Kiss Me, Curse Me - By Kate Shay Page 0,57

the lost in multitudes of tones and shrieks.

She covered her ears terrified, Ahanu’s heartbeat no longer soothing her. “Get me out of here.” She squirmed under his grip.

“Back up, back up,” Ahanu yelled. “We are not going with you.”

The encroaching figures stopped, turning to one another, whispers dancing between them.

“Coreen . . .” The voice was loud, deep and unworldly, with no sense of origin, as if the group was communally speaking.

“You can’t have her. I am Shaman now. You must go back to your cave.”

The whispers grew even louder as if they were arguing amongst themselves, the deeper tone edging through. “You are not.”

“I will be. I will kill my father. I will deliver to you what it is that you want, but not Coreen. She is mine. You cannot have her. There are many more that you can have. I will bring you what you want. The wolf runs with me. I work for him now. I work for you.”

The whispers continued at a calmer pace. They were evil—the collective lost—the energy behind the curse, as if the curse grew with each death bound to the wolf.

“We want them all,” said the voice. .

Ahanu hung his head as he knew what he had to say, what he had to agree to. “Yes. I will do that. I will do just that.”

“Promissssssse?”

“Yes.” Ahanu looked them all in their hollowed-out eyes.

The shadows slowly retreated, some lingering to watch and intimidate, but the circle finally faded away to one long line, trickling back from where they had commenced, just a quiet trail of whispers disappearing into the night.

“They’re gone?” Coreen lifted her head.

“Yes.” Ahanu turned and picked up his pace again toward his mother’s house.

“You’d trade the whole town for me?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t do that, Ahanu.” She watched the black trees flash by her as she looked over his shoulder. She wondered the evil shadows still followed them, or where they’d gone.

Dyani’s house shook as if hit by an earthquake. All braced in the basement, as dust filled the air, things fell unseen, and the floorboards above them shook like it was the end of the world and God himself had unleashed doomsday. The bulb that had offered a meager bit of light crashed to the floor, splintering into many shards.

Grandma and Dyani huddled together in the corner as the men held their positions against the door, pushing against the force that was desperate to get in.

“What is this thing?” bellowed Hank, leaking his fear into the room. He had excused himself from door duty and found himself standing alone in the opposite corner with closed eyes, coughing with the rest of them.

The shaking continued for minutes until it just stopped. The group listened and waited for the entire house to collapse upon them, but it didn’t. The air cleared, the room remained as it had before the attack started, like they had imagined the whole thing. The table was intact with all the figurines upon it, the light bulb was hanging perfectly still, and only Hank continued his coughing, even though there was no visible dust.

Doby, Patty, and Ed looked like they’d been doing hard labor, the sweat seeping from their shirts and running from their brows. They all just watched each other, confused at the situation, eyes darting around in terror.

Muttering incessantly in her native language, Grandma’s nerves broke. Exasperated, Dyani tried to soothe her small mother, who owned the home, though Dyani ran it. She could feel the old woman slipping away into her fright, her old heart beating in uncontrollable frenzy.

“Mamma, calm down. Shhhhhh,” Dyani pleaded.

Grandma leaned forward and grabbed her chest, as if she was in terrible pain, her skin paled in a second, and she began to breathe like she couldn’t get air. Dyani laid her mother to the ground, and Doby and Patty came to the old woman’s side, kneeling. Ed kept propped against the door, still feeling a pressure pushing against it.

“What is it? What is happening?” asked Dyani.

“I think it’s a heart attack,” said Doby. “I’ve never seen one . . . always arrived on the scene after the event.”

“Breathe Mamma, breathe.” Dyani wiped the sweat from her mother’s clammy skin.

The woman curled up, as if the pain was very severe and intense. Grandma finally went limp.

“No, my mamma, no!” Dyani grabbed her mother’s shoulders and tried to shake her. “No, mamma, no.” She continued as if the shaking would somehow bring the life back into her mother.

“It’s too late,” said Doby, placing