I wake up with a dull ache in my neck and my mouth tasting like wood and metal. I yawn and sit up, then freeze. I’m in an unfamiliar, extremely dirty house. Morning light filters in from the windows, warming the semi-rotten planks of wood under my feet. I blink and it all comes back—the curse, the pack chasing me, the Bonecrusher. I’m in the Bonecrusher’s house right now.

  I get to my feet, shivering nervously. But the house is dead silent. Almost like it’s abandoned. I lift my nose and inhale deeply. Just on the edge of undetectable is the hint of decay. So not abandoned. I guess the Bonecrusher is just asleep.

  Though it shouldn’t, the fact that she’s still here relaxes me. I should be scared, but I don’t know…she was so nice to me! Maybe she wouldn’t mind me staying for a while until I figure this curse stuff out.

  I’m hungry and thirsty, but I doubt a vampire has anything to eat or drink in her lair. I wander around the living room, blinking in the daylight. I missed so many details last night; just beyond the door, a termite-chewed desk and waterlogged chair sit. Behind the desk is a couch. It’s an expensive, old green and gold model, and the glass coffee table in front of it was definitely nice at some point. Further into the living room, the armchair the Bonecrusher sat in rests beside a crumbling brick fireplace. It’s an alarmingly huge living room for just one person, err, vampire.

  I pass the front door and wince at the massive hole I put in it. I shudder, thinking of the intense fear that allowed me to chew through solid wood. I peek through the hole, but all I see of the Bonecrusher’s filthy yard, and the dense line of trees that were once my home.

  I shake my head. I can’t get depressed. I need to explore this place and find some water at least. I turn away from the door and head toward where the Bonecrusher disappeared last night. As I thought, the living room opens up into a massive kitchen. It has diner black and white tile, a wood-burning stove, and a breakfast nook that looks out the backyard. It’s so cute! Well, it would be if it wasn’t a wreck. Garbage, decayed food, and random pots and pans litter the floor. The breakfast nook has a table, but it’s sagging to the floor because one leg has been snapped off. What a mess. This would be a gorgeous house if the Bonecrusher cleaned it up at all.

  I trot through the first floor, becoming increasingly intrigued. There are three bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, all equally a wreck like the kitchen. I climb the stairs (narrowly avoiding falling to my death when one collapses under my paws) to the second floor, and there are even more bedrooms, plus a laundry room and a cavernous, empty room that might be for games or events. I poke my head into an open space in the wall, and when I look down, I can just barely see the squat top of something metal, attached by wires that stretch up toward the third floor and out of sight. An elevator? I’m curious about the third floor too, but I don’t go up because that’s where the decay smell is the strongest. I circle the second floor, looking out the window at buried trash in the yard below in awe.

  This isn’t a house. It’s a hotel.

  My ears twitch and a second later I hear the creak of steps. I wait and the Bonecrusher appears on the second floor. She’s still wearing her gray bathrobe and slippers, and her sour expression from last night.

  “Did I say you could go on a tour?”

  “Good morning, Bonecrusher!” My tail is wagging furiously, kicking up dust. We both cough a little. “Sorry, sorry! I just love your house. I didn’t know you lived in a hotel.”

  “It’s a B&B,” The Bonecrusher grunts. Oh wow, even cooler! “That’s not important. You gonna change so I can see the mark or what?”

  I shuffle my feet, embarrassed. “Well, I…don’t have any clothes.”

  The Bonecrusher takes off her bathrobe and chucks it at me. I yelp in surprise and she raises her eyebrows. She’s wearing pajamas underneath, thank goodness. They’re yellowed with age and have horrible bloodstains near the collar. But they do have little red and blue hearts on them, which is cute. “Go ahead.”

  I hesitate. I’m not sure about putting on this horrible robe, but I don’t think I have a choice. “Can you turn around?”

  The Bonecrusher sighs, but turns so she can’t see me change. I shake my head and I’m back, paws to hands, snout to human skull. Pain groans in my muscles and bones, and my hands are doted with dark bruises, but it’s not so bad. The moon and the Bonecrusher’s careful tweezers healed most of me. I blink several times as my eyes adjust to human color scale. I recoil from the rug. The bathrobe isn’t gray—it’s just so dirty and faded that it looks gray. It’s supposed to be pink.

  “You done?” The Bonecrusher barks. I hurry to put it on, shuddering at the scratchy, filthy material on my skin. I tie the robe around my body, trying not to shudder at its horrible texture, limp from age and grime. And it’s ice cold.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  The Bonecrusher turns. For a split second she seems surprised and then…sad? But I blink and it’s over, and her expression is just as grumpy as it was a few seconds ago. “Where’s the mark? I ain’t got all day.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I lift up the robe on my left side. The Bonecrusher’s eyes widen, and she touches the mark. Her fingers are cold, but they warm as soon as she touches the ink.

  “Well…?” I say after several long seconds.

  “Well.” The Bonecrusher steps back, a bemused expression on her face. “You weren’t lying. That’s the mark of Death sure enough.”

  My stomach swims with nausea. I was hoping Uncle Alder was mistaken… “So, so like what is it? What does it do?”

  “You heard of the four horsemen of the apocalypse?”

  “From the Bible??”

  “The Bible gets all the credit, but it ain’t the only culture to write that down. That’s about all that’s right in that book, I’ll tell ya, but a broken clock’s right twice a day, I suppose.” The Bonecrusher scratches at her scalp absently. For the first time, I notice her nails are pitch black and tapered to a point. “Anyway, that’s you. You’re the fourth horseman, pale rider of Death.”

  I just stare at her. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You ain’t deaf.”

  A keening rises in my ears like the hissing of a tea kettle. No. No! This is impossible! I literally just went to a garden and happened to be struck by lightning. I can’t be a horseman—I’ve never even seen a horse in real life! They scare me!

  “Don’t faint on me,” the Bonecrusher says warily.

  “This is impossible,” I manage. My breathing is sharp and short, and I’m suddenly hot all over. Oh shit, I really might pass out.

  “Improbable, yes, and incredibly rare, but not impossible. Someone’s gotta do it, after all.”

  “But why me?!”

  The Bonecrusher shrugs. She yawns, like this is just another Tuesday for her. “Life’s just like that sometimes, kid.”

  My knees get weak and I sit down on the floor before I collapse. I can’t believe this. Uncle Alder will never let me come home now. He was right—I am bad luck.

  The Bonecrusher puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. I didn’t even see her move.

  “Chin up, pup. You can’t usher in the apocalypse on your own. Been a while since I read Revelations, but the horsemen are just the first part. You got three more major events at least before we panic.”

  I wasn’t even thinking about the actual end of the world, but I am now. Moon goddess, please don’t let me have to deal with this. I can’t even convince my uncle to like me, much less save the world! “Please tell me there’s a way to reverse this.”

  “Hmm.” The Bonecrusher strokes her chin. “Well, it’s a curse, so theoretically, there is.”

  I look up at her, full of hope. “Really?”

  “In theory. It’s the whole equivalent exchange thing, or whatever alchemists are always on about. You can’t have a curse without a way to remove it.”

  “Do you know how—”

  “No clue.” The Bonecrusher yawns again. “I’m old, not an encyclopedia. You’ll have to ask around.”

  Okay. Okay, I’m not dead yet. There’s hope. I just have to find the right monster to tell me about this. Better yet, someone who can tell me about the mysterious mark in the Wizard’s now-ruined garden.

  “But don’t go running off now,” the Bonecrusher warns. “You still gotta fix my door.”

  I nod, but then it’s like I’m struck by lightning again. “Other monsters might know something about this curse, right?”

  The Bonecrusher nods. “Probably some magic-users, but no guarantee.”

  My brain whirs with ideas, and I’m suddenly a lot more optimistic. “Then I can help you fix a lot more than that door.”

  “What?”

  “Your hotel! If we fix it up and get it running, monsters will come to stay here. And we can ask them about my curse.”

  The Bonecrusher’s lip curls, exposing her gold fang. “I don’t like having people in my house.”

  “You could make money?”

  “Do I look like I need money?” I look at her disgusting, blood-stained pajamas and tactfully stay silent. The Bonecrusher strokes her chin again. She’s no longer annoyed; she almost seems intrigued. “Though…that might be interesting.”

  “It’ll be so interesting. Think of all the people you’ll meet!”

  “Don’t care about that,” the Bonecrusher grunts. “But finding a way to dispel a never before seen curse…well. That’ll be something to pass the time.”

  Yes!! I feel like dancing. I get to my feet instead, grinning at the old vampire. I can’t believe I thought she was a terrifying force of nature last night. Now, in the morning light and with a thoughtful expression, she almost seems normal. “So you’ll help me?”

  The Bonecrusher sighs. “As long as I don’t have to do any work, fine. Fix the house or whatever.”

  “Yay! Your house will be beautiful again, I swear. And you’ll have so many guests.”

  “I didn’t agree to the guest part.”

  I’m so happy, I just ignore that last part. “Thank you, Bonecrusher, I won’t let you down.” I throw my arms around her. She stiffens, but I barely notice. I’m already thinking about every house-restoring show I’ve ever seen. It can’t be too hard, right?

  “One condition,” the vampire warns. “Stop calling me Bonecrusher. It sounds stupid.”

  I step back. “What should I call you? Oh, I’m Malia by the way.”

  The Bonecrusher looks at me reproachfully. “You shouldn’t give out your real name to anyone unless you trust them with your life. Kids got no respect for the ancient rules.”

  I nod politely because I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Should I call you by a nickname until you trust me?”

  The Bonecrusher doesn’t speak, just gives me a withering glare that would rival Uncle Alder’s. But unlike my uncle, I don’t feel any fear. Just excitement, and like I’m on the edge of something important, something new.

  “How about…” I think hard and then it comes to me. “Grampire! Like Grandma and vampire?”

  The vampire looks vaguely ill, but nods. “Whatever you want, kid. Now leave me alone, it’s the middle of the day.”

  The Bonecrusher, Grampire I mean, shuffles to the steps. I wave at her. “Sleep well! When you wake up, I’ll have a plan ready.”

  Grampire rolls her eyes and troops upstairs without another word.

  After she’s gone, I sit on the top step. I take in the decaying house and smell of rotten wood and trash. It’s not much. It’s not even nice. I don’t have a pack anymore, or a home, or even clothes. I have a deadly curse pulsing away on my ribcage, and no known way to remove it. I’m basically at rock bottom.

  But I do have a ratty bathrobe, and this old hotel, and Grampire. And that’s enough to have hope. I may be unlucky, but I’ve never let that stop me before. I turn around and write a to do list in the dust covering the hardwood floors.

  1.) fix Grampire’s front door

  2.) fix up B&B

  3.) figure out a way to remove curse

  4.) possibly prevent the apocalypse??

  It’s not gonna be an easy list to accomplish, and that fourth one is especially worrying. But like Grampire says, it’s improbable, not impossible. And if luck won’t help me, grit certainly will.

  I erase my checklist and head downstairs to brainstorm on how to repair some damage in Grampire’s front door.