The Unbreakable Curse

by Alexia Purdy

  The voice was calm and subtle, reminding her of Ariuk’s, which was impossible, for he was dead-dead now. She’d done it with her own hands. Who was speaking to her? She squeezed her eyes together, waiting out the dizzying pain.

  Come home. The beacons call you.

  The ringing eased suddenly, and she dropped her hands, holding a crouch as she tried to slow her breathing. The pain eased off, but it had left her woozy and disorientated. Slowly, she got to her feet and stumbled toward the stairwell door, afraid to be caught out on the rooftop, vulnerable and unready.

  What was going on? She swallowed as she leaned against the wall just inside the doorway. Her heart raced, her head throbbing slightly. Her stomach felt uneasy as she braced herself for a few moments before she managed to make her way down the stairs one by one, grasping the railing to stay upright. By the time she reached the ground floor, she felt better, but the feeling of uneasiness remained.

  Spotting a Japanese eatery across the way, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the slight rainfall once more. Her hair was damp and lay like snakes across her shoulders. Her shirt felt wet, but she didn’t care. She needed some food to settle her dizziness and empty stomach. Her intense workout before investigating the rooftop had done nothing but ignite the hunger pangs now pummeling her insides and contributing to her fuzzy thoughts. Food would help.

  Inside, the hostess gave her a rude once-over before snapping a menu into her hand and waving her forward. Most of the patrons must’ve looked just as soaked, for she led Thalia to a secluded booth near the back of the restaurant without any complaints. She slid into the seat, shook off her drenched jacket and checked her shirt. It wasn’t too wet, just the front. She felt cool, but the warm air from the kitchen wafted onto her, bringing with it the scent of cooking food.

  She relished the warmth. She ordered some sake, miso soup, and sushi when the waitress arrived. The alcohol warmed her insides as she let the heat penetrate her bones. This day was starting to worsen as it went on. She made a note to purchase some curtains at the linen store around the corner and head straight home to hang them. If the stranger returned, she’d be ready. Sleeping with a knife and gun beneath her pillow would be necessary tonight.

  The food filled her belly, and exhaustion began to creep in and embrace her like a lover. She downed the rest of her sake, feeling its warmth settle her stomach. At least she got to finish her meal before three large Asian men approached her booth and formed a wall beside her.

  “Our master, Ichiro, demands you give us the key you stole from Ariuk. Do this, and you won’t be harmed.”

  Thalia eyed the three guards and knew exactly who they belonged to. The Japanese Yakuza leader was the archangel Ichiro, who she’d never met but had heard plenty of stories about. The fact they knew she was there made her suspicious of the wait staff, and she threw a shady look toward her hostess, who was watching the entire encounter. The girl’s eyes widened, and to her credit, she ducked behind the cashier’s booth, spooked.

  Good thing Thalia wasn’t in the mood to waste innocent bystanders. She shifted her eyes back to the three men, and she sighed. No one had time for this. Not even on a good day.

  “What makes you think Ariuk gave me anything?”

  “Ichiro was having Ariuk watched. He was seen presenting the key to you, but the man following him didn’t want to get too close. We searched his remains after you buried them, and it wasn’t there. Since you’re the last one to see him alive, you must still have it.”

  One of the men crossed his gargantuan arms and narrowed his beady eyes at her. “We know you have it. Don’t make this difficult.”

  Thalia shook her head, sipping the last of her sake. At least she was done eating. “He didn’t give me any ‘key,’ so if you don’t mind, I’m done here.” She threw down money to pay the bill and scooted to the end of the booth. Staring up at one of the large guards, who refused to budge, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

  The guard remained planted but glanced at the man in the middle, who seemed to be the one giving the orders. He shook his head.

  Are you kidding me? thought Thalia. Just one moment of peace today would have been a kindness. Now Ichiro’s three doofuses were after her, and more brawn than brains, yes, but her body ached from the pain she’d experienced earlier. She was far from being in the mood to obliterate these three gorillas.

  “I don’t have your stupid key, and who said you could dig up dead bodies properly buried? How dare you deface a blessed grave? It’s in the Concurrence that you don’t dig up the bodies the hunters bury. That’s defacing hallowed ground.” She scowled, overdoing her annoyance to get the point across. “I’m going to have to redo the blessings to keep his body from reanimating into a zombie now. Thanks a lot.”

  “We reburied the corpse. No need to worry about that. He didn’t have the key on him, so if you have it, Ichiro wants it. It’s rightfully his to claim. Ariuk worked directly for him.”

  “Like I said”—Thalia jumped to her feet, giving the nearest guard a slight shove to the chest—“I don’t have any key, so let me take my leave or there’ll be hell to pay once I inform Ereziel about Ichiro’s goons.” She glared at the three, daring them to try to keep her from leaving, but the one in the middle threw a look to the one blocking her, and he moved his massive body out of the way. She threw them a sour smile as she left the restaurant, hiding the panic blossoming inside her as much as she could.

  Ariuk’s grave had been disturbed by the Yakuza. This would allow his body to haunt her, since she’d been the one to kill him. Instead of heading home like she’d planned, she turned in the direction of the graveyard and hurried. She had to make sure he’d been reburied correctly and given last rites, or the body would be restless.

  She suspected that his soul would not be anchored to her, since she’d failed to collect it by taking the locket instead, but his body had to be quieted either way. She couldn’t let a zombie walk around this city; it was too populated and would cause widespread panic.

  Ariuk’s haunting message that she didn’t belong to this realm, but another, hovered in her mind. Could it be true? Why would the Yakuza want the relic badly enough to upturn a blessed corpse? They were crazy. Disturbing graveyards was dangerous work, and very few knew the way to ease the dead to eternal sleep like she did. Mercenaries like her knew the rituals, but most gangsters, like the Yakuza, ignored protocols.

  Then there was the problem of the stranger on the rooftop. His message had been painful and debilitating, if it’d been a he at all. She had to find out what the stranger wanted before the Yakuza came sniffing around again. Sooner or later they’d discover she had lied. Sooner or later, she’d have to face Ichiro anyway. The Yakuza had ruined the rest of her day. What else could go wrong?

  Chapter Seven

  Thalia kneeled by Ariuk’s unmarked grave. How the Yakuza had known where to find his body told her more than she wanted to know. Someone was tracking her. She was usually the tracker, but now she was on the other side of the fence.

  Frowning, she placed her hands on the stirred-up ground and closed her eyes. It rumbled before a mound of dirt funneled out of the hole and piled neatly to the side. Once done, Thalia peered in to find the body in disarray. Damn Yakuza had reburied him all right, but they had failed to perform another last rites ritual to keep it dormant and from returning to life. Ariuk’s lost soul could reacquire the body and be given a passage back to haunt her, and for that, she’d have to find those Yakuza henchmen again and beat them for the inconvenience of having to redo her magical seal on Ariuk’s grave.

  As she held her hands up, about to chant the spell, her head rang again, badly enough for her to grasp at her ears, pressing hard as the sound cut through her thoughts.

  “Stop, please,” she begged.

  Return. The beacons await you. Find the Skein. The locket is the key.

  “What?” She bent over, the ringing piercing her brain. It felt like she was having a stroke. “
Please….”

  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the ringing stopped. Thalia remained on her knees, heaving hard as she dug her fingers into the earth. Whoever was affecting her so had to stop doing that before he killed her. She cursed under her breath, finally able to sit back up. Before it had a chance to start up again, she sealed the grave with a spell and smoothed the dirt over the body.

  She wasn’t sure if it’d work a second time, but it was worth the effort. Thoroughly exhausted, she got to her feet and stumbled out of the graveyard, afraid she could barely walk toward her apartment. She just wanted to make it home, slip under the covers and sleep for a decade. She checked her phone for any messages from Ereziel as her fingers shook and the rain came down harder. She found an overhanging tree where she took shelter from the worst of it, but it wasn’t ideal. There, shivering and cold, she closed her eyes, too tired to care where she was even though this place flooded her with memories of her first night as an immortal. The same kind of weather, the same kind of dreary, miserable rain. The only thing missing was….

  In the distance, she could hear Ereziel’s voice on her phone; she had accidently called him, and he had answered.

  “Hello? Thalia? Are you all right?”

  ***

  The bed was warm and smelled of fresh detergent and fabric softener. Whoever had washed these sheets knew how to keep them fresh for a long time. Thalia wished she had the patience to keep her laundry this well, but housework was definitely not her thing.

  The crackle of a fire woke her as the logs popped and sprayed sparks up into the chimney. Soot stained the inside of the brickwork, but the warmth it expelled made Thalia want to stay in the bed forever. Just then, a horrible thought crossed her mind as she flipped her eyes open and sat up in a very familiar bed.

  She couldn’t stay there. It wasn’t a good idea. Her head pounded from the sudden movement, and she lay back down to ease the throbbing. Just how had she gotten there? She was last sitting under a large tree, the rain coming down in sheets, her fingers white like a corpse’s. She’d been shivering and exhausted, drained to the last drop from the effort it had taken to rebury Ariuk’s body. And then there were the mental assaults. Yeah, that was it. So how in the world had she made it into… Ereziel’s bedroom?

  She sat up again, grimacing as her body protested. This was Ereziel’s room. She would recognize it anywhere. The subtle reminder of why she knew this room stabbed at her chest. Years did nothing to make that empty hole inside her disappear. Love for immortals was much more caustic than for mortals. In fact, she was sure it was almost fatal if not done right. She had learned that the hard way and still continued to suffer its effects years later, when the love should have faded to nothing but memories. Too bad that wasn’t how it went with her love life.

  “Dammit,” she muttered as she yanked the blanket off and swung her legs down onto the plush maroon rug. She had to admit, Ereziel’s sense of style hadn’t changed in the time since she’d called this chamber her own. It had remained the same, and it reached inside of her, churning up the years she’d spent with the archangel despite her reluctance to think about that part of her life.

  She was naked but for a silk spaghetti-strap slip. She groaned. Did he keep these things lying around? Where were her clothes? Perturbed, she clamped her arms over her chest, feeling a slight chill as she left the bed. Finding a robe lying on the nearest armchair, she draped it over her shoulders, weaving her slender but muscular arms through the armholes. Tying it snug to her waist, she stepped forward slowly, still feeling woozy. Out in the hallway, she walked down toward the living quarters, her fingers touching the velvet-wallpapered walls to keep upright. She could make her way around his home with her eyes closed. That’s how many years she’d spent there.

  It wasn’t a comforting thought. She hadn’t returned ever since making it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing more to do with the archangel. He was still her boss, but she’d avoided any close involvement with the guy for good reason.

  God, those years… she brushed them from her mind as she made it to the living room, a large space filled with antique relics and sofas with scrolled wooden frames. They didn’t make furniture like this anymore, that was for sure. She peered around the dimly lit room. Another fire was roaring in the hearth. It’d been a favorite room of hers, for there were bookshelves lining the walls, all the way up to the roof. She’d spent hours right by that fireplace, reading and rereading her favorites.

  Her heart squeezed at the memories, and she slowly breathed in to hold back the tears. Those days seemed like they’d happened centuries ago. How had time passed so quickly, yet there she stood as though it had not gone by at all? She swallowed down the knot lodged in her throat and turned back into the hall to check the other rooms.

  Despite the roaring fire, the place felt cold… abandoned.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hello?” Thalia’s voice bounced off the walls, but nothing answered back. She sighed, rubbing her arms and about to give up when a noise perked up her senses. “Ereziel?”

  “It’s been a long time, Lia,” Ereziel’s voice boomed through the hall. He was the only one who called her Lia; it was a relic of more intimate times.

  “Ereziel, what the hell? Where are my clothes?” She wasn’t one to dance around the subject. If there was anywhere in the world she wanted to be, it wasn’t there.

  “Always in a rush. You never did like to stop and smell the roses, did you?” Ereziel emerged from a hall on her right, shirtless, with his brilliant white wings folded behind him. The tips brushed the ground but somehow remained immaculate no matter how much he dragged them.

  Thalia glared at him. How dare he find this so casual?

  “I’m not in a rush. I’d just rather not do this.” She waved her hand out as she began to pace. “How did you find me?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? You live in the same century as I do. Have you not heard of GPS tracking? You called me but didn’t say anything when I answered. I had the cellphone company tell me where you were. I do own it, you know.”

  “I messaged you all morning. Why didn’t you respond?” This was getting her nowhere fast. Her frustration only grew, talking to him. This was why she avoided it at all costs. She needed her clothes, and she needed to get out of there ASAP.

  He chuckled as he sashayed past her and lazily draped himself across one of the oversized armchairs near the fireplace. It didn’t appear comfortable, not with his large wings crushed beneath his weight. How did he stand sitting on them? Thalia cringed.

  “It’s wet and cold outside. Trust me, I didn’t want to head out there in that mess, but I grew concerned. Finding you in that old graveyard, unconscious and freezing, wasn’t reassuring. I figured you wouldn’t squat there intentionally, so I took it upon myself to bring you back here. You were not looking so hot, to be honest.”

  “I—I,” she stuttered, afraid of what might spill from her mouth. She clamped it shut, not knowing what to do. “Look, thank you for helping me, but I really need to get going. Where’s my stuff? My weapons?”

  “Oh, I took the liberty of having your clothing cleaned. The maids should be done with that any moment now.” He eyed her, narrowing his gaze while studying her expression. “The sword was quite impressive, though I know how you lose your mind if I touch any of your stuff, so I left your weapons alone. The servants put them on a side table in the bedroom. Did you not see the pile?”

  Damn. She’d been too fuzzy to notice. “No, I didn’t. I’ll check again.”

  Ereziel’s eyes sparkled in the firelight. “The sword… is it Matt Timothy Hannigan’s work, no? The Hannigans have been in the blacksmithing trade for centuries. Fine craftsmanship.”

  Matt’s name slid off his tongue like poisoned honey. He knew she worked with the blacksmith often. Whatever else he knew about their relationship was a mystery. She hoped it wasn’t much.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Maybe she could use this to take
the sting out of seeing him in person. She avoided meeting with Ereziel if she could. She wasn’t the one who’d ended things years before. Neither one of them ended it, really. What had happened to them had been unfortunate. Her mission to find a way to Purgatory had consumed her, and he was an enabler for her obsession. She’d had to break away to grow. Find herself. Loving him was toxic, destructive, so she’d run from it. She’d run as fast and as far as she could while still taking orders and eliminating the people he sent her to kill.

  She eyed him cautiously, carefully searching for redemption in the depths of his eyes, but all she could see was his handsome face, immaculate muscle structure, and those fascinating wings.

  “He’s pretty good with the metals. Not so good with anything else,” Ereziel finally said.

  And there it is. Ereziel’s cockiness made her groan inwardly and turn away. He had a knack for saying the most criticizing things he could muster about other people. Lacking a sensitivity chip was a major flaw with him, and it included, unbeknownst to him, insults to her character. He was too stubborn to realize the damage he’d done. Some immortals never changed.

  “My clothes? Where are they?” Thalia demanded. She needed out of there. Ereziel seemed to suck the air out of every room he was in, leaving her feeling weak. But what was that weakness, exactly? She didn’t know if she wanted to throttle him or melt into his rock-hard chest and let him have his way with her again and again. It was infuriating to be in his presence, and she wanted nothing more than to get away from the temptation.

  “Ah, here she is.” The maid arrived just in time, holding a stack of familiar clothing. “I told you she’d be here any second. Why are you in such a rush? It’s always such a treat to see you.”

  The maid held out her outfit, laundered and stiffly pressed. Even her leather jacket had somehow been cleaned of years of filth. It was hard to not admire the handiwork. She desperately wanted to be back in her own clothes, and there were two brilliant, brown archangel eyes staring at her, hungry to see what lay beneath her robe.