She held a pin in the flame of the nearest candle, grasped Slade’s hand, and jabbed his finger.
What the fuck? “Hey!” Slade tried to snatch his hand back.
Judith held fast, pressing his bleeding digit against the silver amulet. She released his finger and the charm. “There.”
Slade held up the silver medallion, stamped with a wolf’s head, scuffs and age marring the image. As he watched, the blood disappeared, as though absorbed into the metal. “Where’d you get this?”
Judith smiled. “How do you think I met my husband all those years ago?”
“Now what?” Slade cradled his hands, keeping them away from the two sadists. At least they saw the mark, unlike Chuck. Had to be a witch thing.
Vern clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, you go out into the world, find the love of your life, and break your curse.”
Chapter Ten
Sladesatatthedinner table across from Vern and Judith. They laughed, joked, and talked about people he didn’t know. How could they, when he sat here miserable as shit, with a fucking curse hanging over him?
Finally, Vern stopped smiling, moving his attention from Judith to Slade. “You have two choices, you know.”
“What choices? You said this couldn’t be undone.”
“True, but you can decide if you want to live your life centered around the curse or if you want to live despite the shitty hand you’ve been dealt. You can look forward to each new town. There are people I know who’d love to be you.”
“Who?” Slade’s miserable life? Yeah, right.
Vern lowered his voice. “Me, for one.” The intensity of his eye contact dared Slade to look away. “I have cancer. Sometime in the next six months, I’m going to take my last breath, and no spell can cheat death. So, yeah, I’d love to be you. But I’m not going to let cancer define me.” He smiled, forming lines around his eyes and mouth. “There are still rivers to fish, women to love, and family to cherish. If moving to another town gave me more time, then back up the damned U-Haul.”
Three at a table: one old, one sick, and one relatively young with a curse. Yeah. Kinda petty for Slade to feel sorry for himself.
Judith chimed in, “I’ve watched my husband, my children, and even one grandchild die. I wouldn’t wish such pain on anyone, but death’s part of living. No life is perfect, Slade.”
No. Slade reckoned not. “Two months ago, I didn’t know about sorcerers. Daddy called Grandma a witch. Of course, he’s called my mother worse. What else is out there I don’t know about?” And did Slade actually want to know?
Vern exchanged a “should we tell him?” look with Judith. Oh shit.
Judith nodded, a bemused smile on her face. Fuck. Slade had been kidding.
Maybe.
Vern eased back in his chair, taking a long, slow drink of sweet tea. “Many old legends are based in fact, but there ain’t many supernatural creatures left. At least not in the US. Ghosts, or rather, the echoes from a life cut short, are one.”
“What about werewolves?” Slade and his brothers once watched every werewolf movie they got their hands on, though he meant the question as a joke.
Maybe.
“There used to be a few packs nearby. If any are left, they’re well hidden. I’ve heard tell of entire packs being wiped out. Damned hunters,” Judith spat. Her tone grew wistful. “I remember, as a girl, hearing them calling to each other on full moon nights.” She gave a visible shiver. “Gives me goose bumps even now.”
“I knew a few cougar shifters once, but they’re long gone.” Vern took another sip of sweet tea and pushed back from the table.
Werewolves? Cougar shifters? Slade never took part in such bizarre conversations, not even while high. “What happened to them?”
Judith gave a disgusted snort. “What happens to a lot of things. Someone comes along, thinks they’re so righteous, and anyone not exactly like them is wrong and must die. Entire families devoted themselves to killing shifters or anything else they didn’t understand. They called themselves monster hunters, but they’re the monsters, killing men, women, and even children with no qualms whatsoever. They celebrate the slaughter.”
“They’d kill witches too,” Vern added, “if we weren’t human enough to cause a murder charge.”
“Wouldn’t shifters do the same?” Shifters? Damn, when Slade fell down the rabbit hole, he didn’t play.
Judith shook her head. “When a shifter dies, even while human, their body reverts to animal. So, while bloody clothes might be found, the remains of the shifter will take on their second form.”
