Cursed in Love

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Cursed in Love Page 12

by Kenborn, Cora


  Instead of fear, I’m filled with fury. This man who gave me life is going to take it away as if it means nothing to him. As if I mean nothing to him.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s an open gash on my head, and I’m coughing up blood,” I deadpan as if the most fucked-up situation isn’t happening all around me. “Is drawing more really necessary for this ritual of yours?”

  Instead of being pissed off at my insolence, my father seems amused. “If you had spent your life listening to your mother instead of defying her, maybe you’d know it won’t suffice.” He taps the flat side of the blade against the inside of my wrist. “Rituals need fresh blood, Mila. Now be a good girl for Daddy and hold still.”

  We stare daggers at each other, and as the sharp tip of the knife pierces my skin, I bite my tongue to avoid giving him the satisfaction of my screams.

  The sound of shattered glass fills the darkened room, and I watch breathlessly as one of the assholes who dragged me into this place slumps to the ground. The brown cloak falls away from his body, revealing a bloom of red spreading across his chest.

  The room erupts into whispers, low enough I can’t make out the words, but frantic enough to know none of this is planned and what I saw through that window wasn’t a hallucination.

  He’s here.

  The elation of knowing Odyn has found me is quickly replaced by panic and horror. The odds are still stacked against us. The last thing I wanted was to drag Odyn down with me.

  My mother once told me that destiny can’t be denied from the ones who have waited centuries to claim it. If that’s true, and this is truly my destiny, then it’s mine alone.

  He should’ve let me go.

  My father glances down at his fallen brother and shakes his head, quickly turning his attention back to his goal.

  Me.

  He’s going to spill my blood and force me to awaken the dead. A man who, from what Odyn’s told me, had pure evil coursing through his veins.

  However, his plan has one fatal flaw.

  Words can only be forced out of a mouth fearful of what lies beyond the grave. I know what awaits me in the next realm, and if seeing my mother is the worst price I’ll pay for my defiance, so be it.

  Tensing, I steel myself for the first real slice when a second shot rings out. All hell breaks loose and the blade that was moments away from cutting into my skin disappears. As if in slow motion, I tilt my head up and find my father smiling through all the chaos.

  “We seem to have a visitor, cher. I’m afraid you must excuse me for a moment.”

  I lunge as he disappears into the darkness, but my weak and battered body is held immobile by the ropes binding me to the chair. “No! Leave him alone, you son of a bitch! I’m the one you want. I’m right here!” The harder I fight, the more the rope digs into my skin. Exhausted, I slump against the wooden back and drop my head. “You’ll die for this.”

  The chuckle behind me is ominous. “You first, chosen one.”

  It feels like I sit there forever, every muscle in my body screaming in agony when a third shot echoes in the darkness. I cry out, pain ripping through my soul.

  He can’t be gone.

  Moments later, a heavy door slams. Snapping my head up, I watch as my father’s commanding presence enters the room, another hooded man following closely behind him. “Untie her.”

  The guard behind me fails to hide his sharp inhale. However, instead of arguing, he slices through the binding on my wrists and ankles then jerks me to my feet by my hair.

  “What did you do to him?” I scream at my father, tears rolling down my cheeks.

  The ice in his tone is sharper than the blade that’s already drawn blood. “I’m making sure he has a front row seat, of course. It’d be rude to force him to watch from outside, don’t you think?”

  He steps aside as the guard pushes a bleeding Odyn in front of me and then shoves him to his knees.

  “Mila,“ he rasps.

  Tears blur my vision when I see what they’ve done to him. His glasses have been shattered, evident by the tiny lacerations around both eyes. His lip is split wide open, and blood is spilling down his chin. But it’s the pain in his voice that shreds my heart. In only saying my name, I know he blames himself. In his mind, saving me was a second chance. His redemption for Lola.

  In his pain, I find solace, and in his defeat, I draw strength.

  Determined away all traces of weakness, I raise my hand to my wet cheek. In an instant, my father closes the space between us and grabs it, bending my fingers toward his face. I breathe through the pain as his grip crushes my already bruised skin.

  “I must admit, I’m a little put out, Mr. Broussard,” he notes, offering a nod toward Odyn. “Where I come from, it’s customary for a man to ask a girl’s father for her hand in marriage before proposing.”

  Odyn’s lips part in a twisted smile. “That’s funny, because where I come from, it’s customary for a girl’s father not to hunt her down and kill her. I guess we both fucked up.”

  My father winks at me over his shoulder. “I like this one, cher. Much more than that useless moron you married.”

  My heart sinks. “Did Nick know?”

  “That you were the one we’d been searching for?” He walks around me, his easy gait a stark contrast to the macabre scene surrounding us. Making a complete circle, he stops inches in front of me and holds my stare. Hazel to green. Father to daughter. Justice to ruin. “No, not at first. Nicholas only joined the brotherhood after Dr. Crane mentioned your name as a potential candidate. Not too bright that one, but easily swayed when I promised to ensure you’d willingly return to him after I utilized your services. For some odd reason, that’s all he wanted.” He pauses, waving the tip of the knife between Odyn and me. “Well, until this happened.”

  A whoosh of air rushes from my lungs. “Did I . . .?”

  “Kill an innocent man?” He shrugs. “I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.”

  Oh God, I was right.

  The huge swing in Nick’s behavior stemmed from Odyn. If we hadn’t argued about him at the final crime scene, maybe I could’ve pulled him back. Maybe I wouldn’t have lost him to a madman. Maybe I wouldn’t have blood on my hands.

  “But—”

  “Enough talk,” he roars. “Bring in the body.”

  I curl my fists by my side, my knees buckling at his command. No four words have ever instilled so much fear in me. I can’t speak as one of the two remaining men nod and leave the room, leaving the four of us to wait.

  Two in anticipation. Two in dread. But all in silence.

  I stare straight ahead, purposely avoiding Odyn’s eyes. I know the request I’ll find, and I don’t want to lie to him.

  He’ll want me to run away, but that’s the one thing I can’t do anymore.

  This ends here one way or another.

  A wail of rusty wheels pierces the silence as the man returns pushing a muddy casket on a metal stand. The marble is still intact, but decades of the earth’s elements have eroded a good portion of it. As the guard moves around to the side, I turn my head. I may be forced to be in the presence of blasphemy, but I won’t be forced to watch it unfold.

  The hinges on the casket groan out a tortured protest as the lid is opened, and when the stench of death hits, the two men start to gag. Even Odyn turns his face into his bloodied shirt. However, my father and I stand unaffected, our eyes locked on each other.

  Death is a more familiar smell to me than fresh air, and my father is the living embodiment of it.

  “You can’t make me do this,” I warn him. “I’ve learned enough to know you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you. I’m the only one who can bring your precious leader back, but you need my cooperation. Slice me to pieces, but I’ll never give you what you want.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course, cher. That’s why having your fiancé drop by uninvited is such a welcomed surprise. You’re your mot
her’s daughter. She died to protect you, just as I know you’ll die to protect the son of a murderer.” Within seconds, he’s behind Odyn, the sharp edge of the knife pressed against his throat. “What’s it going to be, my darling? Your sacrifice or his?”

  “Don’t do it, Mila!” Odyn begs, the knife already nicking his skin. I watch as a single drop of blood rolls down his neck in perfect sync with the tear rolling down my cheek. “This won’t end with me, and you know it. Once you do as he asks, he’ll kill you too. As long as you keep your mouth shut and stay calm, he’ll still need you.”

  My father nods, not bothering to disagree. “True, but if you knew my Mila as well as you claim to, you’d know watching you suffer will break her twice as fast as watching you die.”

  “No, don’t!” I scream, but it’s too late. With a flick of his wrist, my father repositions his aim and drives the knife into Odyn’s shoulder, giving it a sharp twist. I watch the man who has captured my heart slump in pain, his garbled howl breaking me.

  “Fine! Okay! I’ll do what you want. Just don’t hurt him anymore.”

  My father smiles. “You always were Daddy’s little girl.” Releasing Odyn into the hands of the second guard, he walks toward the casket and motions for the guard to deliver me to him.

  I don’t resist.

  When we’re face to face once again, I look into his eyes, seeing only emptiness. “I just want to know why. Why is it so important to bring him back? What’s he going to do for you that you can’t do for yourself? Are you that weak?”

  Anger rushes across his face as he lifts his hand and brings it down hard across my cheek. “Shut your whore mouth! I’m more powerful than that corpse Mal Dufrene ever hoped to be.”

  “Right,” I laugh, licking the fresh trail of blood dripping from my nose. I know that’s only my first taste of his violence, but he’s inadvertently let me see a chink in his armor, and now I’m going in for the kill. “If that were true, then you wouldn’t need him.”

  “He was one of the most powerful necromancers to ever live, you ignorant bitch. Resurrecting him from the grave doesn’t shift the balance of power from him. He’ll still be under your control until I get what I want, and then I don’t give a shit what happens to the pile of rotting flesh.”

  “And what is it that you want?”

  He flashes a cold smile. “Transference.”

  Transference.

  Transference.

  The word is like a loose string in the back of my mind. I dig as deeply as I can into the darkest part of my memory and almost choke at what I find.

  Mother sits me down, her gentle hand brushing across my hair as her flowing white skirt tickles my bare legs. “Mila tell me about this nightmare you had.”

  “I don’t wanna.”

  “Little one, you must. Talking about what frightens us is the only way to bring light to darkness.”

  I don’t want to talk about this, but the word in my head won’t go away.

  “What’s transference?” I ask.

  Mother’s soft smile disappears. “Where did you hear that word?”

  “In my dream. A man in a hood made me say words I didn’t want to. He. . .“ I swallow, the scary man from my dream making me shiver. “He made me say them next to that box you put dead people in. The man laughed after I finished. He kept saying, ‘The transference is complete.’ I was happy because I thought it was over, but then he cut my neck, and I just disappeared. Where did I go, Mama?”

  Her comforting smile turns brittle. “Nowhere, Mila. You’re right here. But I need you to understand that transference is something you should never allow yourself to take part in. These bad men want to take your power and steal the essence of your gift against your will.”

  “But how do I stop them?”

  “You won’t have to, little one. I’ll always protect you.”

  Oh God.

  She saw this coming. Even when I was nine years old, my mother knew what the future held for me. We both saw my death.

  She saw this exact moment and waited nineteen years to send help.

  I was right when I said I felt like I’d known Odyn Broussard all my life.

  It’s because I have.

  Our fates have always been intertwined.

  Chapter 20

  Mila

  Transference.

  The reality of the word is so much worse than the dream. Odyn is right. My father won’t allow either one of us to walk out of this place alive. I was foolish to think simply refusing him would shift the balance of power in my favor.

  As soon as I repeat whatever words he feeds me and Mal Dufrene rises, he’ll cut my throat, fulfilling a prophecy of my own.

  He wants my power, and he’ll kill everyone in this room to get it.

  “You’ve wasted enough of my time.” Without another word, my father grabs my wrist, and I force myself not to scream as he slices the knife across my skin.

  “Mila!” Odyn yells, struggling against the hands holding him, rage and panic battling for dominance in his voice. “Get your fucking hands off her!”

  I watch as my father holds my dripping wrist over the decomposed remains, dark red liquid soaking into what’s left of his flesh. As if on command, the storm from earlier returns with a vengeance, thunder rattling the small window moments before lightning illuminates the sky. In response, the candles he lit seem to respond, flames flickering their approval before engaging in a wicked dance.

  “Ecce pater da mihi proderunt primogenita mea,” he chants. When I don’t respond, his fingers tighten around my wrist, causing the blood flow to run like a tainted river. “Repeat the words, Mila. Say them, or I take your lover’s ears next.”

  Stifling a cry, I stumble over what I remember. “Ecce dater pa mihi. . .”

  “No!” he roars in time with another rumble of thunder. Combined, they sound like the battle cry of hell’s soldiers. “That’s all wrong. Say it right!”

  “I’m trying!”

  “Try harder! Ecce pater da mihi proderunt primogenita mea.”

  “Ecce pater da mihi proderunt. . . “The rest of the words lodge in my throat as a rumble from below joins the thunder’s demonic symphony. My eyes follow the sound, and I almost collapse at what I see.

  Mal Dufrene is moving. A man who has been dead for over fifty years.

  My mother’s words ring in my ears.

  “Transference is something you should never allow yourself to be a part of. These bad men, they want to take your power and steal the essence of your gift against your will.”

  Once I finish this phrase, an unholy trinity will be forged. My father, Mal Dufrene, and I will unite. The old man’s soul will remain tethered to me until the man whose blood runs through my veins slices my throat and absorbs both of our powers as his own.

  Sacrificing Dufrene’s soul and my life in exchange for the ultimate power.

  Transference.

  “Don’t say another fucking word, Mila! Those words, you don’t know what they mean. . .” Odyn grunts, and the sound of a fist hitting flesh sickens me. “It means ‘I hereby give my birthright to my father.’ Please, no matter what happens to me, don’t say it.”

  For a moment’s hesitation I wonder if fighting the draining pull of the ritual spell is worth it. Then a vision of life after I’m gone flashes through my mind. The destruction won’t end here. Drunk with power, my father will terrorize the city I call home. Nothing will be out of his reach. Mind control, clairvoyance, necromancy — a convergence of evil at his every whim.

  “No!” I yank the arm he’s holding toward me with strength I had no idea I possessed. Eyes that moments ago were empty now fill with shock as my momentum knocks him off his feet, and we both tumble to the floor in a heap.

  There’s a loud bang followed by the sound of countless grunts and punches being thrown in the background, but I can’t focus on anything but the man on top of me, hate simmering in his eyes as he raises the knife.

  “You fucking bitch! I should�
��ve killed you when I killed your mother.”

  At those words, my vision goes black. One minute I’m seconds from death, and the next, my father lets out a horrifying scream as he stumbles backward, flames engulfing his brown cloak like a funeral pyre.

  Something scorches my skin, and I scramble to my feet, afraid the flames have claimed me as well. Finding none, I glance down, my fingers tightening around a long, tapered candle as the wax continues to drip onto my skin.

  I don’t remember grabbing it.

  I don’t remember pressing it to his cloak.

  That’s when I catch a glimpse of bare feet standing beside me. As if pulled by force, my eyes scan up to find unkempt brown hair in desperate need of a haircut. Beside him stand the shadowy figures of Hannah and Judy LeClerq.

  None of their eyes are on me.

  They’re on the man suffering their own fates by my hand.

  They won’t a word, and I won’t ask. Vengeance was theirs to take, and mine to deliver.

  “Mila!” Odyn drops to his knees before me, his hands coated in blood as he cups my face. “Baby, are you okay? Answer me!”

  All I can do is nod.

  He looks around, and I follow his gaze. Flames have now engulfed most of the room, dark smoke billowing around us. “We have to get out of here. Now,” he warns with a hard cough. “This whole place is going to blow.”

  I don’t argue as he pulls me to my feet. I simply grab his hand and follow his lead through the maze of smoke and trail of slain bodies. I ignore them all.

  Except for one.

  As I pass by my father’s charred body, I toss the candle on top of him and watch the rest of him ignite into an inferno.

  “Burn in Hell.”

  Chapter 21

  Odyn

  As we race from the house, I’m tempted to pick Mila up, but I’m weak, and the wounds are only grating on me even more. Each one burning like the fire taking out the evil bastards within the walls of the house.

  Sirens in the background alert us that police are on the way, and I know Mila and I need to get the hell out of here now. By the time we reach the ornate gates I slipped through hours ago — at least, it feels like hours — they slide open.

 

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