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Authors: C.V. Dreesman

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BOOK: Cursefell
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     Isabel's song grew in volume and its tone was even more mournful with the haunting loss swelling to drop me to my knees.  My palms pressed flat against my temple, covering ears that felt like they were breaking, fighting the need to grovel on my belly and drag myself away.  Shadowy threats formed to nestle in my mind, cries of despair raised in the hundreds stole life giving warmth.  All was fallen.  Life crumbling under the desperate steps of hopeless abandon, ground unto dirt.  The mug shattered into a dozen painted ceramic chips.  I wailed in despair.  My tears flowed like fountains of relief when that song abruptly ended.
     I grabbed onto Isabel when she knelt beside me.  Several attempts at speaking passed before I found my raw voice.
     "Never sing that again," I croaked.
     "I rarely do.  Don't worry." She ran a soothing hand through my hair.
     "What was that?" the sobbing would not end completely, even as I was speaking.
     "You wanted to learn about the curse's power.  About turning people to stone."
     "I wanted to learn how to control it, not hurt someone with it."
     "You want to keep your mom safe.  To keep yourself from harming your friends."
     "Yes."
     "Then you need to know the extent of what you can do.  That first song I sang was like turning someone to stone.  The least harm we can do," she told me, then lowered her voice.  "That second tune can cause destruction, even death.  It is the other side of the same coin.  The same words, the same song, only sung with another emotion."
     "But how?"
     "The feelings you conjure are the thoughts that guide it.  For me, I feel different things that trigger the emotions that I need for the power of my song.  I imagine it will be similar for you.  The key is emotion, though.  I don't know yet what it will be for you, since you come from the first cursed, but we will figure it out.  As for your deadlier power, if you have one, it will be a trigger beyond insane.  I'm not sure what that result was for Medusa, or what it would be for you."
     "I don't think I want to know." I was afraid of what that result might be.
     "I don't either.  Turning to stone seems bad enough to me." She looked around, making sure we were alone.  "I'm not sure about the Circle, but I don't think the brothers know about the darker effect of the curse we carry.  I think we should keep it that way."
     "Good idea," I agreed.  I refused to think of it.  I could control myself.  I would control myself no matter what it took.

CURSEFELL

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

     Walking down the streets of my town with the quiet buzz that always filled semester's end felt odd.  It was weird to see everyone I had known for the past year scurrying around the salt scrubbed faded buildings and scuffed stone sidewalks as they went along like everything was normal.  I guess for them their lives had not changed.  As much as I wanted to I couldn't look at my life that way anymore.  Just being amongst them reminded me of that fact.  If my condition hadn't sunk in yet, and it had not, not fully, this was when it became real to me.
     The itch that had been crawling up my legs the moment I had climbed out of our car intensified the longer I stayed there.  It rolled over the sloping contour of my hips even as I tried to push it from my mind.  But standing there, watching all the forms moving in what looked to me now as their ugly ungraceful angles, I could think of nothing more but how beautiful they would be if I could capture them in sculpture.  The youthful awkwardness shed in the surety of stone.  The charms they held within would be forever reflected and unweathered by time's withering touch.  What then is fifteen minutes spent on foolish fame compared to eternal remembrance carved in marbled stone, I mused.
     I twirled the trailing strands from my hair between long fingers as the desire fermented in my mind's eye.  The vision showed me where best to place these odes to humanity once the creations were done.  The design must be as fair as the statues themselves.
     "Thera."
     A warm touch from Galead's hand entangled my fingers in mid twirl, bringing me back to myself.  They were my classmates and neighbors again instead of blocks to be chipped and hammered into clean lines and strong features.  I felt weak and ashamed.
     "I can't be here," I told him.
     "You can.  You are stronger than your blood alone," he told me.  "I believe in you."
     "I was just thinking about turning them.  I think I was going to do it."
     "It would have already happened if you had lost control.  Just focus, as Isabel taught you.  It will be fine," he promised, squeezing my hand as I separated it from my hair.
     Despite Galead's faith in me, doubts did their best to eat away at the idea that self-control was within my ability.  Isabel had warned me that my curse could only be guided to a certain point.  The magic that accursed Medusa, which flowed through our line from her to me, would demand that my new born abilities be used no matter if I wanted to or not.
     She said the curse controlled my life as long as it existed.  She said it would make me a monster one day.  She said I had no choice.
     But I did.  And I would make mine knowing that every choice carries a consequence.
     "Thera!" an excited voice exclaimed.
     Lily ran up, her arms catching me around the middle, wrapping me in a fierce hug.  Face buried in her hair, I couldn't help laughing as I hugged her back.  I feared to let go.
     "Where have you been?" she chided.
     "Mom and I had to go out of town for a few days." Keep it simple, the lies I would need to tell my friends, silver tongued Tristan had advised.
     "You couldn't answer a text?" she asked, breaking our embrace.  I couldn't help but feel it was a metaphor for the distance my lies were sure to cause to grow between us.  They were necessary, however, if my friends were to be kept safe.
     "Sorry, Lil.  I'm really sorry."
     "You better be!  I was worried sick." She threw a hooded glance at my companion, whispering in my ear, "It's about your boyfriend.  We need to talk."
     "Okay," I mouthed before saying out loud, "Well I'm back now.  There's nothing to worry about."
     "I guess not.  You, blue eyes, couldn't you have let me know?"
     Galead stood silently, just shrugging his shoulders, which had Lily responding with that stubborn fist on her hips stance she used whenever she felt like being standoffish.  That would lead to trouble, the kind I didn't need right now, if I didn't diffuse the situation.
     "I didn't tell him either." I hoped that would get her attention away from him and back on me.  "Don't be angry, Lil.  It was important for my mom."
     "I'm not angry.  I was just worried about you."
     I hugged her again, wanting to cry, thankful for such a good friend.  I had missed her, I realized, since that last night she and Evony and Anna and I had been shopping.  I had missed them all.  Maybe there was still hope for me.
     "But you, buster," she pointed a finger at Galead, "are on my watch list."
     "Lily!"
     "It's alright," Galead said.  "She's just looking out for you.  Lily, I promise I will always be looking out for Thera too."
     "Yeah?  Well, okay then.  You'll have to deal with me if you break your word.  Understand?" he nodded.  "Good.  I have got to get Anna and Evony.  Will you hold a table for us at the Lair, Thera?"
     It wasn't really a question if you listened to Lily's tone, so I agreed.  It was a good idea.  School had just finished and a lot of students would be spending the rest of the day downtown, celebrating.  Leary's Lair, the only pizza place in town, was going to be busy.  If I could make it through the rest of the day without turning anyone into a living statue then I could certainly reward myself with a slice of pineapple pepperoni and some time with my friends.  Lily smiled brightly after I promised to wait for them and dashed down the street to gather up our friends.
     "Feisty," Galead said, watching her dance between the crowd, ducking and dodging and slipping past careless feet and elbows before turning a corner.
     "She's a good friend."
     He grunted.
     "And so are you," I told him.
     I felt him stiffen all the way to the tight grin he showed me.  Something had displeased him and put him on the defensive.  I could only wonder what when we parted, he to run an errand, I to save a table at Leary's for everyone, where he would meet back up with us.
     That question was distraction enough to almost get me to the pizza parlor without feeling the itch running under my skin.  As much as I tried to ignore it though, the prickling returned as fiery stabs by the time I had secured our table.  My eyes watered with the pain I was holding in.  I wanted so badly to lift my eyes from the menu over which letters rippled and lost their place with each jarring jolt to my body, but I feared what would happen if I did.  The fight between my new nature and my old one raged as I waited.
     I knew the restaurant well.  Normally I would enjoy the wood beams, the nooks and crannies and the loft seating the architecture held, and all the shields and arms inspired by the Dark Ages hanging on the walls.  The owner was a history buff, specifically ancient history, like me.  So much so that he modeled the inside of his pizzeria after the old crossroad taverns.  But I barely noticed it this time.
     Spacious as Leary's was, it was still packed as I sat there with my head bowed and alone.  The noise of boisterous students happy to be free of school for a few weeks roiled all around me.  The heavy footsteps of exhausted, bustling waitresses thundered through my head.  The urge to give in to the nature of my blood tested me like no final ever had before.  It went against everything I had been.  Medusa's curse called on me through the ages that had been to the present, and would run its course to any future generation I might make.  Mine was the cup from which the curse would flow as long as there was a line waiting to drink.
     Day was counting down along with my strength to ignore the need to unleash the curse.  With the pressure mounting I knew I had to get away from the crowd.  Leaving my book bag on the chair beside me, I practically sprinted into the restroom.  It was empty, thankfully.  Slamming the last stall door I dropped my head between shaky legs, focusing on just breathing to calm the thundering beats in my chest.  I was very close to passing out.
     By the time I had calmed myself enough to sit up without dizziness accompanying even the slightest movement and the fear of what might happen haunting each step, the lights began to flicker.  Voices were raised loudly outside the door.  The words were muffled and distorted, sounding like the nattering of clicking bugs.  Then the lights went out.
     I gave it a few minutes, but everything stayed dark.  I could hear my classmates being herded out of the building by a few adult voices raised over the sudden deluge of drumming rain pelting the roof.  It was sudden and sounded heavy.  The snap of lightning showed through the small rectangle of glass above the stall I was in.  It was followed almost simultaneously with the loudest thunder I had ever heard.  The wooden boards that made up the wall rattled against my back.  I thought the whole building would collapse.
     Most of the students would be gone now I reasoned.  I resolved to wait out the storm in the bathroom, or at least for awhile, when my cell trilled with a text alert.
     It was Galead wondering where I was.  I tapped in the letters telling him where but not why.  My fingers were unsteady and it took three attempts to get it right.  He said he would be there in a minute, he was across the street.  The whole town was down, no electricity with the unexpected storm, he told me.  Very bad outside, stay put.  I texted him that I would until he was here.
     I came out from the stall, feeling vulnerable in the small space when another flash of lightning and boom of thunder struck.  The wind and rain lashed the area unabated, sounding as if it would not ever end.  If my father could see me now I imagine he would say something funny about this.  Clowns had always been the scariest thing in the world to me.  Lightning storms, close ones, were also on that list.  Reaching out a shaky hand I reached into the dark to feel my way around.  The cold porcelain sink felt solid under my touch, an anchor to hold up against the slowly rising fear.  The water from the faucet was even colder as I splashed it on my face.
     "Nathera.  Nathera," a voice cawed through the restaurant.  "Your table is ready."
     What now?  That was not Galead's voice.  Nor the voice of anyone I recognized.  And who would call me by my full name but my mother?
     The voice was followed by the sound of a scream.  It had come from outside the window, distant but distinct even through the raging storm coming from the ferocious sky.  Another shout, brave at first then faded to pleading, this time from inside Leary's.  I swear my heart was skipping beats as it pounded.
     I cracked open the restroom door.  The hallway was dark and, as far as I could tell, empty.  Pressing my back to the wall, I crept along it as silently as I could.  The strange light thumps followed by a scrabbling noise racing across the roof helped to muffle the occasional creak the floorboards made under my feet.  The sounds on the roof were not rain or due to the continuing rumbles.  I couldn't figure it out, but felt thankful for them nonetheless.
     The hallway turned, opening up to the dining area.  The lights were out there as well, of course.  Even the front window gave off no light.  The sky had gone pitch black, streetlights snuffed out too, at least as far as the curtain of rain would allow me to see.  Inky blots of darkness lay scattered about inside where the tables and chairs were laid out, unattended and empty, just as the restaurant was.  Or nearly so.  There was a soft panting breath coming from somewhere within the gloom.  Listening closely, I could pick out another sound in the forbidding dark.
     I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone trilled its alert tone for another text.  Fumbling to silence the sound as it broke the ominous quiet I ended up dropping it instead.  My heart thudded, expecting to see a painted white face with wild orange hair popping up right in front of me any minute thanks to all the racket.  The only thing I saw after several seconds was the pelting rain outside shifting directions with the whipping wind.
     The phone seemed whole, no cracked screen, although the case would carry another scar I bet.  Galead's text popped up as soon as I thumbed it on.  It was short, a warning.
     Stay.  Hide.
     The noises came as I read the words.  Uncountable high pitched screeches and heavy thuds louder than the thunder battering the roof outside.  It jerked me this way and that, but it was useless to try and pinpoint any one spot above me.  From somewhere in the direction of the kitchen a young man's voice was cut off just as he began to shout.
     Throat constricted, heart pulsing faster than its normal rate, legs pumping with adrenaline, I ran.  I had a fleeting notion to make for the restroom again before I realized I was dashing towards the stairs leading up to the loft.  As I painfully bounced off a table, knocking chairs aside, I shouted out in pain.  I threw myself onto the stairs and began crawling up them.  And froze.
     Clickety-clack.  Clickety-clack.
     The sound ran up and down the walls.  It was accompanied by the hard snapping ruffle of a windsock in the wind.  All the other sounds from outside were hidden beneath it as it captured all my focus.  My breathing came in ragged gasps that were entirely too loud.  Clamping my hands over my mouth only made me breathe harder.  Even growing lightheaded, I realized hiding on the stairs was not going to work.
     I felt up to the next step and began slinking my way to the loft above.  My knees jammed against wood steps and clipped painfully on the edges they came in contact with.  I couldn't relax when I reached the loft, still being out in the open of the large space.  I needed somewhere to hide.
     Clickety-clack.
     Whatever it was that was hunting me was coming up the stairs.  I crawled on all fours, carefully, until coming to a corner table that I could ball myself up under and hide.  This time I clamped a hand over my mouth and left it there as I peered into the darkness.  Maybe it would take a quick look and leave.

BOOK: Cursefell
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