Something to Curse About Read Online Free

breathe, except to speak or pass themselves off as human. They don’t breathe while taking their daily rest.
    I had a stake in one hand, a small sledgehammer in the other, and the echo of Ginger’s pleas from the night before ringing in my ears. “Please, Cordi. Do it today. I can’t live like this anymore!”
    Nearly three weeks had passed since I had made the promise to her. I’d spent those weeks practicing on, of all things, cantaloupes. The object was to do it as fast and painlessly for her as possible: stake right over the heart, then one blow of the hammer to drive it through.
    If I did it right, she wouldn’t feel a thing. If I didn’t, she would wake. So would her master, and one of them would likely kill me. In her right mind, Ginger wouldn’t hurt me, but no vampire startled out of sleep by a stake would be in its right mind.
    Encased in yellow rubber cleaning gloves, my palms were sweating as I crossed the small space. Looking down at her, I almost lost my nerve. Vampire or not, Ginger was my best friend. We’d been friends since we were three years old. Ginger was the only friend who visited me while I was comatose. Who stuck by me while I figured out all of the psychic stuff.
    All of which was the reason she’d asked me, and I’d promised. Real friends would do anything for each other, and the only way out of her nightmare life was to die a second time.
    If I didn’t help her, no one would. Taking a deep breath, I put the sharp tip of the stake over her heart. My arm trembled as I lifted the hammer, and I lowered it again, closing my eyes to take and release a couple of deep breaths.
    When I opened my eyes, I lifted the hammer at the same time, and slammed it down onto the end of the stake. My grunt of effort ended with a whimper as Ginger jerked, her eyes opening. A second before blood began soaking the nightgown she wore, her eyes focused on mine.
    She smiled.
    She smiled, her eyes closed, and as she went limp, her skin turned gray.
    I yanked my gloved hand away from the stake with a loud sob, and teleported home to my bathroom, where I stripped and scrubbed myself raw in the shower, crying for Ginger, and for myself.
    “Cordi?” Nick’s voice shattered the memory. I looked up then around the room, realizing I was on the floor, huddled against the wall, and he’d crouched next to me. “What happened? Are you okay? You’re crying.”
    I wiped my cheeks, and shook my head. “It was a flashback. I’m okay.”
    Okay except for the embarrassment of having an episode in front of not only non-friends, but prominent citizens. Also the first super flashback in front of Nick, which would probably cement his opinions about my inability to take care of myself and lead to yet another “you run, I fight” argument. Hopefully not during a situation when we didn’t have time for one.
    At least Nick had enough sense not to make a big deal out of it. He helped me up, and kept an arm around my waist. The boss handed me a couple of tissues. “Thanks.”
    “A flashback?” Mayor Wells stared at me, his lips turned ever-so-slightly upward. I wanted to rip the smug expression off his face. “You have PTSD?”
    “It’s common among psychics with certain abilities,” Mr. Whitehaven said. “Retro-cognition is one of them. Discordia has unfortunately experienced several traumatic events while assisting law enforcement.”
    “More traumatic than killing an innocent girl?”
    Anger blazed. I found my voice again. “He tortured her. Made her do things she couldn’t live with. She wanted out, and that was the only way out.” I paused, staring at Wells until he blinked. “I didn’t want to do it, but it was the only way she’d find peace, and she had no one else to turn to.”
    The mayor opened his mouth, but Stannett spoke first. “Jones, have you ever controlled anyone’s mind?”
    “No.”
    “Are you capable of doing it?”
    “I don’t know, but even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s