CURSED 1

I AM YOURS

Most of the party goers took off running, but there were some unfortunate

bastards who stood their ground trying to defend their frat house turf.

Like I said, unfortunate bastards.

The three guys in trench coats were moving so fast that they appeared more

of a blur than anything else. I was beginning to wonder if I had been the one who

had slipped a “roofie.” Anyway, time skipped a bit. One moment, the tall,

Freaky guys were here. And next, they were over there. In a blur, a blink, and

Sometimes, even instantly. Since I no longer had a dog in this fight--not to

mention that I was seriously questioning my sanity--I decided to duck behind the

Jeep and see how this all played out.

And then get the hell out of here.

The redheaded woman had now joined the three trench coats. All four, as best

as I could tell, they were lying beaten down with their chains and whips on the scene.

that could only be described as surreal, and one that made movies prison riots.

look tame. No one here had a chance.

The redheaded woman, who had just disposed of a man twice her size by

Throwing him hard against a tree trunk, he suddenly stopped and looked straight at

me. I wanted to duck, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed and then she did

something unexpected. She nodded slightly and motioned with her head. I

frowned and was momentarily overcome with the impression that she recognized

me somehow, although I was damn sure that I had no clue who she was. She

motioned with her head again, and my foggy, dense brain finally understood the

gesture. She wanted me to run!

Well, that sounded like a hell of a good idea, and so that’s what I did. Well, as

I did the best I could pull it off. With a sharp pain ripping through my injured back--and

pain that was eclipsed by a powerful surge of adrenaline--I bolted down the

driveway.

And that’s as far as I got.

Before I could even get to the sidewalk, one of the trench coats guys had

My feet are tripped up. I fell to the ground. I tried to fight him off, but it was no use.

He had the strength of ten men. He was impossible to move. I was a world-class

mixed martial arts fighter, and this Goth dude was keeping me down? I rolled

over, and he bit down on my neck. What the hell was this crazy asshole doing?

He was freaking biting into my neck! Really?

I have been in at least two hundred fights in my life. Not one time did my

My opponent thought that a smart move was to bite my neck.

I tried fighting him off, but it was no use. With everything I had--and using

Every wrestling technique Tommy had ever taught me—I broke his grip on me.

and heaved him off me. All in one motion. And as he went spinning and

Stumbling, I leaped to my feet and grabbed my neck. He regained his balance.

and turned and faced me, eyes wide with wonder and confusion. He didn’t plan

on me being that strong. It was if that would be the first time anyone ever got the

best of him.

I looked at my hand. There was a small amount of blood on it. “What the f**k?

did you do that for?” I said to the man who just took a bite out of my flesh.

“You should have never come,” he hissed, and lunged toward me again, his

mouth wide. This guy also had his teeth fired.

What the hell was going on? They all had some crazy vampire fetish.

I landed a punch that did him little harm, although it slowed him down some.

He shook off my blow and kept coming at me. The blow that I had landed would

have laid out most people. People are the operative word here.

And in a move that would have made any MMA fighter proud, he grabbed

my hand in a blink and pulled me forward. The movement was so sudden and

powerful that I lost my balance. He yanked me again and now I pitched forward.

onto the grass. Not the world’s most graceful take-down, but it worked. Not to

mention he still had me by the hand, which he had yanked awkwardly behind

me.

Awkwardly and painfully. Too painfully. I turned my head and saw that the

My son-of-b***h had bitten down on my wrist. I tried to free myself, but I was in a

Hell of a twisted position.

He bit down harder, tearing away some of my skin.

This man was now drinking the blood from my wrist. I could see the crazy

motherfucker swallowing my blood. I looked toward the grass, and the other two

Guys were biting their victims, too. I began to feel faint.

“Don’t hurt him, Wyatt!” a voice shouted, in the night. It was hard to be sure.

from where, exactly? Blackness had seriously started encroaching along the

edges of my vision. The voice might have been coming from the van. “He’s the

only one who helped me!”

And with that, the man let go of my wrist. My hand dropped, and I fell

forward on my face. I was completely drained of all energy. I lost all desire to

move.

As I lay there, feeling as if I had been attacked by a grizzly bear, I could hear

the sounds of approaching sirens. I’m no stranger to sirens or even to being

arrested. If you grow up as a street brawler like me, you get used to both.

However, I was too weak to move.

Now, I seriously felt drugged, and my neck and wrist hurt like hell.

Suddenly, Attica was by my side. He knelt down, which took him a heartbeat.

longer than most people, since he was so damn tall. He lowered his face to mine,

and I was struck instantly by the strong scent of coppery blood on his breath.

Indeed, blood was dripping in large globs down his chin. My stomach flip-

flopped.

“Is this true?” Attica asked me.

“Is that true?” I could barely muster out.

“Did you help Lena?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”

He glanced over his shoulder to the others. “Then let’s get the hell out of

here.” He looked back at me and grinned through all the blood. “And, you’re

Come with us.”

Amazingly, he gripped the back of my shirt and lifted me clean off the

ground. I found myself briefly dangling—and gasping for air—before he threw

me into the back of the open van like a sack of potatoes. The rest of the break

show a gang of blood suckers followed in behind me and the side door was

slammed shut.

Wyatt, the same guy who tried to feast on my arm, started the van and threw

it into reverse. Dirt, grass, and mud kicked up and soon the tires screeched.

rubber trails across the sidewalk and back onto the asphalt street. I heard it. I

smelled it. Burned rubber, acrid against the metallic copper scent of their breaths

in the van. There, Wyatt shoved the gearshift into ‘drive’ and the van literally

squealed away, briefly slewing sideways.

Most of the seats had been removed from the van. The other freaks were

hanging out the windows, bracing themselves against the madcap turns. Only

Lena and the redheaded girl were looking at me. A brief thought ran through my

head that I was in some sort of Scooby Doo horror flick in an alternate universe,

or that I was having a pizza-induced nightmare, but the pain in my back and neck

and the wrist was so all-consuming that I knew it was real. I was hurt, badly. Me,

martial arts professional, was nearly slayed by a baseball bat and a blood sucker.

I wanted to ask where the hell they were taking me—to a hospital?-- but I was

still weak and oddly drained of energy. I could not even speak. And so, I did the

The only thing I could think of. I closed my eyes and hoped that I would awaken

from this terrifying nightmare.

I must have passed out in the van.

When I next opened my eyes, the redheaded woman was half reclining next

to me. She had my wrist in her hand and was swabbing and rubbing alcohol on the

bite marks from a first aid kit with a red cross on the container. “Does it hurt?”

she asked.

“A little,” I said, not wanting to wuss out in front of her.

“Wyatt is terribly sorry for biting you. He thought you were one of those pricks

at the party.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, dude. That was extremely bad. I should have realized

they were all wearing those mathematic Izod polo shirts with their logo,”

Wyatt said to me from the driver’s seat, without turning around. “I thought you

were making a run for it.”

I had no idea how to respond to a guy who had just bitten my neck and got drunk.

blood in my arm. I’m sure my expression said it all. It was a cross between

What the hell? And seriously? You drank my blood?

Instead of answering, I turned back to the redheaded girl and asked, “Where?

are we going?”

She looked at me with a softness that was a complete one-eighty from what I

had seen earlier, when she was whipping dudes into submission. “We’re headed

to the Flatlands. It’s just north of Arrowhead.”

“We’re in the mountains?” I asked.

The girl nodded. “We weren’t about to stick around and allow you and Lena.

to get arrested.” She grinned a little. “We’re not complete monsters.”

Being arrested was nothing new to me. Then again, explaining the bite marks

on my wrist and neck to the police might be hard to do. Yeah, it was probably

best to get the hell out of Dodge. Then again, getting the hell out of Dodge with

These weirdos might not have been my best choice, though. Not that I had much

of a choice.

Attica sat pressed up against the inside of the car door. With his long limbs

bent sharply, he looked a bit like a giant praying mantis. He had his arm around

Lena. A protective gesture. It reminded me of a father protecting his young

daughter. Anyway, Attica was staring at me, and it was making me feel

extremely uncomfortable. I’m not used to feeling uncomfortable. I decided I

didn’t like the feeling.

He stared at me for another few seconds and then asked, “Did you seriously?

beat the s**t out of those five guys before we get there?”

I thought about his question. I wasn’t sure if the king freak would be

impressed by that or threatened. Finally, I shrugged and said, “Yeah, I did.”

“With only your hands?” he asked.

“And my feet,” I said.

Atticai nodded. “Impressive,” he said. He was now stroking Lena’s hair, who

sat impassively. I couldn’t see if she liked his touch or not. Anyway, he seemed

to treat her more like a pet than a human being, which I found creepy as hell. He

looked back at me. “So what’s your name?”

“Josiah.”

“Well, thanks, Josiah. I’m not sure what would have happened to Lena if you

hadn’t stepped in.”

Was this guy for real? Was he truly acting this normally?

He and his buddies had just finished literally ripping the flesh and drinking the

blood of the party goers; he just sat there, calmly petting Lena, as if she was a

pet cat. Austin Powers, he was not.

Something seriously strange and terribly wrong was going on here. And I was

Trapped in the van with the freaks from Orville, still weak as hell from having

My own blood feasted upon it.

“What are you guys?” I ventured.

The third guy spoke up. “We might ask you the same thing. What are you?”

he asked. “A superhero?” He sat in the front passenger seat next to Wyatt. He

was as thin as the others and just as pale, but he had a Middle Eastern look to

him.

I sat up a little more, feeling some of my strength coming back into my body.

Or maybe I was just willing my strength to come back. The redheaded girl and

Attica was still staring at me. I guess I was just going to have to get used to

These creeps are looking at me and not talking. Granted, having a beautiful redhead

Staring at me was certainly not as creepy, but not by much.

I said, “Not a superhero. I just wanted to help Lena.” I looked over at her.

again. “We were acquaintances in high school.”

Now, she glanced at me and smiled, even while Attica continued running his

fingers through her hair. She had a Zen aura about her now that she was

obviously extremely safe.

Or maybe she’s just as freaked out as you, I thought. But I doubted it. She

knew these people. And she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, you guys seemed to have things pretty well under control,” I said,

purposely not mentioning the part where they also seemed to have enjoyed their late

night snack. On blood.

Seriously. I worried about when they were going to tank up next. And on

whom?

“No, really,” I said. “Who in the hell are you guys?”

The redheaded woman wrapped a bandage around my wrist. “My name’s

Ari,” she said, taping on the bandage. Her touch was gentle, pleasant...and

oddly cold. As if her fingers had been dipped in a bucket of chilled blood. The

The contradictory nature of all of these individuals was making my brain spin.

“Ari?” I asked, trying to pronounce it correctly. “Kind of like Tasha Iyar.

from Star Trek? But with an ‘epee sound at the end?”

She smiled at me. She was incredibly beautiful. I felt like her bright,

Searching eyes could see right through me. “Yes...Ari, Y-A-R-I,” she spelled

out. It rhymes with Atari.” She smiled.

As creepy out as I was, I smiled, too. “Wow! You played an old-school game.

reference. I’m impressed.”

“Oh, you have no idea how old school I am. Way older school than your Star

Trek reference would indicate that you are.” She grinned, then flicked her gaze

over to Attica, who was still staring at me.

“The freakishly tall scary fellow here is Attica.” She nodded toward the

driver. “You already know Wyatt. And in the passenger seat is Hector. Hector

likes to smile a lot and doesn’t say much.”

I nodded and tried to smile at everyone. I guessed introductions were in order,

considering I was being kidnap. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Wyatt suddenly turned the van hard to the right and hit the brakes. “We’re

here.”

Attica leaped into motion, her long limbs unfurling in a blink like some weird

An alien life form awakened from a space travel stasis slumber. He threw open the

bay door, and he and Lena jumped out. I slowly followed with my bandage.

around my wrist and, no doubt, a damn big hickey on my neck, compliments of

Wyatt.

The Flatlands was a giant gravel parking lot that was surrounded by trees. We

were obviously in the heart of the San Bernardino Mountains. The sky was lit up

by stars that you just can’t see in the city, due to light pollution. There were

several trucks and cars parked throughout the gravel area. Beyond the cars were

fires and voices that belonged to many dark-clad figures. It appeared to be a

giant party, a rave of some sort, except that everyone was dressed in black.

A freak convention, I thought. Of epic Goth proportions.

There were bonfires everywhere and the sounds of old-school suicide.

Tendencies blaring. A quick scan and guesstimate told me that there were at least

A hundred or so of these “emo” characters are in the gathering. I shivered, deprived go away from my sightwas still giving off this protective vibe when it came to her. It was surreal, to say.

the least.

Anyway, as we walked up, there was no doubt who was the alpha male in this

group. A swath opened for him in the pressing crowd of black-clad bizarres, and

He walked down the middle of it like a freaking king at his coronation. Everyone

seemed to turn and watch him. I stopped at the edge of the fire with Ari and

watched as Attica took off his trench coat and then his T-shirt. He was pretty

ripped. He was damn pale, granted, but the dude had some serious game in the

abs department. His stomach looked as if it was carved out of alabaster by

Michelangelo himself. No wonder Lena liked this guy. Even though he was a

A colossal freak, he was a man among pale, skinny boys in this adoring crowd. As

He turned his back to me. I saw that he had a pretty strange tattoo covering the

upper half of his back. It was, in fact, writing. Big, black Old English font letters

spelled out the acronym, “C.O.N.”

Okay, whatever.

One of the guys at the party walked up to Attica and handed him a wooden

jug that looked like something out of the 1800s. Attica grabbed the jug and

immediately jumped on the hood of one of the trucks and took a long drink from

Whatever was in the container.

He shuddered briefly, then turned and looked straight at me. “Hey, Josiah!

Want a swig?”

“What is it?” I asked from the other side of the fire.

“A little of everything. Tastes like s**t, but that’s not the point.”

I was about to ask what the point was, but I decided I didn’t want to know. It

was probably laced with God-knows-what. Whatever it was, I know I didn’t

want it in my body. Not with a big fight coming up.

“I’ll pass,” I said. “I’m in training.”

“Training?” Attica laughed. “Training for what?”

“ Because of a fight I’m having next month. I’m a professional fighter.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“No wonder you kicked so much ass tonight. I didn’t realize I was in the

presence of Muhammad Ali.”

“I’m not a boxer. I’m a mixed martial arts fighter.”

“You mean that crazy Royce Gracie crap?”

“It’s evolved since then, but, yeah. That is exactly the sport I’m into.”

Everyone at the party was now looking at me. They seemed impressed by that.

Attica was taking a liking to me. As if we were old friends or something. I still

wasn’t sure what I thought about all this.

I was just about to relax a tad when someone shoved me hard in the back. My

bat-beaten back. Again, with a pain of great magnitude. I took a couple of steps.

toward the fire and turned around and immediately dropped into a fighter.

position. Standing there was a bleached-blonde i***t about my size, staring at

me.

“You think you’re a badass?” the guy asked.

You have got to be kidding me. Was I seriously about to have another scuffle?

This dude looked ridiculous. This guy wore a Danzig shirt and had several

piercings in his face. One punch to his face would tear him to shreds, not to

mention ruin about five hundred dollars’ worth of jewelry.

“No,” I said. “I’m just hanging around like everyone else.”

The bleached-blonde guy got up in my face. “I don’t like you.”

“Back the hell off, Rubious!” Attica shouted.

“Why? If this guy is so tough, then let’s have him prove it.”

“Rubious, you’re tanked. Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with this.

guy,” Atticai insisted.

But Rubious didn’t listen. He took a swing at me, and I instinctively ducked.

When you fight, you always go by instinct. You also have to account for your

surroundings, and especially friends who might have your back. Hopefully, have

your back. I had Lena, a friend. But a mere gril. As far as these other inky guys,

Who knew if they would be friend or foe in a fight?

In this case, I knew that I couldn’t strike this guy or I might have dozens of

guys on me. Punching out friends always has a way of getting other friends riled.

up. But friends will let a fight play out if it goes to the ground. Of course, what

What happens after that is anyone’s guess. I had many fights under my belt, street and

pro, to know that until someone is down and doesn’t come up again, and the

friends walk away in closure, the fight isn’t over.

Time to meet the challenger. I knelt down and shot my shoulders straight into

his legs. In one smooth motion, I picked him up and threw him hard to his

shoulders, pinning him down on his back, while holding down both his arms.

A perfect take-down.

I was particularly careful not to touch his face. Had we been alone, he would

have already been knocked out.

“I don’t know you!” I said to Rubious. “I have no problem with you! You

need to calm down!”

“All right, man, get the f**k off me.”

“Are you going to be cool?” I insisted.

Then, without warning, Rubious turned his head and puked all over the

rocks. I jumped back as the dumbass wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

As I stood back, Attica did a whooping warrior-scream at the top of his

lungs. When he was done acting like a crazy man, he pointed at me and shouted,

“I knew this guy wouldn’t be disappointed!”

Everyone yelled and cheered and many mimicked his ear-splitting rebel yell.

I was apparently caught up in a Goth pep rally, in my honor.

“On second thought,” I said to Attica. “Give me some of that.”

I walked around the fire and over to him. He grinned and handed me the

wooden container. I sniffed the contents and almost lost my own lunch and

dinner. It smelled like dead fish and everything dead. But it was too late to

turn back. Everyone was watching me. Holding my breath, I downed the

disgusting contents as if it was water.

Yeah, it was the worst thing I had ever drunk.

I tried not to puke. But I was fired up. As I pulled away from the wooden jug,

I yelled at the top of my lungs—the same Brave Heart warrior yell that Attica

seemed to like it—and everyone immediately cheered.

And as they bellowed and whooped and hollered, I could only think: What the

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

mediation. The well-meaning priest suffered him to deceive himself, fully determined

to traverse his views, instead of seconding them.

“Since we now understand one another,” resumed the Prince, “I expect, Father, that

You satisfy me on one point. Who is the youth that I found in the vault? He must have

been privy to Isabella’s flight: tell me truly, is he her lover? or is he an agent for

Another’s passion? I have often suspected Isabella’s indifference to my son: a

A thousand circumstances crowd into my mind that confirm that suspicion. She herself

was so conscious of it, that while I discussed her in the gallery, she outran my

suspicious, and endeavored to justify herself from coolness to Conrad.”

The Friar, who knew nothing of the youth, but what he had leant occasionally from

the Princess, ignorant of what was become of him, and not sufficiently reflecting on the

impetuosity of Manfred’s temper, conceived that it might not be amiss to sow the

seeds of jealousy in his mind: they might be turned to some use hereafter, either by

prejudicing the Prince against Isabella, if he persisted in that union or by diverting his

attention to a wrong scent, and employing his thoughts on a visionary intrigue,

prevent his engaging in any new pursuit. With this unhappy policy, he answered in a

manner to confirm Manfred in the belief of some connection between Isabella and the

youth. The Prince, whose passions wanted little fuel to throw them into a blaze, fell

into a rage at the idea of what the Friar suggested.

“I will fathom to the bottom of this intrigue,” cried he; and quitting Jerome abruptly,

with a command to remain there till his return, he hastened to the great hall of the

castle, and ordered the peasant to be brought before him.

“Thou hardened young impostor!” said the Prince, as soon as he saw the youth; “what

What becomes of thy boasted veracity now? It was Providence, was it, and the light of the

moon, that discovered the lock of the trap-door to thee? Tell me, audacious boy, who

thou art, and how long thou hast been acquainted with the Princess—and take care to

answer with less equivocation than thou didst last night, or tortures shall wring the

truth from thee.”

The young man, perceiving that his share in the flight of the Princess was discovered,

and concluding that anything he should say could no longer be of any service or

detriment to her, replied—

“I am no impostor, my Lord, nor have I deserved opprobrious language. I answered,

to every question your Highness put to me last night with the same veracity that I shall

speak now: and that will not be from fear of your tortures, but because my soul abhors

a falsehood. Please repeat your questions, my Lord; I am ready to give you all the

satisfaction in my power.”

“You know my questions,” replied the Prince, “and only want time to prepare an

evasion. Speak directly; who art thou? and how long hast thou been known to the

Princess?”

“I am a laborer at the next village,” said the peasant; “my name is Theodore. The

The Princess found me in the vault last night: before that hour I time in her

presence.”

“I may believe as much or as little as I please of this,” said Manfred; “but I will hear.

thy own story before I examine into the truth of it. Tell me, what reason did the

Princess give thee to make her escape? My life depends on thy answer.”

“She told me,” replied Theodore, “that she was on the brink of destruction, and that if

She could not escape from the castle, she was in danger in a few moments of being

made miserable for ever.”

“And on this slight foundation, on a silly girl’s report,” said Manfred, “thou didst

hazard my displeasure?”

“I fear no man’s displeasure,” said Theodore, “when a woman in distress puts herself

under my protection.”

During this examination, Matilda was going to the apartment of Chipolata. At the

The upper end of the hall, where Manfred sat, was a boarded gallery with latticed

windows, through which Matilda and Bianca were to pass. Hearing her father’s voice,

and seeing the servants assembled round him, she stopped to learn the occasion. The

The prisoner soon drew her attention: the steady and composed manner in which he

answered, and the gallantry of his last reply, which were the first words she heard.

distinctly, interested her in his flavor. His person was noble, handsome, and

commanding, even in that situation: but his countenance soon engrossed her whole

care.

“Heavens! Bianca,” said the Princess softly, “do I dream? or is not that youth the

exact resemblance of Alfonso’s picture in the gallery?”

She could say no more, for her father’s voice grew louder at every word.

“This bravado,” said he, “surpasses all thy former insolence. Thou shalt experience

the wrath with which thou darkest to trifle. Seize him,” continued Manfred, “and bind

him—the first news the Princess hears of her champion will be that he has lost his

head for her sake.”“The injustice of which thou art guilty towards me,” said Theodore, “convinces me

that I have done a good deed in delivering the Princess from thy tyranny. May she be

happy, whatever becomes of me!”

“This is a lover!” cried Manfred in a rage: “a peasant within sight of death is not

animated by such sentiments. Tell me, tell me, rash boy, who thou art, or the rack

“I will not,” replied he.

“Bear him away into the courtyard,” said Manfred; “I will see his head this instant

severed from his body.”

TO BE CONTINUED.....