Cursed: The Girl Who Shook the Earth

by E. C. Farrell

  What fresh horror is this?

  Blinding pain pierces my back. It burns through my entire body with such intensity I’m only half aware I’m screaming as I crumple. Curling in on myself, I watch as Elaxi’s knife flashes, slicing through the creepy elf-like creature’s throat. Blood splatters the ground. I lose her words on the other side of my own cries of absolute agony.

  Huh. I guess I am the one dying early in the horror movie.

  Elaxi crouches in front of me, a grimace on her face. Her touch intensifies the fire scorching through me.

  “Heal her,” Ash says from somewhere behind me.

  Elaxi’s face twists. “I can’t. Pukwudgie poison has no cure. Even if you could manage to control yourself, you wouldn’t be able to suck it out. Doing that would kill you both.”

  My body buckles, tightening into a ball. Blood fills my mouth. Apparently, this particular poison is a total jerk and doesn’t plan to end me fast. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t mind having a little more time, but with Elaxi’s statement that there’s no cure, I’d appreciate a quick death, thank you very much.

  “We have to do something,” Ash says. “We can’t let her die. I won’t let her die.”

  You know, I’d prefer that too, I think. Out of pure desperation, my mind screams to no one in particular one, agonized word, Help.

  Ash and Elaxi’s voices fade into the background as darkness oozes into my vision. My pulse slows and numbness rolls ups my fingers and toes. I guess no one is listening, that no one is in charge, a cynical thought I’ve tried to push aside my entire life. After my last heartbeat there won’t be a darn thing. Not even a cloud and a corny halo.

  At least Ash won’t have to worry about legal trouble with the Tribunal.

  A silver glow fills my vision. Is that the bright light everybody talks about? Whether it is or isn’t, I reach for it with a groan. It comes closer with the sound of beating wings. And then I’m staring into the feathered face of a brilliant bright blue bird. For a long moment, it maintains eye contact with me, a strange pause in which all sound, all feeling, dies away.

  Then the light intensifies and a powerful force tugs at my body. The bird sucks the pain into its own form. I don’t know much, but somehow, this I know as an absolute certainty. Inch by inch the poison leaves me. When the last of it fades completely, the bird shakes out its feathers, then shoots into the sky and toward the sun.

  I let out a sigh of relief, eyes heavy, and let darkness wrap around me.

  CONSCIOUSNESS THROBS its way right back into my skull like a very rude, very insistent, neighbor with no boundaries. At least it comes with much better scenery. Ash bends over me, one hand on my face, tears shining in his eyes. Warm oranges and pinks from the sunset blaze around him so he glows. He’s so pretty. But why isn’t he smiling?

  “Hey Ash...sweet Ash...” Ooof do I sound high or what? That’s weird. Where am I anyway? I wriggle my fingers. They slide over fine threads. A couch? “What’s wrong?”

  His frown deepens and he shifts so the cushion beneath me dips. “Case, what’s the last thing you remember?”

  “So serious.”

  “Case-”

  “Give her a minute, love.” Elaxi’s voice comes from very far away and sounds overly soft, almost fuzzy, like when you’re underwater and somebody tries to talk to you.

  “Remember...” I fumble over the word and shove my thoughts backward.

  Or try to. That annoying pound keeps pushing them weird places. Images, disjointed and foggy, snap through my head of a creepy elf, arrows, a blue bird. None of them tie together or make any semblance of sense. Ash’s thumb tracing a pattern across my cheek doesn’t help.

  Until it does.

  Its rhythm calms the sporadic rush of my thoughts and one by one the memories click back into place. I smile. “A bird saved me.”

  Ash chuckles, dropping his head into a hand and shaking it. “More or less. Yeah, a bird saved you.”

  Leaning over his shoulder, Elaxi grins at me. “That was a Caladrius. A bird with the ability to heal poisons and illnesses other magic cannot. They only come when called for by someone incredibly powerful and good. Which only serves to reaffirm my theory.”

  I blink, way too slowly. “So, I didn’t imagine that? It actually heard me call for help and came?”

  The witch nods. “Your vibrations must have amplified your voice.”

  “Far out.” I push up from the couch, and Ash helps me get propped up against the pillows. We’re back inside the tiny house. No signs of blood or a freakish elven corpse to be seen. “Are you okay, Elaxi?”

  “I’ve had better days.” She gestures to her bandaged arm. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of being attacked by a pukwudgie before.”

  Ash lifts a finger. “Creepy, mischievous elf-creature, usually found in places like Cape Cod. Like the howler, it’s super weird to see one around here. Chances are my dad is sending them. But I can’t be sure.” He rubs his eyes.

  “I can be,” Elaxi says. “He as much as told me your father will be sending bounty hunters of all kinds until he gets what he wants.”

  I pull my knees to my chest. “I have...questions. Too many of them, really.” One I’m not going to mention until Ash and I can be alone. “Why would Masera send a —what was it? — Pukwudgie after Elaxi?”

  The witch tilts her head. “There could be many reasons. Intimidation, to prevent me from reinforcing the shields against him, spite. That, or he doesn’t want you to know the origins of your power for some reason. And now that we’re on the subject, I have some information for you.” Elaxi pulls a Moleskine notebook out from under the coffee table. “If you’re feeling up to hearing it.”

  “Never felt better,” I say. “Hit me, baby.”

  Elaxi thumbs through the pages. “Your magic is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s actually a combination of two, separate sources.”

  Glancing at Asher, then back to Elaxi, I rake my curls out of my face. “So I was hit with two spells?”

  “One spell,” Elaxi says. “Likely a negative one intended to cause harm. The other source is innate. Meaning one of your parents had to be a magic user.”

  17.

  AT SOME POINT, SHOCK is going to kill me.

  So long as another random urban legend doesn’t take me out before that happens. Who knows? Maybe the next attack will be a dragon or something. I’ll go out with a major bang and they’ll write songs about me. The Ballad of Case Ryan, the girl who shook the earth and died with very little dignity, turned into a human marshmallow.

  Without looking at him, I grip Ash’s arm, trying to stay rooted to the couch and not fall on my face Baby Maggie style. After a few more blinks at Elaxi, I find my voice. “Come again?”

  Balancing her journal on one knee, she leans forward to touch my hand. “I know this must be difficult to swallow, love. But there’s really no question, either your father or your mother has innate magic, and while your mother was pregnant with you, someone placed a spell on her. I can’t be sure, but my theory is that it was meant for her and you happened to absorb it. My recommendation would be to go see your parents. Find—”

  “No!” My voice shreds my throat and blood rushes my face. I swallow. “I mean...I’ve never met my dad and my mom and me...we don’t have a good relationship. My earth shaking powers made her intensely uncomfortable for some reason.” I shrug dramatically and ignore the fact that said parent has been texting me over the last few days.

  Shhh, no one needs to know.

  Elaxi runs a thumb along my knuckles. “It’s up to you, of course. Ash and I both understand what family drama is like. I think it would be best if you spoke with her yourself, but I’m also happy to see what I can find out myself if you’ll tell me where to find her.”

  Discomfort locks my shoulders up. Going to find my mom would suck, but sending someone else to meet her doesn’t sit right either. I haven’t seen her in years. Has she pulled things together now that I’m
not ruining her life? Is she back to the woman I knew as a very young child? Or is she still reeling from the damage my powers had done?

  “I can give you time to think about it, love,” Elaxi says with a whisper of a smile. “A few days to let everything absorb.”

  “Yeah.” I fight to keep my voice steady and my expression calm. “Yeah, I need a little time to reorient. It’s a lot to take in. Thanks.”

  And hopefully while I get my head on straight, Dharma won’t convince Tamara she was wrong for letting me go.

  After a little more small talk — the kind necessary in Houston to transition guests out the door — Ash and I drive back to The Mercury Room. My back isn’t even sore where the pukwudgie’s arrow hit me. As I settle into the passenger’s seat, I focus on this shocking detail rather than the fact that I don’t want to even think about facing my mom.

  “There’s not even a mark that I can feel,” I say, sliding my fingers over the spot.

  Ash glances my way, eyes quickly returning to the road, a stiff smile on his face. “I still can’t believe you were able to summon a Caladrius. That’s so insanely rare. I’ve never heard of anyone else doing it.”

  “I guess with great panic comes great power.” I let my shirt drop and relax back against the seat. “When y’all said there was no cure, I freaked a little. Imagine that...Could you, um, could you have bitten me to save me? Turned me into a vampire? Not that I’m asking you to, or anything. Just curious.”

  Ash’s grin loosens up a bit. “That’s just part of the myth. Or one of them anyway. Vampires can’t transfer their magic to someone else. Only witches can do that. The venom in our fangs works more like alcohol or drugs. So, if I fed from you, you’d still be in pain but feel really happy about it.” He chuckles. “In this case, though, we both would have died. Pukwudgie poison is lethal even to my kind.”

  As he turns by the taco stand, I chew my bottom lip, ignoring the grumble in my stomach. “So, it can’t be transferred. Interesting.”

  I could say I wasn’t thinking about the possible drug-like effects of his venom, but that would be a lie. A moment of venom-induced euphoria might be a nice break from the trauma of the last few days. It might also be nice to feel Ash’s lips on me...

  “Why don’t you want to talk to your mom?” Ash’s question destroys my former happy train of thought. “I mean, I know she freaked over your powers, and that she said you were cursed...you know what, never mind. Stupid question. I’d probably not want to talk to my mom either if she said that to me.”

  As he pulls into The Mercury Room parking lot, I make a face, relieved he’s led himself to that conclusion. I’m so not ready to go into every reason the state eventually took me away from her. Or why Ms. Jan ultimately put an end to our meetings. It might have to come out if and when we go see her, but for now I can keep it locked up tight in a safe little closet at the back of my brain where it can’t hurt me.

  “That kind of thing really puts a damper on one’s relationship with their parental units,” I say, climbing out of the car.

  “So, you’re saying calling you cursed is a deal breaker on a relationship, huh?” Ash tilts his chin up, a mischievous look on his face as he spins his keys on a finger.

  I nod solemnly. “I’m afraid so.”

  “I’ll have to make sure to avoid it then.” He winks and I blush.

  Great. Back to Jr. High Case who morphs into a giant sweat factory when someone cute shows the slightest interest. At least right now I can totally blame it on the Houston heat and almost dying. Totally reasonable excuse.

  Inside The Mercury Room, we find the afternoon slump, limited mainly to a few people at the bar and one small table with a woman and her baby in a stroller. Max greets us with exaggerated relief. He grabs our shoulders and pretends to sniffle dramatically.

  “Thank Amphitrite, goddess of the sea, you’re back. We were drowning, I tell you.” He shakes us. “Drowning!”

  Ash blows a raspberry. “You joke, but we’ve had a harrowing afternoon. Not sure you could’ve handled it.”

  Max waves a hand. “Oh, I’m quite sure I couldn’t. Amazons and megalomaniac fathers are one thing. But pukwudgies? Nah. I’d nope right out of there the second I saw one. Let Elaxi defend herself.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Ash says, slapping Max’s shoulder. “Is Kia in the office?”

  Max twirls his bottle opener like a baton. “Nah, she’s on the roof with the guards your favorite vigilantes sent about five minutes ago.”

  Ash pulls a face like he just drank old coffee. “I think I’ll talk to her later, then. Might go a few rounds on the punching bag.”

  I swat him gently on the shoulder. “Mind if I join you? What better way to process our afternoon than whaling on vinyl?”

  “If you think you can handle it.” Ash wiggles his brows, then springs out of the way of my retaliatory smack, and runs into the kitchen.

  Snickering, I sprint after him and run up the stairs to the hidden room. I change as fast as possible — swearing about the hole in my tank top — then tear back down into the restaurant and toward the basement.

  I find the basement empty and dark. Not to be lulled into a false sense of comfort — and somewhat wary of Max appearing out of thin air — I flick the lights on while still on the final step and lean around the corner with narrowed eyes. The fridge in the corner hums, pipes sigh with the rush of water, and the air conditioner rattles, but apart from that, no sound disrupts the silence.

  “Max, if you materialize in here and scare me again, I swear I’ll flush you down the toilet.”

  Only the appliances answer.

  Though not totally convinced, I pad out onto the mat and dig into one of the cabinets for wrapping tape. My knuckles still smart from when I hit Yarissa. By the end of this, they’ll be a gory mess, but taking precautions should help avoid a total blood bath. Maybe.

  I wince through the whole process, then approach the punching bag. My old krav instructor’s voice echoes back through the years in my head, explaining the basics every class.

  I obey the memories of commands, stepping into fighting stance with my left foot, hovering my hands in front of my face. Fire lances across my knuckles and up the cuts on my arm with the first two punches. Combination after combination dulls the pain. The rhythm helps me focus, pulls the reigns of my quickly racing thoughts, directs them to a singular, simple path.

  Left, right.

  Left, right, left.

  It’s not the worst idea in the world. Talking to Mom.

  Left.

  Left.

  Left.

  Your mom who used to play hide and seek with you.

  I pause, glancing around the room, then turn back to the bag, adding a little juice to my punches, attempting to practice controlling my magic like Tamara said.

  Left, right, left, right. The bag swings back way too far, and I restrain the power a little.

  Left, right, left, right.

  Left, right, left, right.

  Sweat mats strands of hair to the sides of my face and neck as I kick the bag. Your mom who used to ride bikes with you.

  I kick it again.

  The woman who called you “cursed.”

  Left.

  Left.

  Kick.

  Who got so upset by it that eventually, she knocked you into a counter.

  Left, right, left, right.

  Knee.

  Elbow.

  The state took you away from her.

  In my final kick, I channel a huge amount of magic into the bag. It splits and the chain breaks. I stumble backward to land on my butt. Letting out a garbled groan, I fold both arms over my face, and let the obnoxious noise turn into a childish whine. To complete the unflattering pose, I stamp my feet against the mat — toddler style.

  “What did that bag ever do to you?”

  I jump at the sound of Ash’s voice and glare. “You said you’d stop lurking. Twice now.”

  “Maybe I’m testing y
our situational awareness.” Ash grins and jiggles his hands in the pockets of his joggers. “Please tell me you weren’t imagining your mom’s face on that punching bag.”

  Morphing a wince into an “I’m totally innocent” smile, I lean back on my palms and cross my legs at the ankles. “I would never. That would be wrong and twisted and unbecoming a young woman.” I blow out a breath so my lips vibrate. “Sorry I murdered your punching bag. It truly was innocent. I was trying to practice controlling my magic like Tamara said. Looks like I’m real good at it.”

  Waving a dismissive hand, Ash crouches in front of me and rests his elbows on his knees. “No worries. I’ve destroyed a few in my day too. Usually when I’m visualizing my dad’s face. Hoping maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to deck the real thing.” He twists his fingers together.

  I hug a leg into my chest. “He is a very scary man. It’s understandable that you froze in Montrose.”

  Shaking his head, Ash laughs wryly and rests his chin on a palm. “Sure. Totally understandable. It put you and everybody in that restaurant in danger because I stalled out. I can fight howlers and werewolves but my dad shows up and I turn into a thirteen-year-old coward.”

  “Confronting parents sucks.” I hate to admit it, but I’m definitely pouting. “They have a particular way of making us freeze, lose our nerve. You’re not alone in parental-inspired cowardice. My mom doesn’t even have any magic and I’m straight up terrified to go meet with her.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  I study the dividing lines on the mat. “Three years. It went so great that my social worker basically told her she couldn’t see me until I turned eighteen. At which point I could decide whether or not I still wanted a relationship with her.” Sniffing, I lift my hands to rub my eyes but pause at the sight of blood dripping from under the wrappings. “Ew.”

  “Hang on.” Ash hops up and jogs to the metal cabinets, pulling out a first aid kit, then sinking back down in front of me.