Cursed (Enchanted Gods Book 1)

by K. K. Allen

  I burst into an incredulous laugh. “What? No. I’m not opening presents. You’re going to tell me what’s going on.” I look at Charlotte, whose eyes are on Rose like she doesn’t want to get involved. My eyes narrow at her. “Does she know what’s happening too?”

  Rose sighs while Charlotte throws me a sympathetic glance. “Charlotte is aware, yes.”

  “Oh, Rose.” Charlotte frowns. “Stop delaying.”

  Rose raises her arms in a dramatic shrug as if to say she’s innocent. “I’m not delaying. This is all part of the reveal. You open your presents, and the pieces will all start to fall together.” She gestures again at the couch. “Now, sit.”

  I feel I have no other choice, so I sit across from Rose. Charlotte proceeds to hand me cards and presents, and the only thing I seem to be learning is just how generous my grandmother’s friends are. I open money, gift certificates, lavish bath products, fancy jewelry, and what looks like a handmade quilt. When Charlotte hands me a small shiny red box wrapped with a silver bow, my heart skips. I know exactly who this one is from.

  Charlotte and Rose watch as I gently open it to find a sand dollar lying on a velvet cushion. There’s a folded piece of paper pressed into the lid. I open it to find a note from Alec.

  Summer Girl,

  I found this sand dollar on the night we met, and I knew it should belong to you.

  Happy Birthday.

  Alec

  The gift is so sweet, but I can’t help but wonder if whatever is happening to me will sabotage the feelings Alec and I have toward one another.

  When I look back up from the gift, Charlotte is rolling a bicycle into the room from the foyer. My jaw drops. It’s not just any bicycle. It’s a white vintage classic retro beach cruiser with thin rubber wheels and silver spokes, much like the one I used to have back in Spring Lake.

  “Is that for me?”

  Rose grins. “It is. Charlotte and I thought you could use a little help getting around. You know, until you get your license. Do you like it?”

  I cross the room and take the bike by the handlebars, emotion rising in my throat from the unexpected gesture. “Thank you. I love it.”

  Rose winks at me. “I told you it was a day for magical things, didn’t I?”

  My head snaps back to hers, then I feel myself start to shake. “Rose, please tell me what happened to me on the beach.”

  Charlotte takes the bike from me and rolls it away.

  Rose gestures for me to come back to the couch, then she leans forward. “Okay, but I have one more present for you, Katrina. A family heirloom that’s been in our family for thousands of years. It’s a family tradition that you receive this on your eighteenth birthday.”

  She pulls another gold-wrapped package from behind her back and brings it over to me. I take it slowly. With shaking hands, I unwrap the package to find a long jewelry box. I crack it open, and immediately, I feel faint. Inside is the same green stone from my dream. The one I was wearing as I stared back at my reflection. The same stone I saw in Rose’s den. The one she described as a rare green emerald crystal.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say breathlessly, more freaked out by the vision.

  The next thing I know, Charlotte is behind me, gently placing the necklace with the ancient stone around my neck. I suck in a slow breath as I sort through the anxious feelings that take hold of my chest.

  “What’s wrong, Kat?” Charlotte’s question is almost expectant, as if she knows the answer.

  A tear falls from the corner of each eye, and I swipe them away. “What is going on?” I whisper. “I’ve spent the past two years wondering why I’m so… different. I get angry and accidents happen, and people look at me like I’m some kind of devil. Ever since I arrived in Apollo Beach, things have only gotten stranger. Why am I having visions and dreams that all feel so real?” I touch the emerald. “Like this. I was wearing it in a dream I had when I first arrived.”

  I release the necklace and suck in another breath. “But not only that.” I think of that day I overheard a conversation from clear across a restaurant. “How can I hear things that I shouldn’t?” I think about my endurance when I went for that jog with Alec and how quickly I picked up the game of pool. Sure, all of that could be pure coincidence and good luck, but what if it means something more? “It all seems so impossible.”

  “It’s not.” Rose speaks clearly and confidently, and I hang on her every word as if they will decide my future. “I couldn’t have possibly prepared you for what you’ve been experiencing. Your visions, your dreams, your heightened senses, it’s all part of something… well, enchanting.”

  There’s that word again. Rose knows she has my attention. I haven’t moved. She shifts slightly as if waiting for me to cut in with my questions.

  When I say nothing, she continues. “You are an Enchanter, my dear. More specifically, a Solstice. It’s what I am too.”

  I stare at Rose while anger builds up inside me, just waiting for her to start laughing and tell me this is all a practical joke. “I don’t understand what that means.”

  “It means that we have the power to do great things in this world. Magical things. Everything that is happening to you is directly related to your ancient Greek heritage, but from today on, today being your eighteenth birthday, you are in full control of your powers.”

  “Powers? Magic?” My eyes narrow. “Do you know how crazy you sound right now?”

  Despite my fury, Rose smiles. “Think about it, dear. The accidents that always landed you in hot water—your strength and endurance, your heightened senses—and tell me, have you made any wishes that happened to come true? Those weren’t coincidences. All of it is just a small part of what you are capable of. Your dreams and visions are your powers’ ways of communicating with you—to warn you, to help you. Don’t discount them.”

  I stare back at her, bewildered, as the image of myself in the vanity crosses my mind again. “I was levitating a vase in my dream, Rose.”

  Rose shrugs. “Levitation is a power you possess. Try it.”

  I stand up abruptly, furious with this mad woman I have come to live with. “Stop it. This is not funny. You think I’m seriously going to believe that I have magical powers?” I choke out a laugh. “Rose, I’ve been through so much lately. The dreams and the headaches are obviously all part of that. You should be encouraging me to see a doctor, not feeding me ridiculous lies.” I’m close to tears.

  Before I know what’s happening, Rose puts up her hand, and something of great force slams into my chest. It reels me back into the couch, which then slides across the floor, only held from careering across the room by Charlotte’s grip.

  “Rose! Stop it!” Charlotte’s voice breaks through my shock and my grandmother’s intense stare.

  Rose shakes her head as if breaking free from a trance. She’s breathing deeply now. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Katrina. I just needed you to see.”

  My heart pounds as I come to grips with what just happened. Rose is now some distance away. I look at Charlotte. “What was that?” I ask meekly.

  Rose sighs, and I turn to her. “I did it. It’s my magic, but I’m old. I’ve lost a lot of energy over the years, and over time, things have become harder to control. I try not to practice anymore, for fear of something going horribly wrong. I’m sorry.” She seems to calm down quickly and continues. “You’ve been reading about Greek mythology, yes? I told you about Astina Summer. You’ve read up on the stories of gods. Is it so hard to believe that we are descendants of those gods?”

  I let out a breath. “I suppose not, but those are just myths. Do you know what the definition of a myth is? A myth is a false belief or idea.”

  Rose rolls her eyes. “Clearly, you won’t believe me until you do it yourself. You just have to try. Try to levitate something.” Rose points at the cake on the table. “There.”

  “Rose, stop.” Charlotte scoots closer to me. The authority in her voice surprises me, but her relationship with Rose is
another strange aspect that I still don’t understand. Since I came here, Charlotte has acted more like a caretaker to me than to Rose. But as grateful as I am to Charlotte for jumping to my defense, I can’t believe she’s been drinking the Kool-Aid too. Charlotte obviously believes what Rose is saying.

  “I think I need to be alone,” I croak. “Please. Can I go to my room? Or are you going to stop me again?” I focus on Rose as I speak.

  Charlotte turns to face me. “Rose just wants to help you. It’s who you are, Kat. You wanted to know why these things are happening to you. I know it all sounds crazy, but it’s real.” Her smooth-as-silk voice helps, but it’s not enough to overcome what I’m seeing and hearing.

  I look at her, my eyes wide with annoyance. Then I look at the cake Rose wanted me to levitate. “I won’t do it.”

  Charlotte and Rose exchange a glance, then Charlotte is placing a hand on mine before lifting it in the air. “Here. You aim with your mind. Like it’s a wand. Focus on what you want to do, and do it.”

  As gentle and instructional as Charlotte is, I cannot take her seriously. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Charlotte releases my hand, leaving me pointing numbly at the cake.

  I try to do as she says. I even wiggle my fingers, but I feel ridiculous and lower my hand. “See? I can’t do it.” I stand. “You two are officially insane. May I be excused?”

  Rose nods, disappointment washing over her expression. “You’re dismissed.”

  As I take the grand staircase, I can’t help but listen into the conversation below, as clear as a bell. I refuse to believe there’s anything magical about my great hearing.

  “She needs to see for herself, Rose. Just give her time. It’s not like she can escape it.”

  “That girl is so stubborn,” Rose hisses. “Just like her mother.”

  “Stop it!” Charlotte hisses. “She can probably hear us.”

  Rose scoffs. “Why would she? She doesn’t believe in the power, so she won’t believe what she’s hearing.”

  Charlotte sighs. “Give her time.”

  “We don’t have time.” Rose’s voice sounds dejected and scared. Despite the current situation, my heart grows heavy for the old woman.

  What does she mean, We don’t have time?

  I close the door to my bedroom, step in front of my vanity mirror, and reach up to unclasp the green necklace that now weighs heavily on my chest. I hold it in my quivering hands as a sigh leaks through my teeth in a quiet sizzle. I catch the eye of my reflection, which vaguely resembles the young girl who came to live in Apollo Beach just three weeks ago.

  I know I’ve changed during my short time here. My hair has grown, my complexion has cleared and darkened, and my eyes have lightened some. But deep down inside, I know I’m no different than the strange outcast of a girl whose actions could have very well led to her mother’s death.

  I’m not filled with magic. I’m cursed.

  Using all my strength to pull myself from the darkness, I try to escape the water. The current is as resilient as an anchor. Water rushes over me, slamming me deeper into the murky depths. My body is thrown against a rock just as a large glittery blue fin swims by. I scream, causing water to bubble around me as I use the last of the air in my lungs.

  I’m jolted from my sleep and forced to adjust to the morning light. I shudder, feeling as if I’m not alone, like someone was just here watching me. I swivel my head, surveying my surroundings. My suspicions are somewhat confirmed. Someone was in my room. The French doors are wide open, allowing the warm morning breeze to float in from the bay.

  With a swift kick, I throw off my covers then sit up, senses on high alert. Something tells me the windows haven’t been open for long. It only takes a second to spot the green emerald necklace lying on my balcony. I look at my vanity mirror, where I remember placing the necklace last night, then back to the balcony rail. How did it get there?

  At a snail’s pace, I move toward it, heart pounding rapidly. I say a silent prayer that my imagination has gotten the better of me, most likely triggered by the previous day’s events. Up close, I examine the odd-shaped necklace. I know nothing about jewelry, except that this piece is stunning. It glimmers radiantly as the stone’s facets catch the sunlight. The imperfections in the long jagged edges are mesmerizing. Lifting it, allowing the gold chain to dangle, I watch the emerald glow once more. The stone doesn’t frighten me anymore. I place the chain around my neck because it somehow feels wrong to be without it, and the stone now hangs lightly upon my chest, unlike last night. It’s as if my acceptance of the grand jewel makes the weight manageable.

  I rest my elbows on the balcony rail, reflecting on the events from the previous day. Rose outdid herself with the elaborate party filled with eccentric costumes, all for my birthday, an occasion she believed to be some sort of enchanting. A laugh bubbles up my throat at the ridiculousness of the way she demanded I levitate a cake in front of her and Charlotte. Such utter foolishness.

  Discomfort snakes through me when I remember the invisible force that pushed me back and onto the couch so hard that I lost control of my own body. Rose and Charlotte seemed to think Rose caused that, but how is that even possible? There has to be another explanation.

  Maybe Rose is the head of a cult. The thought reassures me in a way. It’s something that actually makes sense. What doesn’t make sense are how some of my visions and dreams have been coming true. That’s a chilling realization since last night’s dream ended in my death.

  My thoughts are interrupted by something far out in the bay. A boat sails by with two men standing near the bow. They’re holding fishing poles, but that’s not what sends a shiver through me. I’m able to follow the fishing line that runs from the tip of a pole down into the water.

  “Impossible,” I say on a hushed breath. The boat has got to be at least a mile away, but my vision is weirdly perfect. More than perfect. It’s as if everything is magnified.

  I look down the beachfront, and I swear my eyes are playing tricks on me. I scan the houses down the row from ours, unsure what I’m looking for. I’m just searching for some kind of clue that I’m not going crazy—then my eyes lock on a warning label on an electrical box ten houses down. It’s blurry at first, but as I begin to focus on it, my sight adjusts to perfection, and I can read it clearly.

  I suck in a deep breath and remember what Rose mentioned about heightened senses. Can it be possible that all of my senses are more powerful now? I look down at the beach and spot an elderly couple. They appear to be in mid-discussion as they walk side by side at the water’s edge. The voices are amplified the second I focus in on them.

  Their conversation is as clear as the water running onto the shore. Their grandchildren are coming into town and staying for a few days while their parents vacation in the Hamptons. The old man wants his wife to stop at the store and get a few things before they arrive. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, muting the radio in my head. I scold myself for invading their privacy.

  Okay. So my vision is excellent, and my hearing is perfect. I sniff and smell the scent of bacon coming from the kitchen below. That’s hardly new. I could smell bacon from across the state if I wanted it badly enough. Is it so hard to believe that I’ve simply been blessed with strong senses?

  As I turn around and lean my back against the balcony rail, my eyes settle on my vanity. I can almost hear the pounding in my chest as a shiver runs down the length of my spine. My inner voice pleads for me to go to it. I move forward shakily and take a seat in front of the mirror. In its reflection, I look beyond my narrow shoulders to where the vase sits on my nightstand. It holds fresh pink flowers, just like it did in my dream. I don’t question how they got there or who put them there. None of that seems to matter.

  I reach up to gently lift my necklace from my chest. I take a shaky breath then wrap my fingers around it until the entire stone is safely in my grip. I do my best to tune out every sound, thought, and feeling until I’m focused solely on th
e vase across the room. Then I squeeze the stone, combatting a conversation in my subconscious that tells me I’m being ridiculous for even entertaining my grandmother’s theory. Of course I can’t make it float in midair.

  With a vigorous shake of my head, I force the negative thoughts away and clear my mind. I zoom in on the vase with my eyes until it’s in focus and everything around it tilts and blurs. My next mental command is so powerful, my muscles shake in reaction to the tension. Then I watch in astonishment as the vase rises and begins to float in midair.

  Rose is outside by the pool when I go to look for her later that afternoon.

  “You missed breakfast,” Rose says, irritation evident in her tone. She reclines on one of the lounge chairs beside the pool, beneath a multi-colored umbrella.

  I choose not to speak. Instead, I stare across the pool and lock my eyes on a plant in a large ceramic pot. Seconds later, it rises off the ground, and I will it to move toward us. Rose gasps, and I lose my concentration. The pot falls and splashes into the pool.

  I look over at my grandmother, who appears stunned. “I’ve been practicing.”

  Her shock turns to glee, then she claps her hands enthusiastically. “Finally.” She sits up straight. “How does it feel?”

  I’m having trouble finding my words. I didn’t exactly prepare for any of this. I’m just going with the flow, hoping something will click. All I know now is that I need to talk to someone, and whether I like it or not, Rose is the best person for that. “I don’t know, Rose. This is all so hard to come to terms with.”

  “I know, dear, but it’s in you. It’s who you’ve always been—since birth. Don’t you see? You’ve never been strange or cursed. You’ve simply been becoming what you were always meant to be. You’ve got to see that now. That there’s been something in you just begging to be released?”

  I can’t argue with her there. Then something clicks, and I have to ask, “Did my mom know about all of this?”