The Golden Curse

By Theresa Paz

Seventeen year old, Kirk Andrew Lawley, hates his life. He keeps to himself at school because of what he is. However, it’s not your typical teenage angst. Kirk is cursed. His ancestors were ruthless warriors that burned down small villages and took countless lives. What they did was despicable, but that wasn’t what started this curse. It was his ancestral uncle that did the dirty deed by killing an animal for sport. Unfortunately, this animal was a beloved pet of a powerful witch. So for three centuries, the men in his family have carried a beastly burden.

Unlike his sister, Brianna, who enjoys the many splendors of being rich, Kirk and his Uncle Andrew sneak out and do nightly acts of heroism. These selfless sacrifices serve as an atonement for his forefather’s morally corrupt ways…until the arrival of the Carmichaels, the new owners of the dog kennel where Kirk works.

As Kirk comes to know them, he discovers that the couple’s twin daughters, Anna and Kara, harbor their own magical secrets and that a new kind of danger lurks: ungodly creatures that one could never dream existed. His family must unite with the Carmichaels in order to fight against these monsters. In doing so, he learns that his curse is possibly one with a larger destiny in mind. One that could end this fantastical nightmare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483574417

Book preview

54   Guardians

Prologue

A strong breeze from the North carries the leaves from the valley below up to me. They fly around in a frenzy as I hoist myself onto a moss covered boulder and sniff the air. My nose tickles.

I gaze down the muddy trail. Every detail of the verdant landscape is sharp and clear. For just a moment, I marvel at the brilliant array of autumn colors displayed in the trees, then return to the same question that has been looming over me, like the dark clouds above.

Where am I? And how the hell did I get here? I rack my brain for the elusive answers.

Not a single recognizable marker. I mutter to myself. My only clue is when I face the direction of the sun. The long shadows cast by the trees and rocks tell me it is early morning.

Another gust blows. Amongst the surrounding pleasantries of the birch, oak and pine, minute traces of a foul scent stings my nose. Through the mist I spy a man standing by a noble white steed and he is holding a weapon. Is that blood I see?

My eyes are drawn from the knife to the limp body on the ground. My instincts take over and before I know it I’m at the scene. I knock him to the ground. As he sits there stunned, I seize the bloodied knife.

What in God’s name have you done? I take a step forward, then stumble backwards when I get a good look at him.

Those golden brown eyes, Roman nose, and cleft chin immediately indicate he is family. Though, a bit strange, with his sandy brown hair wavy and disheveled just like mine, you would assume we are brothers.

Twin brothers.

I shake off the momentary shock as I look at the animal on the ground. Sadness fills my heart knowing just moments ago an innocent life was taken.

Wait a minute. My eyes grow wide when I realize the man is wearing a kilt. Attached to his leather sash is the creature’s unshorn white tail.

This is a dream—one that’s been recurring for a while now. Although, with me in it, a little different this time around, so I wait to see what happens next.

The heathen stands and dusts himself off.

Are you mad? He kicks at the carcass. This is nothing but a mangy cur!

Blind idiot! I swipe the knife at him and he dodges my swing. You’re the reason our family suffers! I stifle a laugh that this accusation is like blaming myself.

Put down the dagger! He thrusts his hand forward. Do you not see? The ring he boasts on his finger is engraved with the old family crest. I am your flesh and blood. Then, I hear an all too familiar female voice bellow from behind me.

No! She wails as she cradles the mangled dog in her arms. My precious Prince is gone.

I am taken aback at the sight of the beautiful witch, Christina. Surprisingly, she is dressed not in the flowing white gown I usually dream of her to be in, but a torn and dirty shift. An unpolished red ruby hangs from a delicate gold chain around her neck.

You! She points to him. You wretched monster, you have made worm’s meat of my beloved. Breaking the chain, she dangles the ruby in front of the murderer and in a low authoritative tone says, Kneel, show your remorse.

How dare you speak to me with such impudence, wench! He turns and draws his sword from his steed.

This scene I know, his next act is to strike. But instead of allowing my dream to play out the way it usually does, I go and stand by Christina.

She narrows her eyes. From this day forth, you are nothing more than a, a...no, she slumps and relinquishes a forsaken sigh, I cannot do this.

Please, my sweet Christina, you must. I gently brush her dark locks to the side and gaze into her beautiful emerald eyes. The ivory handle of the sword lifts and points at her. With much urgency I say, Do it now, or all will be lost.

She sullenly delivers the curse.

Down, eternally you shall be,

Listen for the voice you seek,

Sit! Only your kind will hear,

As this rock I hold, I keep,

Lay! Watch, and as I say,

Fall before me all your kind,

For this curse you see and I will wear,

Your blood and soul now bind.

I crumble to the ground onto my hands and knees. My agonizing cries can hardly suppress the excruciating pain of my bones breaking and resetting. Thousands upon thousands of what feels like ants beneath my skin lacerate their way out as I tightly squeeze my eyes shut and brace for what I am becoming.

****

Awakened by my heavy breathing, I threw off the covers and went to the study.

Why, God...why do you keep showing me these dreams...why? I stood there for a moment thinking that a celestial voice would actually speak, but that was ridiculous. I picked up the glass case that housed my family’s gold coin and gave myself the obvious answer.

My ancestors. They were brave, brave warriors. But they didn’t fight for justice, they pillaged small villages for their own pleasure. They raped countless women after killing their husbands and children. Even the poor pets were not spared. Not a single iota of respect for life. Their despicable actions will forever haunt me. That, and of course, what my arrogant, windbag of an uncle did. His killing of Christina’s beloved pet for sport signified the beginning of our curse. The ‘Gintorn Aysa’ curse. And now, for the last three centuries, my family has carried this burden.

I gave a good hard look at the coin and its intricate details, a majestic tree with a long-haired watchdog standing strong and mighty in the forefront. The breed was reminiscent of a Golden Retriever, but what about the tree? Was it Oak, Magnolia? That one I could never figure out.

Why does this even matter? The dog and that, that tree, embodied the guilt I carried, so I imagined myself destroying them all. My grip tightened and before I could stop, the glass case shattered on the floor, cutting my hand.

I picked up the gold coin from amongst the shards. Every time, I expected it to be cold, rigid and unsettling to the touch. Instead it was pleasantly soft and warm, as if alive.

Each morning was the same. I’d sit here at the desk just contemplating my very being: a punished soul. Yet, this very bane of our existence, this curse, has led me to protect the innocent against those we once were.

Protecting the innocent. This justified why I still allowed myself to live and breathe. Though, that odd conception of my wanting to be by the witch Christina’s side, the very one who gave us this curse, overshadowed this last dream. I was beginning to think as if there might be something more—an intended purpose as to why we are what we are.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong...

Against the corner wall, the soft bells of the mahogany grandfather clock chimed. It was almost time to head out.

I carefully placed the coin onto the desk and wrote a quick note to my housekeeper—Rose, I’m very sorry for the mess—then headed back to my bedroom.

Let’s get this show on the road and be what my family expects me to be.

Chapter 1Showtime

It was the first weekend performance of my Aunt Isabelle’s (or Aunt Izzie, as we called her) production of The Golden Curse. A play she had written and produced about my family’s ancestry. Tonight marked its fifth anniversary at the Warsaw Theater, a small but warm production house.

Only moments ago I sat with my family drinking sparkling cider and celebrating with the cast of the show. Now here I was, Kirk Andrew Lawley, son of a billionaire hotel mogul, crouched behind a dirty car, in a dark alley just outside the theater, waiting for Uncle Andrew. He had asked me to meet him here once he finished getting out of his so-called ‘tough’ Highland warrior costume, which consisted of a Tartan plaid kilt that, in my opinion, looked reminiscent of Bree’s old schoolgirl uniform.

A few stragglers walked by talking about the performance.

What’d ya think of the play, Sal? A lanky redhead gingerly tugged at his boldly printed tie as he asked a hulking behemoth of a man.

Hated it, so don’t ever bring me to one again. Got it? The larger fella growled then smacked the redhead hard across the head.

Ow, okay. He stumbled into another man who had been bending forward into the trunk of his car.

The sound of glass bottles clinked as a stocky blond turned around. Here, Sal. His hand slightly shook as he handed him a beer. I’m sorry. Maria said you’d like the play.

Maria? Sal scowled as he said her name. Looks like we’re gonna have to pay her a visit later. He downed his drink then put the bottle on the ground, next to an open dumpster. So where’s this friend of yours we gotta meet...

Directly behind Sal, Champ, my uncle’s golden dog, crept out from the shadows and hurried toward me. Champ released a heavy grunt, then seconds later morphed into Uncle Andrew crouching next to me.

Kirk, that’s them. Be ready to fight when I say, his forehead leaned against my shoulder as he spoke between short breaths. It zapped a lot of our energy whenever we changed from animal to human.

You sure you want to do this? I wasn’t too keen on getting into fights for the heck of it.

Of course, I got a bad feeling about that one when he disrupted my curtain call...smelled him a mile away. Andrew growled that last statement under his breath as he wiped his nose. That filth needs a lesson in theater etiquette.

You’re right, I agreed. The tone in my uncle’s voice told me that I had better back him up.

The feeble men were, again, berated for bringing Sal to a lousy, two-bit play. I could hear their teeth chatter against the rim of the bottle when they drank their beer. A menacing Sal finally walked away from them and lit a cigarette. Uncle Andrew signaled me to begin the attack.

This was it, the most humiliating part of my night. After leaving my clothes and favorite gray jacket on the ground, all I could think was what a pain it was to change into this cursed vigilante disguise every time I patrolled with Uncle.

I reluctantly went to him. As I got closer, the more I wondered how the hell we were going to take down this guy. He was built like a tank!

The weirdest thing though was his friends. Both men looked like upstanding citizens, nothing like the Goliath Andrew set his sights on. I looked back and forth at Sal and the two clean-cut men and wondered why they were friends.

I finally stopped trying to make sense of it all and took cover behind a trashcan. My eyes trailed up Sal’s enormous trunk of a body to his bulbous shaven head.

Man-oh-man, is he tall. I stared at him in awe. Of course, being this low everything towered over me. What if he has a weapon? I started thinking about my favorite book, Call of the Wild, and played out the scene where Buck, the sled dog, was beaten into submission by several men and one of them had a club...

This could possibly turn out just like that, three of them against two of us. I felt uncertain about the situation and instinctively turned, ready to bolt. Before I could move, Uncle Andrew nudged me.

Don’t worry, it’ll be like last time. Champ goes first.

I nodded. I should’ve known better. Uncle Andrew always knew exactly what to do and that everything was under control. I’ve seen him in action. His last fight was against five men and he walked away with just a bloody nose. Uncle Andrew was an amazing fighter, a champion of the weak, so I waited patiently until he needed me.

A slight shiver of anticipation ran down my spine as Champ trotted over to face the big guy named Sal.

Hey, you’re that dog from the stage. Whoa, you’re a lot bigger than I thought. Sal flicked his cigarette. You come out for some bitch action? he laughed.

Champ wagged his tail then dropped something from his mouth. I couldn’t make it out, but figured it was the chew bone the guy had thrown at my uncle’s head during his curtain call.

What the? Sal picked it up. Who gave this to you? His thick neck craned past Uncle, his eyes surveying the dark alley.

Champ’s snarls were followed by quick barks. That was my cue. I needed to act fast before the others came to help.

Truly a red-eyed devil, as I drew myself for the spring, hair bristling, mouth foaming...

I recited from Call of the Wild, giving me the courage and strength to stand boldly before the redhead.

What the hell? He threw his bottle. Sal, what’d you do to rile up that dog? He looked past me and at his friend.

Nothing, now git! Sal kicked at Champ who bit down onto his boot. Yow—get this damn mutt off me! He looked to the blond as he hopped up and down on one foot, fumbling for something in his other boot.

Before Sal could pull his arm up, Andrew knocked him over. The knife Sal had gotten out fell from his hand. While those two tangled, I squared up my shoulders, looking as menacing as I could to the others.

Go, so I can help my uncle. I stalked forward.

Easy now. The tall redhead raised his hands up and slowly backed away. I’m only trying to help. Ah, man, what am I doing? I didn’t sign up for this...I’m outta here. He scrambled to the car.

No, we can’t leave yet! The blond dude yelled to his friend and I charged. Whoa. His wire-framed glasses teetered at the edge of his nose as he stumbled backwards. Never mind, I’m not that stupid...wait for me! He ran to the car and the two sped off.

Chickens. I smirked.

My job of scaring them away was done, so I escaped down the street and barked out the standard code that let Uncle know I was safe. I stopped running when he didn’t respond. Looking back, I saw him motionless on the ground. I sprinted back as fast as I could.

Just as Sal lifted the jagged glass, ready to strike my uncle, I made it just in time, barreling into him and knocking him to the ground.

Son of a bitch! Sal shoved me off and threw a punch. His knuckle grazed the edge of my chin. It felt like a sledgehammer barely missing its mark. Just that little tap had my nose stinging and bleeding...or was it his breath. It smelled like rotting garbage...or flesh.

I wanted to cover my nose, but seeing his fist coming at me again made me want to cover my whole face. Before I could do anything, Champ chomped down on Sal and dragged him to the back of the dumpster. The sound of Champ’s teeth ripping clothes apart smoothly transitioned to fist punching into Sal’s gut as Uncle Andrew morphed back into his human self.

Kirk, catch. I was about to give my hair a good shake when uncle tossed a small bottle to me. That’s what fell out of this low-life’s pocket. They’re date rape pills, Roofies. My hunch was right, looks like we saved an innocent from getting raped.

Whoa. My ears perked from hearing this. I practically rolled over when I switched from being a dog on all fours to a human sitting flat-bottom.

Do you want me to call the cops? I grabbed my clothes.

No, I’ll do it. Take my car and head back to my place. I’ll meet you there in an hour.

Chapter 2Home away from home

Thumpthump-thumpthump...

Lying on the ground, with my eyes closed, I listened to the glorious sound of my heart beating and thanked God I was still alive.

I looked up into the morning sky and spread my arms out, skimming the cool tips of the grass as I thought back to last night’s dogfight. Once again, Uncle Andrew saved me from getting obliterated. My heart just wasn’t into upholding this curse of ours, the way Uncle did. Sure, our natural obligation was to protect the innocent, but honestly I was beginning to think this curse was more a penance of shame.

Now, my only reminder of last night was this fist-sized bruise on my shoulder when I knocked Sal down.

Remnants of his disgusting stench still lingered. Though, I’m not so sure disgusting was enough to describe just how much it affected me. The smell of rotting flesh gave me horrible nightmares and I woke up this morning feeling sick.

Thankfully, in the confines of this chain-link fence, I was at peace now. In fact, I was pretty lucky for finding this place.

For several years, this golden retriever rescue kennel was my home away from home. Before getting a job here, come rain or shine, this is where I’d be until the sun went down. Together with my friends we’d play catch, swim in the pool and then roll around on the grass, warming ourselves in the sun.

Friends rolling around and warming themselves in the sun?

Yeah, I realize that last statement sounded weird. Of course, nobody knows the real me aside from family. My sister, Brianna, teases me all the time about calling these dogs friends. But, they are.

In spite of carrying this curse all seventeen years of my life one would think I’d be more of a people person since I am half dog.

Not with these keen senses of mine. Every day, I pick up on things that irritate me more than your average Joe. Fortunately, I could ignore the malicious gossip of others, but the bullying, not so much. My first instinct is to protect the helpless, and because I knew the kind of damage I was capable of doing, I kept to myself at school.

Today is Sunday, a workday for me, and I’m a little tired from last night. After our fight in the alley, Uncle Andrew took me out to the Biscuits and Blues restaurant before dropping me off at home. Like the sign says, they have musicians that play the Blues. Though they don’t only sell biscuits, they serve very good Louisiana-style food.

I didn’t get to bed until almost one in the morning and I had to be at work by ten. Not too bad, considering that would’ve been a good eight hours of sleep right there. But because the new owners of the kennel, Jonathan and Olivia Carmichael, were arriving today, I decided to get here at the crack of dawn and spruce up the place. Until now they’ve been running the business from Nebraska, entrusting me to handle it here in San Jose, California, so I wanted to impress them.

By nearly six o’clock in the evening, there was still no word from the new owners. After being here twelve long hours I was getting impatient and had already walked the dogs twice. I’d even done another once over to the office. Though, after cleaning again and again, I’d consider it more of a thrice over.

Why haven’t they called? I stared at the phone, hoping it’d ring if I looked at it long enough. I gave up and ended at the exact same spot where I started this morning, lying on the grass. My friend, Jessie, walked up and sat next me.

Hey, girl. I see you’re doing much better today. I tenderly stroked her fur. At the same time, I was checking to see if she were still nervous.

She was my first and foremost reason why I had come early. Just yesterday, out of the blue, Olivia emailed me, specifically requesting a mature dog be brought to them upon their arrival.

I chose Jessie. After being here the longest, I was happy she finally had a ‘forever home’ to go to. At three years old, Jessie was the oldest dog at the kennel, which made her the matriarch of the pack. I, along with her, shared the responsibilities of alpha leaders.

Last night, before taking off with my family to see The Golden Curse, I packed the dog food I was bringing to Olivia. I made the stupid mistake of throwing in Jessie’s squeaky ball. An extremely bad call on my part.

I should have known from her constant running in and out of the office that she was looking for it. When she stood next to the box that held her ball, only then did I realize she was upset. Having been rescued from an abusive owner, this had been her home, her sanctuary and now she knew she was leaving.

I promise I’ll always check up on you. And if I sense any trouble, you’re outta there. I meant every word.

She licked my hand, then nuzzled me. Her behavior today was definitely much more relaxed.

You’ve been a big part of my life. You’re like family...my second sister. I looked at her then away, lowering my head. She appreciated that I didn’t try to dominate her.

Maybe I should have my sister, Brianna, go before you. Ha! They’ll never know the difference because she could be quite a bi—

The office phone rang. I ran inside.

Golden Kennels. Kirk speaking. About time! It was the new owner and she was asking for Jessie to be brought over to their home.

That’s perfectly fine. I know it’s too late to go over things now. Let me lock up and I’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes. I hung up after she did. Hmm, short and sweet. Not even a goodbye. Well, Jess, I said holding up the collar I was going to put on her. It’s show time.

She stood on her hind legs and barked.

Chapter 3The Carmichaels

I drove up the main road, passed the old abandoned golf course, then turned into a cul-de-sac. I was about to check the address on each house, but then my nose tickled from the unusually heavy amounts of dust blowing off a Jeep Commander at the far end of the court. That ended up being the Carmichaels’ home.

I parked behind their SUV, and sat there quietly staring at their modest one-story house, thinking of ways to sneak over to visit Jess once she was settled. Here, I had to worry about people who’d most certainly spot me in their small backyard. It wasn’t going to be easy, like at the kennel where I’d jump the fence and hide in the pool area or among the dogs until the coast was clear. The old kennel owner who recently passed away must’ve been blind as a bat because not once did he ever notice me. Of course, how could he in a sea of golden retrievers...

Jessie, who sat in the backseat, nudged my arm with her nose.

Sorry ‘bout that, girl. Let’s not keep them waiting like they did us. I grabbed the dog food from the passenger seat, then led Jessie to the front door. Before ringing the bell, I buttoned up my flannel shirt, making myself somewhat presentable.

Be right there! a female voice yelled.

There were footsteps, then the door opened. The smell of fresh paint invaded my senses. But, there was something else I picked up, flowers...or was it her perfume?

You must be Kirk. I’m Olivia. Come on in. She smiled.

Standing in the foyer, I turned my head slightly to the right, noting in the living room a vase of yellow roses placed on a marble end table. Two fairly large abstract paintings with ghost-like figures hung near it. Creepy.

Olivia’s long black hair fell forward as she knelt down to Jessie and ruffled her fur lovingly. Hi sweetie. Let’s meet my family.

When she stood up, I was amazed to see that she was just a few inches shorter than my six-foot frame. Pretty tall since I could tell she was Filipino like our housekeeper, Rose, who only stood a diminutive five feet.

Her eyes looked gray. Since color blindness afflicted all the males in my family that meant they had to be green.

It was an unusual trait to have for someone who’s Filipino. Their eyes are usually brown, but I’m just generalizing, of course.

Kirk, she whispered, I’d like for this to be a surprise, so shh. Ooh, I can’t wait to see their faces! She shimmied down the hall.

I quietly followed her to the kitchen in the back part of the house. She stopped a few feet from where a step divided the dining area to the family room. Two girls, about my age, were sitting on a loveseat. One was a blonde, the other brunette.

Again, I picked up on that same floral scent. It was stronger here. I pretended to admire their home and looked around for another vase of flowers but found none.

The blonde stared at me as if I had something on my face. I self-consciously wiped the tip of my nose, then raked my fingers through the tousled mess atop my head.

Nice comb job, as Brianna would put it, you look just like Jessie now along with the rest of your mangy friends...

Olivia snapped me out of my thoughts.

These are my daughters, Anna and Kara. The blonde waved when Olivia introduced her as Anna. Girls, this is Kirk Lawley.

Hey. I gave a nice nod of my head to them. Aside from the girls having the same light gray eyes, they didn’t look anything alike.

He’s been running our rescue kennel and has brought us a new friend. Olivia smiled.

Go ahead, Jessie. I swished my hand behind me and signaled her to come. From where I had her wait in the hallway, she walked out then sat down by Olivia’s feet.

Wait, we own a kennel too? Anna asked. I thought Dad was just taking over Mr. Horio’s landscaping business.

He is, Olivia said matter-of-factly. The kennel was also part of the inheritance, along with this house. God bless his soul, Ralph left us everything.

Everything, seriously? Anna’s face