Clinic of the Cursed

Chapter 6

Morning light filtered through the clinic windows, but the atmosphere was anything but bright.

Abby stood before the team, recounting her encounter with the stranger.

“She’s recruiting vampires now,” Abby said, voice steady but fierce. “Harper’s building an army, and we’re running out of time.”

Lexy felt a chill creep over her. “We need to act—before it’s too late.”

Angie nodded grimly. “We’ll lock down the clinic, strengthen the wards, and prepare for whatever comes.”

Gwen exchanged looks with Mariel, who was already making notes. “We’re not just protecting patients anymore—we’re protecting everyone who walks through these doors.”

The team moved with purpose, the weight of their mission settling like armor.

Outside, the wind picked up again, carrying the promise of a storm.

The battle for the Clinic of the Cursed was only just beginning.

Later that day, Dr. Dedeke called Lexy into her office. She rarely asked to speak privately, and the tension in her voice sent a ripple of unease down her spine.

“I hear there was... an incident,” she said, folding her hands on the desk.

Lexy hesitated. “You heard about the vampire?”

she nodded slowly. “More than that. I’ve known something was wrong with this place for a long time. I just didn’t know who else knew.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait—you believe us?”

“I always did,” she replied. “I just couldn’t say anything. Harper was once one of us, you know. Before she... changed.”

Lexy leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“She was human,” she said quietly. “A healer. Brilliant. But she wanted more. She studied the curse, tried to master it. Instead, it mastered her.”

Outside the office, thunder rolled.

In the break room, Abby sat with Gwen and Mariel, going over protective rituals from the journal. Candles flickered in the center of the table, casting eerie shadows across their faces.

“This one,” Gwen pointed, “creates a boundary. Keeps the darkness out... if we place it in the foundation.”

Mariel raised an eyebrow. “You planning on crawling under the building?”

Abby smirked. “You volunteering to hold the flashlight?”

The room cracked with nervous laughter—but everyone knew it was a mask.

In the hallway, Angie stood with Dr. Khan, watching the windows darken.

“She’s coming,” Angie murmured.

Dr. Khan nodded, eyes grim. “Then we’ll be ready.”

By nightfall, the clinic felt different. The usual sterile calm had been replaced with something older, heavier — like the walls were holding their breath.

Down in the basement, Gwen and Abby crouched by the foundation, candlelight flickering over dusty stone.

“This has to be where the original sigils were carved,” Gwen whispered, brushing her fingers over faint etchings.

“Then we reinforce it,” Abby said, pulling the chalk from her pocket.

As they redrew protective symbols, something rustled in the shadows behind them.

Both froze.

A low growl echoed from the hallway. Not human. Not wolf. Something in between.

Abby rose slowly, eyes narrowing. Her voice was a whisper, but filled with fire.

“Come out.”

The growl stopped.

Then a voice, cold and sharp:

“You’re meddling in things far beyond your reach.”

The shape stepped forward—a figure cloaked in black, eyes glowing faint red. A half-turned—part vampire, part werewolf.

A hybrid.

Abby took a step back. “Harper’s making them now?”

The figure only smiled.

Upstairs, Lexy jolted as a chill passed through the building. “Something’s wrong,” she said, rushing to Angie’s side. “They’re here.”

Angie grabbed the emergency keys. “Lock the patient wing. Call everyone in. No one walks alone.”

The line between healing and war had officially been crossed.

The Clinic of the Cursed was under siege.