Curtain Call: The Familar's Legacy, #4

By R. Lindsay Carter

Cressida Curtain's world is now in imminent danger. Her nemesis Annie Coddle is breaking down the walls of her prison bit by bit. Cressida's family legacy is to make sure that Annie never returns. If she's to live up to that, she needs to pounce, and soon.

The only question remains, how can she defeat a centuries-old evil?

A prophecy may give Cressida some answers, even as it introduces more chaos into her life. There's strength in numbers, and Cressida will need all the help she can get, from friends and strangers alike.

Time is running out. There can only be one victor. And for everyone's sake, it had better be Cressida.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Lindsay Carter
• Release date: Feb 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798985907292

Book preview

Chapter 1

Midnight. The witching hour. A time when most people are safely tucked into their beds, secure from anything that might cause them harm and oblivious to the dangers their world possessed.

These days, I only wished I was one of those people.

Alas, I was all too aware of those dangers. It was the reason I found myself out in the cold night air instead of in a cozy sleeping spot.

I had a job to do.

I stood at the edge of a plot of land, surveying it using only the light of the gibbous moon. The field with its faded white picket fence once housed the graves of lost loved ones from a nearby town. Now, it was clear only the headstones were left, many of them knocked askew by hasty departures. The ground in front of the headstones looked like it had been chewed up, the dark soil contrasting starkly with the white of the surrounding snow.

Given the many footprints the snowy ground recorded, the dead had decided to move house.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a heavy sigh that plumed in front of me like a ghost of my weariness. The crisp air held the cloying smell of rotting flesh, making my nose twitch. I dared not breathe through my mouth, however, imagining that the heaviness of the stench would manifest into a taste, one I had no desire to experience. I spared a glance down at my constant companion, Grimm, who stationed his shaggy body next to mine, his focus on the scene before him. If the smell was intense to me in my human form, I could only imagine how pungent it was to him.

He felt my gaze and returned it, his yellow eyes one of the only discernible features among his pitch-black fur. That, and the tiny patch of white on his chest, the only memento of his near-death experience from the previous fall. He cocked his head.

I don’t think they’re very far away, I murmured. How fast can the undead walk, anyway?

Grimm turned back to survey the cemetery.

I sighed again, feeling the weight of my task settle upon me. Grimm and I had a good history of hunting down and capturing bad guys of all sorts: werewolves, vampires, elementals, and even plain old mundane criminals.

But dead people? Until earlier in the night, that was a new one for us.

A low moan reached my ears, emanating from just past the row of skeletal trees that marked the far edge of the graveyard. Grimm’s ears perked forward, the points becoming unpricked by the intensity of his focus. He growled.

An intense rush of impatience coursed through me. Grimm was making his intentions well known.

Right, I said, bolstering myself. Let’s do this.

Back in the day, when I was simply a bounty hunter, the only weapon I ever carried was an enchanted knife, Hail Mary, and her replacement, Hail Mary II. Both knives had been lost to separate skirmishes, but it made no difference. Neither would suffice for my current battle.

I was not a bounty hunter anymore. I instead fought to save the world.

And I had been forced to upgrade my armament to keep up with the times.

As Grimm and I stalked determinedly forward, I withdrew my new weapon, a short sword embedded with a silver lacework to repel werewolves and imbued with enchantments for speed, accuracy, and—most importantly—a charm that made it impossible for the wielder to hurt herself upon the blade.

In skirmishes that required bloodshed, it protected me better than my knives ever did, like a fully extended claw. I named it Talon.

Talon and I were still getting used to each other. I’d acquired it two weeks ago after a particularly nasty incident with a werewolf, so I’d only had a crash course in learning to use it. Hence why the anti-injury enchantment was vital to my safety, as I had the unfortunate tendency to put parts of my body in the wrong spot.

Luckily for me, tasks like taking down the undead were excellent on-the-job training.

I stepped softly in my fur-lined, leather boots, but the crisp snow underfoot still crunched as it broke, ruining my sneakiness. Grimm did not fare any better as he padded by my side. It had been a couple of days since our last bout of snow, and the layer of white was iced over.

It didn’t matter. They knew I was here.

I reached the copse of trees and ventured to the road beyond them before pausing. A breeze rustled my hair and brought a fresh wave of corruption into my nostrils. Grimm scented the air as well, pointing his nose to the left. I silently agreed with him, and began walking the road in that direction.

Somewhere above us, a crow cawed mournfully.

Another moan filtered from the trees in front of me and to my left. I stopped, focusing on the sound. And then, with a rustling of brush, it appeared on the road before me.

It used to be a man before death had claimed him. He must have been fairly fresh in the grave before his jaunt out of it to still have working vocal cords, but his skin tone was too green and his body too bloated from putrefaction to pass as a living man. He moaned louder at the sight of me and straggled forward.

I raised Talon, ready to take down the revenant before me, but Grimm barked a warning, and I turned in time to see a second undead creature lunging at me from behind.

The corpse went in for a tackle, but I ducked, making it miss and stumble at my feet. Before it could gain its footing, I sliced downward, removing its head with a single sweep. The body instantly fell limp.

That was the key to ending revenants, I’d discovered earlier. I could hack off limbs all day, but until the head was removed or the brain was damaged, these creatures would just keep fighting.

Grimm charged at another revenant to our right as three more crawled out from the trees. None of the others groaned or made any vocalizations besides the first, so I assumed they were older corpses, more decayed.

I’d had worse odds before.

While Grimm battled his own undead, I charged these three, lining them up and swinging Talon once, twice, three times. Three heads rolled and three bodies fell, unmoored from the magic that had reanimated them.

That left Groany. He was faster, another sign of his superior condition. His lips stretched and formed a macabre smile upon his decayed face as he watched me, the revenant magic sparkling within his empty sockets.

Come on, then, I called out, poised. What are you waiting for?

His mouth opened, a hoarse scream of rage emerging as he lurched into a shuffling run.

I waited until he was in range before swinging Talon. The creature blocked my strike with his arm and bent his head to the side, only losing his hand and his ear in the process. Before I could react accordingly, he barreled into me, knocking me backward into the churned and dirty snow on the road.

The impact stunned me, and I dropped my sword. I fought to get a breath as his body landed on me, his face just inches from mine as he gnashed his stained teeth. I used my left hand to hold him back while I frantically searched the area with my right, hoping to land my fingers on the hilt of Talon.

The revenant hissed and managed to get his only hand up and between us, slowly snaking his fingers closer to my neck. A revenant’s strength was one its greatest weapons, and if he managed to grasp my throat he’d easily be able to choke the life out of me.

It was time to stop messing around.

I made one last desperate lunge to my right, finally feeling the freezing metal of my sword. I grabbed it unseen, hefting it upright just as the creature placed his rotting fingers around my neck.

I hacked downward at the base of his neck, feeling the decaying flesh split where the sword landed. The dead man screamed in anger, but the wound was not enough to kill him.

I let him go and he fell forward, our noses nearly touching in a parody of intimacy. I gagged at the lack of clean air and held my breath. It was time to finish this. With my free hand, I grasped the blade and with all of my strength I pulled my sword toward me.

The enchantment upon the blade sliced through bone and tendons as if they were butter. With a satisfying plop, Talon severed the revenant’s head, and then bounced off of my own throat with the force of my pull.

The corpse above me immediately went limp as the head rolled off to the side. I pushed it off of me and sat up, grimacing as I picked severed green fingers off of my neck. Talon must have also sliced through his other hand that had been about to choke me.

I glanced over at Grimm, who had finally detached the head of the revenant he had attacked. His method was much messier than mine, considering he had to use his teeth to get the job done. The large black dog lifted his lips in a snarl of distaste, stuck out his tongue, and shook his head, likely hoping to dislodge the taste of rotting flesh from his mouth.

That good, huh? I asked him with dark humor. "Looks like I’m ahead, though. Get it? A head."

Grimm only stared at me, with no tail wag in sight.

I was about to rebuke my partner for his lack of levity when a distant scream froze me in place. Grimm perked his ears toward the sound and bounded off down the road with a chuff. I got to my feet slower than that, but ran after him.

The road ended at a small cabin, which had a glow of light coming from a window and a wide-open door. I reached the front yard just as Grimm’s figure disappeared inside the cabin with a ferocious bark. Another scream of fright emitted from the interior.

I dashed in, only a few seconds slower than my companion. He had trapped another revenant in the corner of the room next to the door, growling and snapping at the creature as it tried to move past him.

Movement in my periphery caught my attention, and I whipped Talon around to face the other possible threat. But this turned out to be a living person, as evidenced by the flush of life in his cheeks, albeit with a nervous pallor that removed some of the rosiness. The bald-headed man shook and ducked his head as he cowered away from my sword. I dropped my weapon back to my side immediately.

He must have been the screamer.

I shifted my attention back to the revenant. Grimm, move aside, I commanded.

Grimm backed up, allowing me room to position myself in front of the undead woman. Her gray skin was tattered, her teeth bared, and her hair, once the beautiful silver of old age, now hung in clumps around her hideous face. The magical light in her eye sockets shone menacingly.

Sorry, Granny, I said to her as I lifted Talon. It’s time to rest in peace again.

With a swift slice, my sword did its job, and the revenant's head rolled away from its body, the latter falling in a limp heap upon detachment.

I sighed heavily, sheathing Talon for hopefully the last time tonight. Grimm sniffed the air in the cabin, scenting for more monsters, and then he shook his body, a sure sign that the danger had finally passed.

I turned around to seek out the other living person among us. He crouched behind a table, only his shiny pate and eyes sticking up from his hiding spot. After a moment, he stood, his knees shaky.

Is it dead? he asked, his voice quavering.

I nodded. We took them all out. Sorry to barge in on you, Mr. …

Father, he corrected, his voice becoming sturdy. Father Quillman, at your service.

Oh. My mistake. Christianity was just one of the many religions of our world. It had its followers here and there, as evidenced by this small parish, but I was not as familiar with its ways. Father, I take it you are the caretaker of that graveyard out there.

He nodded dolefully before jerking his head in the direction of the beheaded revenant. This is my parish, and those are lost members of my flock. I recognized her. She was Dinah Latch, a lovely woman and devoted grandmother, who passed away just five months ago. How could she come back, and why did she want to kill me? His quaver came back in full force.

My condolences. That was no longer Dinah, only her shell reanimated with a terrible attitude. She was turned into a revenant by a powerful spell. Don’t take it personally, Father; revenants have a vendetta against anything with a pulse. I’m only thankful I heard your scream and could help you out.

My God sent you to save me; you are an angel.

I shook my head bashfully. Oh no, nothing of the sort. I just happened to be passing by on my way home when I was attacked by one of them. It alerted me to the fact that there was a graveyard nearby, and I thought I’d investigate. Your parish wasn’t the only one affected by the revenants, Father.

In fact, I had been called out to a much bigger cemetery earlier in the evening. All told, I had destroyed twenty of the creatures there, many of them too decomposed to do much damage, but still a possible menace to the area.

Annie Coddle sure had done a number this time.

Father Quillman tutted at my cavalier words, however. Nonsense. You were meant to be here. You were meant to save me.

Your scream is what saved you. Grimm and I wouldn’t have come this far, otherwise.

There, you see? The priest smiled affectionately. The Lord moves in mysterious ways. My act of fright brought you to me. It was preordained.

Very well. I was too tired to argue with a religious man. Happy to assist.

Young lady, I am in your debt.

I waved a hand to dismiss such claims. No, no. Not necessary.

He shook his head. Oh, but I find it is. You have saved my life. I owe you a favor.

I heaved an exhausted sigh. Fine. Why don’t you help me rebury the dead?

He shook his head in a scolding manner. That is my duty, and I won’t have you helping me. Those are my lambs out there. That is not the favor. I do not expect you to ask it in this instance, either. When your favor manifests, you’ll know. Have faith.

I nodded with a wry smile. I could simply claim that a favor never manifested. Very well, then.

He tilted his head in a sanguine nod, pleased to have won the debate. Then his forehead wrinkled into a frown. But, child, do you need rest? I would happily lend my bed to you and to your … ahem … dog? If you need a place to sleep for the remainder of the night.

I glanced at Grimm. He had stayed in the corner near the body this entire time, his best effort at appearing small and unobtrusive. I’d give him an A for effort, even though his presence was still very much conspicuous.

I smiled politely at the priest. Thank you, Father, but my horse is near your graveyard, and we were on our way home anyway. It’s only another half hour to ride.

Are you quite sure? I’ll be busy with the bodies for the rest of the night, I garner.

Quite sure. But thank you.

He nodded, grabbing his coat. Very well. I’d be keen to at least walk you out to your horse, however.

By all means. I’ll show you where the other revenants lay as well.

Our gruesome midnight stroll took us back down the road, to where the bulk of the bodies lay, and through the graveyard to the main road, upon which a stray revenant had ambushed me, alerting me to the bigger problem at this site. Father Quillman tutted and murmured the name of each deceased member of his flock, recognizing them despite their withered appearances. He claimed that two were missing, but I assured him that we had taken care of them all. Perhaps those two never left the confines of their graves.

He did a double take when I brought him to my horse, Humbert. He apparently wasn’t expecting a giant gray Percheron as my mount, given my petite frame.

Until recent events, Humbert had solely been a draft horse, pulling my wagon with aplomb, despite his advancing age. But a werewolf attack last October had weakened him, and pulling the wagon full time was becoming too much for the old horse. Nevertheless, Humbert was not one to enjoy retirement, so we decided to change up our system. For short trips such as this, I was lightweight enough that he didn’t mind me on his back, and this way we moved a little faster than before. Longer trips still required the wagon, but they were fewer in number, and this gave Humbert a chance to rest before more grueling excursions.

How in the heavens do you mount him? the priest asked when confronted by Humbert’s presence.

I grinned. I have my ways.

He shook his head, dumbfounded. Well, then, I will let you get back on your journey. You are heaven-sent, saving my life. Remember my debt, young lady. Call on me anytime, day or night.

I will, Father.

He looked chagrined. Forgive my manners. I never asked your name.

I smiled as I grabbed Humbert’s reins. Cressida Curtain. At your service.

Chapter 2

Iwaited until the priest had gone back across his graveyard, well out of sight. The truth was, Humbert was much too tall for me to even get a foot in the stirrup to hoist myself up. I may have been limber, but even I had my limits.

Instead, I led him over to the wooden fence that lined the road. I could have climbed it and been able to awkwardly mount my enormous steed using this structure, but I had found a much better system, thanks to my special magic ability.

Most women aren’t able to change shapes. Most women aren’t born as cats, either. It was as simple as willing myself to revert to my natural cat form. My body shimmered, an in-between ethereal state, before emerging in my smaller stature within the blink of an eye.

Through my cat eyes, the world was a much bigger place. My stature should have been a hindrance to taking my seat upon Humbert’s back, except for one important distinction: my jumping skills.

I gracefully leapt to the top of the fence post in one swift move. From here, the saddle was simply a quick jump up. As soon as I landed upon the saddle and faced the proper way, I transformed again, my now-long legs stretching to the sides of the big horse. I made sure to be careful of Humbert’s right flank; the werewolf attack had left him with four large scars upon that side, and they were still sensitive to the touch.

Having regained my reins, I clucked my tongue. Let’s go, Humbert.

He came to life below me, instantly rolling into a trot that jarred me and threatened to unseat me until I found his rhythm. This was a different form of locomotion than riding in a wagon; it had taken me many sessions before I was used to the jolting pace and learned to move my own body with it to lessen the impact.

Yet another change in my life.

Humbert moved much faster without the old wooden wagon to pull. Grimm kept up at a trot of his own, happy to be on the road again and heading home after another grueling day of fixing the problems that now beset our world.

It was another job well done. But I was so very tired.

The sudden changes in my life could all be attributed to one thing: Annie Coddle. She was an ancient menace, one that I alone was keeping at bay, thanks to my family’s legacy. It all started with my ancestor Glivver, who happened to be Annie’s familiar. When Annie was poised to take over the world five hundred years ago, Glivver threw a wrench in her plans by banishing her to a prison dimension, one that absorbed magic, locking it away, and preventing Annie from regaining any of her once-abundant stores.

For five hundred years, my familial line protected this world. And for five hundred years, unbeknownst to us, Annie plotted and schemed and strove to make her comeback.

The fruition of her plans just happened to coincide with my turn on the legacy. Lucky me.

Annie still was not back in this world, but about three months ago, she managed to get her foot in the door when her son Gregory Elkins built a giant magical generator and opened a crack in the gate between worlds. It was enough to allow our magic to trickle into the prison world, which Annie eagerly utilized.

Through a communication crystal, she had warned me, those months ago, that she would stop at nothing to come back. I’m going to make your life so miserable that you’ll have to let me into this world. You’ll either be dead, or wish you were!

She was definitely holding up her end of the bargain. It started with a snowstorm, followed by a giant water construct that flooded parts of Dogwood at the end of October.

November saw a plague of soot sprites, tiny winged artificial beings conjured from dust that coated some of the Oracune Region’s towns and cities in a thick layer of the stuff, which caused a wide assortment of breathing issues.

In December, she hit a coastal city with a dancing spell. The poor inhabitants could not stop dancing for days on end, some close to death from exhaustion by the time we were able to undo the magic. This spell was a favorite of hers, and she used it again in January in a different area, along with a fresh bout of winter weather, causing the ground to be covered in a layer of snow for the entire month and into February. While other parts of Vinland would not have batted an eye over this, here in the temperate region of the Serenic Coast we typically experienced snow for perhaps a total of two weeks broken up over the entire winter, making the constant snowfall a very big deal, indeed.

There were other, smaller attacks that Annie snuck in here and there, sprinkling them about the Oracune Region. For many of these magical attacks, I was useless to stop them, but on the occasions she utilized creatures—werewolves, golems, and now revenants—I was in my element.

Most citizens did not know what was happening. Many had never heard of Annie Coddle, or they believed her to be just a myth. We certainly could not fill them in on the reason for why their corner of the world suddenly found itself plagued by numerous mishaps. Some people we talked to believed it to be the end of the world.

Annie was hellbent on destroying me, one way or another. She must not have known where I lived, however, because none of the attacks happened in Knobby Hill, the small town closest to my home. This latest revenant spell had been the closest yet.

The rest of my return journey was thankfully uneventful. Within half an hour, Humbert’s cumbersome trot carried us into the yard of Fleurette’s cottage, and my home.

Despite the lateness of the hour, a light was still on, illuminating the picture window at the front of the cottage. I could see two heads sitting side by side on the loveseat in front of the window.

I slid off of Humbert’s back and led him to the tiny new stable to the side of the house. It was big enough for a stall for my horse employee, and a place to add or remove his tack out of the rain. I used it now for just that purpose, quickly stripping off the saddle, blankets, and reins, giving him a quick brush, and tucking him in for the night with some extra oats and hay. I’d clean everything properly after I’d had some rest myself.

With Humbert taken care of, I strode to the cottage and softly opened the door, letting Grimm enter before me. He wagged his tail in the direction of the sofa, a sure sign that part of his pack waited there.

I entered and shut the door softly. A small gray mouse perched on the loveseat, reaching out toward me with his tiny front paws.

I extended my hand as I shut the door behind me, allowing him to scamper up my arm. Hey, Lucky.

Fleurette and Kokoro sat together on the loveseat, waiting for me to fully enter, both of their heads turned to me with twin looks of worry.

I shook my head as Lucky nestled into the hair at my shoulder. I’m in one piece.

Fleurette stood. What took so long?

I leveled her with a tired stare. They were revenants, all right. Annie’s spell hit the freshest of the bodies, about twenty of them in one cemetery. And then I happened across another graveyard with another seven. And a priest who nearly died due to their efforts.

Is everything taken care of? Fleurette asked. Not waiting for me to answer, she added, Are you okay?

I nodded. I’m fine. One of the fresher ones pinned me down, but Talon did the proper work. At least they were all fairly dry. No juices on me. And yes, I do believe I got them all.

Fleurette nodded, relieved. I’ll send a GOG out that way first thing in the morning to seal the area with a nulling spell, just to be sure. Speaking of, GOGS has requested our presence.

"Our presence?" I repeated. Fleurette was a member of the secret society tasked with keeping my kind safe, but I was not a member, being the object of their current protection. As a matter of fact, I was the only cat ever to learn of GOGS’ existence. I had never been invited to attend one of their super-secret meetings before.

She affirmed with a nod. The council specifically mentioned you and me. At ten in the morning tomorrow.

Why?

Fleurette splayed out her hands. I don't know. I guess we’ll find out. Maybe they found some information about Brothers.

Hollis Brothers was the last living attorney of the law firm Babcock, Brothers, and Hoterson, which was a legal shell for Elkins’ nefarious doings. Thomas Babcock and Nic Hoterson had met their ends in the explosion of the generator building last October. I had neither met nor knew anything about Brothers, but I worried that he was just as rotten as the other two had been. Nic had told me that Brothers was on an extended medical leave, but our concern was that he’d come back eventually looking for revenge. We had GOGS on the lookout for him, but so far they had not turned up anything.

Hollis Brothers was not the only concern that we had GOGS investigating, though. Gregory Elkins had erected multiple towers across the Oracune Region. These mechanical contraptions acted to steal the free energy from a given area and use it to strengthen Annie’s magic. They caused blackouts any time Annie pulled magic through the opening in the gateway.

Our hope was that if we destroyed all of the towers, Annie’s magic use would diminish. The problem lay in the fact that we knew neither how many towers were out there, nor where they were located. We had asked GOGS to aid in our search for them. So far, they had destroyed two: the first one in the mountain range near the Oracune coast—the one I had stumbled upon while traveling with Nic—and the second south of us, a lucky find. As far as I knew, the members of GOGS were still on the hunt for more, as well as the location of the gateway itself.

This weighed on my mind. What if it’s about the towers?

Fleurette shrugged her shoulders and stifled a yawn. Could be, although they haven’t asked for your presence for the last tower they found. Anyway, Annie should be quiet for a while, since she just blew her magic stores on that revenant spell. It will be the perfect opportunity for a meeting.

I blinked once in an exaggerated manner. Well, okay then. I guess I’d better get some rest, seeing how it’s … I checked my pocket watch. 1:15 in the morning. You two didn’t have to wait up for me, you know.

Fleurette glanced at Kokoro.

The other woman stood as well, smiling serenely. It was not a bother, Cressida. We wished to see you safely home.

I smiled at Kokoro. She