Page 35 of A Cursed Noel
“Why is everythingalways my fault?” Taran demands. “I—shit. Sheisstill on fire. Shayna, throw some more dirt on her.” Celia startscoughing. “Not on her face, damn it. Her shoes—her shoes.”
“Taran,” littleEmme reprimands. “Celia just finished the last of those horribleshifts. You really need to be more careful with her.”
“I told T the samething, Em,” Shayna agrees. She motions to Taran, who is so lividsmall lightning bolts crackle over her head. “But you know how Tgets when she tries to”—she adds finger quotes—“help.”
I slap my palm againstthe tree to keep my balance.How is Celia still alive with thesethree around?
“Damn it, Shayna, youmake it sound like I did it on purpose,” Taran quips. “Please,don’t thank me for saving her life or anything.”
Celia groans again, herhand lifting. She’s not one to curse, but it’s like she’strying to raise that one special finger to express her gratitude toTaran.
“Maybe I should tryto heal her?” Emme asks. She bends at Celia’s side, a soft yellowlight sputters to life, enveloping Emme and adding to her etherealappearance. “Don’t worry, Celia. This shouldn’t hurt, um,much.”
Celia holds up hershaking hands, attempting to stop her. “No-no-no,” she stammers.
These may be hersisters, but they’ve helped enough. “Get away from her,” Iroar.
I stomp forward.
Emme screams.
Shayna jumps up anddown, pointing. “It’s the perv! The one who humped Celia!”
“Attack!” Taranorders.
“No!” Celia leapsto her feet…and right into the path of Taran’s lightning.
Taran curses as Celiais thrown into the neighboring yard. I tear after Celia, but onlymake it a few feet. I dive into the snow when a funnel of blue andwhite shoots toward me. Heat blisters my skin as the funnel expandsand spreads over top of me.
I roll away and kick upto my feet. The two trees behind me are now on fire and Celia isnowhere to be found. “Are you crazy?” I demand.
Taran regards me likeI’m the lunatic. “I told you to get away from her,” she snaps.
Shayna skips forward. Idon’t mean she sprints. I’m saying she actually skips, herponytail bouncing with each hop. If it’s a distraction tactic, itdoesn’t quite work. She swings her bat with her wrist, eachrotation elongating the wood and transforming it into a large metalsword that gleams silver in the moonlight.
Using the momentum ofher motions, she flings the sword at me. I leap out of the way,roaring with pain as it goes through my leg and stakes me to theground.
Shayna cheers. “I gothim. I got the creepy guy.” She stops celebrating when I wrenchmyself up and pull the sword free from my leg. It falls in the formof a warped piece of wood when I toss it on the ground. “Uh, oh,”she says, backing away.
A clay pot smacks me inthe shoulder. I slap away the broken pieces. “What the hell?” Isnarl.
I dodge out of the wayof the next load of garden supplies Emme flings at me, leaping behinda tree when a wheelbarrow jets at me and almost takes off my head. Iedge out enough to see every remaining clay pot floating around Emme.
All right, littleone, I see you. You’re not so timid after all.
The pots jerk when Istep away from the tree, her surprise to find me still aliveaffecting her confidence.
“Wh-why isn’t herunning away?” Emme stammers. “Shouldn’t he be running away?”
“Because asshole hereis too stupid to run,” Taran tells her.
“What?” Igrowl.
Taran points at me.“Get him!” she shouts. “Show the little bitch what you’remade of, Emme.”
My presence andpissed-off demeanor further rattles Emme. She launches her pots. Hernervousness, though, makes her clumsy. I dodge every strike withease, catching a few and stacking them beside me like a pyramid.
Shayna’s jaw dropsopen. “Is he, like, mocking us?” She looks at Taran. “I thinkcreepy dude is totally mocking us.”