A Curse Upon Thee 2-25B

His shoes slapped a hard rhythm against the damp pavement of Storybrooke’s streets, uncaring of the puddles he splashed through. Feet and trousers drenched, Chad couldn’t find it in him to stop; steps uneven and breath shaky as he tried to ignore the way his heart was bashing against his ribs like a trapped bird.

He didn’t hate running.

He hated running blind.

Despite the cool air of the night he pulled in with every breath, Chad’s eyes kept dropping to his palms — unable to leave them for long. Streetlights flickered to life overhead as he ran from the library, long shadows seemingly spreading further across the asphalt with each passing moment.

But he wasn’t looking at the shadows.

I’m… I’m losing my mind. His attention stayed on his skin, the light from above doing nothing to hide the light he could see on top of them. If he focused hard enough — if he dragged his attention away from the chaos of everything else today — he could almost catch it; that faint shimmer at the edge, blue winking to life around his fingers.

This town. He pulled in another breath like it was water and he’d been lost in the desert. There’s something in the air. Something… Another breath pulled in deep and yet it did barely anything to help him calm down. Something’s wrong with me.

He flexed his fingers, each of his knuckles cracking loud with sharp pops from each digit. A warmth stood out under and in them, something dense and humming that sat heavy under his skin; a pressure that felt no different than steam in a closed pipe.

Despite the sound of it, it felt… good.

Right, even.

Which was exactly how Chad knew it was wrong.

Blue eyes chose that moment to tear themselves away from his own hands, Chad forcing himself to look at anything else. Those eyes went up instead, rather than down, his chest still heaving as he stared at the sky. Oh.

The moon had breached the edge of Storybrooke’s pines, the pale red he had heard about in the library hanging high above his head. It was a sickly shade, almost pink more than red; a bruised infected color that looked like it was bleeding into the night.

Not the time. Chad shook his head and dropped his gaze as he started moving again. You can moonwatch later. Just figure this out first. He rounded the corner of Storybrooke’s Main Street only to stop dead again, shoes skidding on slick concrete as he stared at what was in front of him. What now?

A crowd of people had formed just outside Storybrooke’s clock tower, their voices raised and angry. Easily three dozen of them milled there under the pink light of the moon, a mass of them holding rifles, pitchforks and torches of all things. 

A mob?

An actual torch-wielding mob stood dozens strong and ready for violence, the metallic clatter of their weapons nearly as loud as their voices as they shouted something Chad couldn’t make out.

What he could make out was the least surprising part of it all, the man at the very head of the gathered townspeople, still dressed in a full suit and black oxfords — David’s old man from the sheriff’s station. “Albert Spencer.”

As if hearing his name, the old man turned his broad jowly face down the street — those small eyes locking right onto him even through the dead of night. “You.”

A single accusing finger pointed his way as that baritone rolled over asphalt, the word dropping into the street with all the force of a sledgehammer. Albert walked forward, the crowd moving with him as if of one mind. “The outsider. You were with the deviant at the station. You’ve been with her all this week, haven’t you?”

“He has!” “I’ve seen him!” “The rich kid!” The crowd didn’t stay silent either, a good half-dozen of the loudest gathered in it backing up the old man with their own points and opinions.

Albert took another deliberate step forward, expression demanding an answer before his mouth did. “Where are they hiding the wolf? The public demands an answer.”

Chad’s jaw tightened, any patience he had long gone and burnt to nothing by the sheer madness of today. Temper flaring fast and hot, he pointed a finger of his own back at the old man. “Yeah, you need to back the fuck away from m-!”

AHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

A jagged noise tore through the night, bearing down on the street with weight that was nearly physical as Chad felt a grunt forced out of him. Wh-what was that? The sound was far too rough, too deep in the pitch to be a natural animal and definitely not a wolf. It sounded more like a human throat tearing itself apart to force out something like that. 

The young man whipped around to track the sound, his blue eyes tracing up the brick of the local pharmacy only to — “What the hell is…” — widen as he saw it.

A nightmare.

It was perched atop the brick parapet, its stance on all fours precarious but somehow perfectly balanced all the same.

If it stood on its hind legs, Chad knew from the bottom of his heart that the thing would tower over him by at least a foot. Impossibly long and horribly underfed limbs stretched out over the rooftop, the thing’s matted red and black fur a patchy diseased disaster atop sickly pale skin pulled tight over jutting joints ready to snap. 

The thing shouldn’t have worked.

It shouldn’t have been able to move.

But it did.

And it howled.

The sound it let out forced a stumble from him again, his body responding despite his attempts to stand straight; heartbeat picking up even faster. H-how…

The how didn’t matter, because the thing simply was.

Another howl ripped out as it raised its head, Chad stumbling forward as several others in the crowd let out a shout — one person even falling to the floor. But even the howl wasn’t what got Chad’s attention this time and it wasn’t what made his heart freeze in his chest.

No, it was the head.

Tangled and fused directly to the top of the thing’s spine was a growth, the thing sprouting right from the nape of its neck like a mushroom, in the ragged blood-red shape of a hood. What looked no different than blood ran down it as the thing beat like an exposed heart, pulsing and throbbing as the thing raised its head to sniff the air.

Blue eyes spotted the face and, for the first time, Chad O’Donaghue took a purposeful step back. It looked… human.

Like it could have been human, at least, but a mockery of anything close to proper anatomy. The jaw stretched too wide and too far, fixed in a permanent smile of perfectly clean white human teeth — a girl’s smile; a pretty thing that Chad knew he could imagine on another face. No…

As if finally realizing a crowd of people was below it, forest-green eyes wet with what looked like unshed tears — as undeniably human as that smile — stared down at the street.

Chad took another stagger of a step backward, all the breath in his lungs gone in one single rush. “Jesus…” His hand rose, the sign of the cross formed over his chest on instinct as he tried to think straight. “Jesus Christ…”

The mob shifted. 

A few people near the back screamed out loud, three or four dropping their flashlights and breaking into a dead sprint away from the square. Yet, as Chad turned to look at the several dozen remaining bodies still hanging around and staring in confusion, a different terror struck him.

They… They were staring at shadows, weapons and torches held high as they scanned the alleyways. Even Albert was staring past the pharmacy, the old man’s ice-chip eyes squinting off into the dark. They can’t see it.

“It’s right f-fucking there!” His voice cracked halfway through, all his polish shattering completely as a shaking hand jutted up towards the roof. “Look at it!”

“What are you talking about, boy?” Albert blinked, the man’s face more of that disgusted confusion he wore proudly as he turned his head slowly toward Chad. “Enough with the hysterics. We’re hunting a wolf.”

Yet, even when Albert couldn’t see it, the panic began to spread as others in the crowd saw something. Whether their eyes could make it out or they knew better than to risk it, a few pitchforks hit the ground as a dozen residents scattered for their lives.

“Where are you going?!” Albert whipped around, the man’s strict cadence hardening to a king’s command. “Hold the line! The she-wolf might att—”

The monster dropped.

A simple plummet from three stories had it land almost silently on the hood of a sedan, long limbs absorbing the impact in a predatory crouch. Metal groaned beneath its weight, the monster leaning forward as it stood directly in front of David’s father.

“Old man, you’ve gotta get the hell out of here!” Chad threw a hand out, voice a panicked mess of cracks. “Move! Now!”

Albert didn’t listen.

The old man puffed out his chest, acting like he didn’t hear Chad as he stared blindly at what had to be empty space to him, clearly unable to see the deformed chest of the wolf-thing just inches from his face. “Show yourself, beast!” Albert decreed into empty air like the king David mentioned he was. “This town will no longer fea-“

An arm whipped forward in a blur of matted fur.

Four filthy claws punched deep into Albert’s abdomen, razor-sharp knives sinking straight through the striped dress shirt with a wet crunch of bone and flesh. 

In a single sickening jerk, the old man rose with the limb, torn completely off his feet as he rose into the air. Albert couldn’t do a thing but gasp, face a mask of open shock as a thick torrent of dark blood erupted from his mouth, spilling over his chin and soaking the man’s tie.

The remaining crowd finally shrieked as one, collective terror shattering the quiet night as the mob scattered in a blind panic. The beast tilted its over-stretched smiling head, those wet eyes not at all sad as they watched Albert’s limbs thrash weakly in the empty air.

The thrashing stopped when the mouth opened and the old man’s head disappeared inside it.

Chad’s heart hammered against his ribs like a jackhammer, breath frozen in his lungs.

But his hands were moving all the same.

He didn’t need to understand what he was looking at. He didn’t need to understand why most of the town was blind to the over-long nightmare in front of them. All he needed to do was draw on the lessons his uncle had beaten into him since he hit double digits.

Namely, not to freeze up when a man was dying.

His fingers closed around the cold grip of his P239, Chad drawing the SIG from his jacket in a single motion.

Pop-pop-pop.

Three 9mm hollow points sparked bright under the rose moon, sharp cracks echoing loud off brick and asphalt. All three rounds struck the beast square in the shoulder, tearing through matted fur.

The thing didn’t even flinch. 

Elongated jaws opened up as clawed hands let go of Albert Spencer’s body. The headless gored corpse hit the pavement with a wet splattering thud, blood pooling around the sedan’s tires. Green eyes slowly turned their way toward Chad, bloody tears running free down that too-human face.

Even as his breath came ragged, chest pounding harder and harder, Chad held the gun as steady and strong as he could. “…R-Ruby?”

The smile seemed to stretch wider at the name, lips pulling back to reveal more of those perfectly straight and pristine white teeth — not a single drop of blood anywhere to be seen.

‘It’s a monster, a wild animal. It’s not smart.’ He remembered those words, his own words from earlier today echoing in his own head. Not… not smart. 

Chad crossed himself again, so hard his fingers nearly struck collarbone. “In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spiri—”

The thing smiled even wider.

“Our Father, who art in H-H-Heaven…” His voice broke on the last word. “Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be d—”

It took a step closer.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in batt-!”

The nightmare rushed him.

Too fast.

A blur of red and black fur covered the distance in a heartbeat.

Chad dove sideways, a near-scream leaving him as he hit the asphalt rough and hard. Claws swiped above him, tearing through the same space his head had just been. He rolled across the ground, the SIG Sauer slipping from his grip. A wide-eyed Chad grasped for it even as it skittered away, the weapon spinning uselessly across the street and vanishing under a parked car. 

The blond scrambled onto his back, palms scraping against the grit of asphalt as the monster loomed over him, saliva dripping from those perfect teeth and onto Chad’s blue shoes. That fused red hood flared as it growled, the thing pulsing and throbbing with each breath.

Panic spiked in Chad’s chest, his heart seizing for a single second. But beneath it, that same phantom pressure from before surged again, flooding Chad’s chest with warmth. His body flickered, a brilliant shell of blue wrapping around his limbs for just a heartbeat.

…I’m going to die.

That much felt obvious, more than anything. 

Somehow, that was almost relaxing; something finally out of his hands, that he wasn’t expected to fix or manage.

“Yeah, alright, sure.” A laugh spilled free from Chad as he stared up at those familiar green eyes with a smile on his face. “If you’re gonna kill me, Ruby, do it already. Your breath’s a fucking crime, though.”

The beast paused, head tilted to the side as if taking in the suicidal insult.

It didn’t stop it from lunging forward the next second.