Cursed: The Girl Who Shook the Earth

by E. C. Farrell

  Ash laughs. “I can tell you or I can show you.”

  “I’m not shy, let’s see that spine.”

  As I snap my fingers, warmth creeping up my own back, he chuckles again and turns around and sits on the bench. Gripping the hem of his white shirt, Ash pulls it up and over his head, then folds it nearly in his lap. I’m a little sorry to say I nearly slide onto the floor.

  Small, sharp spikes — about an inch long — sprout from each vertebra. Black at their tips, they fade near the root until they blend with the rest of his coloring. When open air first hits them, they lie flat, flush against his skin, but slowly they lift, curving out like the thorns of a rose.

  I can’t stop the reaction. My hand extends toward Ash’s spine. About an inch away I jerk back, then clench my jaw and touch the barest tip of a finger to one of the spikes. It presses sharp into my skin, but doesn’t cut into it. Fascinated, I step around the table to sit behind him, hardly aware of just how weird it is that I’m touching my coworker’s bare back.

  My fingers follow the slope of the spike down to its scaley base where it shifts from reptilian cold to human warmth. Again, curiosity robs me of sanity, and my hand continues its journey, driven by a thousand questions. Soft. Gloriously soft skin lies over impossibly hard muscle that tightens under my touch.

  Only half aware as my path continues to follow his spine, I ask “Any other odd physical traits?”

  “Claws.” He says the word like a half-remembered thought. “If the situation calls for it. Fangs.”

  Goosebumps spring up along his back, snapping me out of my semi-curiosity induced trance. I drop my hand and sandwich it under an armpit. “I bet you reacted all calm and cool-like when you realized what...what you were.”

  Ash casts me a glance over his shoulder and pulls the shirt back over his head. “Not even a little.”

  Now fully clothed, he turns full around. Our knees bump. A thrill runs through me and I forget all about my own secrets or my destroyed apartment or the fact that I’m speaking with a paranormal creature with spikes sprouting off his back. He’s just a guy. And I’m just a girl.

  Oh, little old me...

  I suppress a snicker. As Ash continues his story, that No Doubt song continues to play through my head. “My dad showing up triggered everything. For about the next month, every time I woke up and remembered what I’d found out, I had a mild breakdown. Thankfully, my mom handled it better than I did. She never flinched when I ate, and helped me figure all the other stuff out. She was actually the one who found Kia.”

  “Okay,” I wave my hands, “what does that even mean? Did she like, go fishing or something?”

  Probably a dumb question, but it’s a night for ridiculousness. Those uncontrollable giggles wiggle inside me again. To save face, wisdom dictates I head back to bed, but I need answers or I’ll never get any more sleep.

  Amusement twitches Ash’s lips. “Not in the traditional sense. She did her research, found out that mermaids can calm pretty much anybody, then visited a local bar that served mythical creatures. The owner got us in contact with Kia and we’ve been friends ever since. When she moved here from New Orleans, she asked me to come with her. I wanted to keep my mom safe. So, I did.”

  I lean forward, elbows on my knees, chin on a fist. “I have another question, but I’m not sure how to ask it.”

  Ash rests back on a palm. “So ask it messy.”

  “I like that.” I smile. “Ask it messy.”

  “It’s something my mom says.” Ash’s gaze drifts upward, like he’s trying to see a memory. “If the words aren’t right, use the wrong ones. You’ll get to the truth eventually.”

  “She sounds like a pretty smart lady.”

  “She is.”

  I spin a curl around a pointer finger, then chicken out, and ask a ridiculous question instead. “So did Max like, hit on you or something and that’s how you figured out what he was? Or, wait, are you pregnant with his water spirit offspring?”

  I barely make it through the end of the sentence before we both start laughing. It sounds really weird. Way too normal, commonplace, almost boring after all the freakish stuff that’s happened. It also uncorks that hysterical giggling I’d locked up earlier and made it somewhat tough to hear Ash’s explanation for how he met Max.

  “I figured Max was something paranormal when he first walked in, but because he’s technically a spirit he doesn’t have a scent we can pick up on.” Ash runs a thumb along the pages of his book. “So I asked Kia to keep an eye on him. The second she saw him she knew. He can tell you the rest of his story later, but like Jeremy, he needed protection. We offered to help if he promised not to use his powers on any of the staff.”

  Taking a breath to try and calm the semi-hysterical giggles still in my chest, I manage to regain a bit of chill. “Why would a water spirit need protection? I mean, can they even be killed? What do you do? Get a fan and blow them away like smoke?”

  Ash laughs and drums out a steady rhythm on the edge of his seat. “Every spirit’s different, but you can kill most of them with anything made of iron. Water spirits can also be killed if you keep them away from water for too long. Dehydration is a particularly cruel way to do it. My guess is, the people after him would’ve gone with this technique.”

  I wince. “What did he do? Take someone they loved back to...his lair?”

  Too much information crowds my brain to remember all the details of all the myths I’ve learned about tonight. Even Kia’s story doesn’t line up to what I know of mermaids. Granted, that knowledge is limited to The Little Mermaid, and the Disney version at that, but whatever.

  “You’ll have to ask him,” Ash says. “I’m sure he’ll give you an ear full.”

  I roll my eyes and barely suppress a yawn. “Fine. I let him tell his own story.” Giggling, I curl in a little on myself, hugging my knees.

  Ash rests an elbow on the table, running a thumb along his lower lip, his gaze angled slightly away from me. “Do you think you’ll stay? At The Mercury Room, I mean.”

  The slight uptick of his voice betrays what sounds like hope. When he meets my eyes again, his are soft, darkened under a wrinkled brow. We haven’t known each other long, but something draws me to him, magnet-like. I can almost feel the physical tug when we’re close.

  A smile spreads across my face, and before I can think too much about it, I say, “It takes a lot more than all that to scare me. Not sure I’ll be much help, but count me in as part of the paranormal suicide squad. Or whatever.”

  Ash laughs. “The more the merrier. You were pretty skilled with that fire extinguisher. Most people would’ve run away screaming.”

  “I almost did.” I snort, yawning again. “But I couldn’t leave Jeremy to them...”

  “That’s pretty brave.”

  “I just know what it’s like to be left to the wrong people.” Rubbing my temples, I swear, and shake my head. “I need to go to bed before I get so tired I give all my secrets away.”

  I can’t make myself laugh at this tragically bad joke.

  Ash smiles as I stand. “Hope you can get some sleep. If you need anything...”

  “I’ll holler.”

  “Nah, I was going to say keep it to yourself. I’m tired.” Ash winks.

  This time I do laugh, grateful for a joke that lands. “Thanks, Ash. See you in the morning.”

  5.

  THE SMELL OF HAZELNUT nudges me awake in the morning. In spite of Kia’s healing, the cuts on my shoulder still throbs as I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand — horrible habit — to pull up my text messages. None from my mom, thank goodness, but about twenty more from Allister. Most of them focus on the earth shattering question of whether or not I’d asked out my hot coworker yet?

  Snorting, I text back.

  Me: Things are progressing.

  Allister replies immediately: She lives!

  “Barely,” I say out loud, rolling my eyes. “Though I definitely don’t deserve it since I
made every horror movie mistake in the book.”

  “You know, you’re really too hard on yourself.”

  I nearly topple out of bed in shock at the sound of Max’s voice near my door. Gasping and wincing in pain, I glower at the apparently empty space there, not seeing anything. “What the actual heck?”

  The water spirit ripples into existence amidst a peal of laughter. Grabbing a pillow, I chuck it at him the second he looks solid enough to make impact. He only laughs harder. Catching the pillow, he tosses it back, then lifts his hands in what I’m sure he assumes is a placating gesture.

  “Sorry. Promise I haven’t been here long, little mama. Just heard you talking to yourself through the pipes and I couldn’t resist.” Max winks. “Especially since Ash and Kia said you’re in our super secret paranormal club now.”

  Arching a brow, I scowl to cover up a laugh. “Pipes?”

  Leaning back against the doorframe, Max crosses his arms. “If I want to stay on land, I have to spend a lot of time in some source of water. So sometimes I hang out in the pipes. For the most part I don’t end up in the wrong place but...” He pulls a face, then laughs again.

  This time I lift both of my brows. “Ah. Sewer pipe accidents?”

  “A few times. Better than drying out though.” That grin holds fast, but the way his gaze drops for a fraction of a second gives away his discomfort.

  “Has that ever happened before?”

  This time, when his eyes drop, they don’t shift back up. He hooks a thumb at the door. “Do you want some coffee or—”

  “Max.”

  “Don’t ask me.” He shuffles a foot. “Not right now.”

  I lower my brows. “Did you eavesdrop on me and Ash last night?”

  Max lifts his shoulders. “Bad habit. Swear I didn’t overhear a lot, just enough to know you’re in the know and that you met our chupa-cop-bra friend, Detective Ito.” He grins so his dimples pop.

  With a snort, I throw another pillow at him. “Fine. Don’t tell me right this second, but know you can dump whenever. Now get out so I can get dressed. And if I ever catch you spying when I’m in the shower—”

  “You’ll kill me dead.” Max lifts his hands and moon walks backward. “Wouldn’t dream of risking it, little mama.”

  Alone again, I throw on my clothes and shuffle back into the middle room where Ash and I spoke earlier. The whole crew mills about getting ready for the day. Ash stands at the kitchenette filling mugs with coffee. Max now sits on the table, feet on the bench next to Jeremy, while Kia bends over a plate of bagels, spreading them with cream cheese.

  My mouth waters.

  Kia smiles up at me, though a small divot divides her brows. Does she regret agreeing to tell me the truth? Does she wish she’d wiped last night’s events from my mind? Stomach in knotting up, I chew the inside corner of my mouth and fight and unnecessary guilt. It’s not my fault those creepsters broke my apartment.

  “Good morning,” Kia says, her voice smooth and steady in spite of that little worried wrinkle. “Care for some breakfast?”

  “Hit me. I’m starved. Running from paranormal monsters work up quite the appetite.” I sink onto the bench across from Jeremy and take the bagel Kia hands me. Sweat prickles down my spine under her solemn gaze. I pick at my lower lip. Forcing myself to stop, I focus on helping myself to some cream cheese, then lose my cool and blurt out, “Ash tells me you’re a badass version of Ariel.”

  Kia laughs and even Jeremy snorts a little. “That’s one way to put it,” the owner says. “Yes, I like that description. From now on, you will be writing all of my Instagram copy.” She winks.

  Some of the tension snakes out of my body as a grin springs out on my face. Score. If I learned anything from years in the foster system, it’s that humor almost always diffuses tension. The only thing it doesn’t quite calm is the terror unexpected earthquakes cause. I could joke all I wanted after that, but after the third or fourth time of knocking family heirlooms off the mantle, most of my foster parents couldn’t handle it anymore.

  Chewing my bagel to try and work the tension out of my jaw, I tilt toward Jeremy a little. “How you feeling, kid? You smell better.”

  Jeremy’s eyes flick up to mine. It takes a second, but a smile breaks across his face and he snickers. “You’d smell bad too if you’d been living in the woods for weeks. I might’ve cried a little when I took a shower.”

  Max laughs. “Kid’s got a sense of humor. Nice.” He nudges Jeremy with a knee.

  “I probably would’ve cried too,” I say around a mouthful of food. “Think I did a little last night.”

  Jeremy’s brow wrinkles. “Something happened didn’t it? Your shoulder...”

  I wave the question away. Tremors run through my hand, but I hide them with an exaggerated finger flutter. “I just had to deal with your three friends from before. But Kia and Ash took care of them.”

  A grin tugs up one corner of Ash’s mouth as he sets the coffee tray on the table, then takes a seat next to Jeremy. He slides a metal bowl out from the middle of the mugs and sets it in front of his brother. Jeremy glances up at me, shoulders hunching to his ears a little.

  “Yeah we did,” Ash says. “Turns out, Case is pretty dangerous with blunt objects. You saw how she went after them with the fire extinguisher. She did the same thing with a baseball bat.”

  Jeremy’s eyes widen and then drop back to the bowl. “That was pretty amazing. Sorry I wasn’t any help.”

  “Yeah what was that about, man?” I ask. “Ash says you’re a pureblood. Doesn’t that mean you’re super powerful or something?” I’ll admit, part of this is pure curiosity, but the other part is for the greater good and all that jazz. If I’ve pegged him right, poking at him will be more helpful than creeping on proverbial egg shells.

  Attention still on his bowl, Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “We’re not. Not really. It’s not like we’re innately stronger or faster or anything, and clearly not more brave as I made pretty clear last night. We’re just rare...” he trails, then shrugs.

  Max nudges Jeremy’s shoulder with a knee. “Hey, that kind of makes you a unicorn. No wait, a chupa-corn! No! Even better, a uni-cabra!”

  Blood rushing to his face, Jeremy snickers a little, and gives his metal bowl a spin. “Sure. I’m a unicorn. If a unicorn didn’t have any extra powers. Which is why I’m not sure why my — our dad wants me so bad.”

  The lie detector living in my head blares at full blast. I’m not sure which part should be making his nose grow, but the kid is definitely bending the truth. That he’s a bad liar is actually pretty encouraging. Sure I can sniff out fibs pretty easy, but Jeremy’s avoiding eye-contact so intently I doubt he’s fooled anybody in this room.

  Which means he’s not used to trying to trick people.

  I glance up at Ash and Kia, hoping to take a cue from them. Pushing now might make Jeremy feel cornered. Then he definitely won’t open up. It’s how I tend to react — rational or not — to people demanding the truth from me. I lock up, refusing to be honest as a matter of principle.

  “We’ll help you figure it out,” Kia says, squeezing his shoulder. “You may know more than you think even after living with your father for only a few months. But for this morning, I think we can just enjoy our meal together.”

  I nudge Jeremy’s bowl. “And don’t worry about me, huh? Snarf away.”

  His black eyes brighten a bit. Jeremy straightens and, as he lifts the first bloody piece to his mouth, I see the barest flash of sharp teeth. They’re nothing like the woman’s from last night. Whereas her canines extended saber tooth tiger-like, Jeremy’s are shorter, almost delicate. This should freak me the crap out.

  Then again, after everything I’ve seen in the last 48 hours, my tolerance for paranormal insanity has risen significantly. Chances are, I’m going to have to gird myself for more unbelievable nonsense.

  AFTER GETTING READY for my shift, I jog back into the middle room to snag another mug of coffee. Jeremy s
its alone on the couch in the corner, all limbs and over large feet, a book propped on his knees. The perfect opportunity to try and get a little more truth from him.

  “What’cha reading, kid?” I refill my mug with gloriously hot coffee and a splash of cream, then plop down on the armchair across from the couch.

  He peeks up over the pages and offers me a sheepish grin. “Just something I found on Ash’s bookshelf.” Jeremy tilts the cover for me to see. “I was reading it on my phone, but I had to ditch that when I ran.”

  I squint, still a little foggy from sleep, then grin. “Tale of Two Cities, huh? Heavy stuff. I slogged through the beginning of that Sophomore year, then sobbed through the end.”

  Sticking a finger between the pages to mark his place, Jeremy lays the book on his lap. “It was my mom’s favorite book. She read it so many times we had to patch it up with duct tape.” He grins and runs a thumb along the corner of the hardback. “Pretty much every page was either bent or stained with coffee. She used to bug me to read it before I got to high school so I’d be ahead of everybody.”

  “I bet she’d be proud of you for reading it now.” I tap my ring against the side of the mug. “Did you get to do any school at all while you were with your dad? I know Kia said you were only there about a month, so I guess maybe not.”

  Jeremy swallows and twists a loose string on the bottom of his t-shirt around a pointer finger. Small specks of blood dot the dry skin there, a sheer sign of a habit possibly meant to calm his nerves. Not the dangerous kind necessarily, but I’ll definitely need to keep an eye on it.

  “A little. He restricted my online access, but I found a few programs that helped. I’m still kind of hoping I’ll get to go to college.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Which is probably dumb considering my dad has his own plans for me or whatever.”