The Cursed Witch: A Paranormal Enemies to Lovers (Nightcaster Chronicles Book 1)

by R. L. Perez

  I found an unoccupied cushion and slowly sank down to it. The vampire closest to me broke away from his Donor to eye me up and down. Blood dripped down his chin, and his fangs were bared. The look in his eyes made my skin crawl.

  The woman he drank from groped for him blindly, whimpering. The vampire obliged, sinking his fangs into her neck again.

  I shivered. The Donors really were like junkies.

  “Don’t look so disgusted,” said a low voice.

  I turned and found another vampire watching me with narrowed eyes. Unlike Leo and Guadalupe, this vampire’s eyes were as black as night. Blood stained the corners of his mouth, and his arm was outstretched. Drinking from his wrist was a human Donor—a man who gripped the vampire’s wrist so tightly he looked like he might rip right off.

  “Have you ever tasted vampire blood?” the vampire whispered.

  “No,” I said. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the human, whose loud gulping echoed in the cave.

  “Then, you couldn’t possibly understand the power it provides.” The vampire lifted his chin defiantly. “It grants inhuman strength and protection. Clarity and focus. It’s a gift.”

  A few other vampires drew away from their Donors as well. I watched as the vampires sank their fangs into their own wrists and stretched their arms out to the Donors just like the vampire who spoke to me.

  “One word from you,” the vampire went on, “and I’ll gladly gift my blood to you as well.” He grinned widely, showing his bloody fangs.

  I leveled a stare at him, squashing down my discomfort. “No, thanks.”

  The vampire chuckled as if I’d told a joke. He jerked his head toward the back of the room. “In that case, there are refreshments available for Donors. You are welcome to partake.”

  I followed his gaze to find a buffet of fruits, cheeses, and slices of bread. My stomach growled again, and I stood, ignoring the hungry look in the dark-eyed vampire’s gaze as he watched me walk past him.

  There was something familiar about him. Then again, I’d probably seen him before.

  On the day I’d abducted Leo.

  I strode over to the food and popped a few grapes in my mouth. Then, I grabbed a heel of bread and turned to face the display of feasting vampires.

  The dark-eyed vampire was murmuring something to his Donor, but the human didn’t respond. Then, the vampire waved his hand, and dark tendrils of smoke pooled from his fingertips. The magic engulfed the Donor’s face until he broke away from the vampire’s wrist and fell backward on the cushion, unconscious.

  I stiffened, suddenly remembering the vampire’s name. It was Jorge, the one who’d threatened me with his black magic after rescuing Leo. Leo had had to talk him down from jumping at me.

  No wonder he saw me as prey. He probably would love nothing more than to sink his fangs into me.

  Gradually, Jorge’s Donor rolled off the cushion and staggered to his feet. Jorge muttered something and pointed to the table of food. The Donor stumbled drunkenly toward the food—toward me.

  I edged out of the way, providing him full access to the buffet.

  The human’s eyes were dark and wild, and a few drops of blood spotted his neck. The red liquid coating his lips made me shudder. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth. Then, his gaze settled on me.

  “Are you a Donor too?” he asked.

  “No,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

  The man’s head reared back. Then he shook his head. “It isn’t what you think. Yes, there’s a sort of . . . thrill to it. Something euphoric. But when that feeling fades, it’s replaced by unencumbered strength and clarity.”

  I just stared at him doubtfully.

  The man laughed. “You’ll see. Come find me when it’s not feeding day and I’m a bit more lucid.” He nodded to me. “My name is Marco Romano.”

  “Brielle Gerrick.”

  Marco frowned slightly.

  Before he could ask if I was French, I said hastily, “How long have you lived here, Marco?”

  “Oh, I don’t live here. I only visit once a month. But I’ve been participating as a Donor for . . . just over a year now.”

  My eyes widened. “You don’t . . . stay here?”

  Marco shook his head. “I live in the village. Many of the Donors do live here in the caves and are well taken care of. But I have a family, you see, and . . .” He paused and glanced at me. Then, he straightened. “Well, it would be better if they didn’t know what went on here. It would be safer for them.”

  Something cold slithered down my spine. He has a family. “So why do you do it? Why do you still come here?”

  Marco arched an eyebrow. “As I said before, their blood gives me strength. And the coven here provides protection. I’m able to work harder and earn more money to support my family.”

  A figure entered the cavern, and my gaze shifted. My heartbeat thrummed against my chest. It was Leo. Like before, he wore a loose tunic and no waistcoat. His hair fell to his shoulders in soft curls.

  He strode into the cavern hand-in-hand with a woman with light brown hair tied up into an elegant bun. Her cheeks were pink with excitement.

  She was human. His Donor.

  Something hot bolted through me, though I couldn’t tell if it was anger or . . . something else.

  Leo guided the woman to the cushion and coaxed her backward until she reclined before him. The way he hovered over her, with her gaze sensual and beckoning—it made me feel like I was intruding on an intimate moment.

  I tore my gaze away, swallowing hard. I found Marco watching me.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “Do all the vampires feed from you? Or just the one?”

  “Only Jorge. We share a bond. He knows when I’m in danger, and I know when he thirsts.”

  I nodded, though my brows knitted together.

  “It’s a small connection,” Marco went on. “Just a small tingle within me. Nothing to interrupt my life. But enough to keep us linked. To protect us both. Other Donors—the ones who feed more often—their connection is more potent. More of a presence in their lives.”

  More potent. My brain conjured the image of Leo bending over his Donor with her head thrown back in rapture. I sensed Leo’s movement across the room, but I kept my gaze fixed determinedly on the table of food. I snatched another piece of bread and tore through it with my teeth.

  “So, if you aren’t a Donor, then what are you doing here?” Marco asked. His eyes were curious and unguarded, and his forward questions were so unlike the formality I was used to in the castle.

  “I—well, I just—I’m here for protection,” I sputtered, rubbing my nose and dropping my gaze.

  “From what?”

  My mind worked furiously for a response. “My own coven. They forced me out and hunted me. I’m seeking refuge until I can find a safe place to go.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

  Marco nodded, his eyes swimming with sympathy. “I’m sorry you were forced from your home. The Serrano coven will take care of you, though.”

  I eyed him. “They don’t . . . frighten you?”

  “They did at first. I’m sure everyone is frightened by a demon at first glance. But they allowed me to visit several times before committing to becoming a Donor. They never pushed it on me or threatened me. It was simply an invitation. An offer. Almost like employment.”

  I looked back at the vampires, most of whom had broken free of their Donors. Some used magic to break the connection gently, like Jorge had, and others simply pulled away and gestured to the food table. Several Donors stumbled toward us as incoherently as Marco had.

  The vampires plopped down on the cushions, reclining casually and chatting with one another as if they’d done something as simple as arrive home from work. A few dabbed at their mouths and wrists with handkerchiefs like Marco had.

  My eyes settled on Leo, who was drinking freely from his Donor. He gripped her arms and leaned into her. Heat seared through me as I watched them, so I turned away again.
<
br />   A few Donors approached the table, and I scooted away to give them free access to the food. For a long while, I stood in the corner munching on my food, watching the vampires converse and avoiding looking at Leo with his Donor. A few Donors at the table glanced at me with interest, but none of them approached me like Marco had. They looked around sleepily for a moment before lumbering away, no doubt to sleep off their blood transfusion.

  Though the sight of the coven no longer made my stomach roil, I still felt empty and alone here, surrounded by people who didn’t know or understand me.

  All I wanted to do was get out of here and be on my own. At least by myself I would be in good company.

  My eyes found Guadalupe, who relaxed on a cushion, her eyes clearer than they’d been when she’d first escorted me here. She looked at me with raised eyebrows as if asking me a question. Slowly, I nodded.

  She hopped up from her cushion and approached me. “Shall I escort you to your room?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I followed her out, keeping my gaze averted from Leo before stepping into the shadows again.

  32

  Brielle

  I DREAMED OF FIRE AGAIN. Flames and destruction. Screams and sobs. With every death, with every drop of blood I shed, I felt the power rising within me. Swelling. Growing stronger.

  And I loved it.

  When I woke, I still felt the euphoria before it faded from me. The racing of my heart from exhilaration.

  My eyes opened and found a faint chink of moonlight filtering in through the cracks of the cave. It took me a moment to remember where I was.

  And then I realized I was smiling. Not a soft, kind smile, but an insane, bloodthirsty one. A wicked grin of revenge and power.

  My blood chilled, and the smile vanished, though I still felt a presence within me laughing.

  Whether it laughed at me or out of pure joy, I couldn’t tell.

  But I had no plans to fall back asleep. Just imagining the horror and devastation in my dream made me shudder.

  And the idea that it brought me joy made me want to puke.

  Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and I shivered. Climbing out of bed, I hurried over to the wardrobe to wrap a shawl around myself. The cold, smooth floor felt like ice against my bare feet.

  I turned, ready to leave my room, and then faltered. The narrow passageway was even more impossible to see through at night. And even if I could find my way, where would I go?

  Something within me deflated. As I glanced back toward my bed, bile rose up my throat. I shook my head.

  No, I thought firmly. No more sleep. I’ll just find my own way around the caves.

  I strode forward purposefully until I slammed straight into a cave wall.

  “Ow,” I muttered, rubbing the top of my forehead. Clenching my fingers into fists, I tried again. Slower this time.

  I extended my arms, reaching out blindly for jagged edges and shifting away from them to avoid injury. The blackness consumed me, suffocating me—but it was a welcome change from the flames in my nightmares. With this darkness, the presence within me was quieted.

  Even if it made me uncomfortable, it was a small victory knowing that presence had been silenced.

  For now.

  After what felt like hours, the winding tunnel opened up to a dimly lit cavern that was a bit smaller than my bedroom. Lanterns hung on the walls, similar to the dining room. The rocky walls had been smoothed, creating a clean, dome-like room. It was easy to forget I was in a cave. A few squashy armchairs surrounded a desk, and rows of bookshelves lined the walls. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as the Count’s library, but it seemed less overwhelming. Cozier.

  The books were untidy. Some were turned to the side. Others were flipped open to a random page. When I saw the clutter, I perked up.

  Perfect.

  I surged forward, my fingers itching to busy themselves. But when I reached the first set of shelves, a soft voice made me jump.

  “I may be wrong, but I was under the impression witches sleep at night.”

  I stiffened and whirled around, my heart racing. A figure leaned against the wall in the corner with one book open in his hand. He snapped it shut and stepped forward into the light.

  It was Leo. He wore a loose black robe open at the chest, revealing a contour of muscles that made my skin feel hot. He wore no pants or shoes.

  I had the sudden insane fear that his robe would spill open and flutter to the floor, leaving him stark naked.

  The idea was both terrifying and thrilling. It was a baffling array of emotions, so I quickly shoved the thought from my mind.

  “Can’t sleep.” I turned back to the bookshelves and prayed the dimness of the room masked my blush.

  “So, you thought you’d help yourself to my collection of books?”

  I huffed a sigh. Without looking at him, I snapped, “I won’t read any of them. I just need to . . .” I shrugged. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to tell him about my compulsive tendencies. It sounded weak to me, and I hated the idea of exposing that part of myself to someone I still vaguely thought of as an enemy.

  “Hmm.” The light padding of his feet told me he’d moved away from the corner. Closer to me.

  I finally turned to face him, only because I didn’t like the idea of him sneaking up on me while my back was turned. His silvery eyes glinted in the faint light.

  “You are welcome to visit my library anytime you wish,” Leo said softly. “But I would caution you against roaming these caves so freely at night. Many of my brethren don’t like to be disturbed. Vampires don’t sleep, you see. And we have our habits and rituals that we like to maintain.”

  “Rituals?” Like blood rituals? It made sense—they were demons. But the idea of these vampires sacrificing innocent lives to gain power didn’t sit well with me. It contrasted starkly with the idea that they didn’t feed off of unwilling Donors.

  Leo laughed. “Mild rituals. Animal sacrifices, prayers, and that sort of thing.”

  “Prayers?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the pious type.”

  “Because I’m a demon?” He stepped closer to me.

  I instinctively drew away, pressing my back against the bookshelves. “No. Because you’re you. You make a mockery of everything. I can’t imagine you being serious for long enough to worship anything. Or anyone.”

  Leo’s grin widened. “You know me well, then. Ronaldo was the most devout of all of us.” His smile flickered and then vanished. “And look where that got him.”

  “He died for a greater purpose,” I said quietly. “He told me he was satisfied with his sacrifice. That he would be rewarded for it.”

  “He can believe that all he likes,” Leo said darkly. “But if it isn’t true, then it means he died for nothing.”

  I lifted my chin. “I don’t believe that.” Or rather, I wouldn’t let myself believe it. I had to trust that Ronaldo had gone to a better place. That his existence hadn’t just ended with his sacrifice.

  “Oh?” Something sparked in Leo’s eyes. “So, you believe in an afterlife then? A higher power?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. How else do you explain magic?”

  Leo frowned in contemplation. “A fair point. But that doesn’t necessarily mean there is an afterlife.”

  I scoffed. “How can you not believe in an afterlife? Seers and Thinkers have been communing with spirits for thousands of years. What, you think those spirits are just hanging out in an empty void, waiting to be summoned?”

  Leo’s brows knitted together, and I knew I must’ve confused him with my modern jargon. “You make a good argument, I suppose.” He cocked his head at me. “Where are you from, Brielle?”

  Shock rippled through me at the usage of my name—again. Why did that affect me? Maybe because he’d called me “Little Nightmare” for so long that I wasn’t used to him actually using my name like a civilized person. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you speak Spanish, but your name i
s French. You don’t speak like us, and you don’t look like us. So where are you from?”

  “Cuba,” I blurted without thinking. It was the first thing that came to mind. Besides, blonds in Cuba weren’t entirely unheard of. My dad was blond, after all.

  Leo’s head reared back. “Cuba? Where is that?”

  “It’s an island in the Caribbean. Near the Americas. Some Spaniards settled there . . .” I trailed off, racking my brain. “About two hundred years ago.” I think.

  Leo stroked his short goatee. “I see. And how did you come to be here? In Segovia?”

  I stared at him, finally realizing how little he actually knew. He’d only just found out about the time loop, so of course he wouldn’t know about the portal or where the guests of the castle came from.

  I hesitated before responding. Though I no longer had any allegiance to the Count, I still felt loyal to some of my friends back in the castle. Izzy, in particular. Maybe even Riker, if I could let go of the pain festering inside me from his betrayal. His refusal to help me.

  Even though I understood why he’d done it.

  Instead of answering Leo’s question, I asked, “What do you know of the residents in the castle?”

  Leo watched me for a long moment. “They come from many places. Some of them speak differently. Like you.” His eyes glinted as he gave me a calculated look. “But, also like you, their arrival here is a mystery.”

  I didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. It reminded me of a predator stalking its prey. I tried backing up, but I was out of room. A hard shape pressed into my back—a book, no doubt. I had nowhere left to run.

  “Do you care to enlighten me?” Leo asked, stepping closer to me.

  I swallowed. “Maybe. If you give me something in return.”

  Leo barked out a laugh. “Haven’t I given you enough? I’ve provided you with refuge from the castle. I saved you from the mages who were trying to abduct you. The way I see it, you should be offering me a favor.”

  “I came here to fulfill your brother’s dying wish,” I said. “It was as much for your benefit as it was for mine.”