by Layla Frost
Dejected, her eyes closed and her shoulders slumped as she turned and started for her house.
My dad watched her go. “Maybe now she’ll stay away.” He looked at the boys, and I could’ve sworn his eyes landed right on Ayden. “That goes for you all. My daughter is one of Lucifer’s warriors. She’s the devil’s spawn! Save yourselves—save your souls—and stay away from her. And go to church before Satan himself has you for his Sunday morning brunch.”
I didn’t want to look at them, but I couldn’t help it. Morbid curiosity had me scanning the group of boys, taking in the way they snickered and elbowed each other. When my gaze hit Ayden’s, he wasn’t smiling.
My heart fluttered, my hopes rising.
Maybe he cares.
Maybe he knows I’m hurt, and it bothers him.
As my future husband, he’ll make sure no one ever talks about this again, and we can pretend it didn’t happen.
But slowly, Ayden’s deep dimple on his left cheek showed. He pushed his blond hair from his eyes, but my heart didn’t go funny because he was laughing.
At me.
It was like a nightmare. Everything slowed, and a sense of foreboding filled me even before he raised his index and pinky finger into horns. Loudly, he proclaimed, “Even her own dad knows she’s a freak. She’s Demon Denny.”
Tears burned behind my eyes as my humiliation choked me. I turned toward home.
“Get in the car,” my dad snapped. “I don’t trust you to walk.”
Spinning back, I took a few steps. When I was in front of him, I looked up and let my seething words tumble free. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you. I wish I could go live with grandma.”
Once, a few years before, Lula had gotten into a fight with her parents while I was there. It’d been over something stupid—and thanks to her period starting—she’d lashed out in hormonal anger. When she’d screamed that she hated them, there’d been so much sadness in her parents’ eyes. Lula had instantly apologized, sobbing and hugging them. They’d reassured her that nothing she said would ever make them stop loving her.
I watched my dad’s eyes, but there was nothing like that. No sadness. No hurt or pain. Not even anger.
Just ridicule.
On the outside, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. I’d heard some of the moms talk about how it was too bad he was crazy, because he was handsome.
I didn’t see it.
His ugliness on the inside tainted his appearance, giving him deep scowl lines, a red face, and cold, hard eyes. Hatred was a poison slowly eating away at him.
Shaking his head, he gave a humorless chuckle. “If your grandma wanted you, she could have you. But she doesn’t.”
My dad’s mom was amazing, which was why it majorly sucked that I didn’t see her much. Going to her house was like a vacation. She let me read as much as I wanted from her awesome library. She taught me how to bake. She told me the craziest ghost stories.
She loved me… or, at least, she seemed to.
When I’d asked why I couldn’t stay with her longer, she’d apologized and blamed my dad. She’d reminded me that we had to play it carefully, or he’d take away what little time we had.
Knowing she was out there and loved me gave me comfort. No matter how alone I felt, I had Lula and Grandma.
I was loved.
Even though I was pretty sure he was lying, the idea that my grandma had lied broke my heart worse than Ayden Bash ever could.
“But when I visit—” I started.
“I have to beg her,” my dad said. “Lay on the guilt trip as her only son, the father of her only grandchild. Don’t let her loving act fool you. She’s too scared of you to want you around.”
Not willing to give him a reaction, I stomped toward the car, ignoring him as he called, “She sees the evil inside you.”
My tears spilled over as I got in, but I quickly wiped them away.
As my dad drove, I looked out the window to see Ayden and the boys watching, still laughing and taunting me.
My life is hell.
_______________
Five months ago…
“Are you ready?” Lula asked, her hands behind her back.
Her fiancé, Chase, stood next to her in a similar position.
My eyes darted between them. “What’re you guys up to?”
“Nothing,” she lied, bouncing on her toes. “Open the door.”
With one last narrow-eyed glare, I turned away and punched the code the lawyer gave me into the lock that covered the door handle. Once it was off, I inserted the supplied key and turned it, holding my breath.
Bracing for the worst.
Shaking off the bad habit, I forced my shoulders to relax before pushing the door.
When it flung open, two loud pops sounded behind me, making me jump.
“Welcome home!” Lula and Chase yelled as confetti rained down.
Home.
All my life, I’d never felt like I truly belonged anywhere except when I was there.
My grandma’s house.
No, my house.
I blinked back tears, the moment bittersweet.
“Denny,” Lula started, ready to offer the kind of comfort only a best friend could.
“I’m okay.” I shot her a wobbly smile despite my burning eyes. “This is a good day. She’d be mad if I ruined it by wallowing.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’d tell you to feel however you wanted.”
“That’s exactly what she’d say.” I took a shaky breath and stepped aside, sweeping my hand out. “Please, come in to my home.”
“I’ll start grabbing things from the truck,” Chase said.
“Start with the champagne and rum,” Lula called after him.
“Yes, dear.”
“He’s a good husband already,” I said, stepping inside. My laughter died in my throat when I looked around, my stomach dropping to the bare floors.
It was gone.
All of it.
The entire living room was empty, other than her old couch. Heat pounding, I hurried into the kitchen and dining room to see the same. A few bits and pieces remained, but everything else was gone.
Circling back to the living room, I almost ran into Lula. “Someone robbed my grandma.”
She shook her head, her black bob swaying with the motion. “No, someone robbed you. You’ve got to call the police.”
“Whoa,” Chase said from the doorway.
“She’s calling the cops.” Lula took the bottle of rum from him. “And then we’ll drink.”
“Hold on.” Chase returned a moment later with my purse. “Write down everything that’s missing first.”
“Oh, good idea.” I pulled a notebook and pen out, clicking it as I tried to gather my racing thoughts. “I don’t even know what was supposed to be here. The lawyer said I inherited everything, but he didn’t tell me what everything entailed. Or, if he did, I didn’t process it. I was a little numb and in shock.”
“It’s okay. Call the lawyer, they’ll have a list.”
Before my shaking legs could give out, I sat on the hardwood floor in the middle of the mostly empty living room. Fishing out the lawyer’s business card from my purse, I dialed and waited. After talking to a receptionist and two paralegals, I was finally connected to the lawyer.
“Ms. Underwood,” Mr. Dempsey greeted. “I’m told something is wrong.”
“Yes, sorry to bother you, but I’m at my grandma’s house and everything is gone.”
“Everything?”
My eyes landed on the couch. “Almost everything. Her couch is still here. A hutch in the dining room. A few other things, but my understanding was I inherited it all.”
“That’s all there is.”
“No, she had tons of knickknacks and some great furniture.”
“Unfortunately, your grandmother’s insurance documentation wasn’t up to date, so there’s no record of what was there before her passing.” Mr. Dempsey’s voice softened. “Ms. Underwood, it�
��s not uncommon for the elderly to sell their possessions. Sometimes it’s to help with expenses. Other times, it’s so their relatives are not stuck with that burden.”
“I didn’t want to sell the stuff!”
“She may not have known that. In her mind, clearing out the house was doing you a favor. I can’t say for certain, but our firm was there to inventory and lock up the place within twenty-four hours of her death, as per our policy.”
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-fucking-four hours.
Plenty of time.
When I didn’t say anything, Mr. Dempsey cleared his throat. “If there’s anything else—”
“No. Thank you.”
Standing, I paced the room with my heart in my throat. There was one last place I needed to check, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
Lula and Chase came in, their arms full of boxes.
“The lawyer said they had twenty-four hours to lock the place up,” I told them. “This was all there was when they got here.”
Lula’s face twisted in anger, her eyes narrowing as she set the boxes down. It was clear her thoughts had gone to the same place mine had when she repeated, “Twenty-four hours?”
“He took it. All of it.”
“Call him,” she insisted. “I know you said you never would, but maybe he still has everything.”
“That’d be just like him. Extortion or ransom or whatever.” Some of the tension in my chest eased. “I can call him. Hell, I can grovel and beg with the best of ‘em if it means getting it back.”
“We’ll give you some privacy,” she said, waiting for Chase to put down his boxes before pulling him outside.
Amping myself up, I dialed a number I knew by heart, but one I’d hoped to never use again.
“Hello?” a man answered, his voice sharp.
“Dad? It’s Denny.”
There was a moment of silence followed by a chuckle. The chuckle. The only laughter I’d ever heard from him, and it was cold and humorless every time. “I’d almost forgotten I was a dad.” He sighed. “It was nice while it lasted.”
My blood boiled, but I suppressed it. I knew better than to engage. “I won’t take up much of your time, but I’m at grandma’s house, and—”
“Don’t you mean your house?” he asked, sounding happy. Ecstatic, even.
But not for me, like Lula and Chase were.
He was just fucking thrilled about what he’d done.
“You took everything,” I whispered, still somehow surprised by what he was capable of. “Do you still have it? I just want a few things, you can—”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You took all of Grandma’s stuff.”
“I didn’t. If someone took her things, it serves you right. My mother was a good woman, and you don’t deserve the remnants of her life. You’re cursed. Everything you touch dies, Haden. You destroy it. I’m just glad you won’t have the chance to do the same with her belongings.”
Heartache warred with fury inside of me, building and building until I could either crumble or explode.
I went with explode.
“That’s not true! I’ve never done anything wrong. You’re the one who’s evil. You’re just a crazy old man who’s going to die alone.”
“I’d rather die alone than be the creation of the devil.” Before I could hang up, he added, “Speaking of hell…”
“What?” I gritted out, clinging to the last fraying thread that he’d tell me where my grandma’s things were. If he’d donated everything, I’d scrape together every penny I had to buy it back.
“It’s supposed to be cold tonight. You might want to start a fire. I know my last one kept me warm.” With a laugh—one filled with cruel happiness—he hung up.
“No, no, no,” I whispered. Scrambling, I ran down the hall and threw open the door.
My heart shattered in my chest, the emotional pain so tangent, it stole my breath.
They were gone.
My grandma’s books were gone.
Running back into the living room, I dropped to my knees and slid across the floor. I was vaguely aware of the skin on my knees tearing and burning, but the agony in my heart overshadowed it.
The front door banged open and Lula asked, “Are you okay?”
I ignored her as I shoved the screen in front of the fireplace to the side. My head swam, nausea threatening to empty my stomach. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I pushed the soot around.
A few covers were left, the plastic film yellowed and warped. Some books were missing their edges. Others were completely destroyed.
My movements became frantic as I dug through the mess in hopes of finding one salvageable book.
But there were none.
With one flick of a match, that monster had destroyed beautiful words and priceless memories.
The books—one of the few bright spots in my childhood—were nothing but ash.
“He did this,” I choked out, lifting a handful of scraps only to sob when they disintegrated in my palm.
There was more I wanted to say, more names I wanted to call him, but I couldn’t speak past my bawling.
Lula wrapped her arms around me, holding me close and calling him creatively vile names for me.
Inheriting my grandmother’s house, though bittersweet, was supposed to be the turning point in my life. The start of something good.
But thanks to my father, he’d tainted that, too.
With her things gone, I didn’t feel as strong of a connection to her as I’d wanted.
Even the house felt… different.
Maybe I am cursed?
The Voice
Who knows when…
Gray concrete.
To the front of me. To the sides. And, should I have cared to look, it was behind and under me, too.
I didn’t care to look.
I didn’t care to do anything.
At first, I’d used the concrete to occupy my mind. To keep me sane. I’d counted each brick. I’d added them, subtracted them, multiplied them, and divided them. I’d grouped them by various distinguishable characteristics and shapes before repeating my math over and over until there was no possible combination left. Then I’d studied each marking, piecing together obscure pictures like drawings on a cave wall.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months into years. And years into… Gods knew what. Decades? Centuries? I had no idea anymore. Twenty years or two hundred, it felt the same to me.
The concrete no longer offered a distraction.
It mocked me.
My prison.
My hell.
I wish I was dead.
Chapter One
Cursed
Denny
THERE WAS NO DENYING it any longer.
I, Haden Underwood, was cursed.
My whole life, the scales had tipped toward the cursed side. I blamed my father for an abundant amount of reasons, but optimist I was, I’d always found enough good in my life to balance the bad.
But as I sat in the café, my eyes glazed over as I questioned each life choice that’d led me to that point, the needle wasn’t wobbling in the middle. It was firmly aimed at the word ‘cursed’.
And, on that imaginary dial indicator, ‘cursed’ was in capital, bold letters. Possibly neon.
Maybe even flashing.
Thinking about my previous string of dates, each a bigger disaster than the last, I changed my mind.
It was definitely neon and flashing.
Maybe I need to move.
“Long story short, that’s how the new IA7X printers in my office are different from the old 39BA ones.”
Forcing a polite smile, I pulled myself from my thoughts and nodded a little at the man across the table from me.
His story hadn’t been short.
Not by a long shot.
“I’m glad you like them,” I muttered, lifting my coffee to my lips. Tempted as I was to start chu
gging it in order to end the hellish afternoon, I didn’t want to burn my tongue off.
The droll and dull man lowered his brows. “No, I don’t like them. That was the whole point. Here, let me explain again.” He inhaled deeply, ready to launch in.
I shook my head. “I was, uh, being sarcastic. Just a joke.” I hadn’t been, mostly because I hadn’t listened to a thing he’d been saying. I’d tuned out after he’d begun describing the difference in the ink loading process.
It was an awful first date. Sadly, it wasn’t the worst I’d had.
Not by a long, boring mile.
The man, Todd, was attractive. Before he’d opened his mouth, I’d actually thought he was really hot. We’d met in a bookstore, and he’d been funny and charming. However, as he sat across from me, I envied anyone who was watching grass grow or paint dry.
Either would be more stimulating.
“We just installed a new spreadsheet program,” he started.
Taste buds be damned.
Chugging the rest of my coffee, I looked at my watch before grabbing my bag and standing. “I’ve got to get going. Work, you know?”
Looking flustered, Todd stood, too.
God, he was tall. And, really, honestly hot. But that wasn’t enough to make any further conversation worth it.
“Can I see you again?” he asked.
“No. I’m sorry, thank you, but no. Uh, good luck with the printer and the spreadsheets.” With one last polite smile, I hustled from the coffeehouse, relieved he didn’t follow.
My luck has to change soon.
Right?
_______________
Walking through my house, I held my cell to my ear as it rang on the other end.
“God, it’s about time, Denny!” Lula said by way of greeting. “I was about to send out the search crew. The Army. The Navy. The National Guard! So, how’d it go? Since it’s so late, I’m going to assume it went marvelous.”
Drawn together in the third grade by our uncommon names, Tallulah and I had been best friends since. Our mutual flair for the dramatic only bonded us further.
I chuckled and cringed at the same time. “No, far from it. In fact, I’m going to hang up, so pretend this call never happened and send in the hot, uniformed men. Maybe I’ll have better luck with one of them, because the streak has continued.”
