Cursed: The Girl Who Shook the Earth

by E. C. Farrell

  “Elaxi says I have magic,” I blurt out. “Which you probably already guessed because you’re like, a super genius mermaid. And you know. No big deal, except that my magic might be from a curse or something super wicked awesome like that. Which could explain why my mom fell apart and the state had to take me away from her. So I might be a danger to everyone here. If you want to fire me, I definitely get it.”

  Emotion chokes me and I cover my burning face with my hands. If a magic curse isn’t enough to get me kicked out of The Mercury Room family, my current and present freak out probably will. I’ll have to go back to looking for work again and hope to the powers that be that my last few paranormal encounters have left me with better overall control of my freakish abilities.

  Tears stream down my cheeks and I choke on a sob.

  Then cool fingers touch mine, smoothing across my aching knuckles, stemming the flow of blood and soothing some of the sting. I shut my eyes, way too embarrassed to look up at the mermaid after my outburst.

  “I lost my first child,” Kia says in a soft voice. “She came too early and survived only a few days. I never had the opportunity to see what she would become, to deal with the pain or celebrate the joy she would bring, but if I had, I can’t imagine sending her away.”

  I look up, meeting Kia’s gaze and for the first time, I see age there. It’s not in faint lines or shadows, but in a fullness about the eyes I’ve only ever seen in the very old.

  She squeezes my hands. “No matter where your magic comes from, you are welcome here at The Mercury Room. I know we all want to help you navigate this as much as we want to help Jeremy.”

  Willing the tears to stop, I tilt forward a little, propping my elbows on my knees. “I’m so sorry about your daughter.”

  Kia’s brow twitches slightly, and her grip on me tightens. “And I’m sorry about your mother.”

  I swallow the massive lump in my throat, shifting in the chair, and glancing at the door. “Should we check on Max and Jeremy?”

  A breathy sigh brushes my skin as Kia frowns — almost like she’s disappointed — but she simply nods. “We can. Yes. And when you feel more ready to discuss your own situation, I’ll be here.”

  As we climb the stairs, my mind reels, pulled in too many different directions by too many shocking events. If I keep working here for any extended amount of time, I’m going need a lot more therapy. I’ll have to ask Kia if she knows any good counselors. Particularly one with an emphasis in paranormal trauma.

  Still, the fact that I’m not being sent away lifts my spirits so much I don’t even care what kind of mental fall out will come from it.

  In the upper room, Max lays on the couch next to the fireplace, with Jeremy at his feet. Kia retrieves a first aid kit from one of the cabinets above the kitchenette. She bandages Max’s neck and forces a water bottle laced with about eight packets of electrolytes on him. When he whines about it, she fixes him with a look worthy of cowering under. Max immediately acquiesces to her “request.” If I hadn’t just faced down a deadly bounty hunter, I might’ve laughed at his expression.

  Dread plops down heavy on my stomach. After a victory like that, you’d think I’d feel that adrenaline induced euphoria that makes everything all shiny and amps the ego, but with Ash and Kia so spooked, I can’t bask in the afterglow. This rocks me more than almost anything else. If the bounty hunter scares them, I need to be scared too.

  Fingers locked together at the back of my neck, I sweep around for Ash. I don’t see him, but the door to the roof stands slightly ajar at the top of the stairs, rocking gently in the hot wind.

  I touch Kia’s shoulder and smile at Max and Jeremy. “I’ll be right back. Keep these two out of trouble, huh?”

  Max laughs, a harsh sound. I throw him a wink before heading up the last flight of stairs into the blazing hot Houston sun. Palms pressed into the half wall, Ash stands at the far end, head bowed. That same tension from before balls in the muscles of his shoulders. The spikes along his spine prick up beneath his gray t-shirt.

  Lips pressed together, I shuffle forward slowly, stopping a foot or so away. I open my mouth, but Ash speaks before I can. “How’s Max?” His words come out pinched, sharp.

  “A little whiny.” I take another step toward him. “Kia has him guzzling electrolytes. He’s scared but trying to act cool. Typical Max MO.”

  Ash’s ribcage expands as he takes a deep breath then deflates as he pushes it forcefully out again. He repeats this action a few more times. Only the sound of cars zipping by like intermittent flies interrupts the pause. An outburst brews between us. Fury ripples off Ash like waves of heat, and I have to force myself to take another step closer, to touch his shoulder.

  His muscles jump under my hand, and his eyes meet mine, soft blue darkened by furrowed brows. He whips around, gripping my arms, his touch warm, strong. My throat clogs. Solid and unmoving as marble, he stares down at me. All other noises fade beneath a roar in my ears. All logical thought stutters to a complete halt.

  Then his head drops and my stomach plummets with it. I don’t think. I just reach up to cup his face. In spite of its apparent sharpness, in spite of the scruff, it’s terribly soft. “Ash, what is it?”

  “The last time we dealt with Yaritza, we barely got away.” Again his Adam’s apple bobs.

  “That’s what Kia said.” My voice keeps fading in and out, unable to sustain volume.

  Ash slides both of his hands up to cover mine and shuts his eyes. A gust of blazing hot wind wraps around us, bringing with it the smell of cedar and pine and burgers on a grill somewhere. I run my thumbs along Ash’s cheekbones. He releases another slow breath through his nose.

  “I underestimated her. Max nearly died. Kia got us out alive, but not without her own scars. Yaritza is calculated, cold. She can’t be reasoned with. When you hit her...” He blinks and meets my eyes and I understand deeply, painfully, the fear there. “It’s not just that she could have killed you, awful as that would be. It’s that she would have made a wreck of you because you were in her way. And I’m pretty sure you never would have stepped out of it.”

  In that final confession, the tension wooshes out of Ash in a breath and his head sags. Before I can stop myself, words — unchecked and unmonitored — slip out, teetering on the thin edge of hope. “Are you asking me to step out of it?”

  A corner of Ash’s mouth jerks like an involuntary twitch. “As if that would work.”

  I chuckle and another layer of tension scoots politely off my chest. “It might work, but I’m not sure it would help. I mean, I try to stay out of the way and mutant chupa-ires bust into my apartment. Then a howler interrupts my shift. Apparently I’m a magnet for the monsters around here. I’ve got to be cursed.” A smile works its way onto my face. “You gettin’ sweet on me, Daughtry?”

  His eyes meet mine again. Then, he leans forward an inch. I lift onto the balls of my feet, our lips meeting for the barest, sweetest whisper of a moment. It’s been a hot second since my last kiss. Sophomore year of high school, all full of awkwardness and back sweat, and leaving behind the taste of chapstick.

  It’s got nothing on this.

  We both pause, then I wrap my arms around his neck as he laces his around my waist and again our lips meet. Every cell in my body vibrates. I arch into him. The roof trembles. Gently, I flick the end of his tongue with my own, immediately drunk on the strangely sweet taste. Like cinnamon and honey.

  After a moment, I rock back onto my heels with a little chuckle. “It’s about time, man. Be honest. Was it my right hook?”

  Ash grins and tucks a curl behind my ear. “What can I say? I have a thing for a woman who can throw a punch.”

  To my great shame, I giggle — yes, giggle — and stroke his cheekbones with my thumbs again. “Full disclosure. I can throw a punch, but I usually don’t crack walls when I do it.” I give him another peck.

  “That was pretty cool. Though...I definitely don’t think you’re cursed.” Ash wrinkles his nose.
“The question is, where did your magic come from?”

  We sit together on the half wall as I consider the question. “I mean, if it’s not... ‘native,’ then what else could it be? It sure doesn’t feel like a charm or whatever. Though it did feel pretty good using it against that bounty hunter after she hit Jeremy.” I grimace.

  Ash squeezed my hand. “Kia will take care of him. Of both of them. We can check on them after we talk about this.”

  Mind still on the cracking sound of Yaritza’s boot colliding with Jeremy’s ribs, and lips still burning from Ash’s kiss, I work my jaw to loosen the kinks. Right now I can’t do a whole lot to help Max or Jeremy. Unless there’s more stuff I don’t know about my magic. Somehow I doubt vibrations or tremors or whatever can heal cracked ribs.

  These do not feel like good vibrations, though hitting her was a sweet sensation. Nowhere near as sweet as Ash’s kiss. That pleasant warmth, a momentary break from the emotional trauma of the last hour, dies away almost immediately as I remember how things ended with the last person I fell for. Even the kindest people can’t be expected to put up with unexpected earthquakes that only ever happen when their new girfriend is around.

  Ash bumps my arm. “Hey. Sorry for pushing. We don’t have to talk about it right this second. I know it’s a lot. Believe me.”

  I lift my shoulders as I fill my lungs with air, holding it when some jerk drives past with their base pounding loud enough to shake the brick wall under us. How anyone keeps their hearing functioning with their music that loud is a mystery almost as indecipherable as my “non-native” magic.

  “I do think I need to sit with this a little longer.” I chew my bottom lip. “That okay?”

  Ash grins. “Take all the time you need. Like I said, you’re handling all this better than I did when I figured out what I am.”

  “Did you drown your sorrows in gallons of ice cream?” I smirk.

  “Nah, I hid under my bed for the better part of two days with my door locked. There is a distinct possibility that I also dug out a stuffed turtle I’d slept with as a kid. Though if you tell anyone about that, I’ll get Kia to make you clean out the ovens after Italo makes pot pie. By yourself.”

  Rocking onto a palm, I slip into giggles so intense they fall silent, bubbling at the base of my throat. Tiny stuffed turtle cuddling is everything I could have asked for in a broody vampire. When air finally returns to my lungs, tears seep from the corners of my eyes.

  Ash narrows his eyes and pokes me in the side with a knuckle. “I mean it. All of the ovens.”

  “I swear,” I say with a gasp. “I’ll take it to my grave. But only if I get to see pictures.”

  Ash lets his head fall back dramatically. “Blackmail. Didn’t think you were capable.”

  “For pictures of tiny Ash with a stuffed turtle, I’m definitely down for blackmail.” I grin.

  Sighing, Ash digs his cell out of his back pocket. With a few flicks of his thumb, he pulls up the instagram of a dark-haired woman, scrolls about halfway down, then taps on a small image. I scoot closer to squint at the picture. A small boy with impossibly big eyes sits on a blue suede couch. His short legs barely reach the end of the cushion and his velcro shoes tilt in on each other so the toes touch. The shell of the stuffed turtle on his lap nearly touches his chin, almost covering the grin he wears.

  “Awww,” I say in my dopiest of voices. “You were so dorky.”

  Ash laughs. “I’m worse than you might think.” He clicks the phone off, then looks over his shoulder and leans in a bit. “I still have that turtle.”

  “No. No way!” I swat his forearm. This is what always happens when I like someone, I abandon all manner of decorum and flirt like a junior high kid. I am wildly mature. “I have to see this now for confirmation that a creature of the night sleeps with a stuffed—”

  Ash cuts me off with a kiss and I giggle against his lips. He leans back way too fast. “How about a distraction? Not from the blackmail, I know you won’t forget about that, but all the other things.”

  Brows raised, I straighten. “Please.”

  “I was thinking, maybe we can look into exactly what my dad wants with Jeremy.” Ash scratches the back of his head. “I have a contact or two who should be able to point us in the right direction. One of them might even have some info for you. I know Elaxi’s going to look into your magic too, but this guy knows all the things about paranormal history you could ever want to know. And a lot you don’t want to know.”

  Perfect. Ever since I picked up on the fact that Jeremy was lying about knowing why his dad wants him, I’ve been uber curious. If we can get some more facts, I might be able to nudge the truth out of him. Gently, of course.

  I give Ash a thumbs up. “Totally game. Let’s figure out what it is about your brother’s milkshake that’s bringing your dad to the yard.”

  Ash barks a laugh. “That was awful, and I love it.”

  I wink, then twist around and hop off the wall. “It’s a very good sign that you’re cool with my horrible humor. Because horrible’s about all I got.”

  10.

  WHEN WE HEAD BACK INTO the upper room, Ash jogs downstairs to talk to Elaxi and I plunk into the armchair across from the couch where Max lays, apparently asleep. Still pale and wrapped in a blanket, one arm hangs limp toward the floor while the other clutches an empty cup. Jeremy sits on the carpet near his head, hugging his middle, while Kia hovers, flows, glides around the kitchen.

  “Water, Case?” she asks.

  “Please and thank you.” As Kia fills a glass, I reach across to tap Jeremy’s knee with a knuckle. “How’re your ribs, kid?”

  “They hurt, but they’re okay.” He shrugs. “Sorry I messed things up. I deserved what I got.”

  I cock my head to one side, scowling. “And just how do you think you messed things up?”

  Jeremy grimaces. “You wanted me to wait and I didn’t.”

  Kia returns to the small circle. She hands me a glass and sits next to Jeremy. He scoots over to give her a little room and winces. The mermaid frowns and touches his arm. “Would you mind if I take a look at those ribs?”

  Blood rushes Jeremy’s cheeks, but he uncurls, giving her access to his side. She lifts the hem of his shirt and I slide onto the floor in front of him. Angry patches of red and blue track up his side. Fury rages in my chest, burning hotter every second, and jarring my bones. Faint scars spiderweb beneath and around the beginnings of a bruise. Claw marks if I have to guess.

  If I ever get my fists near his dad, I’ll put one through his eye socket, and into his brain.

  Letting my anger out as best I can with a breath, I shake my head. “You didn’t mess anything up. If you hadn’t jumped in we might’ve lost Max. You did good, kid.”

  One corner of Jeremy’s mouth slides up, but he also chokes a finger with a string at the end of his shirt. “That punch was pretty gnarly. Any idea how it happened?”

  I chew on a nail, glancing at Kia. The mermaid doesn’t look at me, but tension twines through her jaw and down her long neck. Apparently, in spite of her kind words earlier, my magic makes her just as nervous as it makes me.

  “Mad skills,” I say with a fake grin. “The kind you can only learn after years of doing the foster care two step.”

  Jeremy frowns. “Did you bounce around a lot?”

  “Almost once a year. Sometimes even after only a few months.” I draw up my knees and sandwich my fingers between my calves and thighs, wincing when the material mashes my damaged knuckles. “I saw the good, the bad, and the wacky.”

  As Jeremy squints at me, Kia lets his shirt fall back into place, then smiles at me. “How is your hand, Case?”

  “A mess, but okay. How about Max? Is he actually unconscious or just pretending?” This might sound callous, but I caught his face twitching a second before, and when I ask my question, his lips purse against a grin.

  “He’s not faking,” Max says. “He’s completely asleep and in no need of any head shrinking.”


  I flick his nose with a pointer finger and he swats at my hand, barely missing when I jerk it back. “Don’t worry buddy. You’ve been through enough today, but be forewarned, you’re not off the hook forever. I definitely want to know why that bounty hunter was so enthused to find you.”

  Max looks at me through thick, black lashes. “It’s no big deal. My mom just seduced the wrong person with her magicy spirit powers and made a bunch of people real mad. Since she’s almost impossible to find, they decided to put a bounty out on me too. It’s super fun.”

  Though he smiles, the emotion gets nowhere near the upper half of his face and, when he tries to adjust his position on the couch, more color drains out of his skin. Sweat shines in his hairline and drops of gray blood stain the collar of his shirt. His eyes shift to the door as Ash jogs back in, brow buckled.

  “Told you she’d find me, man.” Max coughs into his fist.

  My stomach clenches. Ash’s expression doesn’t change, not on the surface anyway. Something moves under the hardened exterior, something that blinks behind his eyes, but only for the slightest wisp of a breath. He barely moves when he responds, as if stillness might avoid disrupting a balance I can’t see.

  “And I told you we’d deal with it.”

  “What if we can’t?”

  “We will.”

  “But-”

  Ash crosses his arms over his chest, effectively cutting him off. “That other option? It’s still not an option.”

  “Ash is right,” Kia says. “Put that thought away.”

  I frown at Max, who now rubs his eyes with a forefinger and thumb. Though he doesn’t want any head shrinkage, how can I leave this alone? He won’t spook quite like Jeremy if I push wrong, but he’ll definitely clam up, put on that perfect smile and brush me off with a joke.

  Before I can even ask, though, he flashes it at me and this time manages to pull the mask all the way back into place. “Welp, I’ve had enough excitement for one day. Think I’m calling in sick.” He pulls the afghan over his head.