Chapter 4: Cursed

Part 1

"You need to return home."

"Hell's Kitchen needs me, Shuri. I can't just leave the people with no protector."

"Wakanda needs you. Your family needs you. That should be enough for you."

"The people of Wakanda have a Black Panther. That should be enough for them."

"Well, it isn't and you damn well know it. I've tried . . . I'm trying, and it still isn't enough. I'm not enough, T'Challa, and you need to come home. Together we can rebuild our homeland, reclaim our place in the international community, and make proper amends to our loyal citizens."

"Wakanda doesn't need or want a washed-up king and Black Panther."

"Is the same true for Ororo?"

"She understands why I'm here, Shuri. My wife supports me—what is that look for?"

"I can't believe you have the audacity to still call her that."

"You don't know—''

"What kind of husband have you been this last year? I don't care how you try to rationalize it, big brother, you abandoned your homeland, your responsibility, and your wife."

"That's not-''

"Fair? It's the truth. For Bast's sake, how much longer do you think Ororo will sit around waiting for you to get your shit together before she decides to make the separation permanent?"

"She understands."

"No wife is that damn understanding, not even Ororo."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I won't lose her."

"Yeah, right. How do you know you haven't already?"

Part 2

"Dr. Somide is finished with the exam."

T'Challa felt cool yet soft hands on his cheek. He blinked, forcing the unbidden memories away. He didn't need to replay those, not again, not now. He looked up to see his mother's concerned brown eyes peering down at him, the green of her silk dress reminding T'Challa of an exquisitely cut emerald.

She stroked his cheek the way she'd done so many times when he was a naïve, innocent boy. But he was no longer naïve, innocent, or a boy. Yet her loving touch had the same calming affect now as it had then. But she could no longer kiss his pain away or vanquish the ghosts from under his bed. No, he had to do that himself.

"Dr. Somide says we can see Ororo soon."

"Is she awake?" he asked standing, dusting off the clinging remnants of his daymare.

"We don't know," Shuri answered.

T'Challa turned to his right, his sister moving from a window where she'd been standing, looking out, her face registering disinterest at the winter scenery. They'd been sitting, standing, and pacing for the better part of an hour after Ororo collapsed. The three of them and Zawari huddled worriedly, if not impatiently, in Dr. Somide's office awaiting the news.

T'Challa recalled the water flowing from his wife's nose, mouth, ears, even eyes. She could barely breathe, trying to speak but causing more of the liquid to flow. Then she simply passed out, her body frighteningly limp in his arms.

"The nurse only said that the doctor is finishing up and we can go to her room in," Shuri looked at the marble Panther God shaped clock located on a file cabinet, "about seven more minutes." Did you not here Mother speaking with the nurse?"

He hadn't heard, his mind too busy conjuring up bad memories and old mistakes. The sad truth was that the alternative would've been far worse. Sitting and doing nothing wasn't exactly a skill he'd ever attempted to master. Hell he hadn't even had the presence of mind to ask Zawari about the business with the portal. That could wait. Ororo couldn't.

T'Challa made his way out of Dr. Somide's office, down a brightly lit corridor, and to a large recovery room at the end of the hallway. As silent as they were, he knew the others were behind him, the pulsing of their hearts increasing the closer they got to Ororo's hospital room. They were just as concerned about her and the twins as he was.

Now that you've returned home, son, what are you going to do to make our family complete? If you recall, you gave me a daughter-in-law and I want her safely home where she belongs.

Safe. T'Challa promised to keep her safe, to be there always for her.

Slowly, the door creaked open, T'Challa's gentle nudge and cautious legs following. In spite of the two ceiling to floor windows and the mid-day sun, the room was dimly lit, someone—probably a nurse—having partially drawn the heavy blue and gold draperies. But T'Challa noticed little of the room or the bodies passing him as they entered. No, the unconscious form of his pregnant wife in the bed held his eyes firmly.

"How is she?" T'Challa asked, speaking to the doctor while moving toward his wife. He studied her, listening to the beating of her heart, the slight whistle as she breathed, and the grim line of her mouth. She didn't appear to be unconscious but rather in a distasteful dream.

Dr. Somide turned to T'Challa, worried face but professional tone answered him. "I can't find any medical reason for her current state of unconsciousness. Her heart rate is strong and preliminary CAT scans are normal. As you all can see, she's breathing on her own. She's hooked to this one machine so I can monitor her and the babies heart rates. This," she said, pointing to the intravenous needle in Ororo's arm, "is for saline. It's only a precaution if she doesn't wake up soon."

"She was spitting up water, doc," Shuri said from the foot of the bed, "I don't think dehydration is something we have to worry about. Besides, she's a weather controlling mutant. Ororo would have to be damn near sitting on the sun to experience dehydration."

T'Challa gave his sister a squelching glare. She shrugged but shut up.

"You can never be too careful," Dr. Somide said, her tone appropriately respectful, eyes mildly annoyed. "I know I've never treated a mutant before but I assure you—''

"It's fine, Zinda, ignore my daughter," Ramonda soothed, placing a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You've done a wonderful job caring for Ororo and the twins these past few months. But I fear what has happened to Ororo is beyond even your well of knowledge."

They all turned their gazes to the witch doctor who'd been huddled near the door, quiet but perceptive.

"Tell us what you know, Zawari," T'Challa said. "What is this I hear about a portal?"

The wiry man pushed himself from the wall, his untamed whiskers, disheveled clothes, and tribal facial markings making him look out-of-place in the elegance of the palace. But T'Challa trusted the man with his life. In fact, he'd assisted Ororo in saving his very soul when he'd been mortally wounded by Dr. Doom in a sneak attack. His plane crashed, killing all aboard except him. He tittered on the edge of life and death, his soul in limbo, awaiting its ultimate fate. Zawari's magic had sent his wife's soul into limbo to find and free his. She was willing to risk everything for him, for Wakanda, prepared to trade his soul for that of her own.

And when he returned from that place of lost souls, his body was broken, if not his pride. And it was Zawari who helped him yet again, opening up the mystical world to him, strengthening his body, turning him into a weapon that could defeat Doom.

"May I?" Zawari asked, gesturing to Ororo. "May I come closer, touch the Queen? I need to touch her to be sure."

T'Challa nodded and they all made way for the thin man. To T'Challa's surprise, Zawari laid his hands on Ororo's belly instead of her hand or forehead as he'd expected. Within seconds of touching her, he jerked his hands away, looking at them as if he'd been burned.

"It's as I thought."

"What is it? What's wrong?" T'Challa asked, glancing from the witchdoctor and back to his wife. "What in the hell happened when you touched her?"

"Magic," he said, taking three steps back from the bed. "Deadly, dark magic, my king. I felt it last night. It screamed to me from my dreams. And I feel it now. It's in her." He pointed at Ororo and slowly, all eyes returned to the unconscious woman.

"Dark magic is in Ororo?" Shuri asked.

"No, dark magic, born of a curse, is what opened a portal last night. Whatever came through it is what's in the queen."

"Are you saying someone cursed my wife?" T'Challa knew the question came out as a low growl but he didn't care.

"No, I'm saying someone cursed you."

Those same eyes that bore into Ororo were now boring into him.

"How can you be sure of this?" Ramonda asked. "Nothing has attacked T'Challa. He's perfectly fine."

"He's not fine and something has attacked him," Zawari said with grim certainty.

"He means by attacking Ororo, someone has attacked me," T'Challa clarified, the bile in this throat rising with his anger. He'd promised to protect her and their children.

"This doesn't make any sense," Dr. Somide said, swiftly moving to her patient. She placed a hand on Ororo's belly. "See. I've touched her a dozen times since I was informed of her collapse. So have nurses. None of us have been shocked or hurt or had the reaction of this person here." She pointed to Zawari, a disbelieving frown on her face.

"That's because," Zawari said, ignoring the doctor's disdain for his craft, your mind is closed to such things, your soul is one-dimensional, unable to pick up on such mystical disturbances in the air or within your patient. As far as the king, I see spotty black marks circling his natural aura, especially near his heart. When I look at the queen, the same marks appear, but near her abdomen only."

"And that means what, Zawari?" Ramonda asked.

"It means I'm cursed and someone is using Ororo and the twins to hurt me." T'Challa answered instead.

"The same way the Shadow King once used you to hurt Ororo," Shuri added thoughtfully.

"Yes, but unlike me, I don't think Ororo is possessed"

"She isn't. I said something is in her. If it was a simple possession, her aura would look differently." Zawari moved closer, but made no effort to touch her. "Her aura would be in flux, almost like two souls fighting for dominance. I see no such discordance. The entity is just there."

"For what purpose, if not to possess her?" T'Challa asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it's waiting for something to happen," Zawari answered.

"Like what?" Shuri appeared confused but not as confused as Dr. Somide, who'd apparently decided to withdraw from the conversation entirely, all her concentration on Ororo's vitals. She really was a committed, competent physician, T'Challa thought. But Ororo was right, she knew nothing of mutants and even less about magic. She would be of little help.

"I wish I knew, your highness, but that answer rests with the spellcaster not with me."

Shuri huffed her impatience, T'Challa felt like doing the same. But he needed more answers from the witchdoctor, not a husband's fear, a husband's doubts.

"Do you know where we can find the spellcaster, Zawari?" he asked. "Did you see anything in your dream that we could use to find her or him?"

Out of the corner of his eye, T'Challa saw his mother walk around the doctor to stand next to Ororo. In spite of her silence, he knew she was listening to every word that transpired. But she trusted her children to solve any problem, he knew this as well. T'Challa wasn't sure if he deserved such unrelenting trust, but he had it nonetheless.

Zawari closed his dark brown eyes before answering. Several minutes later he opened them, the brown gone, replaced by coal black. The dreary color seeming to leak from his eyes, and then he spoke, the voice heavy and deathly gripping—not his own.

"Sandy shores not found in Wakanda. Winds of water push and pull mimicking the waxing and waning of the moon. From there it came, from there it was summoned, and to there it must return. Go to that beach."

"What beach, Zawari?" T'Challa asked, his patience quivering around the seams. He forced himself not to look at his wife, too afraid of what he'd see, afraid of what he knew he would do to the person who'd done that to her, to his unborn children.

The blackened, dripping eyes, peered unseeing out of the partially shaded windows. One thin arm and an equally thin finger rose. Arm and finger extended he said, "The Niganda Beach opened its watery arms and sent her here. There you will find the portal; there you will find the one who cursed your family."

Arm dropped to his side and his eyes returned to their normal color. The vague expression on his face cleared, his peculiar intelligent gaze forming, catching the eyes of those peering at him.

"Niganda Beach?" he questioned.

"Yes, King T'Challa," Zawari said, rubbing his suddenly exhausted looking eyes, the magic he'd extended with his vision clearly having taken its toll. "The energy from the portal is large enough for me to sense, but I can tell you nothing of the one who summoned whatever it is that came through and is now in Ororo."

The mere mentioning of her name drew an involuntary glance her way, T'Challa unable keep from turning. She was still unconscious, beautifully laying there, white hair flowing over her chest, hand protectively resting on her baby bulge.

"How can the portal be closed?" Shuri asked of Zawari.

"By vanquishing whatever it is that came through, or" he came to stand next to T'Challa, his eyes coming to rest on Ororo, "you convince the witch to undo her spell, or—''

"The witch dies," Shuri finished.

Zawari nodded.

"But we don't know who or where the witch is," Ramonda said. "And I doubt a person who would dare curse the King of Wakanda would recant her spell."

T'Challa had come to the same conclusion.

"Is there a way to get that thing out of her?" he asked, his hand coming to rest on Ororo's cheek. It was warm with an undertone of dampness.

"I could perform an exorcism."

"A what?" Dr. Somide grinded out. "I'll be damned if I allow you to lay one wicked finger on my patient. You and your devil eyes stay away from her." Her face was stern, voice even more so and T'Challa couldn't help the slight smile that creased his face. Ororo had chosen well, the doctor who knew only tangible science willingly putting herself between her patient and a powerful witchdoctor. The woman was crazy—blessedly so.

Ramonda reached for the doctor again, attempting to soothe the woman who was ready to go into battle for the welfare of her patients.

"I'll ignore the insult," Zawari said to the doctor. "If the queen wasn't pregnant or so advanced in her pregnancy, it would be a very good option. But, even a 'wicked' witchdoctor like myself, wouldn't take that risk."

"Are you saying an exorcism could harm the children?" T'Challa asked, bringing his other hand to rest on Ororo's belly, next to her hand.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But an exorcism is a drastic ritual, one that demands a lot from the host's body. Ororo's in excellent condition and she's a mutant, but I simply don't know what will happen if I dare to try. Worse yet, it could trigger her mutant powers."

"Meaning?" Shuri was the one to ask.

"It means your witchdoctor could do something that would trigger her mutant powers without her being conscious enough to control them."

All eyes turned to Dr. Somide.

"Yes, I know everyone thinks I'm a blundering idiot when it comes to mutants," she said defensively. "But it doesn't take a mutant expert to know how powerful Ororo is and how much mental and physical effort it takes for her to not send us all into the next Ice Age or an equally horrific environmental disaster. If we allow this quack to muck around trying to purge whatever it is that's inside of her, we may be facing more than a curse and a portal."

What a sobering thought, T'Challa having already assessed the unfortunate situation. The logical next step was obvious. He turned to his sister.

"Go to Niganda Beach and see if you can locate the witch. Once the person is found, do whatever it takes to make her or him close the portal."

"My pleasure," Shuri said, cracking her knuckles, a vicious gleam in her eyes.

"Don't kill the witch, Shuri," T'Challa warned.

"If you haven't noticed, big brother, you're the politician and I'm the enforcer. You have finesse but I have the claws. If the witch doesn't talk, I'm going to squeeze his throat until the spell spews out or blood spurts forth. Either way, it'll be very painful."

T'Challa could do nothing but shake his head. This was the reason why Shuri came to him two and a half years ago. For Wakanda's defense, Shuri made for a formidable Black Panther. But being the nation's protector also meant being its head of state. She would grow into the position as he had, and as had their uncle and father. But after Doomwar, Wakanda was in a precarious position, having lost their edge in the world with the loss of their cache of vibranium.

T'Challa blamed Doom but he blamed himself more. So he found himself in Hell's Kitchen, no money, no family, no gadgets, just his wits, his brawn, and his heart. He went there to find himself, running from all he was, thinking such a trial of independence would bring enlightenment. It had, but not in the way he'd envisioned.

But Shuri had come to him, bringing news of home, a plan, and brutal honesty.

I'm no good at running a country. I'm not made for diplomacy and other such bullshit. I like to call it as I see it and the games politicians play make me want to throw them from the nearest bridge. But this abrasive attitude gets me nowhere. You have patience and understand their minds, T'Challa. I simply want to beat the shit out of whoever threatens our way of life, our people. You can be king, run the nation the way someone with your intelligence and heart can. I'll remain its champion, its Black Panther.

"You can't kill a citizen of Niganda, Shuri," Ramonda said. "We have no cause, no proof, and no permission to even be in the country."

She rolled her eyes, a childish concession, but their mother said nothing.

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked.

"T'Challa can go with you."

The voice was low and cracked. But that wasn't what made everyone's jaw drop.

"Don't stop talking on my account."

It was the most beautiful hoarse voice T'Challa had ever heard.

"You're awake," he said, an obvious statement, and one everyone else seemed to be repeating, equally dumbstruck.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked, checking Ororo's pupils.

"Tired," she slurred. "A part of me was conscious, while another part felt chained by an indescribable force."

"So you heard everything that was said?" T'Challa asked, taking his wife's hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

She nodded, her eyes drooping like she would fall back into a deep slumber. She seemed to shake off the fatigue and opened her eyes wider.

"Something's in me but I don't know what. I don't think it's fully sentient but I get the feeling it won't stay that way for long."

"How much time do we have?" T'Challa asked.

"I'm not sure, but—'' she swallowed hard, troubled blue eyes meeting his, "—I think it's connected to the babies somehow."

His hand tightened before he realized that he may be hurting her. T'Challa loosened his grip, giving Ororo an apologetic smile.

"Are you sure?" T'Challa asked.

"It's a feeling."

"Okay, so that gives us about three weeks to find the witch and close the portal," Shuri said. "That's more than enough time."

Ororo sighed and closed her eyes.

"I don't think the twins will wait that long."

"Are you in labor?" Dr. Somide asked, her eyes flying to the machines tracking Ororo's vitals.

"Not yet."

"So how do you know, beloved?"

She gave what looked like a valiant attempt at a shrug. "I just do."

"Days? Hours? Do you know, Ororo? I'll find and kill the witch for you, I just need to know how fast I need to work," Shuri said, looking as if she would bolt from the room in search of the unknown prey.

"It'll be faster if the king goes with you like Ororo suggested."

"I'm not leaving my wife while she's in this condition, Zawari."

"But—'' his mother started, his vehement shake of his head cutting her off.

Ororo struggled with her words, but they were clear. "Everyone except for my husband leave. Shuri, please prepare to depart for Niganda within the hour. Your brother will be joining you shortly. Once they have gone, I'll need the three of you back in here," she said, nodding to Dr. Somide, Ramonda, and Zawari. "There are a few things we need to discuss."

The queen had spoken and no one dared argue. That is, except him.

"There is no way in hell I'm leaving. Shuri can take care of the witch and the portal," T'Challa said after the door closed behind his mother.

She looked so fragile laying there in bed, white sheets covering her from chest to toes. It was a deceptive truth. Ororo was always stronger than she appeared, both physically and emotionally. She was his rock, always had been. But it was time for him to take care of her now. He wouldn't run off to Niganda while she struggled with the intruder inside her, trying to keep their children from harm. His place was beside her. He wouldn't leave.

"Go with her."

He shook his head.

"Go. You can do nothing for me here."

"No."

"Go!"

"I won't." He glared at her. Why was she being so damn stubborn? Didn't she understand what she was asking of him? He'd made a promise. What if something happened to her or the babies while he was gone? What if she went into labor and Dr. Somide really couldn't handle delivering two mutant babies? What if—

"You won't be abandoning us by leaving, T'Challa."

His eyes softened to two welting petals.

"I know that's what's really bothering you, keeping you here when you should be boarding a plane with Shuri."

"I promised," he said softly.

She reached for him and he went, cautiously taking the offered embrace, keeping his weight off her as they hugged.

"I love you, beloved, but the battle here isn't one you can fight or win. Your skills are needed with Shuri in Niganda. Find the witch, the portal, and then come home to us. We'll be here."

Her warm honeyed breath stroked the cold embers that had formed ever since she collapsed. He didn't want to leave her, his heart screamed 'No,' but his mind knew she was correct. Time was of the essence, and he and Shuri could get more done together than if she was by herself.

"What do you want to discuss with the others? What if you go into labor? I won't miss the birth of our children."

She kissed his cheek and ran a hand through his hair, pulling him closer. "Trust me to keep them and myself safe. Find the witch, close the portal, and come home," she repeated, not answering his questions.

He leaned up, their eyes locking and holding. She trusted him to not abandon her. He'd promised to never leave her or their children. But he'd also promised to keep his family safe. Reluctantly, he stood tall, releasing his wife. She looked so tired, but he knew if she didn't believe she could handle what was inside of her she would tell him. Looking at her surprisingly calm face, T'Challa knew it had less to do with trust and more to do with faith. Did he have enough faith to do what needed to be done? He hoped he did.

Ororo's lips were sweet and soft when he kissed her goodbye. T'Challa ran from the room, refusing to look back, his resolve strong but not that strong. He would go because she would have it no other way. He would go to keep his promise. He would go because some witch dared to curse him and threaten his family.

T'Challa took the seat next to his sister on the plane.

"Engage stealth mode," she said, the plane's artificial intelligence complying with the command. "We don't want to raise the ire of Niganda's government by our uninvited presence." She laughed. "I'm going to enjoy ripping that witch's throat out. No one fucks with our family and gets away with it."

T'Challa raised an eyebrow at his sister's word choice but said nothing. For once, they were in absolute agreement. Now, who would do the throat ripping was open for debate.

TO BE CONTINUED