The Cure for the Curse Page 17

  The cause of the pain.

  The vampire-hunter fired his gun, but the bullets passed through Thomas as though he weren't there.

  Thomas extended his arm of white flame. O'Neal's eyes widened and his mouth opened, but he made no sound as Thomas held his flame to the hunter's neck.

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter 18

  Steady waves crashed in Warrenna's ears. The pleasant roar reminded her of Corriander Beach, but she knew she was far too warm to be lying near the Washington coastline.

  Her cheeks stung with the familiar pressure of sunlight, and she instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes. But why should she be afraid of the sun?

  Then she remembered the curse. Her growling stomach and the ache in her jaw reminded her that she just transformed. But the marble gleamed so brightly that even imagining it was painful. Evil Renny felt far away, like she slumbered in a white cocoon.

  But why did she unchain the beast in the first place? She remembered asking Thomas to return to a cliff where an amazing sunset was taking place.

  Her eyes blinked open, and she recognized the entry-arch of the Mission above her.

  Thomas.

  The sunset and the cliff evaporated from memory as she scrambled to her feet and into the shade of the Mission.

  She was almost beaten back by the overpowering smell of blood. Her sinuses burned with it. Her heart pounded and her eyes watered. Just before her vision blurred, she saw Thomas's form slumped in a chair in front of some of the pews. To his left sat a shiny, familiar bucket.

  She recalled the vision she had in the Volvo, and her mouth filled with saliva at the thought of all that blood.

  No. She took a step forward. I must help him, not drain him.

  Something crunched under her foot. Warrenna looked down to see a blackened skeleton with its hands wrapped around its neck. A silver pistol and a charred briefcase lay by its hip.

  Warrenna stared at the bones for a moment, fascinated by the horrid pose. Can't say I'm sorry to see that guy fricasseed. She ripped her gaze away and moved to Thomas.

  When she was close enough to see him clearly, she gasped. His skin was white as milk, and the right side of his t-shirt was black with dried blood. A thick rope ran across his belly, binding him to the chair. A glance revealed more ropes around his shins. His arms were pinned behind him, his chin rested against his chest, and his eyes were closed. She couldn't tell if he was breathing.

  Her throat tightened. Was she too late?

  She gingerly put her hand over Thomas's heart. The beat was soft and quick. “Tommy, can you hear me?"

  His eyes fluttered open, but he looked past her and gurgled. A dark stream of blood erupted from his mouth and snaked down his pale neck, disappearing into the stain on his t-shirt. His eyes rolled back, and he went limp again.

  "Okay Tommy,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Don't worry, I'm gonna get you out of here."

  She tried to untie the rope around his stomach, but the knot was tight, and her aching fingers quivered. She bit her lip. “Okay Tommy, no big deal. I'll just drag you."

  She pulled on the back of the chair until it tipped into her hands. But she could barely sustain his weight at a standstill. Dragging him would be impossible.

  Panic squeezed her lungs. What do I do now? Does he just die in front of me?

  "Okay, Tommy,” she said, her voice trembling, “I need some help. I'm going to go get Uncle Vince. He's the only one here that won't burn up in the sun. I'll be right back, I promise."

  "Drink from him."

  Warrenna turned to find a mass of stakes and splinters before her, as though an anvil had fallen upon the pew from a great height. Curled on what remained of the bench was Alexandria.

  Most of her mother's clothing was gone, and the scraps that remained were but fringed tatters around her legs. Huge blisters dotted her right cheek, right arm, and both hands, which she held lifelessly before her. Her fingers were melted together and covered with soot.

  "Oh, God, Mom!"

  Warrenna was nauseous with guilt. I was so worried about Thomas, I didn't even think about my parents!

  "Don't worry about us,” Alexandria whispered. The right side of her lips remained sealed as she spoke. “Whatever Thomas did to incinerate the hunter also put out the fires consuming your father and me. We are badly hurt, but Thomas is dying. You have to help him, now."

  Warrenna looked up for a second and found a mass of flesh huddled in the opposite corner. A moment's concentration revealed a pair of hazel eyes looking her way.

  The eyes belonged to her father. But all of Richard's hair was gone. Even his eyebrows and goatee had burnt off.

  "Renna,” Alexandria's voice came. “Uncle Vince will be unconscious for several minutes. You must drink from the bucket. It will give you the strength to do what you have to do."

  Warrenna stole a glance at the pail and all the delicious blood it held. “But what if I lose control? I'll enthrall him again. I might even kill him!"

  "You said you didn't harm him the first time,” Alexandria wheezed. “You must risk it, Renna. Otherwise, Thomas will certainly die."

  Warrenna remembered that night in Tebon Canyon when she wanted to scare Thomas away. She put forth all the evil she had inside her for him to see, and he wasn't scared. He said he knew she would never hurt him.

  Warrenna approached the silver pail, breathing so hard that spittle bubbled to her lips. The plastic hose from her vision stood in the bucket like a child's twisty-straw.

  "Mom, Dad, I promise I'll come back for you."

  She brought the bucket to her lips. I hope you were right about me, Tommy.

  Lukewarm blood filled her mouth, and her eyes shot open on the first swallow. Lightning flowed through every muscle as her talons and fangs slid into place. She kept drinking. She inhaled blood into her eager lungs, the sweet nectar dripped down her chin and tickled her neck, and still she drank.

  Her mind woke. She heard her parents’ concerns about how far this dose of blood would set their daughter back. She heard Aunt Tammy's worries about the noises coming from the Mission, and how she hoped Uncle Vince would lie next to her forever.

  But she could also feel Thomas drowning in pain and confusion. He was not made to breathe blood.

  Warrenna released the empty pail, and her talons sliced through each of Thomas's bonds before the bucket hit the ground. She lifted him in her arms like he was a child, and placed her mouth over the wound in his chest. His was the best blood there ever was, and what remained in his shell could make her even faster, even more aware. He could sustain her for weeks.

  But then Thomas gasped, the air shimmered, and she pulled her jaws from his chest.

  No. This one must live. He can make more blood alive than dead.

  She reached the Volvo in two strides, where she gently laid Thomas across the backseat, face up. Then she jumped behind the wheel.

  Turning the ignition with her talons proved difficult, but she managed. She knew she could run to a hospital faster than the machine could carry her, but she would certainly be seen doing so. The humans would then be wary of her, and that would make them harder to hunt. And perhaps she would encounter another one like the foolish man in the white suit.

  She slammed her foot down on the gas. The wheels spun out, and the vehicle rumbled down the dirt road. The boy would be dead very soon. She doubted she could make it to help in time.

  Oh, well. If he dies, no sense in letting all that blood go to waste.

  Suddenly he coughed, spraying a fine mist of blood into the air. “Renna?” he gasped, but his eyes didn't open.

  "Yeah, baby. I'm right here."

  "You found me."

  "Don't talk. Just keep breathing."

  He burbled, and more fluid erupted from his mouth. His eyes stayed closed. “Renna, I killed O'Neal. I don't know how I did it. I'm not human."

  "I know it, baby. Neither am I."

  She glanced back at h
im, and found his eyes wide open, glowing a radiant blue in her singular crimson vision.

  "Oh, Renna.” His voice was cool as mountain air. “You're so much prettier in your human form."

  Then his eyes closed, and his head lolled back into the seat.

  A familiar tingly feeling stirred in Warrenna's chest. Then pain sliced through her hands and jaw as her claws and fangs retracted. Her vision returned to its multicolor palette as the crimson quickly washed away. The Volvo was drifting, so she grabbed at the wheel; she overcorrected, and the vehicle swerved back toward the left lane. Finally she hit the brakes hard enough to stop, but not before she ended up on the opposite shoulder, facing the way she came from.

  Warrenna's heart pounded, and her breath came in shallow gasps. She hugged herself to control the shivers. Was that really me just now? A demon? A monster? Did I really almost kill my friend?

  She pictured the imaginary marble inside her. It was the size of an orange, black as coal, throbbing. But tiny bolts of blue lightning arced within it, contracting it, shrinking it.

  Tommy. Even in my other form, he wasn't afraid of me.

  She looked at the backseat. Thomas was a mess of blood and torn clothing, and his chest wasn't rising or falling with breath. Maybe I did kill him.

  Stomach sinking, she turned the car back onto the road, heading east toward town again. She glanced down at her soot-and-blood-smeared clothes, dreading the questions that would surely come when she got him to the hospital. Tears stung her eyes and plunged her vision underwater.

  "God, Tommy, I'm sorry!” she wailed. “I shouldn't have asked you to come to Maldecido. I shouldn't have told you I was dangerous to be around. If I'd just kept my mouth shut, my parents wouldn't be hurt and you wouldn't be dying."

  Her gray eyes in the rearview mirror said it all: it's your fault. All of this is your fault.

  "I know!” she yelled at herself. “I didn't ask to be born cursed.” She slapped at her reflection, and the mirror tilted to show Thomas's pale, bloody body.

  And then she made a decision. Yeah, I didn't ask to be born this way. But he didn't ask to be shot, either. I can do something about that.

  She took a deep breath and floored the accelerator. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she guided the Volvo through the desert.

  Chapter 19

  Warrenna turned in her cloud, watching her hands grow fuzzy as she moved them away from her face. The crash of the waterfall echoed somewhere far away.

  She took a deep breath. The ground black pepper-odor was strong.

  "Daughter."

  Zera's dark features appeared in the blankness. She was smiling.

  "It is good to see you when you are not in pain, daughter."

  Warrenna stared hard at Zera's inky eyes. “My name is Warrenna. I'd like you to call me that. If we're going to be part of each other's lives, then that's the way it has to be."

  Zera raised a dark eyebrow, then nodded. “It is a good name, isn't it? Very well, Warrenna. What can I do for you?"

  Warrenna smiled. “I've got a little list."

  * * * *

  "When the Clippers missed, which was nine times in their first ten attempts, they didn't get back on defense fast enough against the up-tempo Kings, who scored easy basket after easy basket. Imagine that."

  Thomas's chest ached with each slow breath. He tried to roll over, but his legs wouldn't move. After a second of panic, he realized that most of his body was wrapped in thin sheets.

  He blinked, but his vision was one big blur of light. He knew the voice reporting the basketball story, but couldn't place it.

  His focus gradually sharpened. Sunlight from a large window bathed his covered legs. Someone sat in front of the window with a newspaper wide open, concealing her face.

  Thomas tried to say hello to the familiar-sounding woman, but his throat was raw and swollen, preventing him from making anything but a quiet gasping noise.

  That was when he felt the plastic tube running up his right nostril.

  I'm hurt. The low mechanical drone behind the woman's steady voice told him he was in a hospital.

  Then Thomas remembered a dark, dusty building that stank of beer and cigarettes. There was a man with beady blue eyes pointing a gun while an inferno raged around him. And then tremendous pain in his chest

  A conversation with a black-eyed woman holding an hourglass. Warrenna didn't enthrall me.

  And he remembered Warrenna's fierce, gleaming red eyes in the driver's seat of a car, and her surprised face when he brought back her human form.

  I changed her back? How could I have done something like that?

  The woman sitting by the window sighed and turned a page. “Okay, NHL time. Ottawa takes game one from Philadelphia. The Senators usually rely on their potent offense to win games, but Tuesday night it was their defense that brought about a tense game one victory against the visiting Flyers."

  No matter how he tried, he couldn't speak. So he snapped his fingers instead.

  The woman gasped. “Tommy?"

  Peeking over half of the newspaper were the surprised chocolate-brown eyes of Carla, Thomas's older sister.

  He smiled and managed to wave his right hand.

  Carla threw the paper aside and rushed to the head of the bed. “Hey, you're awake. Welcome back."

  He pointed at his throat to ask why he couldn't talk.

  Carla touched his hand and wiped away a tear with the sleeve of her green U of Oregon sweatshirt. “You really had us going there.” She caught herself, then babbled, “Oh, I don't know how much you remember. You're in Maldecido General, been here for a few days. Someone brought you to the hospital in Bascomville. But we can worry about the details later. There's a tube in your throat right now, but the doctor said they'd remove it as soon as you woke up."

  She stopped herself again. “I need to go get Mom and Dad, okay? They're in the waiting room down the hall, I'll be right back."

  He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up sign. At that point, he was glad he couldn't speak. How would he explain the scene at the Mission? Or really, anything about why he was there?

  A splash of pink on his left caught his attention. A paper cherry blossom hung in a thin glass vase alongside a stack of get-well cards and some balloons tied to a stuffed teddy bear. The cherry blossom was handmade, intricately folded. Thomas could make out a fancy calligraphic T drawn on one of the blossom's paper petals.

  He extended his left hand, which sent a lightning bolt of pain through his chest. He managed to pluck the pink flower from its vase before collapsing back to the pillow.

  His lethargic fingers rubbed the hard points of the petals. On a whim, he pulled on the T, and the flower quickly unfolded, spreading out to three wrinkled sheets of paper. The middle sheet contained some writing.

  * * * *

  Tommy,

  I can't express how sorry I am, and I can't imagine the pain you've gone through at the hands of the hunter. That pain was caused by me, by what I am. And while I can't do anything about how I was born, I've come to realize that I can do something about what happens to me and to the people I care about.

  I have a gift for you. It's something no one ever gave to me, but something that I can give to you—a choice.

  You can have your old life back, the one where there's no such thing as vampires.

  I have accepted the responsibility of leading the Orphans while my parents recover, and I can forbid all of my people from seeking you out. It's the least I can do for causing you so much pain. You'll only have your memories to deal with.

  You can go back to your family, your friends, school, and basketball, everything that made life wonderful before you met me. Go back to enjoying your youth. Forget about everything that happened in this strange week. Be normal. Blessedly, innocently normal.

  You may be the cure for the curse, Tommy Gelbaugh. But if being cured means destroying your life, I'd rather keep fighting this monster inside me.

  Sweet Dreams,
<
br />   W.

  P.S. Zera says hello, and congratulates you on completing your journey. She said you would understand.

  P.P.S. I thought you'd like to know that Necole is feeling much better. She thanks you for your “pest control.” She also said you would understand.

  *

  Carla and his parents could return at any second. He hurriedly folded the note and wedged it under his side.

  He knew Warrenna's gift couldn't erase what happened at the Mission. It wouldn't heal the wounds in his chest. It also wouldn't change the fact that he was far more than an ordinary guy who had strange dreams. He had to admit it, though. Returning to a world without vampires, hunters, goddesses and angels sounded great. That world sounded safe.

  But as Thomas watched his family enter his hospital room, he realized that world didn't exist. Pretending there was no such thing as vampires was no longer possible. And doing so wouldn't keep his family safe.

  That's okay. I don't belong in that world anyway.

  He swallowed hard, and gave his excited parents a weak thumbs-up.

  Epilogue

  Hundreds of students passed by Thomas as they traveled across the Southern Arizona University quad. Most walked, but some rolled along on rollerblades or bicycles. The young men and women were white, black, Hispanic, Asian, Native American. They were tall, short, and everywhere in-between. The sun was bright and hot today, so most of them wore shorts and t-shirts.

  Thomas didn't like how many of them frowned as they hurried to their destinations. They weren't enjoying the sunshine, the cool breeze, the soft green grass or the company of their peers.

  He adjusted his position on the bench and stretched his arms, careful not to accidentally elbow someone off a bicycle. With his eyes closed, their conversations blended in a pleasing, familiar hum.

  "Hey, rise and shine, sleepyhead."

  Thomas opened his eyes to see Mariah's smirking face. He picked up the binder resting on the bench beside him. “Hey, lady. You ready?"

  She nodded. “What about you? Not short of breath or anything?"