Curse Me Wicked

“Looks like it,” I answered. What the bartender call it? A bothy? It was the only dwelling around, so it had to be it. “Turn there,” I said suddenly, noticing a narrow lane veering off towards the cottage. “Has to be the only way over there.”

“Right.” Pax followed the dirt and rock lane as it wound across the moors, straight towards the bothy. Several minutes later we pulled in front of the cottage, parked, and jumped out. I reached the door to the cottage first, so I knocked.

No answer.

I glanced at Pax, then knocked again – louder. “Mr MacLeod?” I said, close to the door. “It’s Ginger Slater from WUP. We spoke on the phone?” I put my hand on the door knob and Pax stopped me.

“Never enter a situation without your gear, newbie,” he said, and shoved my pack at me, and I was surprised to see he had his stunner – a ten-inch stainless steel electric probe that packed enough voltage to bring down a horse, or a madman – palmed. Pushing ahead, he opened the door and stepped inside. Feeling like an idiot, I followed. The interior was dim, save the fireplace which had something – not wood – smouldering in the hearth. It smelled earthy. One lamp burned in the corner, next to a recliner and side table; a book lay open, pages face down, spine creased outward. A beer bottle sat beside it.

“MacLeod?” Pax said, his voice stern, throaty, a little threatening. “You in here?” He glanced at me, pointed across the room, then inclined his head towards a hallway, and I nodded. As I pulled my own stunner from my pack, he disappeared down the hall, and I eased towards the only other room visible. I stopped at the side table and grasped the beer bottle; it was still cool and half-full. My fingers tightly gripped the hilt of the stunner, I held my breath, and pushed open the kitchen door.

I never saw inside the room.

A figure lunged at me, knocking me backward several feet where I landed hard on my back. My stunner flew from my hand and skidded somewhere across the floor. I couldn’t scream – the air whooshed from my lungs in one gush, my eyes widened, but I saw nothing but … mass. Bulk. Shadow. Eyes. It hovered over me, blocking my view, crowding my body, my senses. I couldn’t breathe as it was but fear paralyzed me even more. What the hell? Then, in the next instant, the figure leapt and was out the door. Rolling to my stomach, I turned, coughing and sputtering as I tried to call out but the air wouldn’t come. Whoever had just knocked me over was strong as hell – and gone.

Pax emerged, his stunner raised. He glanced at me. “You okay?”

I nodded and waved, still a little in shock, and Pax nodded once before he disappeared out the front door.

It was no more than three minutes before I finally caught my breath enough to stand. Then, I got up, found my stunner against the wall, and ran after Pax.

As I stood outside the cottage, peering through the now-soupy Highland mist and darkening skies, my mind raced wildly, and I recalled Lucian MacLeod’s phone call. How experienced are you with curses? Creatures? How strong is your stomach, girl? You’re my last hope … It hadn’t made much sense then – I’d had cases with curses before, and a few involving shape-shifting. Both were handled similarly by binding the victim and searching for the correct curse-reversal – or shape-shifter cure. I’d had one victim shift into a hawk right before my eyes—

A long, deep sound of an animal baying broke through the twilight and mist; it raised the hairs on the back of my neck and quickened my pulse. As my gaze raked slowly over the ground, I fished inside my pack, felt the cool steel beneath my palm, and withdrew my crossbow. I saw nothing out of the ordinary as I assembled the bow and loaded the clip with blades. But a sense of foreboding filled me, choked me, and my insides shook as I eased away from the cottage. I couldn’t see a damn thing through the mist; barely my own hand in front of my face. The constant drizzle and heavy mist weighed my hair down, soaked through my jeans, and although twilight was nearly at its end, I eased on to the moors. No way was I hanging out at the cottage alone.

“Pax?” I called out, picking my footing carefully, straining my eyes as I tried to make out my partner’s form. “Hey? Where are you?” Dammit, he couldn’t have gone too far. We were in the middle of nowhere.

Within minutes my slow movements had carried me far enough away into the mist that I could no longer make out the cottage. Thick white surrounded me, and at once I caught the distinct sound of breathing – heavy breathing – not far from me.

“Pax?” I called again. “Come on, you’re freaking me out.”

The breathing drew closer.

And became an angry snarl.

I was being stalked. My heart leapt, and I turned and changed direction. That noise hadn’t come from my partner – that much I knew. Pax was an ass but he wasn’t stupid. I began to hurry, my pace quickening, and just when I thought I was making some ground, it came again.

Closer.

My grip tightened on my bow as I raised it; while I wanted to run like hell, I knew it’d do no good. Something was on the moors, in the mist, with me. I swallowed – hard. It didn’t help. My heart beat so hard and so fast I could hear it out loud. I waited.

“Gin, run!”

I whipped around and saw the hazy shape of someone moving towards me; Pax’s voice spilled over the foggy white, commanding me to run, but I couldn’t. I stood frozen in place, confused, scared. I looked up, and only then did I notice the moon above me; it was crescent in shape, and – I blinked my eyes – red. The damn thing looked red.

“Ginger, goddamit, get the hell outta here!” Pax yelled, panic making his voice shake.

I watched as he grew closer, his features clearer, and finally, I turned. I had no idea what direction to run in. I glanced back. “Pax, I—”

Something large, something dark, fast, leapt from below the mist and pulled Pax down. He screamed, so shrill and so terrifying that it made my blood feel cold. An awful crunching sound echoed through the fog.

One last, horrifying, gurgling sound emerged from my partner before the silence hit. Silence, save the heavy breathing that definitely didn’t belong to Pax.

Whatever had been shut down in me now flickered to life; I turned and ran. Blindly, as darkness now sifted through the mist and red hue from the moon. My boots scuffed clumps of heather and grass as I hurried, but it didn’t mask the sound of footsteps behind me. Footsteps and that damned breathing. Finally, with my heart in my throat, I stopped, dropped to one knee and lifted my crossbow. I stared down the site and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.

With a deep growl and heavy breath, a massive figure lunged from the mist at me; I didn’t wait to see who or what it was. I fired three rounds before it landed on me, and the pain of two sharp blades piercing straight through my leather jacket and into my shoulder made me cry out. The blades sank clear to the bone, and the intenseness of it made me nearly pass out. Suddenly, the mass was shoved off, another figure appeared above me, and a pair of angry, lethal amber eyes glared down. Then, my vision fogged. Fiery pain ripped through my body just before a wave of suffocating blackness swept me into nothingness.

Heat. Fire. Skin burning. I sat up with a harsh breath, confusion taking over my brain and making me dizzy. I put a hand to my temple to stop the swirling, but it didn’t help. I opened my eyes but everything looked blurred, fuzzy, out of focus. My skin – Jesus, it felt like it would burst into flames – burned sickly hot. I tried kicking out of whatever covered me and I quickly found I hadn’t a stitch of clothes on. Not even panties. Totally naked and I couldn’t care less. I was smouldering.

“Lay back.”

I turned my head towards the voice, but could see nothing more than a hazy figure in shadows. “Where am I?” I asked, struggling to stay up. I dug the heels of both hands hard into the mattress; my arms still shook. “Hot,” I said, trying to move. “Burning up.”

A firm hand pressed against my chest and with the slightest of pressure, eased me back. “’Tis your DNA altering,” the voice said, deep, raspy, and heavily brogued. “It will get worse.”

What the hell was he talking about? DNA? I didn’t care – I just wanted relief. “Water,” I said, my throat dry. I wanted my body extinguished. “Bath. Shower. Ice.” My eyes drifted shut.