Page 42 of A Cursed Noel

I cover my face with myarm, leaving just enough space to look at Celia as if it’s ourfinal goodbye. Emme’s telekinesis works immediately, her healingability though is arduously slow. Celia isn’t making a sound. Irecognize her pain in her crinkled brow and how she stiffens beneathEmme’s touch.

“If I don’t makeit, run,” I tell Taran. “Use your fire to break your way out.”

Taran looks in thedirection of the house and to a corner room. Their foster mother isthere. I can tell by the way she appears torn. But then she turns inthe direction of the cracked shield and nods.

Shayna, watching us,pushes to her feet. She extends the arm holding the broom upward.Using her ability, she transforms the broom it into a long and deadlysword. Its slick blade reflects Taran’s fire. “You better makeit, dude,” she says. She motions to Celia, writhing in pain beneathEmme’s touch. “I think my sister really likes you.”

Over the roar of thecyclone, I speak my truth. “I really like her, too.”

My forearm cruncheswhen I smack the busted tree trunk that flies at me. I aim for theshield and nail it. The base splinters and branches up, creatingenough of a split that the girls should be able to break through.

Taran and Shayna gaspwhen my arm falls limp to the side. It hurts. I’m not invincible.But like Taran continues to point out, I am a werewolf. In the fewseconds I use to roll my arm and stretch it, is all it takes for mywolf to repair the bone and mend the tissue.

I start for the backsteps only for my wolf to warn against it. He jerks our focus to thecorner room where Ana Lisa, the woman who fostered and raised myCelia, waits. I take off in a sprint, crashing through the window andlanding in a crouch.

Chapter Twelve

The house is sparedfrom the discord outside. If the neighbors share the same fortune, itwill keep them safely inside and away from the chaos.

Broken glass slides offmy shoulders in large pieces as I rise. Aside from the crinklingsound it makes as it hits the floor, there’s no sound save one.

Ana Lisa lies to myleft. My arrival didn’t stir her from sleep. But then it’s hardto wake those so close to death.

Her pained breathingspeaks in a way that words cannot. There’s a lot behind eachbreath: hurt and regret, but also courage. Ana Lisa fights for herlife, refusing to allow death to easily claim her.

In a picture beside herbed, a heavy-set black woman laughs as two little girls struggle tofit on her lap. The black ponytail and blond curls give away thatit’s Shayna and Emme despite that their profiles are barelyvisible.

Behind them, Taranrolls her eyes, her hand on Ana Lisa’s shoulder. Her attituderemains firmly in place, but her touch gives away her devotion.

My Celia stands behindAna Lisa, watching over her family as she’s done all her life. Emmeand Shayna have changed so much. Taran has, too. Celia, despiteappearing younger, hasn’t changed as much. The stealthydetermination she carries is evident, as is her sadness.

The one most changedlies in bed, suffering with each breath she takes.

Gray, loose skin coverswhat remains of Ana Lisa’s cancer-ridden body. She isn’t moving,and her struggle to keep breathing is as blatant as her illness. Hergaunt and strained features remind me of my mother. But Mom’s wolfhas kept her in far better health than Ana Lisa’s spirit.

Mom wants to join myfather in death. Her heart is broken as well as her soul.

Ana Lisa, so sick andweak, fights this evil with her soul and heart. It doesn’t matterthat she doesn’t have an inner beast to help her. Here she lies,battling it out for her babies.

This human woman’sgrit inspires my resolve. Whatever it takes, I’m determined toenliven my mother’s spirit so her wolf can heal them. All Mom needsis something to motivate her. Ana Lisa needs so much more.Regardless, these women deserve to live. Nothing will stop me fromsaving them.

The last few shards ofglass fall away as I carefully take in the room. My break-in wassavage but the cuts to my skin are only minor. My wolf heals me withlittle effort despite my overwhelming need for food.

From my periphery, ashadowy figure with long, spindly fingers slips behind an old woodendesk. Another scurries behind a tall dresser where a televisionbroadcasts a political debate. They’re fast. I’m unsure a humanwould have spotted them even now.

I sniff the air to becertain what they are. The aroma of dark licorice dipped in tar hasme scrunching my nose.

Nullits. I sniff again.Yeah. That’s what they are. Their unique ability to null theirvictims’ senses permits them to go unnoticed until it’s too late,hence the name. They can hide in the open if they maintain their flatforms and keep to the shadows. It makes it easy for them to feed ontheir victims’ souls and multiply quickly.

I’m surprised to findthem here. The spell that raises them is complex. Only a powerfulwitch can cast it. If done incorrectly, it can turn on its wielder.When done right, it’s an effective and tortuous way to take downthe enemy.

“Enemy.” I mullover the word, beating back a growl. This isn’t merely a curse toavenge an insult. Whoever targeted this familyhatesthem.Cruel and meant to kill slowly, the spell is outlawed in all cornersof the earth. To cast it equates to an automatic death sentence. Yethere it is, slowly killing my love and her family.

I mutter a curse when Icatch sight of a youngling scamper beneath the ceiling fan. Mystomach sours. These things are actively breeding. It will maketaking them out harder. Like roaches, it just takes one to live for anew batch to hatch. With Celia and her sisters as powerful as theyare, the nullits have reproduced in great numbers. My wolf picks upon several just inside the room. He snaps his jaws, eager to stalkand have us destroy them.

I ease to a crouch,scanning the area for the best line of attack and alert to any hintof movement.

Nullits start outsmall, about the size of my calf. Like newborns, they’re voraciouseaters, growing from tormenting their prey and feasting on theirwounded souls. Depending on the circumstances and the number ofvictims, it may only take weeks for them to reach adulthood. That’swhen they’re most lethal and cause the greatest anguish.

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