16. Chapter 16 #2
She stirred counter-clockwise; the disruption in the liquid’s momentum calmed her racing thoughts. She could adapt to the change, but her younger brother was in elementary school, impacting him more.
“Y Fernando?” Yareli asked.
“He’s at preschool. I’ll pick him up in half an hour.”
Yareli frowned. That didn’t make sense. She was sixteen.
Fernando should be twelve years old. She tried to turn around, but her body remained in place, her arm still stirring.
She attempted to yank her arm from the spoon, but it wouldn’t budge.
Round and round it went. A sense of wrongness pervaded her.
“Mami,” she yelled, her voice a pitch higher than usual.
“Todo estará bien. Ya verás.” Her mom wrapped her arms around Yareli.
Yareli turned her head, horror building up in her chest as she met her mom’s stare for the first time—dark, empty sockets lay where her eyes should have been.
Her face contorted in a smile that had been carved into her skin.
It bled on Yareli’s shoulder, soaking her as she struggled to free herself.
The monster whispered soothing words, punctuating the end of each phrase with a cackle as if it couldn’t hold back its amusement anymore, and Yareli sobbed.
“We don’t cry in this household. Stop crying.”
It squeezed her until she could barely breathe, and she heard the distinct crack of bone. She struggled, but it had an iron grip.
A creeping black ring encroached on her vision, and her limbs lost strength.
She was losing this battle. Then, at her last sharp intake of air, she saw a faint glow on her chest, shining brighter until it filled her vision with white.
A loud pop went off, and cool air rushed into her lungs as she opened her eyes to a dark ceiling.
She lay on the cool, smooth ground of the cave. Tears rolled down her face, and her ribs throbbed. A voice echoed in the cavernous room.
“A pity you woke.”
Yareli rolled on her side, toward the voice, and cried out.
The monster who had stolen her mom’s likeness stood before her, stirring a large cauldron.
It watched her scurry backward until she hit a wall, but otherwise, it continued its task.
That must be the Curse Eater. It looked exactly as it had in her dream—dressed in her mom’s favorite red and pink apron with short dark hair framing the perversion of her face.
It was no longer smiling, but Yareli winced at her mother’s cheeks flapping outward, long cuts carved on her face.
Her pulse roared in her ears, and she fought to remember that the Curse Eater couldn’t kill her.
“I am here about my curse.” Her voice came out high-pitched. When it became clear that the Curse Eater wouldn’t respond, she tried again. “I’d like to negotiate.”
It stopped stirring; its voice was gravelly and deep from age.
“I’ve not seen a human in over a millennium. Curious little things. Living such short lives and trampling around the earth as if they were kings. And now, one has traipsed into my abode.”
“I was kidnapped,” Yareli replied.
“Oh, yes, I can see that.” The Curse Eater said, smiling. “I know who, what, when, and why. I see it woven into the fabric of this world.”
She dug her nails into her palms, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. The Curse Eater had expressed interest in her. It was a start.
“Can you undo it—the curse?”
The flames under the cauldron flared. “There is no curse I cannot devour.”
Yareli flinched, but she tried again. “I’d like to negotiate.”
From the counter behind it, the Curse Eater grabbed a bowl, dumping its contents into the cauldron. “What power does a puny human like you have over me? I do not negotiate.”
“I have something you want,” Yareli countered, relieved that her voice finally came out even. The idea had come at the mouth of the cave, right as she had taken her last step before crossing its threshold.
It cocked its head.
“Blood. I’ll offer you some blood in exchange for your services.”
“I have plenty of that around here.” The Curse Eater lifted a dead rat.
“Human blood.”
It dropped the rat in the cauldron. “Two goblets.”
Yareli released the breath she had been holding. “Done.”
A long dagger and two bronze goblets materialized on the floor in front of the cauldron.
Yareli stood, relieved that her legs still held her despite their trembling, and she inched to the cauldron.
She picked up one of the goblets, which was surprisingly light.
It looked to be about the same volume as an average cup, so two of them probably wouldn’t hurt… right?
Unlike the simple bronze goblets, the dagger’s handle was ornate with rubies and gold.
She returned the goblet to the floor and grabbed the blade.
It was heavier than her own, which meant precision would be difficult.
Struggling with its weight, hesitation stayed her hand, the Curse Eater’s nightmare fresh in her mind.
Doubt about her family and her old life crept up like a devil on her shoulder.
Conflicted between reclaiming her past and shielding herself from further distress, she froze, but a glance at the awaiting Curse Eater and its chosen appearance reminded her of her resolve.
She had to go home regardless of whatever lost memory awaited her.
She gritted her teeth and dragged the dagger down her forearm, gasping when it slipped and went deeper than she had intended. It clattered to the floor as she scooped up a goblet and filled it. The Curse Eater cackled, coming closer.
“Tell me about the curse,” Yareli demanded, shifting the goblet away from it.
“It’s an ancient one.”
At her glare, it continued. It seemed amused. “It binds the thread of life between the caster and the victim so the caster may never lose hold of them. It was useful when Fae still roamed the mortal world, ensuring enslaved humans could not escape.”
The gruesome history between Fae and humans gave Yareli pause.
She had suspected it hadn’t ever been an amicable co-existence, but she hadn’t given it much thought, which made the revelation that Tuom had used an enslavement curse on her unsurprising but nevertheless nauseating.
The world seemed to tilt under her feet as the Curse Eater yanked the first goblet from Yareli’s hand and raised it to its nose.
Her mother’s nose. It took a deep breath and released a satisfied sigh.
“An exquisite scent. One I’ve not forgotten in all my years of imprisonment.”
Yareli looked away as it tipped its head back to take a sip. She focused on the next goblet and pretended she was donating blood, not feeding a bloodthirsty predator instead.
Once the second one was filled, she took off her jacket and pressed it against the wound. The Curse Eater had not cared to offer any sort of bandages.
“I’ve held up my part of the bargain. Break the curse.” She raised her chin.
The Curse Eater paused its drinking, blood dribbling down its chin. “To break the curse, I will need a part of the caster’s life force.”
“Life force? Do you mean blood?”
“Blood will be best.”
“I don’t have that,” she said.
“Acquire it. I cannot do it otherwise. The threads of life between you are woven into a braid. I need his life force to coax the braid to undo itself.”
Yareli fell to her knees. She had been duped. Helplessness hit her. “He’s a First General. I can’t take anything of his without guaranteed death. There has to be another way.”
The Curse Eater placed the second goblet on the counter, trailing its fingers on the rim as if it was painful not to drink it immediately. Without as much as a glance toward Yareli, it resumed stirring the cauldron.
“There is.”
“What is it?” Yareli snapped. As despair sank its teeth into her, her patience thinned.
“Kill him.”
Her hope stuttered and died. How could she accomplish either of those two things?
No longer wanting to be there, she stood and noted her lightheadedness, remembering her wound.
The Curse Eater wore a satisfied smirk, pissing her off.
She needed to leave now, because something told her there was no rule against eating a corpse.
As Yareli walked away, the Curse Eater called after her.
“Bring his blood or kill him.”
Its laughter echoed in Yareli’s head long after she could no longer hear it.