Cursed: The Girl Who Shook the Earth

by E. C. Farrell

  I want to reach out and touch him, but the tension wrapped around him wards me off. “I’m so sorry, Ash.”

  He rubs his nose with a knuckle. “So am I. After he killed Sage, I swore I’d never put anyone in danger like that again, but...” Ash peeks at me out of the corner of his eyes. “Now I’ve done it to you. And then I froze up. You shouldn’t have had to get us out of that. I’m so sorry.”

  “It did suck having to out myself, especially to him,” I say. “But you’re right, you couldn’t fight him in there. I’m just glad my insane plan worked.”

  Ash smiles weakly. “It was a pretty good one, but yes, absolutely insane.”

  I blow a raspberry. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Fine.”

  “Liar.”

  Ash winces a little. “It hurts, but it’ll heal pretty fast, even without extra blood. Which is a good thing, because I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back to The Mercury Room right now. My dad might be following us or having us followed. Just waiting for an opportune moment.”

  I force myself to reach out, to push past the tension and take his hand. Ash squeezes it until my joints ache. The pressure there helps release some building inside me. Though I’m scared, I’m glad he hasn’t tried to push me away. I’m in it now, and I’m not leaving.

  After a few minutes, Ash sniffs, wrinkling his nose. “Let me give Kia a call and then we can go see the Amazons. They’re not spectacularly far.”

  He punches Kia’s number into his cell and sets it on speaker. Kia answers after a few rings. “Ash, is everything alright?”

  I try not to snort as Ash winces. “Things have gotten more complicated,” he says, clearing his throat. “My dad showed up after we left Finn’s.”

  “No.” Kia’s voice is thin, weak, absent of all music. “You got away from him? How?”

  Ash glances at me. “Some quick thinking from Case. We thought it might be better not to come back to The Mercury Room just yet and...that we should talk to the Amazons.”

  A heavy sigh crackles over the phone, followed by a prolonged silence. It drags on so long, I tilt a little to peer at the phone screen to make sure we’re still connected. My mind inserts the non-verbal cues I can’t see. Does she dislike this group of vigilantes as much as Ash does? Or is she simply, understandably, worried?

  “Under the circumstances,” she says finally, “that may be wise. We need all the help we can get.”

  Silent, Ash nods.

  I chew a knuckle, then ask, “Any advice for meeting them? Something I can do to...grease wheels or whatever?”

  Kia lets out a sort of distracted chuckle. “Actually, it might be wise if you take the lead, Case. They’ll be quicker to listen to you, and not just because you’re female. I’m sure Ash told you of the bad blood. Make sure he apologizes as quickly as possible.”

  Cheeks red, Ash hangs his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll grovel. Scout’s honor.”

  This time, Kia’s laugh is much fuller. “Make me proud. And when it gets difficult, remember what’s at stake.”

  14.

  EVEN WITH A NAME LIKE Amazons, I didn’t expect a trip to Galveston Island. That feels way too on the nose. As we pass over the bridge, with floating seagulls above and chugging boats below, I squint into the horizon, wondering if the Island of Themyscira is hidden somewhere in the haze.

  I snortle in spite of my stress. “Are we going to have to take a ferry to get to these legendary warriors?”

  Ash grins, though his eyes still droop at the corners. “No. Their building is in the middle of town. It literally looks like an Amazon warehouse.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  I smirk. “Do they fulfill orders with next day delivery?”

  “If the order is for a little Batman style vigilante justice.”

  This makes me cackle. “Are they all...magical? Creatures? Bit of both? I know you said they were all paranormal, but I’m still trying to clarify my definition of that term.”

  “Definitely a mix,” Ash says. “There are even a few non-magic humans. They make great spies in some situations.”

  At the word “spies” I glance into the rearview mirror. I should’ve been paying more attention. Then again, even if someone is following us, I won’t be able to tell. Hopefully if they are, the Amazons will help, whether they like Ash or not.

  In town, we pass tall red brick buildings, swaying palm trees, and a smattering of surf shops. People mill up and down the street, some dressed in full business suits, others in nothing more than bathing suits. Memory rushes in like an unwelcome wave teaming with stinging jellyfish particles.

  Nothing like experiencing your first true anxiety attack while getting ice cream with your school friends.

  I rub my eyes as Ash parks, kicking myself for such a narcissistic train of thought. We’re here to get some protection for Jeremy, for everyone at The Mercury Room, not delve into Case’s childhood trauma. Hopefully putting that off won’t have any negative magical consequences.

  Salty, humid wind curls around us as we climb out of the car. The smell of fried fish, sauteed beef, and even baking waffle cones nudge my stomach, reminding me I never got to eat lunch. Fear and anxiety can only suppress hunger for so long.

  Before we start down the sidewalk, Ash pops the trunk and pulls out a large duffle bag. “Sorry. Things will be messy enough without me showing up covered in blood.”

  I cross my arms and cock my head. “I don’t know. It could get you some sympathy points.”

  Ash barks a laugh as he pulls a clean shirt over his head. “Fair point.” With his typical grace, he manages to wriggle out of the damaged one without flashing his spikes, pulling it off through the neck hole.

  I can’t help it, I give him a little slow clap. “Impressive. Let’s see if you can maneuver that well with the Amazons.”

  Grimacing, Ash tosses the bag back into the trunk, and slams it shut. “I’ll need more than that to get through this without bodily harm.”

  As we start down the sidewalk, I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my camera app. At a certain angle, it works pretty well as a mirror. I pretend to take selfies — complete with obligatory duck lips — while scanning the people behind us. Looping my arm through Ash’s, I let him guide me as I keep watch.

  “Smart,” Ash says in a quiet voice. “I’m not sure I would’ve thought of that.”

  “A lifetime of paranoia has its advantages.” I frown. “Don’t see anybody I recognize, though. Do you?”

  Ash glances at the screen as I hold it up and grins. “No one yet. But I also don’t know all of my dad’s minions. And any one of them could be a shifter.”

  I chew on the edge of a nail. “So we should be looking out for cats or dogs? Or a wolf attempting to look like a stray?”

  Turning down a side street, Ash chuckles. “Maybe, but there are also a lot of shifters who can make themselves look like other people.”

  “Oh good, as if I wasn’t paranoid enough.” I stumble on a crack in the cement, but Ash keeps me steady. “Does anything give them away?”

  “Sensitivity to iron, personal questions — if you happen to know them — gluten.”

  “Gluten? Seriously?”

  Ash snickers. “Nah.” I elbow him as we turn another corner, then trip again when Ash stops. “Here we are.”

  I shut off my cell and stare up at the building in front of us. Though not as big as I might’ve expected, it still spans most of the block. Strips of blue line the walls, starting pale near the ground and increasing in saturation until they reach the roof, trucks rumble in the massive parking lot off to the side, and uniformed workers — all women — cart boxes on dollies or forklifts in and out of massive bays.

  Pushing out a heavy breath, I glance down the block one more time, then focus back on the warehouse. “So what’s our best approach?”

  “Through the front.”

  “Ha. Ha.” I roll my eyes as he starts toward the door. “No
, I mean, who do we ask for? How do we grovel and hopefully smooth things over? Do I need to bring in an offering? Do they like donuts? Ice cream? Small animal sacrifices?”

  Ash combs his fingers through his hair. “Like Kia said, you should definitely take the lead. We’ll ask for Tamara and tell them we’re here because an innocent needs help. Hopefully, that’ll be enough.”

  With one last look over my shoulder, I crack my knuckles, shove my cell into my back pocket, and march toward the front door. Ash stays a step behind. My heart rate kicks up a notch. I get that because of his history with them he has to hang back some, but I’m more than a little dubious about my ability to take point here.

  Frigid air hammers me when I pull open the glass door. Goosebumps scatter across my humidity-damp skin and I shiver. The woman at the front desk — a twenty-something with short, black curls and a chin dimple — smiles, but her features sharpen when she catches sight of Ash.

  “You’d better turn right back around, Daughtry,” she says. “Unless you want another showdown with Dharma.”

  I lift my hands. Zero time to waste words. “An innocent needs your help. Please hear us out.”

  The woman scowls and crosses her arms, her square jaw tight.

  “You know we wouldn’t come here unless we were desperate, Karla,” Ash says, still at the door, not risking coming any closer.

  Karla’s nostrils flare. She taps her fingers on an arm a few times, before finally leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk. “I’ll ask if Tamara will see you. No promises though. And I suggest a lot of groveling.”

  Ash’s lip twitches, but he resists a sneer.

  I touch his shoulder. “Crow is prepared to be eaten.”

  A slight laugh rumbles from Ash’s chest, and some of the stiffness slides out of his muscles. “I’ve got my knife and fork ready.”

  Even Karla grins. She picks up her phone and dials an extension. The normalcy of that action sets off giggles I cover up with a cough. Badass Amazonian warriors shouldn’t have to use paltry things like landlines. Shouldn’t they be sending messages via eagles or phoenixes or whatever?

  Karla speaks in rapid Portuguese, a language I only recognize because of Max. Her eyes jump up to us, narrow a little, then drop back to her desk. My grip tightens on Ash’s arm. After a few more quick, quiet sentences, Karla hangs up and rocks back in her chair.

  “Tamara will see you.” She hooks a thumb toward the door to her left. “She’s sending someone up to walk you back. But fair warning, Daughtry, she’s not feeling any kind of positive toward you right now.”

  “Feeling’s mutual,” Ash says in a mumble.

  I lean toward him. “Be nice.”

  Ash grumbles, but a funny little smirk yanks at the corner of his mouth. “I think Kia’s rubbing off on you.”

  Warmth runs across my cheeks. “Life goals.”

  Really though, if I can grow up to even have a small amount of Kia’s power and kindness, I’ll consider my life a success. Add in a small dose of Ms. Jan’s perseverance and persistence and nothing in the world — normal or paranormal — could stop me.

  The door opens and a woman with legit the most gorgeous, fairy tale princess, blond hair I’ve ever seen steps out into the foyer. Her similarities to Cinderella end there. Unless, of course, she’s the steampunk version of the animal wooing Disney Princess. Grease stains the front of her jumpsuit, scuffs streak her work boots, and a pair of goggles hang around her neck.

  When her bright green eyes land on us, she smiles. One squints slightly more than the other. “Daughtry.” An accent, I think maybe German, scoops the “u” in Ash’s surname.

  Ash tenses beside me. He rubs the back of his neck and lifts his shoulders an inch. “Laurien.”

  One of my brows pops up. Curious. I can’t quite tell if this is a reaction of former lovers or the result of years of unfulfilled flirtation. It absolutely follows. Both Laurien and Ash are kind of stupid hot. With the way the universe works, there has to be something there. I might have to poke for information after we convince these ladies to help us protect Jeremy.

  “Right this way.” Laurien tilts her head into the hall beyond. Painted white apart from a blue line along the middle of the wall, it’s quiet, smells of ammonia, and watched by gray cameras mounted in the corners. When the door shuts, Laurien turns that smile on me. “And what’s your name?”

  “Case, I work with Ash at The Mercury Room.”

  “Ah, brave soul.” She winks. “Never a dull moment there. Daughtry’s a magnet for danger and he surrounds himself with those who tend to intensify that problem. To tell you the truth, I think he prefers it that way.”

  Ash rolls his eyes. “You accidentally open one rift into the fae realm and you get labeled a danger magnet.”

  I smack him with the back of my hand. “You opened a rift? Where? When? What happened? Also, what does that mean?”

  We pass a large window looking into the warehouse. Pairs of women dressed in gray athletic pants and white t-shirts spar on wide, blue mats. Along the perimeter, other groups lift weights, or jog around a black track. They really are a veritable, underground army. If anyone can take Masera down it has to be them.

  Laurien laughs and then claps. “Oh let me tell it. Please.”

  Ash points at her. “No. You'll exaggerate things and make it sound way worse than it actually was.”

  “And you’ll downplay it and make it boring.” She waves in his face. “It’s decided. I’m telling it.”

  “Ooo, yes, I want the less boring version,” I say as we turn a corner.

  Ash groans, but doesn’t protest further.

  Laurien touches my shoulder, sheer glee on her face. “Four years ago, when Kia and Ash first moved to Houston, he was looking for the official entrance into their realm.”

  “I needed some information.” Ash’s voice almost tilts toward a whine and I nearly die of giggles.

  “Well you should have gotten better information about how to get through that gate,” Laurien says, nose wriggling as she laughs. “I don’t know what discount spell shop he went to, or which fae decided to play a trick on him, but by the time he was done, Ash had ripped the space between our worlds right in the middle of Katy. Mason Road to be precise. It was literally a massive crack in the street complete with fae fire and its innate magnetic tug that tried to suck everyone and everything inside.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and wave my arms. “Wait a minute. There is no freaking way. People would have remembered something like that. I mean, I know witches can clearly wipe people’s memories, but...on that level?”

  Ash scuffs a hand over his face. “It took a lot of magic to close it, and even more to make people forget. The tribunal wanted to lock me up.”

  “Holy mama.” I blink a few times before I can come up with a further response. “How’d you get out of that one?”

  Laurien pauses at a door near the back, one hand on the silver handle. “Mermaids can be very persuasive. Though to be honest, she only barely convinced Tamara. Dharma’s still angry we didn’t insist on the punishment.”

  Ash grimaces. “She’s pretty good at holding a grudge. But to be fair, I probably would’ve been mad at some idiot fourteen-year-old who nearly destroyed a city and a thousand years of well-kept secrets in less than an hour.”

  I run my fingers into my curls and leave them there. “That’s insane. How did they get it shut? Witches too?”

  “Incredibly powerful witches.” Laurien turns the handle but doesn’t open it just yet. “One of which was Tamara. Ready?”

  Ash and I exchange a glance, then nod simultaneously.

  “For Jeremy,” I say.

  Ash rubs the back of his neck, then cracks his knuckles with a thumb. “Got my crow ready. Let’s do this.”

  ON THE OTHER SIDE OF the door, Laurien leads us to the edge of the mats I saw before through the window. A woman with thick dreads tied back in a bright green scarf spars with a petite brunette with black gauges. Th
ey circle each other, hands up, footsteps smooth and quick. In an instant they dart for each other.

  Fists fly, blocked by forearms, glancing off the backs of hands. One of them throws a kick. It’s deflected sideways and the woman with dreads catches her partner around the neck. When a few twists don’t work to free her, Gauges taps out with a very animal growl and the two break apart.

  Laurien clears her throat. “Tamara, Dharma, your guests are here.”

  The women look up, the one with gauges glaring immediately. When she steps toward us, however, Dreadlocks touches her shoulder. Dim light grazes over the muscles in her arms, casting shadows beneath the curves. I hate to make snap judgements but, if anybody can help us take out Masera, this woman definitely looks like she can.

  “You already know Ash,” Laurien continues. “This is Case.”

  It’s stupid, but I wave. Embarrassment fries my face. At least I don’t bow, even though for some reason I almost feel like I should. The woman with dreadlocks steps forward and extends a hand to shake mine. She doesn’t smile, but her stoic look isn’t unkind either.

  “You bring danger with you,” she says, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. “Strange magic.”

  Laurien squeaks and takes a step away from me.

  All the levity from the hallway shrivels into a dead, rotting thing, and I scowl. “Yeah, I know, every witch I run into seems to be able to feel my non-native powers or whatever. So far though, it’s been a pretty good defense against Masera’s minions, and even Masera himself. So. Yeah.”

  Now Tamara does smile. “Even a lesser witch would be able to feel the power coming off you. It’s difficult to ignore. Like standing too close to a bonfire.”

  Dharma scoffs. “Non-native magic? What nonsense have you gotten yourself into this time, Sigbin?” Her upper lip curls as she crosses her arms. “Are we going to have to clean up another mess for you? Rob more humans of their memories so you can get away with treason?”

  Ash sneers, and anxiety awakens the quake in my bones. “It’s not his fault,” I say quickly. “We don’t know where my magic comes from. And the innocent who needs your help isn’t Ash’s fault either.”