I clenched my teeth and looked behind me at Osman. He glanced over his shoulder and his golden eyes widened as he beheld my predicament. Osman turned and rushed towards me, but the hag flew onto his back. She buried her teeth into his neck and clawed at his chest. What remained of his shirt was torn to pieces.
Osman howled and reached back to grab her shoulders. He tossed her over his head, and she sailed across the ground and into the hag over me. It was a perfect strike as the pair tumbled down the muddy embankment and made a big splash in the river.
Cronus walked up to the edge of the road and tossed the talismans like daggers. They stabbed into the foreheads of the hags, and the creatures dissolved into dust that floated away on the current.
I tried to sit up, but my arms failed me and I fell back into the mud. Feet pounded the ground and a pair of clawed hands lifted me into strong arms.
"Enid? Come on, Enid, talk to me," Osman pleaded in a deep, guttural voice.
My eyes fluttered open and I saw Osman's furry, worried face. Behind him stood Cronus a few feet off with his face especially unhappy.
"What. . .what are you?" I whispered.
Osman sighed and his shoulders relaxed. "Cursed," he answered.
I managed a smile. "Then that makes two of us."
That was all the strength I had left. My head dropped back and I lost consciousness.
CHAPTER 12
The next thing I knew after the hag incident was waking up in my new bedroom at the house with the sun rising outside. I opened my eyes and found Osman seated in a chair beside the bed. He was back to normal, or as normal as he ever was, except for the serious air around him and his lack of an overcoat. His arms were crossed over his chest and his legs were crossed as he leaned back in the chair. He stared unblinkingly at me, and it was for the first time that I noticed his eyes weren't quite right. There was a sharpness to them that bespoke of a predator. I just hoped I wasn't the prey.
"What?" I croaked out.
He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you come with us."
I snorted. "I kind of wanted it myself," I reminded him.
"Yeah, but you didn't know what you were getting into. I did," he pointed out.
"Listen, don't beat yourself up over this," I insisted.
I shifted beneath the covers and winced when my battered body reminded me I was the one who'd been beaten up. The hags had really pulled my muscles apart with their attempted soul-stealing. I tried to sit up, but all I could manage was to climb higher on the fluffy pillow at my back.
"Besides, it's not me I want to talk about," I added.
He closed his eyes and gave a single nod. "My curse."
"Yeah, that little secret. That's why you were so sure werewolves existed?" I guessed.
"Yes. It wasn't something I meant to show you, but the cards were stacked against us," he revealed.
"So when were you going to tell me?" I asked him.
"That depended on when, or if, you ever went back to your normal life," he answered. "But until, or if, that happens, you're staying in the house."
I frowned and crossed my arms across my chest. "Like hell I am."
Osman raised an eyebrow. "You almost got killed-"
"Twice," I added.
"-and you still want to go out with us?" he wondered.
"I don't like that whole death thing, but I'm not going to be cooped up inside this old place," I insisted. "Besides, if I come with you I'll know if you're dead or not, and if you're coming back to pay the electric bill."
He grinned at me. "Are you asking for a job?" he teased.
I shrugged. "Do I have a choice? That Phantom Whisperer kind of knows where I used to work."
"And live, and shop," he added.
My shoulders drooped and I scowled at him. "You have to rub it in?"
"I'm just painting the full picture of your predicament," he pointed out.
"Paint somebody else's portrait. I already know my life's a mess, and even if I did go back that wouldn't make my mystic powers go away, would it?" I pointed out.
He shook his head. "No, it wouldn't. You'd still be a target for Whisperers and rogue undead."
"See? So I need a job, and you've got a business that I might want to join," I told him.
Osman leaned back in his chair and cupped his cheek between a few fingers. He studied me with that strange half grin on his face.
"You're sure?" he asked me.
"Do I have a choice?"
Osman pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit it. I knew now why he didn't think those things would kill him. He took a puff and studied me for a long, tense moment before he smiled and shrugged.
"Why not? You've got yourself a job."