This Curse - By Alisha Basso Page 0,28

blood.

Mixed among the wolves were men. Their naked bodies were covered in dirt as they lay among their furrier companions. As I gazed at the ground before me, my eyes found a shape that did not belong. She was familiar, yet I didn’t know her. She was sitting close to the table. Her long blonde hair was a dirty tangled mess. Her clothing was torn, exposing her pale skin through the shredded gaps. Her eyes were on me, pleading silently and then they moved off to watch the struggling infant in her arms.

Shock and realization hit me and I searched the crowd. There, as if brought forth by my thoughts alone was the body of Seth. He was lying prone on the ground; his silvery blood flowed from several deep gashes all over his naked form. A man appeared and knelt by his side. He began slicing into Seth’s ruined back with a wicked blade. I felt my stomach lurch. The man’s body was as black and burnt as charcoal. His flesh slowly flaked and floated away like ash in the wind as he worked on Seth. The man turned, his dried eyes rolled in their sockets to focus on me. My body dropped to the ground like a rock as Lucian’s eyes stared out at me form the horror of the man’s tortured face.

I woke drenched in sweat. My fluffy quilt was twisted around my legs in impossibly tight knots. I twisted and kicked the blankets to release myself. I was a mess. The vision had come to me again, but this time I wasn’t prepared. I’ve never had a vision assault me like that. And who the hell was that woman? She had to be important. And what was with the infant?

What the hell?

Why couldn’t I just get a vision that said, “Hey, Grace, that man over there is the bad guy and over here is the good one, and this is what you need to do.” Was that too much to ask? But, I knew why. It was what I always found myself preaching. Balance. It all came down to balance and that scared the shit out of me because that meant that good didn’t always triumph over evil. Sometimes it was evil’s turn. I just hoped that this time, evil wasn’t next in line.

I wrapped myself in my fuzzy robe and pulled on a pair of long fluffy socks. My feet slipped and slid on the hardwood floor as I made my way to the kitchen. I loved the floors for this very reason. It made me feel like a kid again. Running and sliding in my socks on my way to get a big fat bowl of chocolate cereal. Back then I lived for Saturday morning cartoons. Cripes, I thought to myself as my coffee sputtered noisily out of my favorite instant coffee maker, if I knew then what I know now, maybe I would have paid better attention to those cartoons. What would Scooby Doo do?

I stirred in way too much creamer and took a sip of the strong brew. I cringed at the sweetness and smiled. No doubt, I could turn the TV on now and take a few notes. That show was as immortal as Seth.

I had overslept, no doubt thanks to the crazy vision that smacked me so lovingly upside the head. The sun had already worked its way halfway across the sky and I wasn’t even dressed yet. I made short work of getting ready. Night would soon rear its ugly head and I had no desire to face the shit-storm raging my way.

I wish I had the ability to just erase Voltaire’s existence. But he was a demon, and that meant that he was beyond my ability to control. For some reason, he has the ability to repel my magic. I don’t know how or why exactly, there are no other Madea to ask, so again I get the joy of muddling through and making mistakes.

I sat on one of my tall swivel stools in my kitchen with my cup of coffee and tried to organize my thoughts. I looked up and with a thought, I produced a clear piece of paper, it floated in midair. Only the ghostly outlines of the paper were visible. On it, I wrote in bright, white letters and in a sort of cluster.

In the center I wrote ‘my blood’ and circled it and then branching off of that word, I wrote ‘theft’ and