Cursed (The Curse Trilogy Book 1)

by Nicole Marsh

  Vlad’s rumbling voice interrupts my indecision. “Get back in bed, Mira.”

  I crawl back under the covers and Vlad pulls me close again, remaining on his back. My body is stiff, while thoughts ping rapidly through my mind. Vlad crushes me down further with his arm wrapped around me and uses his other arm to pull half my body across his chest. Slowly forcing myself to relax, I fall asleep draped across him with his arm banded against my back.

  Once again, like the last time I fell asleep at Vlad’s house, I wake up to the smells of breakfast wafting into his room. Except this time, Vlad remains in the bed with me, deep in sleep, still holding me tightly.

  A knock raps on the bedroom door and I can hear Tricia’s voice singing in the hall. “Are you two lovebirds awake? It’s time for breakfast.”

  My cheeks heat from embarrassment and Vlad lets out a groan as he drags open his eyes and sits up in the bed. “We’ll be out in a minute.” He rasps, his voice still covered in sleep. His gaze drifts over to me, looking me over as I sit on the bed next to him.

  Something in his look has my cheeks heating again, but it isn’t from embarrassment this time. It’s like he can see through my clothes to the skin underneath. Vlad leans forward. He runs his nose up my neck, starting where it meets my collarbone and ending just under my ear lobe. When he stops, he replaces his nose with a brief hot kiss on the side of my neck and nips my ear lobe. His affection has my heart pounding in my chest and my whole body heats. A light, throbbing pulse starts between my legs.

  I can feel his nostrils flare, just before Vlad pulls his face away. He leaps out of bed and walks to the bathroom, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like we wake up in bed together every morning and he kisses my neck.

  Taking a deep breath to orient myself, I run a hand through my hair and wince as it catches on a huge tangle. I take a few seconds try to finger comb my long blonde locks, to be more presentable for breakfast, then give it up and tie it all into a sloppy bun on the top of my head.

  I walk to the door, hesitating as I glance at my clothes piled on Vlad’s desk, questioning whether or not I should change. Shrugging, I decide to go to the kitchen in Vlad’s clothes instead of my paint stained jeans from yesterday. His parents already know that I spent the night and his mom didn’t sound upset in the hallway.

  When I enter the kitchen, Tricia is manning the stove like a well-tuned machine. She’s flipping pancakes and frying bacon, like she’s in her natural habitat. Bart is sitting at the table, drinking a mug of coffee and holding up a copy of the F.O. Daily. There are plates piled high with food already sitting on the table.

  Tricia doesn’t say anything at my arrival, she just shoots me a small smile and delivers more food to the table before turning back to face the stove. I slip into the seat next to Bart and pile my plate with some of the food.

  Vlad’s family feels comfortable, just like my own. I’ve known them for years and we’ve spent tons of time together, including every Sunday night dinner for as long as I remember. When Vlad enters the kitchen, now wearing a shirt, he plops into the chair next to mine, scooting it closer, before piling his own plate with food. I surreptitiously look at Bart and Tricia under my eyelashes, but neither of them seem to care. Each in their own world, embracing the fact that I’m here like it’s an everyday occurrence.

  It’s been a week since I last spoke with Sylvia, at the disastrous movie attempt for my birthday. On my drive home from Vlad’s, I click a few buttons on my car stereo to dial her as I drive. She picks up on the first ring, as usual. “Girl, how was the rest of your birthday?” She screams into the phone.

  Instead of answering her question, or talking about the chaos of my own life, I ask her the question that I’ve been rolling around in my head since I met my grandmother. “Are you a witch, Sylvia?”

  The line is silent. The only noise in my car is the tires running across the pavement as I enter my parent’s neighborhood. Turning down their road and preparing to pull into their long driveway. I glance down at the stereo to make sure she hasn’t hung up, but the stereo indicates our call is still connected.

  As I put my Prius in park, Sylvia lets out a long, deep sigh. “I’ve known this conversation was coming for years, but it still doesn’t make it any easier.” She replies, her voice lower and less excited than when she first answered my call.

  “You’ve known we’re witches for years?!” I ask, a sense of betrayal settling deep into my bones. I never keep anything from Sylvia, she’s the first person I call whenever anything happens and the only person who knows every single one of my secrets. Even the truly embarrassing ones. I can’t believe that she’s known a life-altering secret that affects both of us, for years, and didn’t feel the need to tell me.

  Sylvia’s breath hits the receiver hard, which is conveyed loudly through my car stereo, echoing in the silence of my car. “Well, my parents told me we were a witching family when they decided to change Covens and buy a house in Florence. When they broke the news that I would have to leave behind my school and my friends, I threw a huge fit. I was completely against moving somewhere new. My parents tried all of the usual tactics to help convince me, they offered a new computer, the biggest room, anything. One day I overheard my parents talking about what was best for my future and I was able to drag the real reason for our move out of them.”

  Her words each hit me like a piece of hail on bare skin, small in impact but still stinging with every touch. The foundation of our entire friendship was based on a half-truth. Where she was privy to a set of secrets she didn’t feel inclined to tell me, even though they involved me too.

  My thoughts are interrupted, as Sylvia continues speaking, “I didn’t realize you were a witch too. Not until we were friends for about six months and our parents met each other. Then I realized half of the town was part of the Coven.” She’s known for five years! “I wasn’t allowed to start practicing until my eighteenth birthday, but I’ve been to a few Coven events. Including solstice with my parents last month.”

  It takes a few seconds for the timing to click together, but then I realize her camping trip with her parents was actually a witch event. The solstice. I feel like my life is changing momentously as I sit in my driveway. I didn’t dwell on the fact that my witch heritage was kept a secret from me until my eighteenth birthday by my family, I figured my mother had her reasons.

  Even hiding my secret grandmother didn’t feel maliciously deceitful, to my mom my grandma really was dead. They hadn’t spoken in years, since before I was even born. But for some reason, the fact that my best friend has known for years that she’s a witch- that I’m one too- and kept these pieces of our lives hidden… that feels like a slice right down the center of my heart. One that I’m not sure I’ll recover from any time soon.

  Sylvia is still rambling on about her family’s involvement with the coven. Her tone sounds excited when she starts to talk about the future, how we can practice together to take our trials and join the coven. I interrupt her with a firm tone, silencing her words with my own. “I’m sorry Sylvia, I feel like I need some time.”

  Her words stops immediately. We sit in silence for a few seconds before her voice comes back, sounding smaller than I’ve ever heard my larger than life friend. “What do you mean?”

  This time, I’m the one that sighs into the phone. The sound is deep and mournful, signifying the end of something, but whether it’s our friendship or just the way our friendship used to be, I’m not quite sure yet. “I’ve had a lot happen recently, and I feel like I need some space to think things over.”

  We hang up after Sylvia agrees to give me some time to work through everything that’s happened recently, glossing over the fact that this is about her betrayal of my trust. It suddenly feels as if the people I can trust are starting to become more and more limited with each passing day. At this point the only person in my life that hasn’t purposefully lied to me is Vlad.

  I gather up my things and exit my car, walking to the f
ront door. As I’m grabbing onto the handle, my phone starts to ring. Glancing down at the screen, I expect it to be Sylvia again, but it’s an unknown number prefixed with the Florence area code.

  Hesitating momentarily, I click the accept button on what’s likely the last ring on the caller’s end. Immediately after I answer the call, my grandmother’s nasally voice floods through the phone. She sounds agitated as she asks if Vlad and I can come back over this afternoon, she says somethings happened and she needs to talk to us, soon. I try to figure out what’s wrong, but she brushes me off, stating it’s better to talk in person- there’s ears where you least expect them.

  I finally relent and agree, asking for her address before she hangs up the phone. She chuckles into my ear and responds, “I live in a tree, Dear, I don’t have an address. Have Vlad drive you two. Tell him to take the road to the old trailhead and turn at the old boulder 3 miles in, he’ll be able to find his way here.” She sounds confident that Vlad will be able to find her place, so I let it go.

  After we exchange a few more words, she hangs up. I shoot Vlad a text and ask if he’s free to head to my grandma’s treehouse in a couple hours. Immediately, I see the three dots appear indicating that he’s typing back and I receive a quick, but brief “yes” in response. I tell him I’ll meet him at his house and head inside to change and shower.

  Vlad drives my Prius to my grandmother’s treehouse, as it’s a tiny bit better-suited for the bumpy dirt road than his low sports car. He follows her instructions and it doesn’t take long before the huge tree comes into sight. When we arrive, she’s waiting on the front porch for us. After ushering us in, she tells us to seat ourselves, before rushing off to the kitchen to make tea.

  Glancing around, I see that not much has changed since yesterday. The pens and scrolls have been cleared from the table and a much larger pile of books has taken their place. Other than that the living space looks the same as before.

  My grandmother bustles back in with her tea tray, handing each of us a cup before settling into her pink armchair. “Dear, I’m concerned about the wolves,” She starts, holding my gaze steadily for a moment, before moving onto Vlad. “They’re more desperate than I originally thought yesterday.” She pauses dramatically, taking a long sip of tea, letting out a satisfied sigh when she moves her cup away from her face.

  I start to tap my foot against the floor, a nervous habit that I sometimes give in to. I’m impatient for her to continue her story and tell us why she called me and brought us back here. She looks pointedly at my leg and I stop jiggling as Vlad places a warm palm on my thigh to soothe the tension that’s building.

  My grandma lets out a small sigh, “It seems that a huge wave of shifters have recently gotten stuck in their wolf form, even ones that didn’t appear to be resisting the change. The Council thinks that you’re the answer to their problems and if more wolves keeping getting stuck at this rapid speed, I won’t be able to stop them from coming after you again.”

  “But-t, I already tried. I’m, I’m not able to help.” I stammer out in surprise and trepidation, they saw what happened yesterday. Why would the wolf Council still want me? It’s clear that I’m not the cure they’re searching for.

  “I believe you dear, but unfortunately it doesn’t seem like the Shifter Council does.” She pauses again, sipping on her tea, setting her cup down, then settling deeper into the arm chair. All before she resumes speaking, “My contact finally got in touch. I’ll be heading out of town for a week or so to try to find some answers. For the curse, the shifters, and the claims of your friend Eric.”

  I watch as my grandma’s eyes search Vlad’s face. He holds her gaze and a minute later she nods, as if she’s seen into his soul and found an answer that satisfied her. She turns to look at me again, then points to the stack of books on the table. “These are some texts that may help our search. I’d like you two to come by here each day, after work and any other obligations you currently have. I need you two to help me look through these and search for clues on what the Council could be looking for from the Coven.”

  Her eyes flit around the room and she picks up her teacup again. My grandma slowly rises from the pink chair and refills her cup from the tray sitting on the table. She throws a pointed look at both of our still-full teacups. Her message is clear, I pick mine up, taking a small sip. It tastes like cinnamon and instantly warms me from the inside out.

  My grandmother smiles at me, pleased, then continues talking, “It’s important that you keep up appearances, it needs to look as if nothing’s changed. Don’t skip work to come here or tell anyone else what we’ve talked about today, not even your parents.” Pausing again, she sips on her tea. Her communication is infuriatingly dramatic, she draws out the conversation, knowing she holds our attention completely. “Any important information that you find, bookmark it for us to review together later, once I’ve returned. And lastly, don’t remove the books from the house, they’re invaluable and we can’t have them falling into the wrong hands during such dire times.”

  I nod once, seeing Vlad do the same out of the corner of my eye.

  Her cryptic words and demands have me more fearful than my trip to the Community Hall or the giant, feral wolf put before me by the Shifter Council. I have a feeling that things are going downhill from here, picking up speed quickly, with nothing to stop the mess that will occur once it reaches the bottom. I hope that my grandmother is able to return with answers before the Council seeks me out again.

  16

  The Expo

  Mirabella

  Despite all the chaos that’s going on, my grandma said Vlad and I both need to keep up our normal daily routines to make it seem as if nothing is amiss. She was clear that our other obligations need to be maintained, to only use our spare time to research what’s happening in the town.

  Obviously the Council is hiding the wolf issue for their own reasons. Maybe to avoid widespread panic or maybe for some other purpose. Either way, Vlad and I don’t want to be the ones to metaphorically let the cat out of the bag by suddenly quitting our jobs and spending all of our time in the woods together.

  Following my grandma’s advice, we both show up to work the next day, as usual. As soon as I step through the doors, Glenna rushes up to me. “I thought you’d never get here, honey. Today’s the day, we need to get moving. It’s time to go to the knitting expo- to find what’s happening there that’s newsworthy.”

  She’s beaming from ear to ear, practically dancing with joy. If it wasn’t already apparent from her prior weeks of stories about the event, going to the knitting expo is clearly the highlight of Glenna’s year.

  Meanwhile, I’m stifling a groan, not wanting to rain on her parade. I’m not mentally prepared to deal with the kooks at the expo today. I try to force a smile to my face for Glenna’s sake, but I’m obviously not successful.

  Her brows furrow, and she asks in a concerned tone, “Are you okay honey?” In a quieter voice, she continues, “Your face reminds me of the time that I ate bad shrimp. Are you not feeling well? Did you eat any shrimp recently?”

  I try to shift my expression to look happier, but end up sighing. I can feel myself grimacing at this point. “I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep well. I’m sure I’ll feel better once I’m in the energy of the expo. Is there no morning meeting today?” I ask, hoping there is one, to delay the inevitable just a bit longer.

  Glenna drops her concerned expression, apparently forgetting about my potential illness quickly. She claps her hands together before excitedly walking to the door. “We get to skip it today, because we’re headed to the expo! Let’s get a move on.”

  I’ve never seen her move this fast in the weeks that I’ve worked here. I try not to trudge behind her like I’m being sentenced to death. Maybe the expo won’t be that bad.

  It’s worse than I expected.

  The warehouse is absolute chaos. A collection of assorted people, miscellaneous goods, loud noises, and pungent smells.

 
Old people with walkers clog up the aisles, running over stray toes that dare to get in their way. Fighting through the congestion, I follow Glenna the best I can, but she seems to have better luck dodging the masses.

  Vendors are yelling over each other out about their wares, some stepping into the aisle ways and adding to the traffic to be seen and heard. I feel like I might be deaf in my left ear, after I accidentally walked past a man with a megaphone yelling, “Extra thick yarn, made of alpaca, available over here!”

  After the first few booths of goods, we walk between vendors selling food. For some reason a fried pickles booth was placed right next to a stand serving cotton candy. The two smells in close proximity create a stench that makes me gag as I pass by. Like a sweet and salty vinegar dough ball crawled into my nostril, the smell follows me for a solid quarter hour.

  We’ve only made it halfway down a single aisle and I’m already ready to turn around and hightail it back to the parking lot. There’s five more rows just like this and I find myself longing for my safe and odor free desk back at the Daily.

  I keep thinking, I’m an intern, I’m not even being paid to be here!

  Glenna on the other hand is in hog heaven. She’s grinning from ear to ear, trying to look at everything all at once. She flits in and out of the tents, examining goods before I can even make it past the mob waiting outside each one.

  After we left the Daily, she shoved her pen and pad of paper into her purse, dropping the pretense that she was excited for the journalistic opportunity of the expo. She’s already made me feel the yarn with her three separate times and offer my opinions on her purchases, when I’m able to catch up with her quick pace.

  Meanwhile, I’m trying to think of a feasible excuse to get me out of this place. I briefly play with the idea of texting SOS to Sylvia, but I’m still not ready to forgive her yet and asking for a rescue from this place would give the wrong impression.