a hand. “Who’d you make mad enough to curse you?”

  “You assume I’m the one who poked the wrong witch?”

  He smirks. “Did you?”

  I trace the tattoo around my wrist. “My dad did. He went back on a contract or some nonsense like that. This was meant to teach him a lesson.”

  The mark swears. “So, I’m not the only one suffering for the sins of my parents.”

  My jaw clicks as curiosity and paranoia battle for control of my mouth. “Is that why there’s a bounty on you?” I ask, as the former wins out.

  “You got it, mama. My brand of water spirit acts a little like Odysseus’ sirens. Luring men back to their lairs.” He rolls his eyes. “My mom seduced the wrong gringo apparently.”

  I narrow my eyes, hard-baked suspicion immediately on alert. Nearly every mark I ever nabbed told some story about the unfair reason for the bounty on their heads. All sad stor
ies. Misunderstandings. Mistakes. Very few of them ever tried to relate them to my own tragedy though, and something about that feels distinctly manipulative.

  “Convenient.”

  My current mark shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me, mama. I don’t expect you to. And even if you did, I’m guessing it wouldn’t matter.”

  My mouth puckers. “Like I said before, none of my business. That’s for you to break down with whoever put out the bounty. We don’t break contracts.”

  Preserve the contract at any cost.

  Yaritza doesn’t have too many rules for the hunters in her guild. She works in shades of gray, giving guidelines, suggestions, tips of the trade. But one thing she absolutely insists on is honoring the contract. Breaking one of those ruins reputations, gets people killed, and would definitely get me kicked out. At bare minimum.

  That asterisk from the app pops into my brain. The mystery of what’s on the other end stokes my curiosity again. What if he’s telling the truth about his mom? What if he is, in fact, innocent and suffering for something he didn’t do? What if the bounty wasn’t put out in good conscience? What if he’s like me?

  Mentally, I shake my head, dismissing the quiet voice. Sad story or not, it isn’t worth the risk to lose my place on this plane. I can’t go back to the fae realm. I won’t.

  “I don’t blame you,” the mark says. “Breaking contracts usually ends badly.”

  This kid is dangerous. Ready to weaponize empathy at the opportune moment. I’ll have to keep a sharp eye on him, even more so than normal. Or better yet, I’ll have to use his own game against him, twist things back around. He’s not the only one with a little savvy.

  Forcing my stiff muscles into a sympathetic frown, I flop into the armchair, legs hanging over one of its arms. “Was your dad one of her conquests, Max?” I ask, using his name for the first time since Yaritza handed him off to me.

  It comes out clumsy. Awkward.

  Max just smiles and lifts his shoulders. “Could’ve been. Water spirits seduce each other sometimes. They see it as a bit of a challenge. That’s usually how any full water spirits are born at all.”

  My face twists. “Contest babies?”

  Max snaps his fingers. “I like that. Contest babies. Or maybe trophy offspring. Like a trophy husband or wife, just with kids.” He shivers a little, shaking out his arms. “That thought kind of skeeves me out since I am one. Not that I don’t think I’m a prize, because obviously I am.”

  His grin broadens, tilting toward something beautiful, but somehow less believable. It doesn’t take much for me to imagine falling for someone like this. I’ve heard all about the seductive power of water spirits like him. On occasion, it seeps out of Yaritza when fists aren’t enough to get her way, but Max’s brand of charisma entices in a unique way.

  A deep part of me wants to believe him.

  I swing one of my legs. “Are all water spirits as cocky as you?”

  “Oh no.” Max waves a hand. “Some of us are downright arrogant.”

  Again, I can’t help but splutter a laugh. “And the evidence propping up these egos?”

  “Mad skill, dashing good looks?” Max crosses an ankle over one of his knees. “But in all seriousness, there is somewhat of a hierarchy in our culture based on conquests. It’s a sign not only of innate talent, but also shrewdness. Using charm, your brain in general, to fight rather than your fists.”

  Brow lifted, I rest my head against one of the chair wings. “Lovers honored over fighters?”

  “Lovers are fighters.” Max steeples his fingers. “We don’t win battles by breaking bones; we win them by breaking hearts.”

  “Careful there, you’re giving away your playbook.”

  “Maybe that’s intentional.” Seriousness stretches the shadows on his face. “Maybe I’m using transparency as a way to look vulnerable without actually being vulnerable. Maybe even now, my honesty is just a way of throwing you off balance, building a false sense of confidence.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, inches from me. “Maybe I’m dealing blows you won’t feel until I want you to feel them.”

  Every hair on my body lifts, and I suppress the urge to back away. A response runs up my throat but slips right back down into my chest where it lands like a dead weight. It lays there, utterly useless to help me in this invisible battle of charm and charisma. With a few words, Max completely disarmed me, even so far as stalling out my brain entirely.

  Then he grins wide. With a wink, he kicks back, resting his crossed ankles on the coffee table and the back of his head in his hands. “Not a bad way to fight, huh?”

  Anger swarms my mind like hornets. The floor rocks under me. “Not bad at all,” I say through clenched teeth, annoyed I’d let him twist me like that. “That’s very powerful magic.”

  “Not magic,” Max says. “Just words.”

  I grit my molars but keep my expression as neutral as possible. “You didn’t use a spell at all?”

  “Pretty impressive, right?”

  “Right.” I cross my arms and refuse to accept the reality that I’m pouting. “Most effective. Good thing I can tell you to shut it with my binding spell. Otherwise, I might be in trouble.”

  Max’s Adam’s apple bobs. “But then you wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of my lovely voice, and that would be a shame for us both.”

  I force on a smile without attempting to make it believable. “Don’t tempt me, water spirit. Because whether you’re lying or not, I can promise you that I will preserve the contract, and if I have to silence you to do it, then I will.”

  THREE HOURS OF RESTLESS sleep later, I stomp back into the living room, bleary-eyed and banging on the walls with the side of my fist to get Max out of the pipes. “Come on out. We’re leaving before sunup.”

  The water spirit materializes in the kitchen, resting one elbow on the counter with a wide grin. “In a rush to get rid of me?”

  Pulling open cabinets to find coffee, I stifle a yawn. “In a rush to be on time. Whoever ordered the bounty on you has been waiting for a while. Plus, I still don’t know for sure whether or not your friends are on our tail. The faster I can unload you, the better.”

  I scoop heaping spoonfuls of Cafe du Monde roast into the filter. The smell alone thins the heavy weight of exhaustion draped over me. Leave it to Yaritza to stock this place with the good stuff. As the dark liquid burbles, Max digs around in the fridge, emerging with bacon, eggs, heavy whipping cream, and butter seconds later.

  That wide grin still in place, he holds them up. “Got time for real food, or are we eating on the run?”

  Usually, I’d say no, but refusing bacon simply isn’t in my DNA. We never had much of that in the fae realm. Addiction captured me upon my first bite. I glance at the clock, then back at Max. “That depends entirely on how fancy you plan to get with all that.”

  “Fancy but fast. I work in a restaurant, remember? Well versed in all tricks of the trade.”

  “Fine. Feed me.”

  Max claps his hands, then rubs them together before setting to work as I pour my first cup of liquid alertness. Propped against the pantry door, I watch him cook, every movement smooth, graceful, and very fast. After he slides the bacon into the oven, he sets to work on the eggs. This includes a healthy serving of the heavy cream and butter.

  My mouth waters. “Where did you learn how to cook? Not in the restaurant, right?”

  “Nah.” Max shakes his head, fully focused on the egg situation. “One of my mom’s conquests, a guy named Joel, was a cook. I was an obnoxious kid with absolutely no boundaries and way too much curiosity. He taught me the basics, introduced me to cooking shows, and gave me my first cookbook. Like, an actual cookbook, not a mommy blog. No shade or anything.”

  Why is that so, insanely attractive?

  Mentally, I curse myself for that dangerous, unprofessional thought. I will not be seduced by his culinary cunning. Strong words, I realize, about half an hour later when I take that first bite of eggs straig
ht out of the pan, he sets on the kitchen island. I can’t help it, I most definitely moan. The level of creaminess is absurd.

  “Be honest, you used some kind of magic on this, didn’t you? Some kind of water spirit voodoo.” I trace a circle around his face with the tip of my fork. “Fae magic?”

  Max sucks bacon grease off a thumb. “Nope. Just good, high quality fat, salt, and a crap ton of patience.”

  “I guess I’ll never be a great cook, then.” I shovel a massive bite into my mouth. “Patience is at the absolute bottom of my list of virtues, which is why I usually only eat food that is prepackaged.”

  Laughing, Max rests his chin on a palm. “So those pork rinds you ate last night were typical fare?”

  “You got it.” I click my tongue. “My family was, well, is, wealthier than the Fates. I grew up with a full house staff, so I never learned. And the cook was never jazzed about me being in his kitchen.”

  Max’s lips draw back in a wince. “Shooed you out with a broom?”

  “A cast iron skillet actually.”

  “Harsh.”

  “My parents believe that kind of thing is below our station.” I lift my eyes to the ceiling. “They have a lot of opinions on what jobs are befitting such noble creatures as phoenix.”

  “I guess you never had to clean toilets, huh?”

  “Not until I came to this realm,” I say around a mouthful of eggs. “It’s a whole thing.”

  I glance at my watch, then swap out my fork for a massive spoon to better aid shoveling food. As much as I’d rather take it slow, savor the flavors, the texture, with sunrise coming quick, I need to speed things up. Besides, who knows the next time I’ll eat this good? If things go according to plan, I’ll be back in my apartment gnawing beef jerky by tomorrow night.

  When I polish off the last of the eggs, Max whisks away both pans, and proceeds to clean them up without question. “You don’t have to do that,” I say around that last massive bite. “The guild will send somebody to sanitize after we vacate. Let’s get moving. The earlier we get to the bus station, the less people we’ll have to deal with.”