A Curse Upon Thee 3

Chapter 3: The Queen and the Imp

Room Seven was simple, clean, and just like the rest of the Storybrooke Bed & Breakfast, it was right out of a Better Homes and Gardens Magazine from the mid-60s. 

Positively quaint, and absolutely one-hundred-percent not his style.

Especially the lumpy-ass mattress. 

Barely able to sleep on the thing, Finn McHale spent the first day wearing a trench in the cheap floral carpet. Pacing from the rickety-ass window that overlooked the dead-end main street to the door and back again, he had nothing else to do but try to jam the broken shards of his memory back together. 

Try was the word there.

It was a good word, but it was still just a word.

Trying to recall anything about who he actually… well, it was kinda like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces were from different boxes. He could recall, with the crystal-clear, high-definition clarity of an HD-plasma screen TVl, the intricate details of a Curtain, a Tobari, a barrier designed to hide the actions of sorcerers from the normals and lure Cursed Spirits from their hiding places. 

That much was as easy as pie, Granny’s Boston Creme specifically.

But his mother’s face? Smoke. The name of his best friend? Blank.

Even his favorite food? Zilch.

He almost had to wonder if the Curse that did this to him was just a vindictive bitch. …wait, it’s a Cursed Spirit, of course it is. Finn rolled his eyes at his own pointless question and let himself fall back with a sigh. 

Sprawled out like he was making a snow angel on the lumpy mattress, Finn just stared up at the water-stained ceiling, tracing the shape of a screaming face in the discoloration. I… I need…

What did he need, honestly?

There were so many answers to that question, and most of them something he wasn’t likely to get anytime soon.

I need… Blue eyes married again as Finn stared off at nothing. …a phone. 

That… that worked. That actually worked.

A phone was simpler.

A phone was easier.

A phone was a lifeline. 

A way to prove he existed outside the town limits of this weird-ass purgatory. But, being honest, he wasn’t even sure a town this small, a town where time itself had apparently given up and gone home, would even have a place to buy one. No… no, come on. Finn shook his head again, a groan spilling out of his mouth. They’re not Amish. Probably.

It had been a full twenty-four hours since he’d woken up on that hospital bed, a new man in the most literal, and shittiest, sense. Being stuck in this old-timey room that Granny had been kind enough to give him and Emma had been nice enough to pay for was good (in the roof over his head and a bed under his ass sense) but it wasn’t exactly satisfying or entertaining either.

Apart from a deeply weird and entirely circular conversation with a little boy named Henry Mills — Emma’s kid, apparently — who had an unnerving, old-man seriousness his mother didn’t, and a weird story about a curse that made Finn’s own fragmented memories feel straight up sane, Finn was straight up bored.

Bored out of his mind.

Sucks this room doesn’t even have a TV. He stared around the room with bored eyes again but, being real, what else could you expect from a small town of not even four thousand people? I miss Kyoto. 

The thought surfaced out of nowhere, and it was so sharp, so clear in his chest that it almost hurt. He was actually feeling homesick for a place he wasn’t even sure he’d ever been too. 

Which was just… weirder on top of weird.

Before his brain could spiral any deeper down that particular rabbit hole, a sound jarred him right out of his head. A sharp authoritative knock on his door, not friendly at all. It was the kind of knock either a mom or a cop would make.

Shit.

His head popped up from the lumpy pillow, every muscle in his body suddenly tense as he heard the knock again. Emma?

No.

He didn't know much about the lady (apart from her weird kid and her habit of running over people) but he could already tell she wasn't the type to intrude on people. Too guarded for that.

Frowning, he slid off the bed. His bare feet were silent on the worn floorboards as he moved toward the door, one hand already itching to form signs he wasn't sure he knew. Easy.

He opened it to find a woman standing in the hallway.

A pretty woman, in that severe way that screamed money and power and probably a stick up her ass made of some expensive Brazilian wood. Pale skin, dark hair cut in a sharp no-nonsense bob, and dressed in a pantsuit so impeccably tailored it probably cost more than Emma's entire car. She smiled at him but it was just her mouth going through the motions. The polite baring of teeth. Her eyes were cold, assessing; deeply unimpressed.

Oooh, spooky.

"Phineas McHale, correct? Nice to finally see the new guest to our lovely little town.” Her voice was polished marble; just as smooth and twice as cool. 

"…uh… hi?" Once again, Finn, just killing it with the smooth talk.

"I'm Regina Mills," she said, extending a hand that he didn't take. "The mayor of said lovely little town. ."

"…Oh." He leaned against the doorframe, not moving to let her in or take her hand.

"I wanted to personally welcome you to Storybrooke.” The mayor pulled her hand back, eyes firmly locked on his as she didn’t even mention it. “And ensure you were settling in well."

Finn blinked again as he tilted his head to the side. "Nice to meet you, I guess?"

It was not, in fact, nice to meet her. Why the hell is the mayor here? It was weird enough to have a local politician at his door but the weirdness didn't stop there.

It really didn't.

Something about this lady was as wrong as the rest of this town was. It didn't take much to notice it, considering the mayor wasn't even trying to hide it. There was a weird cloying aura of controlled negativity; Cursed Energy so dense and tightly packed that it felt like a black hole sucking all the warmth out of the hallway. Even locked up inside her like a vault, it was something he recognized on an instinctual level. A barely-there memory tripping and falling into place.

This woman wasn't just a small-town mayor.

Not when Finn found himself face-to-face with the same aura that could only come off a powerful Curse User.

But as much as that answered one question, it also raised a bigger one.

Simply put…

The fuck is up with her Cursed Energy? It felt… weird. Not Sorcerer weird. Something else. Something that made his own energy want to either run or fight, couldn't decide which.

"I'm just checking on the newest resident of our town," she said. Her eyes flicked past him to do a slow condescending sweep of his room. "I heard you were involved in a… rather unfortunate accident."

"I'm fine," he said, his voice flat. He could feel the low thrum of his own Cursed Energy reacting to hers; a low protective growl starting in his chest.

"I'm sure you are," she continued. Her gaze lingered on the rumpled sheets of his bed. "It's just that… we're a quiet community here, Mr. McHale. We don't often get visitors who arrive in such a… dramatic fashion." Her smile tightened just a bit, not a single bit of it reaching her eyes for a second. "I trust your stay here will be an uneventful one."

The words hung in the air, weighted and sharp as blue eyes narrowed back at those dark ones.

"Mrs Mayor, I-"

"Ms." The interruption was as sudden as her appearance at his door, Regina's smile tightening even further. "I'm not married."

Course you're not. Finn nodded slowly. "That's surprising," he lied as easily as he breathed, words sliding out in a near-perfect copy of Regina’s tone. "But it's even more surprising you'd think I'd ever want to make a mess in your town. I'm recovering from a car accident. I would never even think to do anything like that."

"See that you don't," she replied. That perfect empty smile unwavering. "We value our peace and quiet. Disruptions are… dealt with."

He just stared at her, the silence stretching between them like a wire pulled taut. He could feel the pressure of her power; a physical weight against his senses even if it seemed all the way locked deep down inside her; a fortress of contained malice. 

A Special Grade, maybe?

No.

Not like he could really measure the difference on his own, but he knew in his gut she was nowhere near that powerful. Definitely a Grade One, though, 

Strong enough to level a city block if she lost her temper. Strong enough to make his own Cursed Energy want to curl up and hide in the corner. Don't poke the bear, Finn.

"Do you know what Jujutsu is?" He immediately did just that, mouth moving before his brain caught up, the question feeling strange and familiar at the same time.

Regina's perfect smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of actual confusion reaching her dark eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"Jujutsu," he repeated. Why am I pushing this? "It's a… thing. A practice."

She tilted her head, a slow deliberate motion. "Should I?" If she could sound more condescending, Finn wasn’t sure exactly how but he wouldn’t put it past this lady.

He held her gaze for a half-second longer, looking down at the woman until a little laugh spilled out of his mouth. Without another word, Finn gave a short sharp shake of his head. "…naaaaah. Forget it."

A little frown line appeared between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She didn't like puzzles she couldn't solve. Good.

"Very well," Her voice slid back into something smooth and mayoral all over again, slick like a local politician should be. Granted, that was only like one step above car salesman but it was what it was.. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. McHale."

As she turned to leave, a wicked reckless impulse sparked in his gut. A need to poke the bear. Just to see what would happen. Don't do it. He murmured the words under his breath, barely a whisper leaving his lips. "Emerge from darkness, blacker than black…"

For a split second, the air in the hallway just outside his door shimmered. A flicker of oily black shadow twisting in on itself and then vanishing. Ken held back the urge to flinch at his shitty half-formed aborted attempt to raise a Curtain; a barrier to hide the use of sorcery from mundane eyes. It was a sloppy weak little flicker of a technique but it was there.

And he knew she'd felt it.

He knew it in the way Regina paused mid-stride, not a word on her lips. The woman didn’t even bother to turn. No, she just continued her way down the hall, sharp heels clicking on Granny’s old wood floorboards.

She knows.

And she knew that he knew

And he knew that she knew that he knew

Deciding to cap that train of thought before it went any further, Finn just nodded slowly as a single question popped into his head as he watched her disappear around the corner. How am I gonna punch this old lady in her smug evil face?

And just like that, this weird little town got a whole lot more interesting.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Later that afternoon, the four walls of his room started to feel like they were closing in. A whole twenty-four hours stuck inside was already pushing his limits and while it might not have been cabin fever levels of crazy yet, Finn knew he needed air before he started ripping up Granny’s old wallpaper like a cat. 

Fifteen minutes after he made that decision, the redhead walked the town's eerily quiet streets with his hands in his pockets, always making sure to keep that Cursed Energy-dense clock tower firmly in the corner of his eye. More than anything, it was a constant nagging reminder of how wrong this place was. Need to figure that out.

As he passed a quaint little antique shop (the windows crammed with dusty forgotten treasures and old-fashioned oversized clocks) the door opened with a cheerful jingle. A man limped out, leaning heavy on an ornate silver-handled cane.

Huh.

He was an older man, with lanky brown hair that fell to his chin. A thin face and a slim almost fragile-looking body wrapped in an expensive-looking suit. His eyes, though... his eyes were anything but fragile. They were sharp, intelligent, cunning; looking almost like what he thought a human snake would look like if snakes could pass for people.

Definitely some kind of lizard, this guy.

"Ah, Mr. McHale!" The man exclaimed. His voice was a low deliberate purr with a strange lilting accent that sounded... Scottish? Maybe? He sounded like a cat who'd just cornered a particularly interesting mouse. "Our town's newest, and most mysterious, resident. I do hope you're finding our little corner of the world to your liking."

"…hello?" This is getting old. He really, really wasn't a fan of everyone in this town knowing his name before he knew theirs. It felt like being the only one at a party not in on the joke. How does everyone know who I am?

"Mr. Gold," the man said, offering a hand that was all bone and sinew.. "I own this little establishment. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"…same here." Finn just stared at him, trying to place what exactly was setting off every alarm bell in his head. Once again, he didn’t extend his own, instinct telling him just enough to be careful about doing something like that.

This man... this Mr. Gold... he was different from the mayor. Regina's power was a controlled oppressive blanket of negativity; a well-trained guard dog on a short leash. Gold's power was a deep and chaotic well of Cursed Energy that made the hair on Finn's arms stand straight up at attention like this was Full Metal Jacket.

But just like Regina's, all of it was locked up so tight Fort Knox was jealous.

Still, though, if Regina was a Grade One, this guy was... something else entirely.

A Cursed Spirit?

No.

He was human.... or close enough, at least.

Probably.

Maybe?

Human or not, the energy clinging to him... no, this guy was definitely a Special Grade down to the bones. The kind of power that could wipe a city off the map if it wanted to.

"A young man like yourself, with no past to speak of… you must be feeling terribly lost," Gold said. His eyes twinkled in a way that made Finn's skin crawl. "Sometimes, all one needs is a purpose. A bit of work to occupy the hands, while the mind… heals." He gestured vaguely toward his shop with the handle of his cane. "I find myself in need of a strong back. Moving inventory, dusting shelves… the usual drudgery. And in return for your help… well, let's just say I'm quite good at finding things. Lost objects, lost people…"

He let the words hang in the air for almost a full second before he spoke again.

"…lost memories."

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

"What kind of inventory?" Why am I even asking this? He was already feeling bad vibes off this guy in the worst way; something not that different from what he'd gotten off Ms Mayor earlier today. Every instinct he had (the ones he remembered and the ones he didn't) was screaming at him to walk away. 

Run, even.

Mr. Gold's smile widened, the expression a slow deliberate stretching of thin lips that showed too many teeth. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that," the man said, already turning back toward his shop. "Curiosities. Relics. Things that have been forgotten, and are just waiting to be remembered." H

He pushed the door open, the bell chiming again. "Come in, son. Let's make a deal."