Cursed Hearts (A Crossroads Novel)

by Light

  “H-How? How could that be possible?”

  “I’m learning that my mother wasn’t a perfect person,” he said.

  Aria rose slowly, using the tree for support. She didn’t know how to deal with this, especially after last night. She was starting to look at the events of the past week in a different light. The idea of Christian and her being cursed was almost so obvious it hurt. But him and Rome being brothers… she couldn’t even fathom that. They were so completely different, in every way. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the narrow recess in the trunk of the tree as she stood. Her arm slipped right into the hollow and she stumbled against the tree with a startled yell.

  Rome jumped to his feet, unsure how he intended to help. “Are you okay?” he asked. She pulled her arm out of the tree, covered in cobwebs.

  “Oh god,” she breathed. “Get them off.”

  Rome tried not to laugh as he brushed her arm off. Ariahna’s eyes were clamped shut, and her fingers were shaking. “You’re pretty cute when you’re scared,” he smiled, wiping the webs off in the dewy grass. She was blushing even though she refused to open her eyes. Rome threaded their fingers together with a feather light touch, staring down at her lips. He wanted to kiss her so bad his chest hurt. He wanted that taste of vanilla, that spark of passion. Rome’s lips pressed against hers and he cradled her face in his hand, sobering her out of her fear.

  Ariahna stumbled away from him in surprise.

  “I felt something,” she said suddenly.

  “Well, I hope so...”

  “No, I mean in the tree. There’s something in there.”

  Rome frowned at her before letting his lips curl into a grin. His eyes slowly burned to a fierce gold, and he stepped over to the tree to gaze down into the hollow. There was definitely something down there.

  “It looks like a book,” he said.

  Rome crammed his arm into the tight space, fingers brushing across buttery soft leather. He pulled his hand back, clutching a small journal. Ariahna stared at it curiously as he turned it over in his hands.

  “Should I open it,” he asked, “or do you think that’s a bad idea?”

  “I don’t know,” Ariahna said. “Can I?”

  He handed her the book and she ran her fingers along the spine, looking for some kind of brand or mark of ownership. “I don’t think the fact that we found this here is a coincidence either,” she murmured. It looked old, maybe as old as the tree itself. “Can I hang on to this for now? Just until we figure out what to do with it?”

  “We’re not going to know what to do with it unless we open it.”

  She hummed anxiously. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “Something is telling me we should just put it back.”

  “We can’t put it back. We were meant to find it, and that means we were meant to read it. Either we do it now, or we do it later, there’s really no difference. Besides, it’s just a book, it can’t hurt us.”

  Ariahna handed it back to him cautiously. Simply watching Rome loosen the cord around the journal was filling her with dread. The pages were so ancient that when he peeled open the cover several of them stuck together.

  “9th of December, 1627,” he read. “My precious Grove lies in white. First frost has fallen over the land, carrying with it the dreaded dead of winter.”

  “Rome, I’m not sure we should be reading this,” she said. “Something that old—it could be dangerous.”

  “It’s not like it’s in Latin. What if this is the Artisan’s?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said softly.

  He shrugged off her warning.

  “Magic lights my fires and warms my hearth, but m’lady has yet to share my bed. I prithee she meet me at daybreak, where I gladly would profess my love. For beneath the Yew, we stay safe from the darkness of this land.”

  Aria took the journal from his hands, flipping it carefully closed. “Rome, we know whose this is. I don’t think we should continue reading until we know more about who this man was and what he did in his life. There could be magic in these very pages for all we know. What if we trigger something?”

  “And what if by reading it we find a way to end what he started?”

  “I’m not saying we shouldn’t, I’m just saying I want to proceed with caution. I think we should do some research first. What do we really know about the Artisan? What does anyone know about him? We don’t even know his real name. He could have been anyone. He could still have descendants carrying out his wishes and maintaining these curses.”

  “…Okay, I’ll follow your lead,” he said. “I trust you.”

  She hugged the book tightly to her chest. She wished that she could say the same. The truth was that right now, she was having a hard time knowing who she could really trust. She had trusted Christian.

  “I want you to know that I care for you,” Aria said. “But I haven’t been making the best choices lately. I’m not saying I never want to be with you, but right now, if it’s okay, I just want to remain friends. I just need time.”

  Rome was silent for a moment, trying not to take her words personally. He understood where she was coming from, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready. And in the meantime, I’m here for you, however you need me. From one friend to another though,” he said, “there’s this party tonight. It could be good for us to get out and have some fun.”

  “I don’t know. That’s not really my scene. Besides, I wasn’t invited. Everybody hates a crasher.”

  “I was invited, so you can be my plus one,” he joked. “And it’s not really my scene, either. But maybe that’s a good thing. I was recently informed that it’s healthy to try new things and get out of your element every once in a while. Plus, if we’re really having a bad time, we can always leave.”

  Aria didn’t know how to argue her way out of this one.

  “Okay,” she said. “But only because you asked.”

  “Speaking of… can I ask you a favor?” he said excitedly.

  She seemed both apprehensive and amused.

  “I was hoping you could teach me a little magic.”

  “Really?” she said. “I remember not too long ago you didn’t want anything to do with magic. You didn’t even think you were a witch.”

  “Well,” he argued, “a lot’s happened since then. Okay, not really. But I blew up a clock, and that stuff I did with your hair last night was pretty cool.”

  “What do you want to learn? Spoken spells are sometimes easier for beginners. Or I could teach you to conjure something small, if you think you’re up to it? It requires more concentration, though.”

  “I think I’d feel kind of silly waving my hands in the air and shouting Abracadabra,” he laughed. “Could you teach me to summon a sword or something?”

  “Um, why don’t we stay away from sharp objects for now?”

  “Yeah, alright. That might be a good idea.”

  “You should try something simple, like… a coin, or a feather.”

  “What about a flower?” he suggested.

  “A flower would work too.”

  “So how do I do this?”

  Aria stopped to think for a moment about the process of conjuring something. It was so second nature to her by now, she had to really break it down and examine what she did.

  “I think it will be easiest if I show you while I explain,” she decided. She held her palm out in the air as she spoke, making him touch the ball of energy floating just above her hand so he’d know how it felt. “What you want to do is tap into your magic. This is something you need to learn to perform any spell. You need to know where it is, what it feels like, and how to bring it to the surface at a moment’s notice. I think you’ve been reading about this a little in class by now, am I right?”

  “Yeah,” Rome groaned. “All we’ve been doing is reading.”

  “Okay,” Aria said with a smile. “Then the basic concept i
sn’t lost on you. Hold out your hand, and try to mimic the strength of energy flowing out of my palm. Take a deep breath, find your center, and slowly let it leach out.”

  Rome exhaled nervously, holding out his hand and trying to push out some kind of imaginary power. A small spark startled him and he closed his hand into a fist, looking at her uncertainly.

  “Yours didn’t do that,” he said.

  “It’s okay, it’s just because you’re anxious. Try again. Don’t think about trying to get it right – don’t think about the magic. Distract yourself. Think of something happy, something that makes you relaxed.”

  Rome slowly uncurled his fingers and closed his eyes. He was searching for a memory, a moment, something happy and light. It felt like it took ages to find something, and he was starting to worry Ariahna was going to get impatient with him, but he finally settled on one from his childhood.

  It was a day in late summer. He was maybe only seven at the time. His mother had taken him to the park outside of town. She always drove him to this park, even though it was smaller than the one near their home. Even though it was a good forty minutes away. It was their secret place. Not even Henry knew about it. She was pushing him on the swings as the world soared by around him, and he kept screaming, Higher! Higher! He could still remember the rush of wind blowing past him. He was swinging so high it felt like he was flying. At that moment, it felt like the whole world was waiting for him. All he had to do was spread his arms and the wind would take him wherever he wanted to go. When Rome opened his eyes there was a small ball of visible energy swirling around on his skin. It was crystal blue and purer than anything he’d ever felt. It filled him with a sense of joy.

  “Why can’t you always see it like this?”

  “Magic?” she asked quietly. “Not many spells require you to summon and maintain a steady stream of energy. It usually dissipates before it can be seen as it’s used instantaneously.”

  “Can it be used as a weapon? I mean, without saying any kind of spell?”

  “Not… exactly,” she said. “Without a purpose to fulfill, without intent, magic is just neutral energy. If you hit someone with it, it would probably just absorb into their body. It could shock them, possibly knock them off their feet; or it might invigorate them. There’s really no telling what unfocused energy will do. It’s a little chaotic and unpredictable.”

  “Okay, what do I do next?” he asked. “Because this is getting kind of hard to control and I’m a little afraid it’s going to blow up in my face.”

  “Alright, this is where that concentration I mentioned comes in. You need to imagine exactly what it is you want to conjure. Every detail you can recall is important: size, shape, color, texture, and so forth. What kind of flower are you trying to conjure?” she asked.

  Rome smiled at her shyly. “What’s your favorite flower?”

  Aria faltered, nearly losing her focus.

  “Um, daffodils,” she murmured.

  “Those are… yellow, right?”

  “Maybe you should try something you’re a little more familiar with.”

  Rome was determined to conjure a daffodil though, and she wasn’t going to dissuade him. He closed his eyes again, trying to summon the idea of a daffodil in his head. It was kind of a blurry, abstract, yellow looking thing with really long petals. A soft rippling sensation above his skin startled him, and then there was a sharp jolt like something ripping through the air. What was sitting in his palm was not a daffodil, but it was yellow, and long.

  Ariahna giggled before quickly covering her mouth.

  “Is that a petal?” he asked. “Is that a daffodil petal?”

  He wasn’t sure. Rome had never seen a daffodil.

  “Yes,” Aria lied. “That’s a daffodil petal.”

  “You’re lying,” he said in a high pitched voice. “I can tell you’re lying. What is it? Was I even close?”

  “I think it’s a sunflower petal,” she smiled.

  “Oh. Well, um, here. For you,” he laughed, handing her the piece of flower. “I’m going to work on that and get back to you.”

  “Don’t get discouraged, okay? I think you could have really done it, if you had stuck to something you recognized.” She didn’t want to call him stubborn any more than she wanted to admit she thought it was cute.

  Aria let her magic absorb back into her body.

  “Oh, come on! I thought you were going to show me?”

  “Do you still want me to?”

  “I know you’re better at it than I am. I’m not ashamed of that.”

  “Well you have a healthy attitude, at least,” she said. Ariahna lifted her hand again and conjured the flower so quickly Rome looked a little stunned. “This is a daffodil,” she said, holding it out to him.

  He took it from her by the stem, admiring its shape, which resembled a six sided star with an elegant center. It was unique and beautiful. Kind of like her, he thought.

  “So, why daffodils?” Rome asked. “Don’t most girls like roses?”

  Ariahna laughed sheepishly. “They remind me of my mother.”

  “Is that where you got your stunning red hair from?”

  “Yes,” she said, tucking a few strands shyly behind her ear.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered. “I love the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. You do it when you’re nervous sometimes.”

  “How do you know I’m nervous?” she said, smiling at her shoes.

  “Beyond the fact that you’re blushing? I can feel it. Can’t you?”

  Her forehead creased with a frown. “We should get back.”

  Rome reached out and gently took her hand. “Yeah, okay.”

  Aria tucked the old journal under her arm as they ducked underneath the large gnarled branches and continued back along the path the way they’d come. They were silent for a few minutes before Rome’s inquisitive mind kicked into overdrive.

  “So could I like, conjure anything? Anything I can think of, I mean?”

  Aria shook her head. “Yes, and no. You can conjure almost anything, as long as it physically exists here in this world. We can’t just create things out of thin air. For instance, that daffodil I just conjured. It had to come from somewhere. Maybe a field, or flower shop, or a vase in someone’s home.”

  “That’s probably how things always mysteriously go missing in my house,” Rome mumbled, thinking aloud. “Is that technically stealing?” he wondered. “Are witches the reason all those socks go missing?”

  Ariahna chuckled, shaking her head no. She didn’t think so, anyways. “I highly doubt there’s a witch somewhere conjuring random socks. Then again, stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

  “So, what’s your favorite color?” he asked, twirling the flower between his fingers. Ariahna was smiling at him playfully.

  “What do you think my favorite color is?”

  Rome hummed. The first color that popped into his head was pink, but for some reason he thought it was something less common. “Turquoise?”

  “No, but nice choice. It’s unconventional. I like it.”

  “Pink?” he shrugged.

  Ariahna shook her head no.

  “It’s right under your nose,” she hinted.

  Rome glanced at the flower in his hand, thinking she had to mean that. But was it green, like the color of her eyes, or yellow like the eyes of her wolf?

  “Yellow,” he decided. “Yellow’s your favorite color.”

  She smirked at him. “It is,” she said.

  “So what do you think mine is?”

  Ariahna stared at him thoughtfully.

  “Blue? No, wait. Red… Blue?”

  “Blue is a close second, but my favorite color is green.” Rome was smiling as he said it, gazing at her striking green eyes.

  Ariahna looked away shyly.

  “What time is the party tonight?” she asked.

  “I think it starts around midnight. It’s on a strip of beach on the other side of the woods. Do
you know how to get there? I was thinking we’d go together anyways instead of meeting. I can wait for you outside your room?”

  “The student lounge would be better.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then,” he said. Rome tucked the small flower behind her ear and kissed her on the hand before turning to part ways. He spun back to face her at the last moment, calling out, “Oh, and Ariahna?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Being exactly who you are, that’s what makes you beautiful.”

  Chapter 28

  The problem with Rome’s room was there was nothing to break. Kaleb paced anxiously in front of the beautiful open window like a large, caged cat. The grounds below were littered with laughing, socializing students – but no Rome. He was nowhere in sight. And now Kaleb was really wishing he would have given Rome more of his blood. He was regretting not binding them without his permission. In his mind, he didn’t need it. Rome was meant to be his, he could feel it in his bones, and he wasn’t going to let something as foolish as Rome’s fear get in the way of that. He just couldn’t see it right now, he thought. The lock on the door clicked, and Kaleb rushed across the room before Rome could even get two steps inside. He pulled him towards him, slamming the door closed with a palm flat against the wood. “Quite a show you put on,” Kaleb commented brusquely. “How was the after party? Did your groupie show you a good time?”

  “Jesus,” Rome said. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem? My problem is that you seem intent on leaving me one way or another. Yesterday you were talking about taking off, and today you’re hanging out with the girl who’s supposed to kill you. My problem is that you’re an idiot,” Kaleb bit out, shoving him across the room.

  Rome stumbled back into his chair, nearly toppling over. Kaleb was already advancing on him. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “But if you try and throw me around one more time, you’re not going to like it.”

  “You’d be wrong about that,” he whispered, pinning him against the edge of the desk. “You don’t know what I’d like.” He looked down at Rome’s torso with a smirk. “…You look good in my jacket.”