Cursed (The Price of Magic Series Book 1)

by Freya Black

  I knew what my mother would have said about a Crescent Witch falling under a Hexenjager’s spell. What a fool!

  In that case, she would have been right. She was always right.

  Chapter 3

  At five o’clock, we closed our doors to the residents of Arcadia. I flipped the sign on the front door of Enchanted Books & Beans, my hand pressing to the stained glass. Sunlight shone through the panes, its warmth leeching into my fingertips, creating a burst of purple and gold that burned into the hardwood floor. August was the hottest month of the year. But the unusual heat wave we were experiencing made it impossible to keep the bookstore, with its vaulted ceiling and ancient air conditioner, at a reasonable temperature.

  I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead and sat down. Hours before, Sloane had occupied the same chair. He’d looked out the same bay window, experiencing the Arcadian mountains in all their vast glory. I stripped off my apron and piled my hair on top of my head. I wondered if someone like Sloane could appreciate the sun-washed peaks or the way the clouds looked like soft pillows resting on top of them. I had to believe the boy who had saved me from plunging to my death had some redeemable qualities.

  The table shook as my cell phone vibrated in my apron pocket. A text message from my best friend, Declan Delaney, popped up on the screen. I scanned the carriage house for Kate and spotted her behind the front counter. Her long blonde hair, now free from her bun, shielded her beautiful face. She was hunched over, taking inventory of the latest shipment, a pen clutched tightly in her hand. Intimidated by her death grip, I sensed her irritation, even at a distance, and I was hesitant to interrupt.

  “Aunt—” I stopped myself before I could finish. “Kate, what’s for dinner?”

  She looked up, one eye still trained on the book she was scribbling in at a feverish pace. Without a word, she finished writing and slammed the book shut. “I don’t know,” she said after a long pause. “We need to take care of a few things first.”

  “Declan wants to know if he can come over for dinner.”

  Kate sank into the chair across from me. She leaned her back against the oak frame and folded her arms across her chest. Her blue eyes sparkled as the light caught them at the perfect angle. “Every time I doubt our family’s reasons for staying in Arcadia, I look at the town we built and realize the sacrifice is worth it.” She stared out at the sun-glistened peaks with a bright smile. “Your mom used to stand in front of this window for hours, drinking a latte while watching the sun set.”

  I felt a tiny smile forming. “That’s why I like this table so much. It reminds me of her.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head. Her tone changed, and the distance of her words sounded as though she’d projected her voice from across the room. “Ten years, and now, it’s starting all over again.”

  “You mean, the Cleary Curse.”

  She nodded, her gaze fixed on the children playing in the yard across the street. A white picket fence wrapped around the perimeter of a brick Colonial. Little Suzie Baker slung a bag over her shoulder and chased two dark-haired boys, twins who lived next door, with water balloons. For a seven-year-old, she was strong and had a certain determination that made me chuckle. She jumped up and down, flaunting her superiority over the boys, as the latex sacks burst on impact.

  Kate laughed, the sound of her silvery voice warming my insides. “Reminds me of you,” she said. “You did everything you could think of to torture Declan when you were kids.”

  “Yeah, but he got me back pretty good.”

  Declan was a part of every significant memory I had of my childhood. He was the brother I never knew I wanted until I had him.

  One of the twin boys stood on top of the plastic slide with a water balloon aimed at Suzie’s arm. His hands shot up in victory, like he was king of the world. It reminded me of Declan and the day we’d met, the day I’d met my match.

  “Do you remember the time he put glue in my lotion?”

  Kate smirked. “How could I forget? I spent half of the day dousing your hands in nail polish remover, all while trying not to peel off a layer of your skin. I could’ve killed him for that.”

  We both laughed even though our underlying fear of what Sloane had planned weighed heavily on us. My phone buzzed again with another message from Declan. Patience was not a virtue he possessed.

  I looked down at the screen and sighed. “I kinda need to text him back, so what’s for dinner?”

  She shrugged, nonchalant. “Pizza, I guess, but we have to check the gateway portals first.”

  My phone rang, as if on cue, and I clicked the button to answer. “Hey, Delaney. Yeah, you can come over—” I shook my head, listening to Declan ramble on about football practice. “Uh-huh. Yeah. We have to check the portals, so it’s going to be a while.”

  “What happened?” Declan asked on the other end of the line.

  His husky voice sounded like a bark, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear.

  “I’ll explain later. Just grab a pizza from Giuseppe’s on your way home from Nate’s.”

  Kate jumped to her feet, shaking the wooden table. I hung up with Declan and followed her through the entryway at the back of the store. We strolled past the restrooms, Kate’s office, the ritual room, and the break room to the end of the hall.

  She spoke an incantation, and a pale blue film shimmered over a round mahogany door. As the Uncloaking spell worked its magic, the door—which, in reality, did not exist—transformed into solid gold squares engraved with intricate Celtic symbols. The tiles—used to enchant the Catacombs by the Founders—shone brighter than the sun.

  She inserted a skeleton key with long beveled edges into the lock. Shaped like a crescent moon at the top, the key opened passages beneath our town. Once she gave it a quick turn, the door creaked open, revealing curved walls and a narrow staircase. It was dark, lit only by the golden tiles that encased the dank space.

  I held on to the wall for support, sensing the magic of the tiles in my fingertips. The moon provided a Crescent Witch like me a certain sense of power. And the Catacombs had the same effect.

  We shuffled through the tunnels connected to various points of interest around Arcadia. Stairs reaching up to the surface were interspersed among identical wooden doors. I noticed a set of stairs that looked familiar. But everything had the appearance of continuity without actually being the same.

  I swept my hand at the curved walls and pointed to what I thought was a path to my old high school. “Is that the library?”

  A sly grin crept across her lips. “Nope.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that—at least, not until after your Divine Succession Ceremony,” Kate said, turning left down another dark hallway.

  I shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

  “Trust that I will tell you everything you need to know. Until you become our new Coven Leader, you need to be patient.” As she spoke the last few words, the corner of her mouth lifted.

  She couldn’t wait until the day I would succeed her and assume my birthright as leader of the Luna Crescent Coven. Because of my parents’ accident, Kate was the first Interim Coven Leader acting on behalf of a Crescent Witch. The Coven Charter stated I had to be of age before taking over for Kate. With my eighteenth birthday around the corner, I was getting closer each day.

  “I’ve been patient, but what about those monsters from my vision? Don’t I need to know about them?” My voice trembled as images of the supernatural warriors crossed my mind.

  Kate gripped my shoulder, her pace never faltering, as we trekked farther underground. She let out a deep breath when we neared the center of the labyrinth built under our city. Her silence made me uneasy. I struggled to find the right thing to say, but we had to discuss the dream.

  “I had a vision when that Hexenjager touched me. Sloane wanted me to see whatever you’re hiding. I don’t know how, but I know he saved me from those creatures
. He probably used Glamour magic to make me think it was real. Still, I know you’re keeping something from me, and I have a right to know.” Fear bubbled in my chest and quickly turned to anger. “Please, just tell me. I don’t care about the Coven Charter or breaking the rules.”

  “They’re called Druden,” Kate said after a long pause.

  “Druden…huh. That’s not what I thought they would look like.” I felt somewhat deflated or disappointed. I wasn’t sure which. “They remind me of Roman gladiators. The way you described them and their hunt for mortals’ souls, I expected something different. I mean, don’t get me wrong; they scared the crap out of me, but I thought they would be more like Hexenjagers.”

  Kate swerved right, through another channel, and then halted in front of a mahogany door that mirrored the others. “Druden are dark Fey, same as Hexenjagers and Draugar, but their powers are different. Every race of Fey is limited to a particular ability, but the one thing they all have in common is their gift of mind control. All Fey-born are very skilled in this area, which makes them a formidable opponent. A few members of our Coven, your father included, could counteract their powers with their own telepathy. I’m afraid, without them, our Coven is in a position of weakness. You are our only hope, Fiona.” She cupped my shoulder in her hand with a dejected look on her face. “You are special. Your powers will save all of us. First, you need to realize your true potential, and in order to do so, you must learn how to control your emotions.”

  “I’m working on it.” My voice had a bit of a whimper to it. “I have trouble fighting off this darkness inside me. I can feel it consuming me as my powers flow through my body.”

  “Both of your parents had trouble when they were your age. It takes time and practice. Make sure you continue your breathing and heart rate exercises.” Kate seemed unfazed, as if every witch had the same problem.

  Most witches were limited to one innate power. As a Crescent Witch, I had all five, and with each one came its own set of issues.

  “That’s why I run every night. I’ll get better. I just need time.”

  I would go for an after-dinner jog through the Arcadian forest to clear my head each night before bed. It would help to tame my nightmares, which Kate suspected had something to do with my ability to regulate my emotions. The times I didn’t exercise, I’d have the worst dreams of them all, some ending with me waking up covered in my own blood or in a bed surrounded by flames.

  “I’m not sure how much time we have. If that boy is a Hexenjager, it might be too late.”

  “Have you ever seen Fey in person?”

  Dark Fey were supernatural creatures. Though their appearances varied, some had humanlike features. There were three types of dark Fey—Druden, Hexenjagers, and the scariest of them all, Draugar. Druden were hunters, who remained immortal by stealing the souls of the living. Hexenjagers, of course, were my biggest enemy because their immortality hinged on stealing divine powers. Divination, the rarest of all powers, made Crescent Witches invaluable to a Hexenjager. Almost every woman of the Cleary bloodline had been killed by a Hexenjager, hence the reason for the curse.

  Where Hexenjagers had the pale skin and flawless features of a fairy, Draugar had the sallow appearance of a dead body. Draugar possessed several divine powers, which was uncommon for any Fey, dark or light, and had the speed of a vampire.

  Each race of Fey had their own faction, had their own leader, but they all reported to Lorcan, King of the Draugar. He ruled the realm of Tartara where all dark Fey lived. His people were at the top of the food chain and the most powerful beings in all the realms.

  “I came face-to-face with one once,” Kate said, inserting the crescent key into the lock.

  I should have been scared or shocked or at least something in between, but I found the idea of Fey exciting. “Which one? Hexenjager, Drude, or Draugar?”

  She turned her head, her expression hard as stone, matching the look in her eyes. “All of them.”

  “No way! When?”

  “That was a long time ago,” Kate said, still devoid of emotion.

  We stepped into an oval room, tiled from floor to ceiling. With our forearms, we shielded our eyes from the bright light. Three wooden doors, gateway portals to each of the supernatural realms, had a magical glow.

  Kate lifted a silver crescent moon, fixed at the center of each door, and peeked through the tiny porthole. “All clear.” She pushed her hands onto her hips. “That boy must’ve been a Norm because the Protection spell around Arcadia is stronger than ever. And there’s no way he tethered from another realm.”

  “I told you, he had powers,” I whined in a voice I almost didn’t recognize. “You have to believe me.”

  “I do, sweetie.” Kate closed the distance between us.

  She was several inches shorter than my five feet six inches, so she had to lift her feet to press her cheek to mine. The warmth of her body took away the chill of the Catacombs leeching into my skin.

  “We need proof, and so far, it looks like Sloane is just a Norm passing through town.”

  “He called me Nona. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Kate took a step back, one eyebrow raised. “Yes, but”—she looked away from me, studying the enchanted sigils on the wall in front of her—“the only person who called you that is dead.”

  The shock of her response barely sank in before I muttered, “Who was it?”

  “You were very close to him as a child. His name was Sloane Blackwell.”

  I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth. After a few minutes of digesting the information, I tried to speak. “Sloane…he said his name was Sloane. I don’t remember anyone named Sloane from when I was younger. Did he play with Declan, Celeste, and me?”

  “Yes, he did. His parents were members of the Inner Circle. I know how this looks, but it’s not possible. The entire Blackwell family died tragically, and it’s not something I like talking about.” Her firm tone indicated that the conversation was over.

  A sickness rose up from my stomach, and I could taste bile at the back of my throat. I wanted to ask one of the many questions rolling around in my head. But, like my mother, what Kate said was final, and I had to respect her need to leave the past where it belonged.

  “I guess it’s just a coincidence.”

  “Or he’s a Hexenjager, using your previous connection with Sloane to bait you into their trap.” Kate checked the portals one more time, and without so much as a look, she walked out of the room. “Close the door behind you,” she said, her voice echoing off the golden walls.

  I glanced around the room in search of answers, but the walls held nothing more than tiles.

  The books locked away in our secret gathering rooms would be my best shot at finding out how the Blackwell family had died. But only the Inner Circle had access. I needed to know the truth about the boy in my dream, the real Sloane Blackwell.

  Chapter 4

  The moon’s power sets fire to my insides as its light pours through the skylight of the cavernous room, illuminating the faces of my Coven. I slip my arms into the purple cloak held in my mother’s hands. On the left breast, a gold crescent moon overlaid with the L and C of the Luna Crescent Coven emblem is sewn into the silk. It’s a ceremonial robe worn by the Coven Leader. A tear slides down her cheek as she ties the gold belt around my waist and adjusts the tassels flowing from my hip.

  She lifts the silver medallion from her neck. The violet glow of the amethyst sparkles as she lowers it over my head. “I, Amelia Mandrake, Leader of the Luna Crescent Coven, blood of the Crescent, Guardian of the Catacombs, and Magisterial Protector of the Human Realm swear to uphold the charter of the Luna Crescent Coven and the Divine Law set forth by the Imperium Council. Through the divine powers bestowed upon me, I pass unto my daughter, Fiona Mandrake, blood of the Crescent, the responsibility of Leader of the Luna Crescent Coven, Guardian of the Catacombs, and Magisterial Protector of the Human Realm.”

  Her smile lights the dim room li
ke a blazing fire. “Fiona Mandrake, do you swear to uphold the rules of the Coven Charter in accordance with the Imperium Council’s Divine Law?”

  I bite the corner of my quivering lip. “I do.”

  “Do you swear to put the needs of the Coven above all else and to maintain the balance of nature with respect to the elements as well as honor the Gods and Goddesses of the Celtic people?”

  My lids are heavy with tears. “I do.”

  “As Guardian of the Catacombs, do you swear to protect the magic of Arcadia and join the Imperium Council’s fight to defend the realms against malevolence?”

  Overwhelmed by emotion, I struggle to speak the words, “I do.”

  We join hands and face the members of our Coven. All eleven of them stare back at us. Generations of the Luna Crescent Coven have assembled for the most important day of my life.

  In unison, they say, “Luna vivit.”

  It’s the motto of our Coven, a sign of respect that, in Latin, means, the moon is alive—as in, its power lives inside a Crescent Witch.

  As my dream fades, I notice Sloane sitting on a bench between Celeste and my best friend, Declan.

  I woke up, perplexed, to the sound of a duck quacking. Disoriented, I rolled over and felt around on my nightstand for my cell phone. I rubbed my eyes and checked the time.

  It was early, but sleep would be impossible. My chest tightened at the thought of my mother and the Divine Succession, my succession as Coven Leader.

  On nights when I awoke from bad dreams, my mother would say, “Dreams are not real. It’s just our brain sending us a message.”

  As the years had passed, she had grown closer to telling me the truth about our family.