Cursed Luck, Book 1

by Kelley Armstrong

  “Including Harmonia.”

  “Especially Harmonia.” His eyes light. “She was almost certainly not mine, but I didn’t care. Hector rejected her, and I embraced her. Our first child. An immortal, no less. She would always be ours.” His gaze drops. “She should always have been ours.”

  “Hector cursed her. With the necklace.”

  He nods. “And fools that we were, we thought he was actually acknowledging her as his own. The necklace was supposed to grant eternal youth, beauty, health and success. Harmonia already had most of that, but she appreciated the gesture. She married happily, and we had her and her husband for centuries. But to us, that’s a blink in time.”

  “What happened?” I ask softly.

  “Death happened. In the myth, Harmonia and Cadmus turn into snakes because the necklace depicts two snakes. The snakes actually symbolize us. Vess and myself. The jewel is Harmonia—our jewel. The loom represents time. A limited amount of time for our daughter. The curse grants things she already had at the cost of great misfortune, and for an immortal, death is the greatest misfortune of all.”

  “Even death after a long and happy life?”

  His gaze lifts to mine. “The misfortune was for Vess. Harmonia was her first child. The one who loved her unconditionally. The bright joy of her life. Gone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t destroy the damned thing before it ever touched our daughter. That I didn’t find a way to destroy it after that so Vess wouldn’t have had to live knowing it was out there, cursing innocent women. But now, finally—”

  He stops short and rises. “That can wait. This can’t. I have something for you.” He hesitates. “First, two things. One, please don’t treat Vess any differently now that you know who she is. It’s an open secret in our corner of the world. It’s not as if anyone’s going to publicly out us, and it cements our power base. But for Vess, it’s different. Being the so-called god of war brings me added clout, added respect. The goddess of love and beauty, though?” He glances at the statue of Venus crouching. “It diminishes what she is.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I say.

  “Thank you. The second thing?” He takes a deep breath. “I have a lot of explaining to do, which I will. Just bear that in mind when you see . . .”

  He waves vaguely toward a dark hall.

  “All right,” I say. “Building the suspense, I see.”

  He glances at Connolly. “You can wait here, please, Aiden. This is for Kennedy.”

  “Perhaps,” Connolly says, rising. “But I’m not staying here while you take her out of my sight. That’s a matter of safety.”

  Marius hesitates. Then he nods. “All right. Come along, then.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As we walk, Connolly is on high alert. I glance over to see him noting windows with small nods of approval. When I catch his eye, though, he only reaches to briefly squeeze my hand. Telling me he doesn’t expect a trap; he’s just being careful.

  He was quiet as I talked to Marius. Listening and assimilating but also wary. Bad enough we’re alone, at night, in the house of a powerful arms dealer with unknown powers. The fact Marius is also a three-thousand-year-old immortal? It doesn’t matter how laid-back Marius seems, how hospitable he’s been. He can afford to be all that. We are mere mortals, no threat to him.

  Connolly is also letting me focus on what’s ahead rather than what to do if this goes sideways. What could Marius possibly want to show me? Specifically me.

  We’re walking down a hall of doorways in a rear main-floor wing. Marius pauses at a door and holds the knob.

  He turns to me. “Just remember that I will explain. And I will make it up to you. Both of you.”

  At my look of complete confusion, he waves. “Go on. Aiden and I will wait here.”

  Connolly opens his mouth to argue.

  “She’s fine,” Marius says. “Let her have this moment.”

  Again, Connolly starts to say something. Then he stops. His face darkens, mouth setting in a firm line as his glare locks on Marius. Then he says, stiffly, “Yes, you should go in alone, Kennedy. And yes”—another glare at Marius—“he will make it up to you.”

  “What is—?” I begin.

  “Just go inside,” Marius says, swinging open the door.

  He reaches through and flicks on a light. When I step into the room, he closes the door most of the way behind me. I stand there, looking around. It’s a sitting area that seems to be for guests, with an entertainment system and a bookcase, a sofa and a recliner, a little private spot to rest. I’m not surprised then to open the adjoining door and see a bedroom.

  From the light coming in behind me, I can see that the bed is unmade, and that makes me jump back. There’s no one in the bed, though. There’s another door, an open one into a darkened bathroom.

  An empty bedroom with a breeze blowing through the open window.

  What am I supposed to see in here?

  My gut whispers that I should know the answer. This looks familiar, doesn’t it? Like the rooms where Rian was kept. A nicer and more opulent version.

  I know the answer. I really do, but I still turn, searching for proof. It’s on the nightstand. A nearly finished novel, propped open under a lamp. A book cover I recognize.

  I said I’d like a copy of that book you recommended, the one based on a Russian fairy tale.

  I grab the novel, and then I turn, looking from side to side. I race into the bathroom, just in case I’ve missed something. I haven’t. It’s empty.

  Book in hand, I charge from the rooms, yanking open the outer door to find Marius and Connolly still there, Marius grinning, Connolly’s expression as dark as when I left him.

  “You bastard,” I say to Marius. “You’re the one who kidnapped my sister.”

  I lunge toward him. He steps back, hands up.

  “You’re angry,” he says. “I understand that.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.”

  “Perhaps not, but we’ll discuss it. I can explain, and whether you accept that or not, I will make it up to both of you.”

  “Make it up . . .” I sputter. I shake my head sharply. “This is a threat. Or, as you probably call it, a negotiation. You’ve shown me that you have Hope, and now you want something in return.”

  “What?” Connolly says. He wheels on Marius. “I thought you were returning Hope to her sister.”

  Connolly had figured it out before I did. That moment when his gaze had chilled and darkened, when he’d agreed not to come in the room with me. He’d figured out what was in there. Who was in there. What Marius had done.

  “No,” Marius says. “Hope’s there. She must be in the bathroom.”

  “She’s not.”

  He throws up his hands. “There’s no other place for her to go.”

  I remember that cool breeze wafting through. “She escaped out the window.”

  “The windows have been boarded over,” Marius says as I run back inside. “She’s in the bathroom. She must be.”

  I barely hear him. I’m running into the bedroom. The window is definitely open, night air billowing the curtains. I race over and—

  There is no window. Just an empty hole in the wall. I lean through to see a pane of glass and boards on the ground.

  I wheel to Connolly as he comes up behind me. “She escaped. She figured out how to remove the window and the boards.”

  Connolly leans out and shines his cell phone light over the debris.

  “Right?” I say. “She escaped.”

  He glances at me. He says nothing. He doesn’t want to because his response won’t be what I want to hear. It’s the last thing I want to hear.

  Marius is already on his phone, his words staccato gunfire, the words all but lost behind the pounding in my ears. I catch only a few.

  Perimeter. Cameras. Move.

  “No,” I say, grabbing for his phone. “She’s escaped, and you are not sending your goons afte
r her.”

  He lifts the phone from my reach. “I don’t have goons, Kennedy. Not since I fired Havoc. I have security. And your sister didn’t escape. That glass has been cut out. The boards have been pried from the outside. If you’re going to tell me that someone rescued her, then I will certainly call off my team. Otherwise . . .”

  Otherwise . . .

  I do not want to think about otherwise.

  “Did Vanessa know?” I say as I hurry to the bathroom, double-checking there. “Or Rian. He’s outside. Maybe he . . .”

  Maybe he what? Used X-ray vision to see my sister in a locked room? Found a pry bar and glass cutter conveniently lying around the yard?

  “Vess had no idea I took Hope,” Marius says between orders to his security team.

  “I’ll call Rian,” Connolly says, and I’m about to comment when something jangles in the room, like an old-fashioned phone.

  We all freeze. The sound comes again, muffled. Connolly is there first, striding to the bed. He flips up a pillow to reveal a tablet.

  I’m at his side as he lifts it, and he hesitates only a second before passing it over. The screen lights up with a passcode prompt.

  I turn to Marius. “Is this Hope’s?”

  He shakes his head. “I offered her one, but she was fine with books and a game console.”

  I stare down at the code. Then I enter the last one I remember Hope using. It fails.

  “Don’t keep trying or you’ll lock it up permanently,” Marius says. “I have people who can crack it. Looks like an off-brand model.”

  He’s right. It isn’t a brand I recognize, and there’s a button for a hint on the password. I press it.

  Is your name Kennedy Bennett? If not, put me down.

  “Hope must have snuck the tablet in,” Connolly says.

  Marius shakes his head. “My people used a metal detector.”

  “Well, then,” I say. “One of your people had a problem with you kidnapping someone, and they snuck her a tablet.”

  “No. My staff aren’t monsters, but they trust me implicitly. I needed to trust them as well—trust they wouldn’t do anything to a twenty-year-old girl. Only two people had contact with Hope, and both have been with me a very long time.”

  When my phone buzzes, I jump. I take it out to see a text with six numbers. I snatch back the tablet and punch them in. It unlocks to a wallpaper of Hope sleeping. I know what this is now. I know, and rage boils up in me at that photo, my little sister curled up in bed, sleeping soundly.

  The picture changes. It’s Hope, wide-eyed over a gag. My rage erupts, and I jab the screen, hitting and swiping and trying to make it do something, anything. Marius reaches out to take it but then hesitates and wisely withdraws his hand.

  Hope is gagged and bound to a chair, but her expression has changed. It’s hard now, impassive, and she’s so still that only the flickering shadows tell me this is a video. She’s being taped, and she knows it, and while there’s terror in her eyes, she’s stone-faced, not giving them anything. I love her for that. I love her for a million things, but seeing this, my heart swells even as it breaks. She’s so scared and alone, but she’s not giving her captor the satisfaction of seeing it.

  A figure walks into view, seen only from the back. It wears a black robe, and seeing that, every horror movie slams into my brain. The figure turns, and all I see is a pale chin under the shadow of the hood. Then gloved hands rise and flick back the hood, and Marius starts to swear. He starts, and he doesn’t stop, a snarled spew of profanity that barely penetrates my own rage.

  On the screen is a face I saw only hours ago. A woman’s face, smiling with smug superiority.

  Havoc.

  She shrugs off the robe, and I realize that was just another bit of theatrics. As if this is a game. As if my sister—bound and gagged beside her—is just stage setting in her performance.

  Because she is.

  The reality of that hits me in the gut, stealing my breath. I see Havoc’s gloating face, and I see the smirk of someone who has put one over on her enemies.

  This isn’t about Hope. Not about me, either. We’re just stage setting. Props.

  “Kennedy,” she says. “Nice to see you again. Is Ares with you?” Her eyes widen in mock-horror. “Whoops! I mean Marius. I didn’t give anything away, did I, sir? Are you there? I’m sure you are. Swearing up a storm, I bet. Don’t bother. I can’t hear you, sir. For once, you need to listen to me. Painful, isn’t it? You thought you were being so clever, and I swooped in and scooped the prizes from under your nose. Both the prizes.”

  She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a silk bag. From it, she takes the Necklace of Harmonia.

  “There’s a reason the Greeks named two gods of war,” she says. “Athene is the smart one. God of strategy. You’re the god of brute strength and dumb luck. But that was never enough. You had to be clever. You always need to prove you’re clever. Except you aren’t.”

  Havoc’s gaze sweeps the screen. “Is she there, too? Mighty Aphrodite?” Another lip curl. “All this is for her, isn’t it? Everything is always for her. That’s what happens when you’re the goddess of love and beauty. Even the mighty god of war stumbles around like a schoolboy trying to catch your eye.”

  Havoc dangles the necklace. “May I guess your plan? You kidnapped this girl to unhex the necklace. Then you’d present it to Aphrodite. The cursed necklace, defanged at last, in memory of your dear, sweet Harmonia.”

  Venom drips from every word, and I glance at Marius, but he’s staring at the screen, his jaw tight, eyes blazing.

  “Do you know the problem with gods? Even I—a fellow immortal—am beneath your notice because I lack your precious powers. The whole lot of you is forever fixated on one another. Aphrodite trying to prove she’s over Harmonia’s death. Prove to you that she’s healed and prove to Hephaestus that he can’t hurt her anymore. You know she’s lying, and so you’re fixated on healing that wound by getting her this necklace. And Hephaestus? Three thousand years later, and he’s still determined to keep this necklace in the world, punishing Aphrodite by hexing new women. You three are forever locked in ancient history, and the rest of us, as always, are mere ants, scurrying about your feet.”

  She steps toward the camera. “You’re all so easily duped when you’re focused on one another. I could do whatever I wanted. First, the Connolly boys. Your star progeny.”

  I glance quickly at Connolly, but he only frowns and then shakes it off, as if clearly Havoc has misused the word.

  “Hephaestus was only too eager to get his hands on that bit of leverage. Then you still make your play, grabbing a curse weaver and setting her sister on the task of taking young Connolly out of the game.” Havoc pauses. “You’re asking how I know this. You have a leak, sir. I’d say to plug it, but I’ve already done that. You’ll find Carson in your stable.”

  Marius tenses, color draining from his face.

  “You and Hephaestus assembled your teams. I did try to wreak a bit of havoc there. Can’t help myself, really. A mishap on the highway. A nightmare under a dream shaper’s roof. It should have sent the Connolly boy and the Bennett girl running. Seems they aren’t that bright. As for the younger brother, don’t worry, I have him again.”

  She walks across the room, and there’s Rian, slumped on the floor.

  Connolly blinks hard and jabs buttons on his phone.

  “He’s fine,” Havoc continues. “Just sleeping very soundly. He really is your kin, Ares. As big a fool as you. His brother springs him from captivity and what does he do? Sees a pretty girl, bound and gagged, and leaps in to save her. A simple trap for a simple boy.”

  Her gaze flicks to Hope and then back to the camera. “Kennedy? I presume you’re still there. I’m sure all this doesn’t make much sense to you. I’m also sure that Marius has made you quite the generous offer to help him uncurse the necklace. Did he offer to release your sister? Probably. But now the person you need to deal with is me.”

  A pause,
as if she’s giving that time to sink in.

  “The same goes for you, Aiden,” she continues. “Forget Marius and Vanessa and Hector. Their petty squabbles don’t concern you anymore. I have what concerns you.” She points to Rian and then Hope.

  Havoc lifts the necklace. “I want the curse removed. Only the curse. The blessing must remain. I already have a buyer lined up. A Saudi who knows just enough about the magical world to understand what I’m offering. For it, he’s willing to pay me enough that I never need to bend a knee to those damned Olympians again.”

  She hoists the necklace. “So here’s the deal. I have one luck worker and one curse weaver. They have the right bloodlines, but they’re young. I want guarantees. Kennedy? You’ll bring your other sister. Aiden? You’ll join them. That puts together a nice curse-breaking quintet.”

  Her gaze lifts to meet the camera dead on. “You’re thinking you can double-cross me. I know you are. So I’ll be adding an incentive for removing the curse.”

  She walks over to Hope, lifts the necklace over her head and then lowers it . . . and clasps it around her neck. Hope’s eyes bug in horror. And the screen goes blank.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “I need to check the stables,” Marius murmurs as he slips from the room. He stops and adds, “We’ll get this fixed. I promise we will.”

  Connolly’s on his phone, madly texting and then calling his brother. “He texted just a few minutes ago. It must not have actually been him. I should have called. I—”

  Silence as he cuts himself off midword. I barely hear any of it. I’m still staring down at the tablet. The screen is black, but that last image stays imprinted on my retinas.

  “I’m sorry,” Connolly says, his voice moving closer. “I’m rattling on about my brother, while your sister . . .”

  He doesn’t finish. We both know the rest. Putting that necklace around Hope’s neck was no mere symbolic gesture.

  It transferred the curse.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have said something. Your sister . . .” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”