Thread One: The Curse

Artemis

“I’m going to ask you really slowly once again, so try and give me a straight answer this time. What do you believe in?”

Artemis had heard Damon ask her that same question forty billion times, using different inflections and synonyms for the same words, always changing it up a bit, as if she would give a different answer. The inquiry had never fazed her, but now as he asked her yet again, Artemis wasn’t sure what to make of it. His voice sounded stressed, and the expression in his ice blue eyes frightened her. It was wild, desperate. Was there something she was missing? She shifted in his arms, head resting on his shoulder and gaze trailing away from the classic Béla Lugosi film they were watching to his face. Even in the shabby house, beneath sickly pale lighting and surrounded by everything from illegal satellite boxes to curtains attacked and made ratty by moths, he managed to look…different. His features were sharp and angular, not traditionally handsome but aesthetic. The light bulb above them gave a slightly yellow cast to his white blonde hair. As usual, Artemis noted that his foot was shaking. Her Damon was always restless, as if he were caged by something.

Her answer was the same as always. “You. I believe in you. And I believe that there’s somethin’ more than this, but I don’t know what it is.” She turned her eyes back to the movie, even as she heard a long-suffering sigh pass his lips, as if he were an exasperated adult trying to get a point across to a stubborn child. These pained exhales of breath weren’t anything new to the couple. It was a daily occurrence. “And I believe that there’s somethin’ that’s botherin’ ya. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m gonna figure it out.” She didn’t change her tone or expression as she added that little tag to the end of her answer. As usual, it made him tense and she rolled her eyes. This little conversation was so routine to her that it didn’t matter. This was normal.

Artemis had known Damon for three years and since her older cousin had set up a date between the two about six months after their first meeting, Artemis and Damon had been in a relationship for two years and six months. Well, pretty close to it. Damon knew her cousin from church, nothing unusual in Laceton. There was something about him that fascinated her even as it annoyed her peers at school. He was aloof and broody most of the time, the kind of guy who everyone wanted to tell to put up or shut up—but unlike most, Damon could back up any of his big talk and always did. He was calm and level-headed, but amused himself by riling everyone around him up. Including Arty.

“Once again, wrong answer. When will you get it right, love?”

Artemis raised her head up, turning her cheek away from him as he reached up to touch it, the corners of her lips turning down into a slight scowl. He always had to say things in the most condescending manner possible. It killed her. “It’s sort of an open-ended question. What the heck am I supposed to say?” she asked with an air of annoyance, closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip. If he had an answer, he didn’t give it. Damon merely went back to watching Dracula. As if that was going to make a difference to the question. Artemis never understood why Damon always got to ask the questions. . . He got ticked whenever she did. This little parent-approved date was about to become one of those cases. “Damon, what’re you doin’ this weekend?” She knew what the answer was going to be before he even gave her a second look. This weekend was ‘that time of month’ when Damon went to visit his grandparents in Tennessee. It was like clockwork. About three days a month, he refused to see her, to answer her calls, to even be within twenty feet of her. . . He claimed that it was just crappy timing, but Artemis had noticed the regularity of it, even when his grandparents weren’t even in that state for the moment. Ugh.

“We went over this yesterday. I’m heading down to Fort Collins to visit Lavelle and Valerie,” he said with an air of annoyance, as if he had repeated it over and over again. Which, Artemis remembered, he had. “Cell phone reception is terrible down there, Arty. I swear I’ll try to call you whenever I can, but I don’t know when I’ll get the chance.” It was the same answer he always gave her. There were a lot of things he often repeated, and once again, he used that nickname that no one else was allowed to call her. Somehow, Artemis figured that her full name sounded a lot better than the shortened version. . . But Damon’s cool tenor could make anything, no matter how awkward, sound good. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, pulse fluttering as Damon put a hand on her wrist, thumb tapping along to her heartbeat, as if he could hear its steady rhythm. The scowl died from her lips, though the irritation didn’t completely fade.

“What is it with them, anyway?” Artemis murmured, more to herself than Damon, though he always managed to know exactly what she was saying, whether it be muffled under her breath or across a crowded hall. “Are they superstitious or somethin’? Ya never visit them unless there’s a full moon risin’.”  She felt him tense, his skin growing stony and rigid as he pushed, forcing her to move from her comfortable spot.  “Damon, don’t— ” she began, but he was already getting up and  walking stiffly towards the door, unfazed by the couple of random possessions littering the floor in his wake. Artemis watched him with an annoyed expression, debating over whether or not to follow after him.