Dark Curse

by Kim Richardson

  I was a mess. I was scared, and I wished Gareth were here.

  Yes, I admitted it. I was scared and angry that Lisbeth had been holding my gran, Tyrius and Kora, probably hurting them to ensure I’d come to her.

  Not wanting to take any chances on the lives of my gran and the cats, I’d come alone. I didn’t doubt for one second that Lisbeth was watching me. Every car I passed or pedestrian I crossed was a potential spy. The hag had spies everywhere. If she got word that I wasn’t alone, she’d killed Gran and the cats. She was that evil.

  The address 1295 Industrial came into view. It was a giant aluminum box. A warehouse. Rust plagued the front and sides of the building that I could see, making it look like the metal was diseased. There were no windows. Swell.

  I pulled my subbie into the driveway, parked and got out. I set my phone to vibrate and tucked in it my jeans. I adjusted my weapons belt, filling it with two hunting daggers and a small pocket knife. Other than that, I didn’t have much. I hadn’t had the time to get my hands on more soul blades—again. I doubted these would do any real damage to Ethan, his siblings, and whomever else might be in there with them. Still, I wasn’t planning on killing Lisbeth with these either.

  No, I had something special reserved for her. These, well, they were just for show.

  I assumed there were cameras along the building and spotted two above the colossal metal doors. Smile at the cameras? I think not. I would have waved if I’d been in a slightly better mood, but my snarky attitude was gone. All I had room for was, well, hate.

  My jaw ached, and I forced my teeth to unclench as I headed for the giant doors. I pushed on one of them and it swung easily to the side with a loud screech. If they hadn’t known I was here, now they certainly would.

  The interior of the warehouse was just as colossal as the exterior. It reeked of disinfectant, the kind you’d smell at a hospital, with an underlining of sulfur and blood. Somber, the only source of light came from the tubular light fixtures on the ceiling, the few that weren’t burnt out. The place was filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of wood crates, with plywood sides warped by moisture and wear. Racks that reached the ceiling were stacked with boxes and more crates.

  With my boots clanking on the cement floor, I threw out my senses, scanning for two particular demonic energies. My skin pricked in answer—Tyrius and Kora. Relief went through me. I recognized their energies. I also felt the warm hum of the angel-born mixed with a cold demonic pulsing—Ethan and the other Unmarked. I couldn’t make the distinction between them and my grandmother, and that had me worried.

  But there was something else, something stronger, that I couldn’t make the connection with.

  I kept moving. My heart a drum, pounding to a wild rhythm I couldn’t stop. The thought of losing my gran and the cats nearly sent me over the edge. I would give myself over to the darkness. I would never come back from it. Please be okay. Please be okay.

  I couldn’t see very well into the rest of the building because of the racks of giant crates. I was still sorting things inside my head when I heard them.

  Whispers rolled from the shadows around me, and the Unmarked emerged from behind a giant crate, their soul blades pointed at me.

  “Move and you’re dead,” said Miguel, the bald and shortest of the Unmarked males, as he jagged his sharp weapon at my chest. He was so close, his sour beer-breath filled my nose.

  I gave him a tight smile and raised my hands. “You’re the boss, Mickey,” I said, my eyes moving over Hannah and James, their faces screwed up in identical smug expressions. I didn’t like something about their confident postures.

  “It’s Miguel,” said the bald Unmarked, his smile evaporating.

  “My bad,” I grinned at him, shrugging. “I’ll try harder, Mickey. Promise.”

  Miguel’s scowl deepened but then he sneered at me. “We got you now, Hunter,” he said, his tone amused. “You’re finished.” His smile widened to reveal two rows of yellow teeth. “Take her weapons,” he ordered Hannah, and the tall blonde proceeded to remove my hunting daggers and small knife.

  “Where’s Ethan?” I asked, throwing my gaze around the crates, expecting him to pop in at any moment. “Did he take a sick day?”

  “Move,” ordered Miguel as he shoved me forward.

  My anger flared as I staggered, but I quickly pushed it down. “Where’s my grandmother? Is she all right? What about the baals? I know they’re here. Where are they?”

  “I said move,” growled Miguel, and he shoved me again. I heard Hannah and James laugh.

  I was going to kill this tiny bastard before long if he didn’t stop that. My temper was pounding against my temples, aching to be released. I clenched my jaw, calming my mind. Not yet.

  I didn’t like the fact they weren’t telling me if my gran and the cats were okay. If they weren’t...

  The Unmarked led me to a doorway at the end of a row of crate racks. Hannah rushed forward and opened the door for us. Miguel, being the douche that he was, shoved me through it.

  I staggered into a large workroom teeming with computers, file cabinets, metal tables topped with microscopes, and giant aquarium-like tanks with unidentifiable things floating inside them. I felt like I’d just stepped into a B-rated science fiction movie where mad scientists where manufacturing human and alien babies. The space looked and felt vile, wrong, and unnatural, as though whatever was happening here shouldn’t be happening at all.

  A whimper caught my attention. I turned to my left and my breath exploded out of me.

  There, in a metal cage, was my grandmother.

  She sat, hunched in a cage fit for two large dogs, her wrists and feet bound with rope. A piece of duct tape was strewn across her mouth, wet with tears. She’s alive. Our eyes met and she made a weak gesture towards her legs, where I could just make out two bundles of fur. My chest clenched. Tyrius and Kora lay on their sides next to her, stiff and unmoving.

  Seeing them like that, caged and possibly dead, was like a blow to my chest. I couldn’t breathe, and my knees felt like rubber. I was going to fall.

  “Look, I think she’s going to pass out,” laughed James, and the others joined in.

  Their joint amusement at putting an old woman in a cage sobered me right up. Bastards. They were going to burn for this.

  Teeth clenched, I lifted my gaze to find Ethan standing beside the cage, a bundle of rope in his hands. He smiled at the horror on my face. Clearly he wanted me to know that he’d done this to them.

  “Smile all you want... I’m still going to kill you,” I hissed, putting all my hatred into my voice as I strained to stay where I was, even though my brain was screaming for me to run over to that cage and free my gran and the cats. Patience, Rowyn.

  Ethan never lost his smile as he said, “If you try anything, they die.” He moved his right hand over the bars of the cage, taunting me. “It’ll be easy enough.” His eyes darted to my grandmother. “This one’s already past her due date. Old age is cruel enough. Leaking everywhere there are holes. Disgusting. It’ll be a blessing to put her out of her misery. Don’t you think?”

  “You’re dead,” I snarled, feeling my darkness awakening and sending warm ripples through me. “You’re all going to die.” They were no match for me. Ethan had seen what I’d done to his dark magic, yet the bastard still had a smug smile on his face.

  I stood with my fists curled at my sides. “Let them go.” My throat throbbed as my grandmother’s eyes welled with new tears. Hatred and fear showed on her shadowed, pale, wet face.

  Ethan raised a brow. “Or what?” he said and then leaned on the cage and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you going to do about it, Hunter?”

  I sensed a hard pressure against my temples, as if hammers were knocking the sides of my head. I swallowed hard, aware that Hannah, James and Miguel were still surrounding me, ready to use their soul blades if they needed.

  I shifted my weight. “They’re innocent. They have nothing to do with this. You
want me. Right? So, let them go.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  I turned to my right, to the voice I recognized. Lisbeth sat at one of the computers, her profile in view and wearing her Gray Council robe. Didn’t the woman ever change clothes?

  “Your dear grandmama is not going anywhere.”

  “I did what you asked,” I said, anger spilling into my voice. “I came alone. I’m here. Let them go.” I knew she’d never agree to let them go, but it was worth a try. The thought of accidentally hitting my gran and the cats with my darkness, or Ethan catching them with his dark magic wasn’t something I was willing to risk. I wanted them out of the warehouse. I wanted them safe. Nothing else mattered.

  “You are very resourceful, Rowyn,” said Lisbeth, and she closed the laptop she was working on. “I must say your escape from the Silent Gallows was impressive.”

  “Well,” I cocked my head, smiling mockingly. “I’m not just a pretty mouth-breather.”

  Lisbeth pursed her lips, which were thin lines, barely visible, making her look severe. “Remarkable,” she acknowledged. “I’ve always said you outshone the other Unmarked. And I was right. Still right. Which is a real shame. Your little stunt in front of the Gray Council can’t be forgotten. You’re fierce. Stubborn, and annoyingly righteous. And dangerous.”

  I puffed out my chest and flashed her my pearly whites. “Thanks. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, you psychotic old hag.”

  She looked at me with cool and calculating eyes. “You’re an idiot. You could have been great. You could have had anything you wanted. You could have joined the others and had a chance to feel what a real family was like.”

  My lips parted in a snarl. “Your version of family repulses me.”

  My insult barely registered on Lisbeth’s wrinkled face, though I saw the smallest of twitches in her eyes. “You just couldn’t let things go. Could you?” said the old angel-born.

  I shook my head. “Not a chance. You don’t deserve that robe. I had to try to expose your rotten old ass before you started to spoil the other council members. I call it spring cleaning.”

  The old woman let out a breath. “Comments like that get you into trouble, Rowyn,” said Lisbeth, her expression ugly with frustration. She pushed off the counter. “Which is why I can’t let you live. I can’t let you live with the knowledge you have. I know you’ll never stop. It’s admirable, believing in something you become fully invested in. But it also puts a damper on my plans. The time has come for our race to thrive. For that, you must die.”

  I heard a snort behind me. I turned to Hannah and her brothers, all of them smiling as if it was all just a joke. That I was the joke. Ethan hadn’t moved from his spot, a sly smile spread on his face as he enjoyed watching the scene unfolding.

  The sound of wheels rolling on concrete pulled my attention back to the old woman as Lisbeth rolled her chair to a distant desk and a set of papers. She came around the desk, her cane thumping loudly as she carefully stepped over a bundle on the floor that I hadn’t noticed. At first glance it looked like someone had thrown some rags on the floor. But the longer I looked, I realized my mistake. The bundle had wisps of white hair and a very pale and gnarled hand. Oh, God. It was Evanora Crow.

  “You’re a sick bitch. You know that?” I said, surprised at the anger I felt and pity for Evanora. “You killed your dark witch? Your one true ally in the dark arts? After everything she’s done for you? Who does that?” I shook my head, tasting bile rising in the back of my throat. “You apparently.”

  Lisbeth shuffled my way, her smile widening as her gaze became amused. “I don’t need her anymore. I have something much better.”

  “Like what? A bigger cauldron?” I grimaced at the sight of Evanora lying there like a discarded old coat. Gareth’s words came rushing back and hitting a chord with me. He’d healed her, and now she was dead.

  “There’s no room for you in my new world,” said Lisbeth, speaking clearly and emphasizing the word my. Her eyes traveled to the cage where my grandmother sat, looking frightened and frail. “For any of you.”

  That was it. I’d had enough of her bullshit. I’d played her sick and twisted games long enough. She was the idiot if she thought I would just let her kill me, that I was defenseless without my blades. I was tired of everyone underestimating me. I had more power than all of them combined, thanks to Lucian. I could take them all. And I would.

  I tapped into my will, my gift, spindling the energy and darkness into me. A burst of energy surged through me, and I shook, holding it.

  This darkness had become my best friend. It was my fuel. My armor.

  I was going to fry that crazy old bitch. And I was going enjoy it.

  A sudden terrified whimper stopped me cold, and I looked from Lisbeth to my gran struggling to move inside her cage. She was shaking her head, fear written all over her face and in her eyes. Red blotches marred her face, huge tears slipping down her cheeks. She thought they were going to kill me.

  “It’s okay, Grandma,” I soothed, my voice trembling with fear and rage while praying she wasn’t going to squish Tyrius or Kora as she fought against her restraints. “I’ve got this. Everything will be okay. I promise.” I promise to kill Lisbeth and anyone else who tries to harm my family.

  My gaze found Ethan and buckets of deep fury welled in me. The cocky bastard hadn’t even moved, though his smile widened with sly amusement.

  I glanced back at my grandmother. “It’s going to be okay.” Gold and black energy danced along my fingers, traveling around my hands and my arms.

  My grandmother kept thrashing and screaming through her gag, but I couldn’t make out what she was trying to say. My mouth clamped down as an uneasy feeling overtook me. Her eyes widened in panic at something behind me.

  I stiffened when the scent of cigarette smoke reached me.

  Oh. Shit.

  I whirled around, but it was already too late.

  “An impressive display of courage, Rowyn,” said Lucian, standing behind me in his dark three-piece suit. He blew a cloud of smoke and added, “It’s always such a pity when someone with such talent dies so young.”

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  Panic surged, but my instincts kicked in. I pulled on my darkness, gathering every last drop of power in me until it hovered as a ball of energy above my palm—

  Pain exploded from nowhere inside, burning. My concentration shattered, and the bits of the darkness I’d pulled from myself shifted and vanished.

  But before I could call forth my darkness again, Lucian, archdemon of the Netherworld, snapped his fingers, and a cloud of black fire engulfed me.

  21

  When I came to, it wasn’t much better.

  I lay on a hard floor, spread-eagle, my limbs stiff, cemented, like I was part of the floor. The floor was cold and hard, and it smelled like cigarette smoke and sulfur. Something hard pressed into my back, sending tiny pricks of pain along my spine. I could hear a series of soft noises that could only be described as a shuffling clatter.

  Damn it. I hurt everywhere. Dizzy, I was probably going to hurl, but I was alive.

  My heart gave a jump. How was it that I was still alive? The last thing I remembered was Lucian burning my ass alive with his archdemon power. He’d all but said he was going to kill me. But if I was in pain... pain meant life. With the heaps of searing pain I felt, I was definitely alive.

  Above me came a soft weeping.

  My eyes flashed open. My grandmother was staring down at me. She froze when she realized I was looking up at her.

  “Wohwin!” she cried through her gag, and her bound wrists knocked my shoulders.

  “Ow,” I winced and she retreated, looking both happy and sad. “Just a sec.” Gathering all the strength I still had, I pushed myself upright and sat, my head swimming at the sudden rush of blood. Breathing deeply, I looked around. I was in a freaking cage. They’d put me in a cage with Gran.

  The cage wasn’t ver
y big. Now that I was sitting in it, I guessed it was around six by six, and just under five feet tall. I whipped my head around. Tyrius and Kora still lay on the floor of the cage. I reached out to them both, my fingers pressing into their fur until I felt twin heartbeats. They were alive. Thank the souls.

  Relief spilled into me. “What did they do to them?” I met my grandmother’s saddened gaze and she shrugged, shaking her head.

  “Bastards,” I hissed. My eyes narrowed as I looked over her, beyond the cage to the group of Unmarked that were gathered around Lucian and Lisbeth. They’d seemingly forgotten all about us for the time being. Good. It would give me some time to come up with a plan. I had to get my gran and the baals out of here. Preferably before they even noticed we were gone.

  Moving as fast as I could, I shuffled over to my grandmother. “I’m going to take the tape off, okay?” I whispered. She nodded, and I gripped the edges of the duct tape—and yanked.

  My grandmother made a face and then said in a low voice, “If that’s how it feels to wax your legs, by the souls I’m glad I’ve never had it done.” She put a bound hand to her mouth. “Hurt like a bitch.” She smiled.

  “Here, give me your hands.” I worked to remove my grandmother’s binds around her wrists. They were tight, and I cringed at the blood and blistered flesh circling her wrists when I finally managed to untie them.

  “I thought you were dead,” said my grandmother. The terror in her voice made me look up. “That archdemon burned you, Rowyn.” She took a deep, steadying breath, her voice quivering when she added, “You were covered in a black haze.”

  “I remember.” I didn’t know how I could have survived it. But right now I didn’t have time to wrap my head around that. I needed to focus all my energy on getting the hell out of this cage. If Tyrius was conscious, he could have picked the lock with his sharp claws.

  My grandmother sniffed. “What do you think they want from us?”