The Cure for the Curse Read online

  He idly rubbed the scars beneath his collarbone. “Nope, feel great. Thanks for asking."

  They joined the stream of walking students. “So how was Anthro?” he asked.

  Mariah growled and shook her head. “I swear that teaching assistant hates me. She grilled me on the reading, trying to make me look like I didn't know what I was talking about."

  "Well, she's obviously intimidated by attractive women. Aren't you used to that sort of thing by now?"

  Mariah rolled her eyes. “That's sweet, but it doesn't really help."

  "That's what I'm here for!"

  They passed a bright green flyer advertising the upcoming SAU basketball tryouts. “Hey, I forgot to tell you,” Thomas said. “I got an e-mail from Brendan this morning. He's coming to Maldecido this weekend."

  Mariah's eyes sparkled. “That's great. You should call and get Corwyn down here from Phoenix. We'll paint the town. We could go to The Loft. I don't think either of them ever saw it in our B-Ville days."

  Thomas's hip beeped. He stopped and pulled a pager out of the holster clipped to his belt. The digits indicated 317.

  Mariah groaned. “Let me guess. Your SIT buddy again?” SIT stood for Survivors of Induced Trauma, a support group. At least, that's what Thomas had told her.

  "Uh, yeah,” Thomas mumbled. “Mike's having a rough month."

  Anything ending in a seven means they're desperate, and that's the third seven this month.

  "Can't he wait an hour?” Mariah said. “We've got class."

  Thomas shook his head. “I have to be there for him. I'm lucky. I can't remember most of what my own psycho did to me. But Mike still has really vivid memories of his, uh, ordeal. And being alone is very hard for him. He knows I can understand what he's going through. It's what being in Survivors of Induced Trauma's all about."

  Mariah sighed. “I know. It just seems like Mike takes advantage of you. I mean, you barely ever need him, right?"

  Thomas smirked and rubbed his chest again. “I need him more than you might think. Take good notes for me, and I'll call you tonight, okay?"

  "Fine."

  Thomas kissed her cheek, and hoped her sulkiness was just an act.

  He found his car in the student parking lot and drove north for a few miles, until Mount Maldecido dominated the horizon.

  Eventually he reached a guardhouse and a heavy beige gate. “Hey, Luis,” he called to the squawk box. “They in the big house?"

  "Ah, Tomás,” the voice called. “La curación para la maldición! Sí, they wait for you a la mansíon. Thank you for coming."

  "S'no prob-le-mo, amigo."

  The fence slowly rolled open and Luis said, “Zera is the way."

  Thomas drove to the two-story house at the end of the cul-de-sac and found several cars parked along the street. But the driveway was empty, so he brought the Beatermobile to a stop there.

  Warrenna waited for him beneath the extended eave. She wore a stylish black button-up shirt with red pinstripes, and gray pants that matched her eyes.

  "Ya know,” Thomas said, “my human skin doesn't really need that close parking spot."

  She shook her head, and they commenced down the shaded path to the front door. “Anything that gets you to the Orphan faster is a good idea. How are the lungs?"

  "They're fine, thanks for asking. How's the craving?"

  "Very persistent.” Her hungry gaze drifted down his body. “I never should have drunk from you."

  For a moment Thomas felt like a blue-eyed mouse trapped by a gunmetal-gray cat. Then he smirked. “Yeah, you definitely should've left me to die in the Mission."

  Warrenna smiled and rolled her eyes.

  "How are your parents?” Thomas asked.

  She pursed her lips as she pulled open the front door. “A little better. Mother is moving her right arm again, and Father's speech is much clearer. The craving is making them uncomfortable, but they're managing. Maybe you could visit them after you see the new Orphan?"

  Thomas checked his watch. “I want to make my one-thirty class, so maybe afterwards?"

  Warrenna put a hand to her forehead. “I pulled you out of American History, didn't I? I'm sorry this keeps happening, I don't want us to bring down your grades."

  Thomas waved his hand. “I'm happy to help."

  He smiled. Between rescuing an Orphan and examining the Continental Congress, I'll take the rescue every time.

  Down the hall, they came across Necole's tall form standing before the open double-doors to the great room. The Orphan smiled serenely as they approached.

  "Hello, Thomas,” she said cordially, then bowed to Warrenna and said, “My lady."

  "Ugh.” Warrenna grunted. “Necole, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not your queen. I'm just holding the fort while my parents recover."

  Necole nodded, winked at Thomas, then bowed again. “Whatever you say, my lady."

  Then she spun around, announcing into the great room, “Make way, Orphans. For Warrenna and Thomas have arrived."

  Warrenna blushed as Necole's rich voice echoed throughout the building. “She really likes to embarrass me,” she mumbled to Thomas.

  "Really?” Thomas said with a grin. “I hadn't noticed."

  After stepping around Necole's flourishes, Thomas saw about a dozen Orphans standing around the familiar bed. Most of the faces were new to him. “Hi, everybody."

  "Is that the healer?” a hushed voice asked. A pale redheaded girl sighed and hugged her stunned companion. Another voice whispered, “Thanks be to Zera."

  Warrenna glared at Thomas. “You're just eating this up, aren't you."

  "Maybe a little.” He grinned and playfully touched her shoulder.

  He felt a tiny spark in his fingers at the touch, and the familiar warmth inside him fired up again. He breathed deep, winked at Warrenna, and took a few strides toward the bed.

  The Orphans parted, and someone whispered, “Am I seeing things, or is he glowing white?"

  "Come on, people,” Warrenna called. “Let's give our healer a little privacy."

  The Orphans reluctantly shuffled out, each of them looking over a shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Thomas, the man who could cure the curse.

  "Talk to you later, Tommy,” Warrenna said as she closed the double-doors behind her.

  Aunt Tammy remained in the great room with him, and playfully elbowed his ribs. “There's real energy between you two, you know."

  Thomas blushed. “Yeah, I feel something every time I touch her. Whatever it is, it's happening on some level way beyond my understanding."

  She nodded. “There's a lot about this world that we don't understand. We almost never make decisions with all the facts. It's impossible."

  Thomas glanced at the marks of Zera encircling him. “That's true. But I'll tell you one thing. I understand how I feel about Mariah. I've felt it for years. It makes sense to my poor little brain."

  Aunt Tammy shrugged. “I'm sure your heart will guide you to where you're meant to be."

  Thomas rubbed his chin. She wants to tell me to quit fighting it, that Renna and I are destined to be together. Well, that may be the case, but my heart's pointing me to Mariah. For now.

  He gave her a reassuring grin. “Don't you worry, Aunt Tammy. I'm not going anywhere."

  On the bed lay a thick-chested young man with a gaunt white face and fuzzy brown hair. The warmth spread throughout Thomas, and the air in his lungs turned to silk.

  "His name is Art,” Aunt Tammy said. “We found him after the raid in Las Vegas. He was all right on the ride down, but he began to turn when we got to the Orphanage. The last cleansing put him in this coma."

  Thomas nodded, and reached out to touch the young man's forehead. The warmth extended to his fingertips, and his icy-blue eyes rolled back. “Okay, Art. Let's see if I can't bring you back to us."

  His palm touched Art's clammy skin, and then darkness surrounded Thomas. A cry rose up from beneath him.

  Ripples silently c
hurned in the darkness under his feet, and familiar bluish-white light reflected back at him. Thomas squinted and saw a human form deep within the black water.

  Thomas commanded himself to move, and he dove headfirst into the water.

  The black liquid evaporated before it could touch him, so Thomas traveled deeper inside a bubble that extended a foot around him. The flailing body grew closer. Art's eyes were closed, but his mouth was open in a plummeting scream.

  At last, Thomas caught up to him, and he wrapped his arm around Art's wide chest. Art's cries stopped at the touch, and his dark eyes gazed in terror at Thomas's glowing form.

  "You don't have to be afraid,” Thomas said. “I'm here to take you away from this place."

  Tears filled Art's eyes as the dark water retreated from his face.

  "No, you're not dead,” Thomas assured him. “You're going to live again. It will be a difficult life, but it will be your own."

  Thomas moved upward, carrying Art toward a bright white light above the water.

  They broke the surface, and the white surrounded them.

  "Thank you,” Art gasped.

  Thomas smiled. “No problem. It's what I'm here for."

  ~END~

  About the Author

  Patrick Vaughn was raised in Sierra Vista, Arizona, graduated from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff and now lives in Phoenix. He has been writing his unusual vampire stories for seventeen years and does not plan to stop. He works at a library for blind children and is writing the sequel to The Cure for the Curse. He can be reached at [email protected] or at zerasorphans.com.

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