Benedict Jacka - Cursed

Martin had stopped screaming. He was lying curled up on his side, scratches on the floor where his shoes had scraped. His fingers were clenched, dug into his face, and blood trickled between them in a ghastly mask. He’d lost the gun but was still gripping the monkey’s paw, his knuckles white on the lacquered tube. His breath was coming in short gasps and he didn’t seem to know we were there.

Luna and I looked down at him for a second. “What happened?” Luna asked.

“He got what he wished for,” I said absently. Thousands and millions of futures, pouring into his mind. There’s a reason diviners are rare. I spent years building the mental discipline to be able to use my power without going mad. When I look into the future, it’s like seeing through a lens: sometimes narrow and focused, sometimes wide and blurred, but always sorting, ordering, picking the futures I need and blocking out the rest. Martin didn’t have a lens. He had all my power without any of my skill. He was seeing everything at once.

I knelt next to him. Deep scratches showed on Martin’s face from where he’d clawed at his eyes, but his eyes stared blindly into space. “Martin,” I said. I could keep talking and thinking as long as I stayed focused, but it was a struggle. I kept wanting to sink back into darkness and I didn’t know how long I could keep it up. “The magic’s killing you. You’ve still got the monkey’s paw. Wish it back.”

No response. Martin’s eyes didn’t flicker, and his breathing stayed the same, hoarse and ragged.

“Can he hear us?” Luna asked.

I shook my head. Martin had to be most of the way to insane. He probably couldn’t even tell the difference between future and present anymore. “So?” Luna said.

I took a breath. “Give me that knife.”

Luna set it down on the floor with a clink. I fumbled behind me and missed it twice before looking back around to pick it up, then turned back to Martin. My thoughts were starting to fray at the edges and I knew I didn’t have much time. I took a deep breath, and focused. For this to work, I would have to genuinely mean to go through with it.

I forced myself to go back through my memories, thinking of how Martin had betrayed me and Luna. How he’d lied to us from the beginning, tried to use us, taking everything he could and leaving us to our deaths. Then I brought the knife forward in my good arm. The steel blade flashed in the light as I put it to Martin’s throat for one quick, measured slash.

My magic senses danger by seeing the futures in which I’m hurt. As I see the futures in which I’m injured or killed, I change the decisions that lead to them. But it’s painful. To avoid a future in which I die, I have to experience it. I’ve learnt to shield myself from the psychic shock of those visions, taking only a hazy glance, enough to know how to avoid that future and no more.

Martin didn’t have a shield. In that instant, as I made the decision to kill him, Martin got to experience a million futures of me cutting his throat, a million visions of his own death, every one in perfect detail.

The scream from Martin’s throat was like nothing on earth. I jumped back as he spasmed, every muscle in his body flailing, and his voice hurt my ears. “Take it back!”

And just that fast, it happened. My magic snapped back into me like a rubber band, the visions flooding back into my mind, glowing lines of light branching out into the darkness. I knew where I’d see Luna if I turned around to look at her. I knew the wound on my arm was painful but not fatal; it would hurt but I’d be able to keep using the arm if I forced myself. And I knew Martin was about to collapse in front of me.

Martin collapsed. I leant against the wall, closing my eyes, feeling my thoughts piecing themselves together again bit by bit. The relief was incredible and I shivered as I remembered the feeling of darkness. I was sure I’d just gotten the material for a whole new set of nightmares.

“Alex?” Luna asked.

“I’m okay,” I said. A stray memory nagged at me: Hadn’t that guard hit me, with that last burst of fire? I checked and this time my divination magic found an answer: two small holes in my cloak. My mist cloak had saved me, its camouflage blurring my outline just enough to make the shots miss. I patted it affectionately, then checked my watch. Fifteen minutes. “We’d better go.”

Luna was staring down at Martin and when she spoke her voice was toneless. “Are those protections still working?”

Martin was unconscious, lying still on the floor, and as I looked into the futures in which Luna or I moved in to finish him, I saw that nothing would stop us. The monkey’s paw had taken back all that it had given. “They’re gone.”

Luna looked at Martin for a few seconds more and when she finally turned her eyes to me there was something cold in them. “You shouldn’t have stopped me.”

I looked back at Luna for a few seconds before speaking quietly. “I don’t think his life is yours to take.”

Luna held my gaze a moment longer, then stepped back around the corner. As I moved past, I felt the futures of her approaching Martin fade away. I headed for the stairs and Luna followed.

By the time we reached the ground floor, the fighting had died down. The manor was a wasteland of smoke and rubble, small fires burning amidst the smoke, but the stone and concrete had weathered the attacks and the structure was stable. I could sense two or three guards still around, but they were keeping their distance.

As we came up the steps, the radio in my pocket crackled. I pulled it out with my good arm. “Sonder.”

“Alex! Finally! Did you find Luna?”

I turned the radio’s volume up and tossed it to Luna. “It’s for you.”

Luna caught it awkwardly. “Hi, Sonder.”

I could hear the relief in Sonder’s voice. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. What’s happening?”

“It’s crazy out here,” Sonder sounded tense. “I saw the back door explode and Cinder fought his way in but-Alex, are you there? Cinder got driven out. He’s fighting on the west slope.”

I was analysing a route up to the second floor. “Fighting what?”

“A mantis golem. Belthas got a mantis golem!” I could hear distant sounds of battle over the radio. “It’s trying to kill Cinder, Cinder’s trying to melt it-”

“Who’s winning?”

There was a pause. “Neither, I think.”

I checked my watch. We had a little over ten minutes. “We can’t wait for Cinder,” I decided. “I’m going after Belthas. Luna, Sonder is up the mountainside from here. You can circle around and-”

“ Screw that.” Luna’s eyes flashed. “I’m going with you.”

I looked back at her for a second, then smiled slightly. “Sonder,” I said loudly. “We’re going for Belthas’s sanctum on the second floor. If you can get a message to Cinder, tell him.”

Sonder sounded confused. “Wait-both of you?”

Luna switched the radio off and tossed it to me. We headed upstairs.

We passed several charred bodies on the way up. There were several guards still lurking, but they stayed out of our way. It looked like there’d been some fast natural selection amongst Belthas’s security force and the survivors had been the ones who’d figured out that attacking a mage was a very bad idea. As we climbed, burnt flesh, burnt wiring, and smoke mixed together to make a nauseating stench.

The top floor was luxurious but impersonal, like an expensive hotel. A thick carpet lined the central corridor and I could feel the presence of minor magical effects from behind the wooden doors. All was untouched; Cinder must not have gotten this far. I moved down the corridor, watching for an ambush, Luna a few steps behind.