Page 67 of Too Cursed To Kiss
I ran forward and stumbled to a halt as the agent looked at me. Crap. Right, slow movements. I walked slowly and evenly sideways and then went straight for the agent as he looked wildly around trying to find me. I stuffed the marbleinto my bra, then chopped him hard on the wrist. The agent didn’t drop the gun. He fired it. I fell sideways as Wald threw himself at me. My hand went to my shoulder where the bullet hole should have been. No wound. I looked up. Wald and the agent were locked in a death grip, and blood was pouring out of Wald’s side.
I jammed my hand down my dress, grabbing the marble. The other agent was looking around for me. Oh my God.
Pull it together, Harlan. Wald’s been shot before. He’ll heal before I even get up. He’ll wrestle the agent, kill him like before, and we’ll continue on our way. You can only be cursed once, right?Maybe the agents didn’t count. Hadn’t Wald said the curse was about family? I watched in abject horror as more blood gushed out from two more shots, and Wald fell to his knees.
Nine hells. What was I going to do now?
Iran through the plausible scenarios and then the implausible ones: Wald dying, me dying, or both of us dying were the alternating endings. I didn’t like any of them. Two agents were more than I could take down on my own. I needed that gun or another weapon. I also needed to know why Wald wasn’t changing form and ripping the agents into ground meat. Either they were some special kind of thing he couldn’t kill, they’d made it impossible for him to change, or there was another explanation I hadn’t figured out yet.
The agents hauled Wald into the back of the SUV. Feeling like a fox sneaking around the hounds, I moved in for a closer look. The trunk space was kitted out in metal, like Wald’s special box with the same kind of holes, but wasn’t padded with velvet. Wald growled or groaned. My bodysurged with adrenaline, unraveling a primal rage to avenge him as the hatch closed.
The male agent was a couple of inches taller than me and had some muscle that rivaled Tyre. Wrestling and winning was not happening. The female was strong too but petite in comparison. Maybe half a ruler shorter than me. She had a gun in her hand and a holster under her blazer, which made her an easier target because she couldn’t drive and hold a gun.
My heart pounded as I slid past the male agent and crawled into the back seat. He looked around as I moved, but I was pretty sure he didn’t see me. They both got into the car, and the petite agent tucked her gun into the shoulder holster before she started it.
Metal clanged in the back as Wald kicked the box sides. The male agent whipped around seeing through me. I breathed out the relief that Wald was still alive. Now it was my turn to save him. On the floor were ammo boxes and a med kit. Maybe there was something I could use.
The agents began to talk in a language that had a similar accent to Wald. Were they Norwegian too? That made no sense. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, so listening had no purpose.
I dropped to the floor, scrunching up as small as I could beside the med kit, and fumbled with the latch which turned out to be a lock. Who locks a med kit?
The ammo boxes were the plastic kind, and they weren’t locked. It really piqued my interest in that medical kit. The bullets in the first two were basic 357s, or so it said on the label. The third box said it contained hollow bullets packed with something written in a language I couldn’t read. If they’d worked on Wald, maybe they’d work on the Grigores.
Taking a deep breath, I released the marble back into my bra. Quietly, I opened the ammo box. Inside was a key! Myheart leapt. I plucked it and two of the hollow bullets out of the box, excited to open the med kit. The male agent reached into the backseat, and his hand landed on my back. He yelled as I grabbed the marble. Slowly, I clambered up on the seat as he leaned into the backseat, searching for me. He took the ammo box that I had just rifled.
Nine hells.
He said something, which I assumed was “I must have imagined it.”
I dropped to the floor again. My time was running out. I let go of the marble and jammed the key into the med pack’s cheapo lock and twisted it. The goddamned key broke off but not before the case lock clicked open. Maybe my luck was changing. I pulled out syringes and bottles, praying they weren’t antibiotics. It didn’t matter. Whatever they had in them was going to have to work. The case closing caused the passenger to look back again, but the marble was already in my hand.
The vials had names I couldn’t even pronounce. Thrumming with adrenaline, I jammed a syringe into the first bottle and broke the fricking needle. Fuck. It looked so easy on TV.
Seconds ticking, I tipped the vial upside down and slowly inserted the second needle while pulling the plunger back. I got that needle in on the first try, but trying to pull the plunger back, the fricking vial slipped out of my fingers.
How hard could this be? On my second try, I got an inch of liquid into the syringe. It would have to be enough. I tapped the needle with my fingernail because TV nurses always flick a syringe.
The agents were fighting, flinging partially English curses and accusing the other of being a slob. The woman agent slowed down and changed lanes. This was my chance.
I moved as far over to the right side of the passenger seatas I could get, with a clear shot at the male Grigore’s neck. Shoving one hand into my cleavage, I prayed for the stars to finally fucking align while jamming the syringe into the man’s neck and depressing the plunger.
He screeched, and the driver swerved the car onto the shoulder, spraying gravel. Leaving the needle hanging out of his neck, I grabbed the marble, ready to snatch any available weapon.
The man yanked the syringe out of his neck and blood sprayed across the window. He pressed a hand against the gushing wound. The petite agent leapt out of the driver’s side and raced around to his side of the car. She opened the passenger door.
The keys were in the center cup holder. The male agent fell out of the car, yowling like a stuck pig. I moved as quickly as I dared into the front seat. Then in one outrageously easy movement, I closed the car door, started the car, and shifted into drive.
Igunned the engine, mostly ignoring the yelp and the clunk as the open passenger door took down the female agent. To be honest, I cringed, but I wasn’t stopping to wonder what would have happened if I’d been more careful. Tearing down the highway like the hounds of hell were behind me, I pulled off at the next interchange and found a parking lot.
Heart racing and giving silent prayers, I got out and ran to the trunk. Wald wasn’t moving, but he was breathing. I touched him, but he didn’t stir. I cupped his face and rubbed his jaw, the bristles soft under my fingers. I was breathing shallow and fast. What if he died on me? I kissed him gently. He moaned, and his eyelids flickered.
Under his jacket, the wound was weeping but not gushing blood.
“Why isn’t this healing like the other times?” I whispered.
He coughed and said, as if it took all the energy he had to talk, “It is, but slowly because it’s poisoned. The bullets…”
“I know they’re hollow. Packed with something. What do I do?” My stomach plummeted. Idaho was still hours away, and God knew where the nearest hospital was.
