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Jack tensed, looking over his shoulder. Whatever he saw must have shocked him, because he stumbled, righting himself at the last moment, and cursed. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” I asked, stopping and turning.
Dozens of shocking yellow eyes winked at me in the dark. The night sky was overcast, but the snow was so bright, I could still see enough to discern light gray shapes slinking behind us. They weren’t overly big—maybe slightly larger than a common cat—but the sheer number of them was unnerving.
“Why are they following us?” I whispered, creeping closer to Jack. His fingers tightened around my arm as we both stood and watched the creatures until one of them yowled loudly, startling us both.
“No fucking idea,” Jack said, his voice steady. “Icy gales, got scared for a moment. But these are just mountain cats. They don’t attack people. Maybe they just… like our scent or something. Come on.”
He turned us around and we kept walking home, faster than before. Another cat yowled, then another, until they were all constantly making noises. Jack stopped, huffing angrily, and let go of me. He shooed the cats away with vicious snarls, making them scatter, and when no cat was left in the street, he turned to me with a satisfied grin.
“There. Now they won’t wake anyone up.”
We were almost to the house when the loud, obnoxious yowling resumed. Jack turned with a curse, shooing the cats away angrily, but this time, they stayed put. I shivered. Somehow, it seemed like they were looking straight at me, their unsettling yellow eyes like poisonous points of light in the dark. Jack huffed, opening the gate for me, and closed it firmly after stepping through.
Before we made it to the front door, what looked like a dozen cats had jumped over the fence, prowling in the dark and yowling so loudly, I swore the sound echoed.
“Let’s get inside,” Jack said tightly, looking worried now. “Maybe they’ll leave when they can’t smell us anymore.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I nodded, quickly entering the dark house. I couldn’t shake off a chill that had nothing to do with the cold and everything—with the way the cats seemed to stare right at me. Like there was an invisible mark on my back, singling me out for them to follow.
When a loud yowl came just from the other side of the door, Jack shook his head, his jaw clenching.
“Let’s get inside and get something warm to drink. I’m sure they will leave in a couple of minutes.”
Chapter 19
Jack
The cats didn’t leave. By the time the water for our tea boiled, my parents, along with Soren and Cris, had all come down from their bedrooms to check on the horrible noise that woke them up. I made tea for Scarlett and Ma, then put the kettle on again, while outside, what sounded like a horde of mountain cats kept yowling horribly.
The sound, so amusing when heard in passing on a walk, was unbearable when made by so many creatures at once, so close to the house.
It sounded like they surrounded the building. The noise came from every side. It was maddening.
“Well, maybe someone burned some strange wood?” my father asked, pulling the fur on his chin. “Maybe the smoke makes them go crazy?”
Soren scoffed, sprawling on the couch in the family living room, his legs dangling over the armrest. “Why would smoke attract mountain cats? Besides, they followed them for some time. It’s not the smoke.”
Scarlett sat by my side, nursing her warm mug, looking uncertain yet pissed off. I was starting to think anger might be her default mode in any unpleasant or threatening situation. When my family discussed the problem, Mother fretting about the cats waking Ruslan and Ivo’s kids, Scarlett stayed silent, listening keenly.
Finally, when no one had any more ideas about the possible causes of the cats’ bizarre behavior, she swallowed and asked, “So it’s not something common here? Like… magic or something?”
My father frowned, shaking his head. “Well, there is magic in these parts, and it’s the most potent in the Yule. Some people practice magic, do luck charms, and sometimes small spells and curses. But I’ve never heard of any spell that makes cats go crazy.”
“Curses,” Ma said, her eyes widening. “What if someone cursed you? What if some conniving, bigoted old boot doesn’t like the fact you got a human wife?” She turned to Scarlett, smiling kindly. “Not that people are prejudiced in these parts, dear. But there are some bad seeds, like everywhere.”
Scarlett nodded, giving my mom a faint smile. The yowling didn’t let up even for a moment, and my head was pounding from the unpleasant sound. Trying to think despite the noise, I latched on to Ma’s words.
“You’re right,” I said slowly, thinking back to the Yule Lads’ Parade. “It is a curse. But it wasn’t cast by anyone from town.”
When everyone turned to me, I smiled grimly, squeezing Scarlett’s thigh. “Everyone knows the legend about the Yule lads, right? That if you frown at them, they’ll curse you?”
My father scoffed, muttering about old wives’ tales, at which Ma gave him a hard jab with her elbow. “It’s not a legend. They really do that. Did that to my friend when we were girls. And then to my fifth cousin, Magnar. Poor boy fell in a ravine and died from the curse.”
Everyone grew still, the yowling frightfully loud in the sudden tension.
“He… died from a curse?” Scarlett said carefully, her voice calm, even though her thigh twitched like she tried to keep from bouncing her leg.
