Dead womans curse, p.1
Dead Woman's Curse, page 1
Dead Woman’s Curse
by K.M. Martinez
Copyright © 2022 by K.M. Martinez,
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN-979-8-9871186-0-3
Ebook ISBN-979-8-9871186-1-0
For my family who supported me through the crazy times.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Glossary
Author’s Note
About the Author
Chapter One
The atrium was cool, a sharp contrast to the scorching weather outside. The skylight overhead spanned the entire ceiling, its glass a cataclysm of color—red, green, blue, and orange—and gave way to a proud golden sun that winked merrily down on the sole occupant below. It was there that Melanie Mendez of Clan Kale stood. She stared up, not admiring the glass but instead looking through the window as if it wasn’t there at all. She was looking past it, into the world beyond the pretty shield of color.
Mel liked to think she wasn’t a fool, but as she stood ramrod straight, warring with reason and reluctance, she had to wonder: Maybe I’m not the smartest person in the world. It was a difficult decision she was set to make in a few moments—a decision that would irrevocably change the course of her life—but she had little choice. There was no going back. There was only one way to go: forward.
And yet questions plagued her.
Can I do this? Will it do any good? Will they listen?
Before she could come to a decision, Sapienti Mari Mendez, Mel’s grandmother and Elder to Clan Kale, walked through the massive wooden doors. Robed resplendently in Kale gold, she sat languidly on one of the many benches that lined the room. Her compact body hardly took up any space on the bench.
“So?” the older woman prompted, adjusting her black sash so it didn’t touch the floor. She leveled dark brown eyes at Mel. The tight bun that held her grey hair made her tanned, weathered face look severe.
“I have reservations,” Mel said after a long moment, her weariness bleeding through. She ran a tired hand through her long, disheveled brown hair. That morning, when she’d looked in the mirror, her normally tanned complexion had looked peaky, and her brown eyes were bloodshot. She was exhausted. Mel was starting to think her time in the land between Hell and the living was having an effect. Since she and Core O’Shea of Clan Ferus had returned from Inter Spatium Abyssus three days before, she’d gotten almost no sleep, which had led to this creeping weariness in her bones.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” Sapienti Mendez responded, raising a hand. “But a tribunal will clear the air. It’s exactly what’s needed to get the other clans aligned.”
Something needled Mel in the back of her skull. She rubbed a hand down the back of her neck.
The night before, while she had sat tiredly at the kitchen table, poking at her dinner, her grandmother had asked her if she’d be willing to speak at a tribunal and give testimony about the traitors, the Eighth Clan, and their actions at this year’s Agora. Atrocities, led by Anton Morel of Clan Janso and Sapienti Wershall of Clan Ivor, had led to the death of many clanspeople. The deaths had enraged everyone, including clans Mayme and Tam, which were normally the most even-tempered of all the clans.
Yet Mel was feeling torn about the request, and not quite sure why. Only days ago, she had been wanting to tell her story. What’s wrong with me? she thought.
She looked at her grandmother, steeling her resolve.
“I don’t think this is the way,” she finally said, and the ache in her head eased.
Sapienti Mendez made a frustrated noise. “Then what, Mel? What else are we to do? They want your head right now. If you speak of the events, then we can at least circumvent some of the violence. Some clanspeople will believe you.”
Some, not all, Mel thought, and her grandmother knew that as well. Not everyone would accept her testimony.
Again that cold needle slid down, its edge ragged and ripping.
“No,” she said.
“No?” Low, menacing. How dare you was unspoken but clearly implied. “You refuse?”
“We can’t fight a battle with the other clans as well as the Eighth,” Mel replied. “That’s what we would be doing. Even with Clan Ferus on our side, it’s too much. Clan Moors is ready to explode now that Sapienti Messer has died.”
“Mel—”
“The problem is me,” Mel continued with a rush, pacing the floor. “They don’t trust me. We need to dampen their ire, and my testimony at a tribunal will only stoke it. Too many of their brothers and sisters were traitors, and my revealing that will merely hasten the divide. They will balk at the thought of their own clanspeople betraying our ways.”
“Do you have another solution?” Sapienti Mendez asked.
“They’re not ready to face…”
Mel trailed off. That needle stuck sharply in the base of her skull, and something slipped loose from around her chest.
There’s only one path. You know this. You have to walk it…
****
A slap on the table stirred her out of her chair. She jumped to her feet, heart stuttering, ready to fight. But it was just Gabe. Mel’s younger brother looked down on her surprised face and laughed. His brown hair was a mess, his face unshaved, but his spirits were high, his smile bright, and his brown eyes shining. He was just happy she was here with him, alive, and batted her hands down playfully when she halfheartedly tried to slap the small mustache off his face.
“Come on, lunch is ready. Better get some before Victor finishes it all.” He leaned over the table, interested. “What’s this? Are you doing spells? No wonder you dozed off. That’s boring stuff.”
A book, Purging With Fire, was open on the table where she was sitting, and various glyphs and symbols in Old Tongue were scratched into her notebook. Seek, one line revealed. Destroy, said another, and in the middle was a wretched-looking skull with a spiral spinning out of its grotesque mouth.
Gabe pulled her along as she blinked blearily, wondering how she’d ended up in the library. Wasn’t I just in the atrium?
It was a sign of how tired she was that she let him lead her by the hand like a child. She felt like a child. She wished she had the responsibilities of a child. All she’d have to do was wake up and go to school. But no.
“I hear Grandma’s not forcing you to testify at the tribunal,” Gabe said as they walked the halls.
“What?” she said, confused. “Really?”
“Really. The new plan is so much better. Thrash said a lot of clanspeople have already cooled since the announcement. Can you believe it? They’re being conciliatory toward us.”
Mel was too tired to think about what Gabe’s words meant. “Well… that’s great,” she said.
Am I dead or am I dreaming? she wondered, squeezing Gabe’s hand so tight he squawked. Is this real life?
When she tried to leave the house for some fresh air before lunch, Drew Wiley cut her off with his tall body, blocking her and gently directing her back to the table. So did Tío Jorge when she tried the front door, so she bemusedly gave in, falling into a chair with a shake of her head.
When she finally had enough sense to question her predicament, Gabe gave her a quizzical look over his plate of arroz con pollo and related that it was her own doing—that she needed to stay out of sight.
“No going back! No backsies!” he said, shaking his fork at her.
Dread filled her then—because she didn’t know what he was talking about. But before she could ask, he took off in search of Siva Reddy. And after that, the dread didn’t last long. In fact, it floated away like dandelion seeds in the wind.
Time kept blending as it does when one has declined into punch-drunk exhaustion. Yet Mel kept going. She had nowhere to be and no one to see, but she paced the house like an animal. She was already regretting the decision not to speak at the tribunal. She just knew it was the reason she was stuck in this house. I should’ve just done the damn testimony. It would’ve meant freedom. It would’ve meant war with the clans, too, but still… freedom. Now she was stuck in the house, out of sight of everyone but a trusted few. The cage made her skin clammy.
After a while, she looked for a bed to fall into. But her room was too close to her cousin Charlotte’s—even though they were at opposite ends of the house. Everywhere was too close. Her cousin was lying pale and unconscious, and Tía Alice wailed like a siren whenever she went in there. It was awful. Just thinking about Charlotte made a heavy
Mel’s grandmother had tried everything to revive her—and failed. The First Healer had now taken over her care, but still there was no change. And for this, Mel felt a deep sadness in her soul. She wept when she dwelled too much on it.
So she tried not to.
Instead, she stalked around the house in the dead of night, feet creaking on floorboards. Victor woke and watched her with his steely brown eyes but said nothing. He just sat his massive body on the stairs, and every time she rounded the corner, there he was, shaved head gleaming in the falling light, massive hands resting on his knees.
When she finally grew too tired to stand, she gave up—and ended up on the floor. She dreamt of blood and sinew ripped from torn bodies. Bones splintered and cracking. All of it echoing in her ears as men and women screamed. As Death screamed.
Her sleep was fitful, and she yearned to wake from it, but it kept her trapped in its clutches. The more she tried to stir, the deeper she burrowed into its snare.
A woman appeared. Her glowing gold eyes shimmered in the darkness, watching with keen interest. She said nothing. Just watched with a countenance drawn in disappointment…
Hours passed, but it felt like only minutes before warm hands found Mel’s face. She opened her eyes to find shrewd green ones looking down at her.
The First Healer, Isis Trevino.
“I thought you were Cori,” Mel said, dazed.
“Sorry,” the First Healer responded. Her gold wire-rimmed glasses hung by a thin chain around her neck. Her skin had a sallow look, but otherwise she looked sprightly and well-rested. She frowned. “You’re not well.”
No shit, Mel thought. Then closed her eyes and fell once more into a light slumber that provided no rest.
****
“I have a confession,” she announced the next afternoon. She was among a small gathering of Kales in the atrium. “I don’t know what you all are talking about.”
“We’re talking about you,” her grandmother said.
Mel blinked slowly and stared at her grandmother for way too long. Long enough that her grandmother furrowed her brow.
“Someone needs to guard you,” Sapienti Mendez explained.
“What?” Mel asked.
“You’re the heir, Mel,” said the First Healer. “You need someone to lead your guard. Especially since you’re…” Her words died off. She gave Mel’s grandmother a concerned look before turning her eyes to Mel again.
“I know you feel you don’t need one,” her grandmother added, “but this is non-negotiable.”
Mel felt anger stir in her gut. She would not have a guard. Was it not enough that she was cooped up in the house? Now she needed someone to watch her? No. That was where she drew the line. She drew air into her lungs and prepared for the fight to come.
“Thomas.”
That was not what she had meant to say. Sapienti Mendez and the First Healer looked as confused as Mel felt. She cleared her throat and took a short breath, ready to correct herself. She didn’t need a babysitter. That was what she had meant to say. And she would say it. Right now.
“Thomas Thorn will lead my guard.”
“Thorn is a good choice,” her grandmother said. “Recall him. I want him here as soon as possible—before the services begin. We have Kales attending from all over. Then there are the other clans who have yet to vacate the property…”
Her grandmother’s voice faded out as Mel looked at the skylight. What is happening to me? Why am I feeling so goddamn adrift?
Feeling eyes on her, she turned. The First Healer was staring at her. Isis pointed at her own wrist—the healer’s way of reminding Mel of her appointment. Mel decided she’d ask her some questions then. Isis would know. And if she didn’t, Mel would root out the answer.
Mel leaned her head back again, looking at the colors above. Where is Cori? She hadn’t seen the Ferus in… well, she didn’t know how long it had been. But she would really like to see her. She missed her voice and her hair and her eyes and her smile…
“Come on, Mel,” a quiet voice said. Thrash. His soft brown eyes looked hollow. His chin-length hair fell into his face. “Come on, you need sleep.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the atrium. Mel was thankful for his short stature as she threw an arm over his shoulder. “Real sleep,” he continued. “Not that shit you been doing on the floor in the living room. What are you, an animal? Get a real bed, loser.”
They walked up the stairs to her room. Mel looked toward the opposite side of the hall, where Charlotte’s room was, but it was quiet. No siren-wail this time. Only a silent guard standing up against the wall.
Mel let go of Thrash, pushed through her bedroom door, slipped her pants off, and slid under the covers.
Sleep came with a warm amber light behind her eyelids. Comfortable, she sank deep into the calm, her breath even and slow. Her heart pushing and pulling. Pushing and pulling…
****
What a wonder two days’ rest can do for you. Mel woke feeling so much more like herself. She washed up and sat down for a quick breakfast of sausage and eggs that Victor had made. Hunger had finally made an appearance after several days of queasiness, and she scarfed everything down with gusto. Her gaze moved to the kitchen window when she heard the flurry of activity outside. Kales were walking off into the forest toward the Kale memorials, preparing to attend the first day of the Death Rites. Nineteen clanspeople had died the night Sapienti Wershall opened the gate in the pit, and now the rest of the clan would start the process of putting their dead to rest.
Mel bit her lip as she watched them walk in the early-morning gloom.
“Don’t even think about it,” Victor said, pushing more eggs onto her plate.
Mel raised her brows at her older brother. He was dressed in his finest tunic, the one he used for special occasions.
“You’re thinking about joining us, but you can’t,” he said. “No one can see you, Mel.”
“And why can’t they see me?” she asked, remembering how just about everyone had kept her inside the house.
“You know why,” Victor said, after draining a whole glass of orange juice.
“Actually I don’t. Remind me.”
An eyebrow climbed up Victor’s forehead as he studied his sister. “You’re serious? You don’t remember?”
Just then Gabe, their younger brother, came in. “Victor!” he said. “Come on. Grandma’s waiting.” He quickly piled egg and sausage on a slice of toast before folding it in half, then stuffed the entire thing in his mouth at once.
Victor got up from his seat and put his dishes in the sink. “We’ll talk more about this when I get back,” he said to her. “But no bullshit. Don’t leave this fucking house. I’m not fucking around, Mel.”
“You ain’t the boss of me. You ain’t my daddy, neither,” she sassed him, following her brothers into the sitting room where her grandmother stood waiting.
Sapienti Mendez turned as they walked in, but Mel’s attention was on the double doors leading outside, where a figure in white and beige was approaching.
“Is that Siva coming by?” she asked Gabe.
Gabe looked out the doors. “Hell no, that ain’t Siva!” He grabbed Mel by the arm and pulled her back into the kitchen out of view.
“This is just how I wanted my morning to start,” Mel grumbled. “Ordered by one sibling to stay in the house, and manhandled by the other like some wayward kid.”
“Shut up,” Gabe said.
They heard the door open, then their grandmother spoke.
“Cleo Newberry,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve come to announce my presence and inform you that I am acting as representative for Clan Mayme,” answered the rich voice of Cleo Newberry. “As you know, Clan Mayme is in the midst of choosing an Elder, so I will be envoy while we are guests in your territory.”
“I see,” Sapienti Mendez said. “And have any other Maymes arrived?”
“I brought three in my retinue,” Newberry answered. “But they, as well as the rest of my clan, will stay out of your way. We do not wish to inconvenience you any more than we must.”
