Jack Kursed Page 4

  The wind rushed out of John's lungs as the three ghouls closed in on him, dragging him to the ground. They had finished with the horse, and moved on to the next closest thing. John flinched as one ghoul buried its teeth in his cheek. The second ghoul clamped down on his arm, while the third ripped at his shirt, trying to get at his stomach.

  The pain lasted only a second, and then faded away. The only thing that soiled John's mood was the stench.

  "You little bastards," he hissed.

  John's curse protected him from all harm. Bullets, blades, fire, nothing affected him. But he was no stronger than any other mortal. With one arm pinned it was difficult to push away the ghoul latched on his face.

  There were voices right behind him.

  "What are they, George?" Tom asked.

  "You think they're monsters?" Frank asked.

  George spit on the ground, narrowly missing John's head.

  "I don't know. But let's find Helen while they're chewing on this idiot here."

  They tried to walk past. John lashed out with his free arm and grabbed a leg. He didn't realize it was Tom until after he fell on the ground next to him. With another long lunge, John managed to grab the back of Tom's collar. He pulled Tom back and wrapped an arm around his throat.

  "Let go of him!" George shouted.

  The ghoul holding John's arm let go and moved over to Tom. It sank its teeth into his arm as Tom struggled to breathe. John got a better hold on Tom's neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Tom thrashed with all his strength.

  George grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled, but couldn’t break John’s grip. George felt for John's throat and choked him. John breathed like everyone else, but he didn't need to. He could hold his breath forever. He looked into George's eyes and smiled as Tom slowly stopped struggling.

  Frank squatted next to George. He drew his knife back and slammed it into John's head.

  The blade only penetrated an inch, drawing little blood. Frank backed away, not sure of what he should be terrified of more.

  "Thank you," John said, grabbing the knife from his skull.

  He reached out and sliced George's throat. George let out one final gurgle before collapsing on top of John.

  John pushed George’s lifeless body away and brushed his clothes off as he climbed to his feet. Two ghouls were feasting on Tom while the third worked on George. Frank stood there with his mouth hanging open.

  John reached up and felt his head where Frank tried to stab him. As always, no wound, no scar. Only a bit of blood.

  "Nice try."

  He dove for Frank and stabbed him in the chest. They went to the ground in a heap. He withdrew the knife and stabbed again. And again. Frank managed to get an arm up, but that only led to his hand being sliced between the middle and index fingers.

  John didn't stand up until Frank stopped moving. He felt a brief flash of guilt. Victoria wanted him to help people, not kill them.

  The guilt never lasted long.

  It suddenly got eerily quiet. The ghouls still feasted on George and Tom several feet away. There were wails and gunshots from several roads away.

  John ran through the empty roads to the movie theater, and was surprised at what he saw.

  People were making their way to the theater. Two men held the doors open and ushered people inside. Fifteen ghouls gave chase from all directions. When a little girl fell John lifted his eyebrows as Charles and Helen ran out of the theater to pick her up and carry her.

  John actually smiled. It was nice to see humans were still capable of good deeds.

  He stayed on the far side of the road as he sprinted to the theater. Charles and Helen saw the man who saved their lives and motioned to him. They closed the doors after he ran into a group of people just inside the theater lobby.

  "What are we gonna do?" Helen asked.

  John shrugged. "We could watch that Chaplin fellow. He's funny."

  "What?" Charles said.

  "I'm joking. We wall this place up."

  The crowd of people became excited and started shouting. John turned to see the ghouls lining up outside the theater, pressing themselves against the doors and glass. Dirt, skin, and fingernails trailed against the glass as they wailed and pounded.

  The people cried behind him. Men and women held each other and their children, some collapsing to the floor.

  "That's Walter! He just died last week. My God, what happened to him?"

  "Is that Rose?"

  "Is the world ending?"

  "Quiet down, you worthless cattle," John called.

  "We're all gonna die."

  John nodded. "You might, if you don't do something besides stand there. Start blocking the windows and doors. Use anything you can."

  "And then what?"

  "Then we wait for my friend Victoria."

  *****

  Victoria pushed her way through panicking people as she made her way down the road. Guilt gnawed at her. John and she had hunted many creatures over the century they'd known each other. Vampires without a conscience, wild werewolves, other strange creatures that defied classification. Mortals sometimes got hurt. But never like this.

  The witch they engaged forty years ago was only a half-blood. She barely knew her way around a cauldron. Victoria knew a witch's potential. John's curse was proof of the powerful magic they controlled.

  She never dreamed they were capable of raising the dead.

  Through the scent of people and rotting flesh she could still pick up the distinct smell of the witch. Annie was still nearby.

  A man struggled against a ghoul on the ground outside of a pool hall. Victoria almost kept moving. If she stopped to help every single person she'd never get to Annie.

  She cursed at herself as she ran to the ghoul and grabbed it by the back of its collar and what was left of its slacks. Lifting it over her head, she tossed it across the road and through the window of a shop.

  "T-Thank you," the man said.

  "You're welcome. Get safe."

  Victoria heard an engine followed by Annie's scent grabbing her nose. She caught sight of a Model T heading for the road out of town, running down people as it went.

  She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, and ran.

  John once told her the Model T had a top speed of forty-five miles per hour. Victoria was much faster than a human, but she wasn't sure what her top speed was. She was determined to find out.

  The sounds of the hell Monterrey was going through faded. It was only Annie and Victoria on the open road. The moon and stars were the only light they had, although Victoria never had a problem seeing in the dark. Victoria worried as the fact that she wasn't faster than a Model T settled in. Annie pulled away, and only the dirt road helped the vampire. A bump here, a swerve there, helped Victoria keep pace.

  Still, after five minutes of running, Victoria had gained no ground.

  "Witch!" Victoria shouted.

  Annie peered behind her. The vampire and witch's eyes met, and Victoria only saw anger and rage.

  As Victoria ran she could only wonder why. Why would a witch want to raise the dead? Why would a supernatural being want to draw attention of any kind?

  She saw a large swerve in the road up ahead. It was the chance Victoria was looking for. Annie had to keep the Model T on the road, but Victoria cut through the grassy field, running as straight as she could. She gained ground quickly, but Annie was nearly through the swerve.

  Victoria reached out, and her hand found the retracted soft-top. If Annie had the top up Victoria never would have made it.

  Slowly, Victoria made her way up the side of the automobile. Annie hit a few bumps, but the vampire held on easily. Moving one foot slowly at a time, she climbed over the rear tire and was nearly to the door.

  Annie turned and threw a glass vial directly into Victoria's face. At first the vampire was only blinded, but then the pain settled in. It felt like the heat of the sun was upon her. Screaming in agony, she let go and tumbled on the road.

&nbs
p; As the momentum rolled her over and over, Victoria heard a scream and a crash. She finally stopped and tried to open her eyes, only to find they were gone. Whatever magic potion Annie threw at her melted them away.

  Victoria felt inside her sack for her blood, but only pulled back a bloody hand. Her bags had ruptured during the fall. She ripped open the sack and licked up and down, covering her face in blood. The delicious nectar swept in and forced the pain away. She licked her lips and the insides of her cheeks. Her fangs grew involuntarily as her vision came back.

  She saw the Model T on its side up ahead, on the side of the road close to the woods. Dealing with Victoria was enough of a distraction for Annie not to see the hole in the road. The axle of the Model T was destroyed.

  Victoria climbed to her feet and ran. She wished she had more blood. Her body wasn't entirely healed. She had her knives, and that would have to do.

  She ran through the woods, following her nose. Annie couldn't have gotten far. A witch couldn't see in the dark, as far as Victoria knew. A vampire could.

  Worry attacked her as Annie's scent grew stronger. What else didn't Victoria know about witches?

  She picked up the scent of water. A river or lake wasn't too far away.

  She heard a quiet chanting.

  Annie was just ahead, standing near the edge of a river. She dumped liquid on a stump and watched it burst into flames. She poured a vial of one liquid into another, and held it to the fire, never breaking her odd chant.

  "Annie Fritz," Victoria said, her fangs slurring the words.

  Annie jumped back near the river, holding the vial out.

  "Don't come any closer!" she shouted. "Do you know what will happen if I throw this in the river? My pets in Monterrey are just the beginning."

  "Why are you doing this? What did the people in town do to you?"

  Annie turned her head to the side, as if she was confused.

  "Not that silly town. All people. I see you're not like them. Why do you defend them? How many of your kind have they killed?"

  "Actually, a vampire killed my human family. But I can be however I want, Annie. I don't have to be a murderer, and neither do you."

  Annie cried. "My mother and father…killed simply because they were different. They helped people, you know. Made little potions to make people better. But that didn't matter in the end. They were burned alive."

  Victoria didn't move a muscle. She felt the blade on her leg and her back, but she didn't dare reach for them. She was faster than Annie, but all the witch had to do was flick that open vial into the river. Victoria didn't know what it would do, but she didn't doubt Annie and her power. The ghouls were proof of that.

  "Annie, just step away from the water. We can talk about this."

  Her face twisted with despair and rage.

  "No. No more talking."

  She drew her arm back, aiming for the river.

  Victoria threw one knife, and then the other. The first struck Annie in the temple, pushing through her brain and protruding through her forehead. The second landed in her arm, just above the elbow.

  Annie was motionless for an instant before falling toward the water.

  Victoria summoned her last bit of speed. Her aching body fought against her as she closed the distance and grabbed Annie's body. She wrapped one arm around her neck and locked her hand on the witch's wrist, securing the vial. She gently lowered Annie to the ground and dragged her away from the river. Wrestling the vial from her grip, she tossed it in the open flame.

  Her body was slowly beginning to feel better, but she collapsed by the river anyway. The nearby sounds relaxed her. The river flowing, crickets and frogs singing and croaking, birds flying through the trees, the hypnotic fire and the wild shadows it created.

  She didn't know how much time had passed. An hour, maybe two. Her mind wandered as she reflected on the night's events. She didn't even hear the footsteps, or pick up his scent.

  "Victoria?"

  She jumped to her feet and spun to face John. He gasped at the sight of her, covered in blood. He didn't look perfect himself with his clothes torn and a bloodstain here and there.

  "John? What happened?"

  "We stayed in the movie theater. We lost some people, but most of the town is okay. The ghouls, they just...stopped attacking. They fell over dead. So I got a horse and-"

  He went silent and his face fell when he saw Annie's body. Victoria wanted to hug him, to apologize. But she knew the best thing was to keep her distance.

  "You...killed her?"

  "I didn't have a choice."

  "Yes, you did. You could have chosen not to kill her."

  "John-"

  "Was she a full-blood?"

  Victoria's lip twitched, and John knew the answer before she spoke.

  "Yes."

  He reeled back, like he'd been punched in the stomach, and leaned against a nearby tree. Emotions played across his face. She hadn't seen him truly upset in a long time.

  "How could you?"

  "It was actually quite simple. It was either kill her, or she would have killed countless people. Monterrey was just the start. Who knows how much destruction she wanted to cause? We saved a lot of lives."

  "And those lives will all be dead in fifty years," he shouted. "But I'll still be stuck here. This was my chance, Victoria. My chance at finally being free. I just want to sleep. One night. No, just an hour would do. But you...you said you wouldn't kill her, and you lied."

  "We'll find another witch."

  "We've found two after Angela, in a century, and only one full-blood."

  Victoria said nothing. She knew she made the right decision. It was never the wrong decision to save lives.

  "Never speak to me again," he said, his eyes hard. "Our friendship, our partnership, is over."

  "Are you serious? As long as we've known each other? You would throw all that away, just like that?"

  "I didn't throw it away," he said, gesturing to Annie's body. "You did."

  John turned and walked away without looking back. Victoria knew how important lifting his curse was to him. But he would get over it. He would heal, and they would move on. She just needed to give him a week or so.

  CHAPTER 3

  Year: 2012

  Chicago, Illinois. John hated Chicago. They weren't joking when they called the place the Windy City. Cold, dirty, too many people. It was like the weather flowed across the United States, hit Chicago and the Great Lakes, and then dropped twenty degrees.

  He fidgeted in his chair and checked his phone for the fourth time since stepping foot in the bank. Thirty minutes had passed. The twenty-first century was an amazing time. The world had increased its speed by a number John couldn't even begin to guess. Gone were the sleepy days of the mid-twentieth century. Computers, the Internet, ATM machines, fast food. Technology ruled the day, yet he still waited in a chair at the bank.

  He looked at the people around him to help kill his boredom. A grandmother with a toddler stood at the kiosk next to him, filling out a deposit slip. A woman in sweats leaned on the counter in front of a teller, withdrawing money. Judging by the look on her face and her body language, money wasn't looking so great. A security guard stood at the front door, hands in his pockets. A man trying to open a line of credit talked to the associate at the desk behind John. He was the reason John had lost thirty minutes of his life.

  A quiet snore caught his attention. He looked at the elderly man across from him, the husband of the grandmother with the toddler. The man's head was slumped to one side, his arms folded across his chest. His chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm.

  John couldn't look away. Jealousy, curiosity, anger, all danced in his stomach. Part of him wanted to reach out and slap the old man, tell him that if John couldn't sleep, no one could. But the man looked so serene, so peaceful.

  He would give anything to know that peace once again.

  The toddler broke away from the grandmother and ran across the bank. He nearly bumped
into two people before coming to a wobbly stop next to a cute woman waiting in line with a McDonald's bag. John laughed as he checked his phone one more time. Smart kid.

  "Ralph!" the grandmother called. "Go and get Dennis."

  Ralph barely stirred. He looked around for a second, and then rubbed his nose before going back to sleep.

  Grandma retrieved Dennis in a huff. The little kid spun in a circle as Grandma held his hand and finished her deposit slip.

  She gave John a smile as their eyes met.

  "Don't you just love children?" she asked.

  "No, not really. Maybe you should put that thing on a leash."

  Grandma's eyes bugged out of her skull and her jaw dropped, as if John had slapped the child with his bare hand. She filed into line with Dennis, keeping an eye on John a few extra seconds.

  He looked up as the attractive bank associate strolled by with the customer looking for the line of credit. The customer was trying to lay on the charm, although not for financial reasons, but for a date. John laughed to himself as the man swung and missed. She politely declined, and the customer left with a new line of credit and no romance on the horizon.

  She hovered over the sign-in book and read the next name.

  "John...Kursed?"

  He stood up and laughed at her pronunciation, his own little private joke. Everyone had trouble with his last name.

  "That's me. But it's Kur-said."

  "John Kursed," she said, getting it right. "That's an interesting name."

  "Thank you. I came up with it myself. But please, call me Jack."

  "Okay...Jack."

  Jack recognized the signs immediately as she led him back to her desk. A slight toss of the hair over the shoulder. Glancing back to give him another smile. A subtle popping of the hips, which were lovely.

  He stole a look at her calves, enhanced by her high heels. She was certainly an attractive woman. Jack tried to remember the last time he enjoyed the company of a woman in a bedroom. Unlike the customer before him, Jack wouldn't miss if he decided to take a swing.

  "I'm Nikki," she said, shaking his hand. "What can I do for you today?"