The Cursed Sword Read online

“Oh, no, I’m hungry and my stomach gurgled.”

  He mused and I let out a giggle. He waved to the pretty brunette waitress who instantly came to our both all smiles and giggles until she noticed my presence.

  “Hi, Owen, long time, no see,” she said as her eyes washed over me. Then she returned to him and smiled. “Why on earth are you sitting here? Come to our booth, all the peeps are there. My shift is over in a few minutes and I’m joining them. You may bring your friend, too. It’s going to be fun,” she said as she placed her hands playfully on her hips.

  Owen hesitated and looked at me. I could see that he wanted to join them; however, he cared about my opinion. I shrugged in agreement, though I was slightly disappointed. That wasn’t how I had imagined my first date with him would go. I started to question whether it was our first date indeed. I felt a sudden urge to use time manipulation, however, my skills had not been fully developed back then. I could not move time forward, although, at that moment, I wished I could. I suddenly felt an impelling desire to know how that date was going to end. Nevertheless, I followed them over across the room and stood while she introduced me to some boys and girls whose names I was sure I was not going to be able to remember.

  She tugged on my sleeve. “And I am Noreen,” she said concluding the introductions.

  I shook my head in desperation. It was like it was a basketball team had a night out with their cheerleaders. I rolled my eyes and I followed them to the booth. I took my seat beside Owen and I watched them laughing and talking out loud about a bunch of stuff I had no idea about; or I could not care less about.

  He ordered steaks and soda for us. “We do not want you to get drunk,” he huffed.

  I grinned and lifted my head. Next minute, he was laughing and chatting with Noreen. I gazed at him until he became aware and gave me a broad smile that made me a little dizzy. I lifted my drink and drained the rest of my glass. He was downright beautiful. I heard Noreen laughing hardily to a joke he said, and I tried to clear my throat.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, and I walked up buzzed across the room. I turned around and looked back at the booth. My stomach sunk; Owen and Noreen were undoubtedly flirting; the sexual tension between them was obvious. I quickly turned away and rushed into the ladies’ room. I looked at my flushed face and tried to fix my hair with trembling hands.

  “I need to add a little gloss to my lips,” to told myself, but then I remembered that I had left my backpack at the booth.

  My mind crowed. I was going to fight for him. Seek him out. Get what I deserved. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. I walked down the corridor with quick steps, only to realize that I had headed the wrong way. It was the men’s room. Great.

  “Hey,” I looked up and a young man was blocking the way.

  Trying to avoid any eye contact, I moved to walk past him.

  “I am John,” he insisted and walked up behind me. “You are Gwen. We are sitting at the same both.”

  I turned over my shoulder. “I am sorry, I am not good with faces.”

  “You are a beautiful girl,” he said and took my arm.

  “You’d better let me go,” I hissed.

  “Hey, bitch, I gave you a compliment, you could at least thank me,” he slurred without leaving my arm from his vice grip.

  “Let go of my arm!” I yanked my arm hard, but his grip did not yield.

  “You think you are too good for me?” he yelled.

  “Let her go, John!” That was Owen who was now standing behind me. Where on earth did he come from?

  “Hey, Owen, that’s none of your business,” John hissed.

  “Let her go before I hurt you,” Owen gritted.

  I glared up at him. His black t-shirt was slightly askew showing off as his muscular arms as he grabbed John’s neck; a sudden action that made my perpetrator let me free.

  As Owen kneed him in the groin, John let out a yell. After a whirlwind of kicks and punches, Owen got John to sink to his knees and ask for mercy.

  “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you again anywhere around her,” Owen yelled as John ran out of the Grill.

  He turned to me and gently eased my stretched white shirt back on my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my hands still trembling hard.

  He pulled me gently into his arms.

  “It’s alright,” he said quietly. I took in his scent as he put his finger under my chin and gently lifted my face.

  “I am sorry for this mess. I hoped we could spend some time together, but they appeared out of nowhere.”

  I flicked my eyes up to his blue ones and felt a jolt going through me. I sucked my bottom lip as his eyes roamed over me. He gently took my arm and I placed my head on his shoulder; he was solid hard muscle.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and we took off on a rush through the restaurant. I followed him all the way outside and around the alley. Then we stopped and he turned to stare at me, giving me all kinds of dirty looks. I squinted at him and edged forward to rest into his arms.

  A faint smell of cologne filled my nostrils as I tilted my head backward. My heart was beating at full speed.

  Suddenly, his mouth was clamped on mine. He slipped his tongue in my mouth as I wrapped my arms around his waist giving in to his kiss. My entire body became a live wire when he kissed a path down my neck.

  I wanted that kiss to last forever. I tried to make it last longer. I slowed time down to absorb every single second of that kiss and prolong the delight of how warm and moist his mouth felt on my lips. If only that kind of happiness could last forever.

  You guessed it right.

  It did not.

  CHAPTER 3

  *

  I walk into our small bathroom to wash my face. With Lynette being at work, I could pretend that I owned the place. That was my dream; to own a place I could call home.

  The warm water on my face felt soothing. I studied the reflection of my face dripping with water in the mirror. The circles under my eyes would give away that I had not slept much lately. It had been a month since I had a good eight hours of sleep. For a month I had been spending my days at The Drunk Lobster and my nights at Owen’s place. We had great fun together and I was feeling like I had finally found my significant other. He had even given me a key to his place. I was so happy, kind of over the moon happy, that I did not want to manipulate time anymore. I just wanted to be happy and enjoy life to its fullest.

  I quickly threw on some jeans, a t-shirt, and a black hoodie. I could not find my brand new black and pink sneakers shoes, so I rummaged through the closet in the small hall. I opened one of the shoe boxes that seemed carelessly thrown in the closet, and instead of my shoes, I found a small piece of paper with a handwritten note on it.

  “My place, 6.30pm.”

  My heart fluttered. I recognized that handwriting, it was Owen’s. However, I could not remember me having ever received that note from him.

  “Weird,” I whispered to myself as I folded the note and slipped it in my pocket.

  I went back to my bedroom and knelt beside my bed.

  “Oh, you silly shoes, there you are,” I said as I looked under my bed.

  After I put them on, I swiftly walked out the door, making sure to grab my purple backpack before I went. I stepped out of the elevator and rushed out of our building. My heart was beating fast. Something was not right. I could not get that handwritten note off my mind. It did not make sense. But I could not understand why. I stopped walking and, after I pulled my phone out of my backpack, I immediately started searching through my contacts. Once I found the number I was looking for, I tapped the call button on the touch screen.

  “Hello.”

  A heavily distorted voice answered after several rings; a voice that sounded familiar and strange at the same time.

  “Owen, is that you?” I asked. “Can you hear me?” I insisted but the line went dead.

  “Who were you talking to?” I asked to receive no a
nswer.

  I considered calling an Uber, but I rejected that option immediately. The shared house Owen lived was only a few blocks away and I would be there in less than ten minutes. However, that bad feeling would not go away. I was afraid that something bad had happened to him. If I walked faster, I would be there in just five minutes. So, I sped up my pace and soon, I was at the shared house doorstep.

  With trembling hands, I reached into my backpack and pulled out the pair of keys Owen had given me a few days before.

  “I cherish each moment I spend with you that I wish we could spend more time together,” he had said as he handed me the keys. “I hope you want that, too.”

  I opened the door and rushed into the hall. I climbed up the stairs as fast as I could. I opened Owen’s bedroom door as quietly as I could. If everything was okay, I did not want to scare Owen to death with my sudden presence there. In case of danger, I would have the advantage of the surprise if I entered in silence.

  Breathless, I stood frozen for what seemed like forever. My feet felt as heavy as ship anchors. I detected Owen’s figure in semi-darkness; his face unseen, a female body glued to his. Then, he leaned against a brunette figure, joining his lips with hers. When their lips parted and Owen pulled his head back, Lynette’s face was clearly revealed.

  I almost fainted right there, but I did not. I closed my eyes and squeezed them so tightly that they almost hurt. After a sequence of swirls and twirls, I finally opened my eyes again.

  I was not standing outside Owen’s bedroom anymore. I was in my own apartment, sitting in my favorite armchair, sobbing in a carton of ice cream.

  “How on earth did this happen?” I yelled out loud with my mouth full of vanilla ice cream.

  “Wow! This ice cream is awesome! Wait! What happened? Why am I sitting here? What time is it? What day is it? What year is it?” I mumbled confused.

  A knock on the door made me jumped up off my armchair. Could it be Owen? Owen who I had just caught up cheating on me with my best friend? Was he planning to apologize? Was he going to pick up his things and break with me? Or maybe it was Lynette.

  I left the carton of ice cream on the table and ran to the door. I brushed my hair with my fingers and straightened my clothes only to realize that those were not the clothes I had been wearing when I caught up Owen cheating on me with Lynette.

  Confused as I was, I opened the door, only to become even more confused.

  A tall middle-aged man with striking facial features and in a fashionable blue-black suit was standing at my door.

  “Are you Gwen Smith?” he asked with an adenoidal voice.

  “Yes, who are you?”

  “Gwen Smith, you’re arrested for illegally manipulating time.”

  Before I even opened my mouth to utter a word, the tall man with the blue-black suit wielded a golden baton with a white glowing end, and everything turned dark.

  CHAPTER 4

  *

  Is this how it is to be dead?

  I looked around but I could see nothing. I was dipped into an abyss, surrounded by darkness and silence.

  A sharp pain in my wrist had woken me up. My pulse was beating in my ears. A musty odor filled my nostrils. My wrist was on a handlock attached to a heavy chain, clanging eerily as I tried to free my hand. I was in sitting position in a place so dark that I could not see my hands. And it was cold.

  My legs were free; no shackles on them. I slowly moved into a kneeling position and blinked my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I could not figure out where on earth I was locked in.

  I groped along the cobblestone floor, until I reached the wall. I fumbled for the shackle where my hand was locked in.

  There was no chain! Or, at least, not a visible one.

  My fingers came across something solid before they finally touched the chain attached to my handcuff; and yet I could not see it.

  With my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could now look around and scrutinize the trap I was in. It was a dungeon; a cold, dark, round chamber that stank of moldy moss and rotten flesh. I grabbed the chain and pulled it with all my strength. In vain; it did not even move. A ray of light emitted from behind. It was coming from the corridor behind the iron door and was slipping into the cell through a small opening on the upper part of the door.

  “Hey!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Get me out of here! What the heck is going on in here?”

  “Here ... here ...” The echo of my voice answered him back.

  Drops of sweat rolled down my forehead. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With my right arm still locked on the wall, I placed my free palm on my upper chest and inhaled in three parts; first into my chest, then my upper abdomen, and finally puffed my belly out like a balloon. Then I smoothly exhaled the air, first from my belly, then my upper abdomen, and finally my chest.

  I felt thankful for the years of yoga practice as my breathing became normal again. However, I still did not know where I was. Most importantly I could not understand why I was in there. All I knew was that I needed to get out. I had to retain my calm and clear thinking to find a way out.

  “Where are you?” I shouted. “I know you can hear me.”

  I knew who had dropped me in that pit. I just did not know why.

  “Where the heck are you? Come on here, you coward!”

  An adenoidal voice sounded as the cell door opened with a clunking sound.

  “Did you call for me?”

  It was the tall middle-aged man, in his fashionable blue-black suit, standing at the cell door, showing a loose attitude with his hands in his pockets.

  “What’s all this noise for?”

  With my hands clenched into fists, I ran towards him targeting his chin. Without losing his composure the man bent down to avoid my fist and rapidly wielded his golden button creating a blurry block of air, like a virtual wall, between us.

  “What do you want from me?” I yelled at him as I punched the transparent wall only to have my fist bounce on some kind of elastic surface.

  “There is nothing I want from you. The question is what do you want from us?”

  “Who the heck are you talking about? I don’t even know who you are. You just showed up on my doorstep, you said some crappy you-are-being-arrested kind of thing and the next thing I knew I was imprisoned in where-the-heck I am now. How did I end up here anyway? In a blink of an eye?”

  “Are you finished?”

  I was so furious by the disparaging tone in his voice that I would have punched his nose if there was not that transparent jelly wall between us. I pursed my lips instead.

  “You do not have the luxury of asking questions. You are only entitled to answering one single question: who your parents are.”

  His question caught me by surprise. “What do my parents have to do with this?” I asked him after a moment’s hesitation.

  “The gift of time hopping is passed down from one generation to the next. It’s a hereditary prejudice. My job is to track down time hoppers and build their family tree.”

  “So, you are saying that I am a time hopper.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you want to track down my ancestors.”

  “Correct.”

  “How on earth could I know who my ancestors are? I am an orphan.”

  “Well, that makes things trickier for me but won’t stop me from discovering where you come from.”

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  “That is not the correct answer. It seems you could use some help to spit out what I need to listen to. Beams!”

  Beams of lights fell on my head and smoke emerged as some strands of my hair got scorched.

  “Are you crazy?” I am sure I shouted like a madwoman, but I was scared to death. “I will tell you anything you want to know.”

  “I am glad we understand each other.” The man wielded his button again and this time the beams vanished. However, I could feel that the invisible wall was still standing between us. “Now, tell me what you kn
ow about your family background.”

  “Nothing. I know nothing at all.”

  Beams again, and another strand of my hair got scorched.

  “Stop that! I am telling you the truth. I have no idea where I come from.”

  “Tell me everything you know.”

  “I had been in the Vulgate orphanage since I was an infant. I was never told how I ended up there and who my parents were despite all my efforts. No one ever visited me there, and no one was willing to find me a new family. I had never had a person to call family. I never managed to attract the interest of any of the families who were looking to adopt; I hadn’t even been asked for an interview. It was always some other girl, or boy, who was adopted. I was always the kid who was left behind.”

  Suddenly, the blurry block of air evaporated and I could see the man clearly again. The darkness in his eyes gave me the chills.

  “The girl who was left behind. Very convenient.”

  “It’s the truth.” Sweat dripped down my face.

  “Who taught you how to control time?”

  “No one! I learned it myself. I mean, I do not know how I learned how to control time. It just happened one time, and then it happened again, and then again ... It’s like breathing. No one teaches you how to breathe. Right?”

  A loud noise interrupted the interrogation as the cell door opened again and a tall white-haired man in a fine grey suit entered the room. His face was adorned by a sleek, sculpted mustache and the black umbrella with the silver handle he was holding gave away that he was suffering from Rheumatoid arthritis. The white-haired man slowly approached them at the center of the cell.

  “What are you doing here?” My captor did not seem excited by the newcomer’s presence.

  “Glad to see you too, Mordred.”

  “Everything is under control, Merlin. We do not need your help,” said the man whose name was Mordred.

  “Hello, there,” I intervened. “I am sure we have met before, but I am sorry, my brain is not kicking into gear.” I could not resist adding a pinch of sarcasm in the conversation.

  “I am Merlin Wyllt,” the man as he slightly bowed his head. “My face probably struck a chord with you because I was your pediatrician when you were a child.”