Cursed in Love (Nora Moss Book 1)

by Zoe Ashwood

  And just like that, most of my defensiveness melts away. Levi is still walking ahead of us, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed as he prods the earth with his magic, but for Raphaël and me, this feels more like a casual stroll than a dangerous magical mission right now. I hate that I can’t help Levi, but my magic works best on people, not booby traps.

  The only good thing about what happened is that we didn’t actually get blown to pieces. I’d sent my magical probe far enough ahead that the explosion didn’t tear off one of my limbs. But it had functioned like a recharging land mine. The moment Levi started using his powers, he sensed that the curse was right back where it was, ready to be triggered by foreign magic or pressure if someone stepped on it.

  So now we’re winding this way and that as he guides us through the maze of traps. The walls of the valley draw closer together, creating less of a U-shaped valley and more of a canyon the farther in we go. Some river must have gouged the stone here millennia ago, but now this is one of the driest places on Earth.

  Nothing moves around us but the shimmering air just above the ground. It distorts my vision and plays tricks with my eyes. My mouth feels fuzzy, as though I’d stuffed it full of cotton balls, and my head’s starting to hurt. When we reach our destination, I’m going to have to drink some of the water Levi is carrying, because the last thing I want to do is faint from dehydration.

  We turn around another bend in the path—and come to a stop in front of a massive cliff face. We’ve reached the end of the valley.

  “There’s nothing here,” I blurt out and turn in a circle. “I thought…”

  Levi holds his hand out to me, stopping me in my tracks. “Give me a sec.”

  He sends out another burst of magic that brushes against my skin, then reels it back in and opens his eyes.

  “Okay, no more traps here. But I can’t sense an entrance or anything either,” he says, scanning the sheer rock face.

  “It has to be here.” I drop my heavy pack to the ground. “We just need to find it.”

  Raphaël turns, frowning in the direction we came from. “This is a terrible spot to camp. We’re trapped in case anyone comes in after us.”

  “Maybe the Russians have already come and gone,” Levi says. “Maybe no one is following us.”

  “But I saw that glint in the distance,” I argue. “We can’t let our guard down.”

  Raphaël runs his fingers through his hair. “Listen. I can’t help you search for the tomb without magic. I’ll retrace our steps and make sure we aren’t being followed, and you two try to find whatever there is to find. Fast. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

  Neither do I. A shiver runs over my skin, and goosebumps run down my arms despite the scorching heat. He stalks off, and I turn to Levi.

  “How do you want to do this?” I ask. “A full circle and a revealing spell?”

  He cocks his head to the side. “That’s an option.”

  I face the tall rocks surrounding us. “Or we could start by actually inspecting the place.”

  “What, with our eyes?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice.

  I snort. “Yes, with our eyes. You said you didn’t feel anything at first glance. So maybe whatever is here is hidden from magic.”

  That would be a twist. Witches are likely to use their powers whenever they can. If you need to heat water for your tea, it’s faster to spell it to boil than pop it in the microwave. Removing zits with magic is about ten thousand times more effective than any cream. And what goes for little everyday things is even more true for more significant efforts in our lives.

  So most witches would continue searching for the entrance with magic, settling on casting circles and performing increasingly complicated spells. Maybe that’s exactly what the organizers are counting on. There’s a good chance we would exhaust ourselves and become more vulnerable to an attack.

  I take a drink of water, then walk over to the left side of the horseshoe-shaped area and point at the opposite side, which is some thirty yards away. “You start over there, and we’ll meet in the middle.”

  “I’m going to check our coordinates again,” he calls over his shoulder but walks where I directed him. “Make sure we’re definitely in the right place.”

  We are. I trust his navigation skills even if he’s not sure of them himself. I feel we’re right where we need to be. Call it witch’s intuition or sixth sense, but there’s something hidden here that we need to uncover.

  Putting my hands on the light-brown rock, I peer closely at the structure of the sandstone. Its grain is small, the surface worn smooth by sand and wind. It’s warm beneath my palms, and even though the sun has already started its descent toward the west, the heat of the ground beneath me radiates up, creating an effect that reminds me of an oven. We need to find our destination and get out of here.

  I don’t dare move too fast for fear of missing something, though. I slide my hands over the rock and move steadily to my right, searching for any indication that there’s an entrance here—to a temple or tomb—or a hidden niche or compartment where the organizers could have hidden the tokens we need to collect.

  As much as I’m hoping that we’ll find a simple box from which we’ll have to pluck our token, I’m afraid this mission hasn’t been dangerous or complicated enough for it to be over this soon. The majority of the issues we’ve had weren’t even caused by the Scottish coven but by the Russian contestants.

  I glance over at Levi and find him in a pose similar to mine, his head bent low and his hands on the wall. Raphaël is nowhere to be seen, which I’ll take as a good sign—if there was danger, he’d alert us immediately.

  The silence of the place is getting to me. It settles on my shoulders like an oppressive blanket. Not even wind blows down here, and there’s no birdsong, no crickets or any other sound that would signify there’s life around us. We might as well be the last people on Earth.

  “Anything yet?” I call over my shoulder to break the deathly quiet.

  My voice sounds reedy and weak and bounces off the walls with a strange, dull echo.

  “Nope,” comes Levi’s reply.

  We lapse into silence again, focusing on our work. Nearer and nearer we draw, inspecting the wall as we go. I trail my palms over the rock, and my eyes sting from staring at the same pattern of stone. I blow out a breath, wishing we were back in our beautiful hotel in Cairo, when my fingers dip into a shallow anomaly in the wall.

  Immediately alert, I peer at the little divot. At first glance, it seems shaped like a cross, but when I brush some sand residue from it, its real shape becomes obvious.

  “Levi, over here!”

  He comes running, and I point at the symbol etched in the rock.

  “It’s an ankh,” I whisper, tracing the loop with a fingertip.

  Something about this place is giving me the creeps, and whispering just seems like a great idea right now. The symbol is so small compared to the walls surrounding us, barely larger than my thumb.

  “How do we open it?” he asks. “Is there a door?”

  I press at the symbol, but nothing happens. “We better get Raphaël. He might know what to do.”

  Levi puts his fingers to his mouth and lets out a piercing whistle.

  I raise my eyebrows to him. “Really?”

  He shrugs. “He’ll know it’s us.”

  And a moment later, Raphaël comes jogging from around the rocky corner, a scowl on his face.

  “Do I look like a dog?” he growls, glaring from one to the other.

  “Sorry, man,” Levi says, contrite for once. “Won’t happen again.”

  To break the tension, I point at the ankh symbol at the wall. “Look what we found.”

  Raphaël strides closer and inspects the carving. “Good job.” He traces his fingers over it, then purses his lips. “And you found nothing else?”

  “There’s maybe ten feet of the wall we haven’t searched yet,” Levi says, already returning to the place where he le
ft off his search earlier. “You two figure this out, and I’ll check the rest.”

  Raphaël presses the symbol, tries tracing all the lines, and feels around for any hidden buttons or levers, but nothing happens. I do my best to open the door—because I’m sure it’s a door—with magic, all to no avail. The rock remains unmoving, and the shadows lengthen around us.

  “What do we know about the ankh?” I ask Raphaël. “Maybe it’s not just any symbol they carved in the wall.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Well, it represents life. Gods were depicted gifting it to pharaohs and humans, because that was their power.”

  “So…” I try to think of a way this could connect to present times. “What represents life?”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t mean…”

  “Blood,” I say, remembering how Raphaël’s blood healed Levi. “It could be blood.”

  Levi walks up to us. “It would also be just creepy enough for those Scottish witches. It would definitely make a statement to have contestants cut themselves open at the door.”

  “It would also weaken us,” I add. “I bet that’s what we need.”

  From my pack, I grab my trusty red Swiss army knife that usually serves me for coring apples and collecting herbs for my magic spells. It’s sharp, and it’ll cut through skin as easily as anything.

  But Raphaël’s hand shoots out, and he grabs my wrist. “Wait.”

  He studies the ankh symbol again, then turns to frown at us. “Ancient Egyptians weren’t known for blood sacrifice. They mummified animals, sure, but for them, blood wasn’t sacred. It’s not going to unlock the door, so please don’t cut yourself.”

  I fold the knife’s blade, raising my eyebrows. “What will, then?”

  “Water.”

  His single word rings with conviction. Of course. The Ancient Egyptians relied on the Nile for their survival and worshipped a number of river deities. In this desert, water is more scarce than blood, that’s for sure, and I see Raphaël’s point immediately.

  Levi doesn’t waste time either. Bending down, he removes one of the water containers from his backpack. “Stand back.”

  Raphaël and I retreat a couple of steps as he uncaps the bottle. Then he splashes the water over the symbol.

  Immediately, a rumbling noise tells us that Raphaël was right. A shudder runs through the earth beneath our feet. Sand and dust rain down on us from the rocky slope, and we scoot farther back. I take Levi’s hand first, then entwine my fingers with Raphaël’s, pulling them both away as a section of the wall in front of us moves inward.

  The rock groans and grinds with ear-splitting noise, but a moment later, a large opening yawns black right where the ankh symbol used to be.

  “Shit,” says Levi. “Do we really have to go in there?”

  The glaring light of the sun makes it impossible to see beyond the threshold. Whatever is waiting for us inside is hidden by deep, inky darkness, and I completely understand Levi’s reluctance.

  “We’ve come this far,” I answer weakly. “Would be a shame if we came all this way…”

  Raphaël picks up his backpack and roots around, then produces three headlamps. “We better move quickly. That door probably won’t stay open forever.”

  I swallow thickly. “You mean we’ll be locked in? Like in a tomb?”

  There’s tension around his mouth that wasn’t noticeable before. “You think I want to go underground again?”

  The story of his turning into a vampire comes back to me. “Right. Six feet of dirt. Yeah. Are you sure you want to do this? I won’t force you to enter with us.”

  He tosses me my headlamp. “Yes. Now let’s move. If I can go in there, so can you.”

  I exchange a glance with Levi. Raphaël is right. With one last deep inhale of the hot desert air, I put the headlamp on and shoulder my pack.

  And I lead the way into darkness.

  Twenty-Six

  Isak

  “Did you see that?”

  My traveling companion leans so far over the rocky ledge, I have to resist the urge to grab him by the collar and drag him back. And the temptation to give him a good shove and send him plummeting to the depths below.

  “Yeah, I saw it,” I answer, trying to keep casual. “We need to get down there.”

  Milo scoots back from the edge, his army-grade desert gear scraping across the ground. “That was magic right there.”

  Clenching my teeth, I swallow the sarcastic reply that springs to mind. Of course it’s magic. This is a fucking magical competition. Organized by witches. Attended by more witches. I’ve been around so many magic workers this past week, it’s only my own supernatural powers that are keeping me from developing an ulcer from all the worrying.

  Here in the desert, we’re alone at last. No one to see us, no one to suspect that I’m not a witch myself. We found the valley with little trouble—apart from having to wait out that freak sandstorm that rolled over the land—with the help of the coordinates that are burned into my palm. My entire strategy right now hinges on following others and watching what they’re doing. And after I saw this trio almost get blown to bits in the valley, I decided to approach the location from above.

  Good thing Milo has lugged along his rappelling gear. He looks like a kid, excited and happy that he gets to zoom down a sheer cliff face. Once again, I curse my older brother’s decision to hire a human—and a mercenary, ugh—for this mission. We have one chance to win this game, and having only Milo on my team seems…dangerous.

  “Come on,” I say, stowing my binoculars back in the car. They come in handy for watching people from a distance, but the beautiful witch, Mrs. O’Sullivan, nearly spotted me because of them. I guess the sun must have glinted off the lenses as I spied on their group’s approach.

  And yeah, over the past couple of days, I’ve felt like a creep too often. First for dancing with her when she clearly wished she could be elsewhere, until she zapped me with her magic, and now for watching her in secret. That zap of energy was something else. Maybe if I ever talk to her again, I could ask her to hit me with it again, just to see what she does. There’s something going on in their little group of three. She just grabbed both guys’ hands to keep them away from the opening door, and earlier, I watched her kiss both of them before they entered the valley.

  I push down the swirl of heat that curls through my gut at that memory. This woman and her team will lead me to my goal. Without being able to use magic on my own, this is the only way to get back what that Scottish coven stole from us more than half a century ago.

  I slam the car door with more force than necessary and strap on my backpack. Milo is rooting through the trunk, preparing ropes and carabiners, muttering to himself. Finally, he seems satisfied that he’s collected everything, and comes to stand beside me.

  We’ve managed to drive all the way up here with some bumping and cursing, but I wasn’t about to leave the vehicle at the entrance of the valley where anyone might have noticed it. The valley below us is a deep groove in the earth, but the plateau around us is relatively smooth. Once we have our token, we’ll be able to climb back up here in minutes and escape toward the east.

  “Good thing that sandstorm blew over,” Milo comments as he works on securing the ropes by hammering steel pegs into the rock.

  “Yeah,” I reply, though I’m not sure there was anything good about that storm at all.

  The way it had moved in the opposite direction of where the wind had been blowing just an hour earlier made me suspect it was magical, rather than natural. Maybe it had been those Russians we encountered as they exited the valley early this morning. I’d hoped to see how they found the entrance to the underground structure, but they’d been too fast for us.

  Milo keeps chattering, but I move several steps away and let him work. My brother hired him based on his impressive résumé, and it’s true that he’s a very well-trained soldier and clearly handy with all sorts of weapons and gear. But that doesn’t mea
n I like the man. Kiran had done just one interview with him before signing the contract, and I’m not convinced he’d chosen well.

  But this is what I’m stuck with now. It’s either work with Milo or return home to tell my sister I gave up on finding her crown.

  “These are ready,” Milo calls after a minute. “Or as ready as they’ll ever be. The rock here is fucking hard. Hope they hold.”

  I drag my palm over my face. This is why I never work with strangers. And why I prefer to stay in my office at the university, leaving this treasure-hunting crap to my brother.

  “This fall is deep enough to break your neck,” I tell the human soldier. “Make sure the pegs will hold.”

  Milo threads the rope through a peg and yanks at it with all his strength. The peg doesn’t move.

  “It’ll do,” he says. “But remember not to swing around too much. Or jerk at it once your weight is on the rope.”

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I pray to the old gods for patience. If I shift, I could fly down there in seconds, leaving him up here to scramble over the rock like a cockroach. But I know he actually means well. Milo thinks I’m a human professor out on an adventure, and I need to keep the ruse up to protect my family and my entire race.

  Besides, shifting in the middle of this dry desert would be uncomfortable as fuck. Not to mention it would take a hundred times more water to sustain my sea dragon form. Nah. If staying human-shaped is what’s required for this part of the mission, I’ll do it. Yet I can’t help but curse Kiran for choosing this hell on earth for my first location.

  We strap ourselves into the harnesses, and Milo double-checks the carabiners are properly locked and the rope is threaded through them correctly. I grab a water bottle from the car, guzzling down the full salty liter. The electrolytes course through my veins, soothing some of the damage that the sun has done on my skin. I’m pretty sure it’ll take me several days to heal all the sunburned patches on my forehead, nose, and the back of my neck.

  I really should have packed sunscreen.