Page 52 of A Cursed Noel
The impact caves mysternum inward. I shove away the pain and the magic. She’s young.Her curse was meant for a man, leaving my wolf plenty alive.
Ichangeagain,walking toward the young witch. She spits out several swears andgathers her magic. I swerve out of the way of the first strike andpunch through the wall when I sense another attack. A warlock wascalling upon his power. He never got a chance to cast his hex. I pullhim through the wall by his throat and toss him at the witch. Theentire ordeal takes only seconds. Enough time for me to react and forher to execute another spell.
The warlock is reducedto maggots that rain down on the young witch. She may enjoy turningher victims to maggots. But she doesn’t like those maggots fallingon her. I lift her over my head before she can recover and throw heragainst the metal railing of a long, majestic staircase.
A piece of railingbreaks off from the force and punctures through her stomach. She’sstrong enough to shield her body, so the injury doesn’t kill her.She’s just not strong enough to break free or heal. She shrieks,her feet kicking as I step back into the dining room.
The remaining daughtercharges me, throwing wine-colored fire that reeks of brimstone. Ileap up and grasp the edges of a large chandelier and swing, bringingdown the ceiling all over her. I land in a crouch and stalk towardthe quivering mound of debris.
She stands in anexplosion of flame, this time striking me head on. Like Griselda,this witch has racked up her share of kills. I won’t be one ofthem.
Ichangeandjump back into the foyer, landing in a roll against a wool rug. Ispin back and forth, extinguishing the flames eating away at my furbefore I high-tail it back to the dining room.
Griselda’s daughtercasts another curse. The fire she targets me with this time is widerand more difficult to avoid. I swerve and leap, narrowlyside-stepping each shot. The room pays the price, as well asGriselda’s belongings.
The flames eating awayat the walls spikes the temperature in the room and invigorates thelogs burning in the fireplace. A painting ignites, followed byseveral old photos, and some art pieces that must be worth a fortune.
The young witch,frustrated with the damage she’s inflicting onto everything excepther intended target, gives up on torching me. With a frustrated yell,she launches tables and chairs in my direction, including Griselda’sabandoned throne.
I avoid the table andmost of the chairs, roaring when a table leg knocks me in theshoulder and takes me down. Ichangeinto human again and liftthe staff belonging to the dead warlock.
The young witch leapswith freakish height, manifesting fire around her willowy frame toprotect her. Like a batter gunning for the winning run, I smash thestaff across her face.
Bone shatters in a loudcrack as she goes flying. She lands near the window amidst all thedebris.
She doesn’t move. Shedoesn’t do much of anything. I toss the staff and resume my wolfform.
Flames chew through thewalls, the holes in the ceiling allowing me to see that the fire hasalready reached the second floor. I have time before the house startsbreaking apart. Just enough to find Griselda.
I search, and find herin a solarium, seemingly gliding as she examines the plants.
Cold, black and whitecheckered tile greets my paws. I welcome how it soothes the batteredskin my wolf is only beginning to heal.
“I didn’t expect tosee you this soon,” Griselda tells me. She breaks off a white rosefrom its bush and inhales deep. “Did the little bitch who holdsyour heart call you to her?” She crushes the rose between herfingertips as she turns to face me, the petals spilling along thefloor. She laughs. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, youngalpha?”
Shrieks of terror andpain erupt from outside. The noise fades abruptly, muffled by thedecibels of sound clanging in my ears. Something sinister has juststruck me across the face. I gag on the bitter taste, barelycognizant of the curse Griselda cast against me.
I fall down the stairsof my house, each step my back strikes threatening to snap my spine.
My body curls inwardwhen I land. I don’t remember ever feeling this much pain.Whimpers, small and pathetic, push my lip in and out. I look up, myvision blurring.
Someone with big, heavyfeet walks down as my sight begins to clear. I see boots and thefaded jeans of someone with very long legs. He’s coming. He’s notdone hurting me yet.
Small hands that arepart of my small body, slide along the slick wooden floors. I try tolift myself up, but I’m too fragile.
I have to get up. Imade him mad and he’s going to kill me.
“Aric!”
Celia calls to me, hervoice morphing into my mother’s as Mom kneels beside me. She pushesmy hair from my face, disappointment wrinkling her features.
“You’re weak,”Mom tells me. “Too pathetic to be our son.”
I lift my chin to seemy dad. He swings his foot and kicks me in the face.
My nose shatters andthe left side of my face droops awkwardly. I try to move my mouth.All I feel is agony.
A stab to my chestfollows, causing my lung to collapse.