The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew

by Rebecca Donovan

  “Want to go back to the dance floor?” Grant proposes. “I’d really like to dance with you before … you know.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that to,” I answer, recognizing that no matter how much we’re enjoying ourselves now, a cloud is hanging over our heads, ready to pour on our party.

  We dance until the sun sets, and the Court takes on a new life with bursts of glowing color. We spin and laugh. Ashton almost knocks down several people with her enormous gown. I writhe against Grant’s firm body to the point of scandal. It is the best night. About to be the worst.

  “Dance with me.” Brendan holds out his hand expectantly. I take another gulp of water, waiting for my sweat-soaked skin to cool down. “C’mon, Thaylina, let’s go.”

  “You’re ever the gentleman,” I grumble, taking his hand and letting him lead me to the dance floor filled with couples swaying to a pathetic love song.

  “You realize you’ve been lying lately,” he says with his hand cupping mine and the other set on my waist like we’re in some Victorian film. It’s weird, but so is he.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s only really when you’re being facetious or sarcastic. But they’re still untruths. We’re all liars, Lana.”

  “Some more than others,” I jab. He spins me away from him and then reels me back with a flick of his wrist. “Why lie? What’s the point? Shame? To spare someone’s feelings? Really. I don’t understand.”

  Brendan dips me, my hair brushing the floor. “It’s how we protect ourselves.” He jerks me back up, meeting my eyes.

  “Is that why you said you were four when you were really fourteen?”

  His feet stop moving. Then, just as suddenly, they pick up again, spinning us around in quick steps. I can barely keep up.

  “No one blames a four-year-old. But fourteen … they wonder why you didn’t see the signs. How could you not have known there was something wrong, especially since I’d been on her bipolar roller coaster my entire life? I should’ve known when she slipped into her dark place. It’s been eating me alive for years, and now … I’m hollowed out.”

  I search the dark depths of his eyes, the same near-black shade as mine. “It’s not your fault.”

  A ghost of a smile passes over his lips. “Neither is your grandmother’s death.”

  I swallow hard.

  “I chose to lie. And you created curses to explain away the evil. Because if it’s out of our control, something we’re cursed with, then it’s not really our fault. You chose not to tell the truth, so then you cursed yourself with Honesty, never to lie again.”

  “I didn’t …” But I can’t finish the sentence. Because I’ve been lying to myself for years in the form of silence. Avoiding the truth doesn’t make it go away.

  “We’re all cursed, Lana. We’re human.”

  “Uh, can I cut in?”

  Brendan and I break our intense connection to find Grant beside us. We’re not moving. I don’t know when we stopped dancing. We’ve been staring at each other, searching the other’s eyes for hints of the truth that transformed us into the broken souls we are.

  “Yeah,” Brendan says, dropping his hands like I’m fire and striding to the mocktail bar.

  “What was that about?” Grant asks, wrapping me in his arms.

  I rest my head on the not-bloody side of his chest, breathing him in.

  “Just comparing tragedies,” I say quietly.

  “Oh.” Grant absorbs the gravity in a single utterance. “It looked serious. And a little dangerous with the way he was flinging you around the dance floor.”

  I laugh lightly. Tilting my head up to take in his beautiful face, I tell the truth, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Grant looks down at me, smiling affectionately. “I love you.” He bends and kisses me gently. “Hey, why are you crying?”

  A fat tear rolls down my cheek. I shake my head, swiftly brushing it away with a forced smile. “Didn’t mean to. It’s been my go-to emotion lately. Part of my anger-management treatment.”

  Speaking of, I catch sight of Parker and Mr. Garner out of the corner of my eye. “Um, I’m going to go say hi.”

  Grant looks at who gained my attention and nods.

  He leans down and says against my lips, “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me too.”

  With a tender kiss that sets my heart alight with a thousand fireflies, we part. He walks back toward our friends. Ashton has her hands covering her heart, cooing like she’s watching a real-life fairytale, and Arden gives me a quick wink with a sly quirk of her mouth. The guys purposely look everywhere but at us.

  I pass Lance, Kaely, Lily and Sawyer on my way to the corner of the lawn. They’re laughing and talking, walking in the direction of everyone else, never noticing me.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Mr. Garner asks in his tailed tuxedo and top hat, both hands propped on a cane.

  I almost don’t see who he’s meant to be until the spectacles balancing on his nose give it away. I laugh.

  “Jiminy Cricket. How appropriate.”

  He tips his hat at my acknowledgment.

  “And you …” I eye Parker in his gallant attire with a bow strapped across his chest. “Isn’t King Richard more suitable than Robin Hood?”

  “We’re not always who we appear to be. You should know that better than anyone.”

  I raise my brows, surprised by the not-subtle message. “You’re right, Parker. I’ve been betrayed more times than I can count.”

  His face softens. “Sorry. I didn’t mean …” He sighs. “I’m just on edge.”

  “I get it,” I tell him. “But you are right. I thought I always had you figured out, but I really don’t know why you do what you do. Especially with the family you have, who loves and supports you. You put it at risk … for what? Money? Power? Control?”

  “Accomplishment,” he says. “To know I can make my way without the name supporting me.” He leans in. “And, no, it hasn’t always been legal. But I’m working on that.”

  Mr. Garner pretends to be scanning the crowd, taking his chaperoning duties seriously. But I know he’s listening.

  “Having your family name isn’t a bad thing. They love you. You’re lucky to have them,” I tell him before turning to walk away, colliding with Brendan.

  Brendan grabs my arm and pulls me to the side, his eyes frantically skating across the crowd, searching. “He’s here. And I know who his date is.” When I can only stare back, he continues, “Sophia.”

  The mirror only reflects the truth. The person I despise will forever be myself.

  Where is she?” I ask, panic coursing through me. “We have to find her.”

  “I don’t have access to her bracelet,” he says, the same frantic tone in his voice. “I’ve tried. But it’s blocked.”

  I close my eyes and press my lips together. “She’s the hacker.”

  “What?”

  “Sophia is the person who broke into your files. One of her parents does something with computers, and she’s just as talented, I guess.”

  Brendan clenches his jaw. “You know where she’s from, don’t you?”

  “Uh, Chicago?” I say, not understanding why this matters.

  “Exactly. That’s where Thorne Industries is located, where Vic grew up. Her parent, whichever it is, probably works for Thorne Industries.”

  I can only stare at him, dumbfounded. My head begins shaking back and forth, like if I deny it, it can’t be true.

  Brendan jostles me, snapping me out of it. “What’s she dressed as?”

  “A mermaid, a turquoise dress.”

  We return to the table. Everyone immediately stops talking when they see our faces. Kaely and Lily wear mirroring confused expressions. But the others know. Even Sawyer, although I don’t know how much he’s figured out. Considering his family background, I’m sure it’s enough.

  “Where?” Lincoln asks, scanning the crowd.

  Brendan taps on
the screen of his phone. “Not far.” He lifts his head and looks in the direction of the tables set within pumpkins.

  “We need to find Sophia,” I tell Ashton. “He’s with her. We can’t let anything happen to her.”

  Sophia’s drug-induced words from earlier in the night come back to me, but I can’t quite untangle them. In my gut, I know she didn’t want to do whatever he’d trapped her into doing. Even if it was just helping him gain access to the event.

  I take Ashton’s hand, and we head toward an entrance into the Court.

  “Lana, wait,” Grant calls to me, catching up. “Let me help you find her.”

  The Court has taken on a more menacing mood in the dark with lights flashing in one direction but misleading us down another. The map helps lead us away from the dead ends, but it can’t tell us where Sophia is. We rush through garden after garden, running down corridors, getting turned around in a hall of mirrors intended to disorient us. I want to scream and shatter them all.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say desperately to Ashton, who’s examining the map, flipping it around to make better sense of it. But with our distorted reflections looking back at us, it’s impossible to know which way to go, even with the map.

  Then I remember Arden’s map, the one she drew for me to help explain the Court. I search above the hedges and spot the branches of the tree in the center of the Court, sprouting toward the star-scattered sky. Standing beside Ashton, I inspect the map and turn it so we’re viewing it correctly.

  “There. I think … we should go back toward the dorms. She said to find her in her room if we were looking.”

  “Are you sure?” Grant asks, doubtful. “Why would Vic take her there?”

  “He may not be with her,” I tell him. “She could just be a means to an end. But I need to be sure she’s safe.”

  Before we can clear the mirrors, I hear Sophia’s voice and stop abruptly in my steps. Ashton’s head perks to the side, hearing her too. We hold our breaths, listening.

  “She almost died!” Sophia cries, sounding hysterical. “That’s not what you said would happen.”

  “I didn’t say anything about what would happen. But you did it. And I have the fingerprints to prove it.”

  My eyes widen at the deep tenor of Vic’s voice. My heart is attempting to pound out of my chest. I want to rip through these hedges to reach them. To get Sophia away from his poisonous tongue.

  “No, no, no,” Sophia pleads desperately. “I didn’t mean to. I only did what you asked.”

  “Then keep your mouth shut. Besides, even if you did talk, no one’s going to believe an addict who’s so high most of the time she doesn’t even know her own name.”

  “My name’s Sophia,” she snaps angrily, like she’s proving a point.

  Vic laughs maniacally, like she’s proven his point.

  Ashton is holding up the map, trying to determine the best route to get to them. She draws her finger from us to them—or at least where it sounds like they are. Grant and I nod.

  “Here. It’s what you’re worth.”

  I falter in my steps again, needing to hear what he says next. Ashton and Grant continue without realizing they’re leaving me behind.

  “I want my life back!” she cries, her words strangled by sobs. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Choke on them, for all I care. We’re done.”

  And then Vic walks through the framed mirror—or what I thought was a mirror—and appears right in front of me.

  Neither one of us moves.

  My surprise is mirrored in his frozen stance. And on his face … literally. He’s wearing a faceless silver mask, acting like the mirror he just walked through. I see my startled expression staring back at me, wide, dark eyes and quivering chin.

  But that’s not who I am.

  I set my jaw and narrow my eyes. Adrenaline takes the place of panic. I take a step and set my hands upon his shoulders, slamming my knee between his legs. He folds in half with a grunt of pain.

  “You piece of shit,” I mutter, driving an elbow down between his shoulder blades.

  Vic collapses to the ground.

  I swing my leg … but fall onto my back, my breath leaving me in a forceful burst. I try to breathe in, but it’s like someone’s standing on my chest. The sound of voices sends Vic stumbling to his feet. He disappears back through the illusional mirror.

  Fighting for my breath, I roll to my hands and knees.

  “Omigod, are you okay?” a girl asks.

  A hand reaches for my shoulder, but I brush it off with a wave of my hand, getting to my feet. I breathe in again, air filling my lungs. And I take off through the mirror, after the monster.

  I catch sight of the black cape whipping around a corner and race after it. Bumping into a few people without apology, leaving them cursing in my wake. We weave through the passages, somehow avoiding the gardens. Which means he knows the pattern of the maze. He knows where he’s going … and I’m following him willingly.

  Despite knowing this, I can’t let up. Watching for the flare of his cape or the flutter of the black feather on his wide-brimmed hat, which reminds me of something out of The Three Musketeers but the evil version.

  I round a corner and run into a wall of branches. A dead end. I spin, searching, backtracking, but don’t catch sight of him. Remembering the false wall the night that I was lost in the Court, I carefully feel along the hedge, my heart stammering and my breath panting.

  And just when it gives, emptying into a void, a hand reaches out and grabs my wrist, yanking me forward. A fist collides with my stomach, leaving me sputtering for air.

  “You’re not going to get to her in time,” he growls in my ear.

  I want to ask who, but I know. Sophia.

  He swings again, colliding with my temple, and black spots fill my vision. I try to shake it off but fall to my knees.

  “What the hell are you doing?” a guy yells, sending Vic running again.

  Hands help me to my feet.

  A face painted gold with bright green eyes fills my vision. “Are you okay? We should get her some help.”

  I don’t know who he’s talking to while I wrestle out of his grip, fighting to focus while faltering along the hedges.

  “Hey, where are you going?” a girl calls to me. “You need to get looked at.”

  Using the wall of shrubbery to hold me up, I force my legs to carry me toward the dorm, knowing exactly which building it is. I’m so close. I wave the group off. “I’ll be okay. Going to my room.”

  They don’t follow, but I overhear someone saying they should let the cricket know. He’s around somewhere.

  I blink away the dizziness, able to stand upright by the time I reach the rose trellis. Except … security is guarding the doors. And I have no idea what I look like. The last thing I want is for them to hold me up, asking stupid questions while Sophia could be … I refuse to go there. I will get to her in time.

  The yard is scattered with princesses and fairies, laughing and talking. It’s easy enough to skirt the perimeter and disappear into the bushes. I reach for the grate, lifting it up and crawling beneath. The small window into the basement is open, so I slide in backward on my belly and drop to the ground. Arms close tightly around me.

  “What took you so long?” Vic hisses in my ear.

  I stomp on the instep of his boot, and he hollers, releasing me. A phone clatters to the floor, flashing yellow dots displayed on the screen. He knew where I was the entire time.

  “Bitch!”

  “Never denied it,” I say through clenched teeth.

  This time, when he swings, I’m ready and block him with my forearm, but his strength knocks me back a few steps. He’s stronger than I am, and I need an advantage. A height advantage would be nice.

  I pick up an old wooden chair covered in webs and swing it at him, knocking him off-balance. Then I run, hoping to remember the way through the dark. My hands skim along the wall as I search for the st
airs.

  The space opens up, and I trip on the step, landing hard on my knees, pain shooting up my legs. A beam of light isn’t far behind. I scramble up the narrow stairway and duck around the corner, where I wait, willing my breath to slow so he can’t hear me.

  His feet scrape against the stone. The light illuminates the step right below where I’m standing just as my foot collides with his chest, sending him sprawling backward. I race down and pounce on top of him, slipping the knife from my boot.

  Vic spreads his hands in surrender, my knife to his throat. The light from his dropped phone reflects off his mask, his hat lost somewhere along the way.

  “You are done destroying lives,” I seethe.

  “What? Are you going to kill me?” A condescending laugh erupts from behind his mask. “Go ahead.” He collapses his arms against the stone, as if in defeat. The blade presses into his flesh, a line of blood dribbling on its shimmering surface.

  I glower at him, my lips pulled back in a sneer as my chest heaves from exertion. Breaths panting through flared nostrils. Across the top of his mask, printed in red, the choice is given:

  My feral glare reflects back at me. The hate in my eyes is startling.

  Hero or villain?

  I ease the blade away, my hand shaking, realizing how close I was to becoming one over the other.

  “She said I had my father’s eyes,” he says from beneath the mask. “That she wished I didn’t because there was evil in those eyes. Those were the last words she said to me before she died.”

  I shift back on my heels, stunned by his confession.

  This gives him the split second he needs to knock me off him. The knife skitters across the floor. Vic swipes the mask from his head. Rolling on top of me, he swings his fist. An explosion of pain erupts along the left side of my face.

  I try to shove him with the arm that isn’t pinned to my side by his thigh, but he grabs hold of it and anchors it above my head.

  “Tell me, bitch. Is that what you see when you look in my eyes? Or do you see yourself?”