Forever Cursed

by Sarah J. Pepper

  “Long enough for your wounds to heal, Miss Bell.”

  “Your obsession with the passing of time would be appreciated in this particular moment,” I stated.

  “You want to know precisely how long we’ve been here?”

  “Yes.”

  “A month, give or take a day or two,” he said.

  “A month?” I repeated.

  How had a month passed, and I not noticed? Granted, I should have been grateful I hadn’t fallen into a long blink that stole years…but that usually happened when I worked the timepiece spell. I had been working many curses in the days leading up to our arrival, but they had never taken so much out of me before.

  I rubbed my eyes. I didn’t understand why I was having such adverse effects to the magic.

  Even so, my superficial injuries would have been healed in that amount of time, but the ribs or the injury to my hip—a month would have been needed but more time was required. There were few things which could do that and one was a mermaid tear.

  My heart leaped into my throat. “James, did you use the tear to heal me?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Why wasn’t he facing me? I asked, “What aren’t you saying?”

  He didn’t answer. That only fastened the tightness around my throat. He refused to meet my gaze. Why? What was he hiding? I would pry it from his mouth or I would see the truth in his eyes. Regardless, I would get my answer.

  I slipped out of bed. But as soon as I shifted my weight onto my feet, my knees buckled. I caught myself on the frame, relinquishing a series of cuss words as I steadied myself. James was by my side at a moment’s notice. I could feel him examining my body, looking for a cause he wouldn’t find, for he was the reason the strength was knocked from my knees.

  “What happened?” James asked, helping me back on the bed.

  My cheeks warmed. Now, I was embarrassed. I certainly didn’t want him to know every little detail about how he affected me. I could keep some of my dignity, pretending to be able to cross a damn room after being with him. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t enjoy how he affected me and I certainly didn’t want him to hold back either. There was literally nothing I could say that would make any sense to him.

  So many things were gathering on top of me that I felt like I was drowning. Why did he bite his tongue? Why was I biting mine? I couldn’t even tell him the truth about his future, our future. We were trapped on this island, surrounded by those who I didn’t trust enough to turn my back.

  I could leave. Magic was in my bones. But James couldn’t leave, not without fairy dust inked onto his skin. The very thought made me sick.

  I buried my head in my hands, wishing so desperately that I could rewrite history. I couldn’t very well tell James how badly I missed my wings—missed feeling whole again, though I was certain he understood. But I didn’t want him to feel guilty. I didn’t want him to think for one blasted second I would do anything differently. I’d make the same decision in giving him the tear. But if I was being completely truthful with myself, I would have done it sooner.

  I confessed, “I hate Peter.”

  Chapter 16

  captain james

  Hearing Bell say she hated Peter calmed the anger brewing inside me, instigated from those dickheads and the circumstance we were in. Then a tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. She didn’t want me to see how deeply he’d hurt her. But it was pointless. I could see exactly how deeply her pain went; it was apparent on her back. No tears had to emphasize it.

  Shite. I hated the noise she made when she cried.

  Now, tears were all that could erase the marks on her back. Though, I doubt her memories could be so easily wiped clean.

  Pink and white scars sliced through the smoothness of her skin. He’d cut her deep. While she might have buried the pain from herself, even she couldn’t contain it all the time. Not forever.

  I didn’t know if anything I said would bring her comfort. And while there was one thing she had to know, I wasn’t about to bring it up now. Though, she’d welcome the fight it would certainly bring.

  But I wanted her to know, needed her to know, I still thought she was beautiful. Peter might have mutilated her, but there was still so much more to her than the magic. She meant so much more to me than any of it.

  I brought my hand up to comfort her, to rub the uneasiness out of her back. Her breath hitched the moment my hand touched her, acting like I’d burned her. My chest tightened, clutching my heart so fiercely that it ached. I hated that she reacted in that way to my touch.

  Instead, I drew her in close, resting my cheek against the top of her head. She wept silently in my arms. She found the place under my chin, nuzzling just below my collar bone. My pulse quickened as her tears dripped along the scar across my throat. Each one stung, pricking at my heart.

  “I should have killed him, but I wanted him to suffer. So, I thought of the worst thing I could do—cast his soul from his body. I wanted nothing but darkness for him.” Her voice shook and she forced out a cold, uneven breath. “And he knew me well enough to play me to get what he wanted.”

  “Those closest to us can hurt us the most,” I said, thinking of everyone who’d even given a shite about me and what they did—what I’d done to them. John’s lifeless eyes surfaced in my mind. The betrayal Michael accused me of when it was all truly to save them both from unneeded pain. I thought of my father, the man who was supposed to protect me from the evils of the world traded me to save himself… Bell’s lashes tickled my skin. Though, that last one worked out in my favor.

  “You could destroy me.” Her confession interrupted the silence that spanned between us.

  “I’d never—”

  A knock at the door interrupted me. I grabbed a handful of the sheets and covered Bell right before it swung open.

  Deval’s eyes hung on Bell for a second too long. The longing in them was as obvious as the hate. He wanted her and hated her all the same. Partly covered in the sheets as well, I stepped in front of Bell. The daggers in Deval’s glare would land on me. Bell had seen enough hatred in her life.

  I, however, thrived off it. “What do you want?” I demanded.

  Deval tilted his head, sizing me up. “The monarch is insistent upon having an audience privée with Tinker Bell.”

  The air around me suddenly chilled. My cold fingertips curled around the silk sheets.

  I boomed, “If your objective was to piss me the—”

  “His desire is to enrage me, my captain,” Bell interrupted as a horrid little grin spread across her face. “We have that in common.”

  “You enjoy antagonizing me,” Deval sneered.

  “Yes,” she said, with resolve. “And I will not have a private audience with Kensington. I don’t care if he is the monarch.”

  Deval stepped forward like he was going to do something incredibly dumb when a small, plump man cut in front of him. Clearly, he wasn’t a soldier but that didn’t stop him from strutting into the room like he was the monarch himself. In his hands were Bell’s clothes I had sent out to be cleaned.

  “Zedd?” Bell gleamed.

  “The Crown’s Quartermaster, at your service, Tinker—”

  “Bell. Just Bell now,” she interrupted, getting up to greet him.

  I caught her arm before she made it very far. I wasn’t the only one in the room who watched the sheets slip from her body, threatening to expose the softest parts of her skin. Gathering the sheets, I tucked them around her.

  She walked her fingers up my bare chest, a smile spreading wide. “It’s not me you should be worried about covering.”

  I raised an eyebrow. She tilted her head at the quartermaster. The eager look on her face matched his as he gave me the once-over.

  I grabbed a pillow.

  Zedd rolled his eyes after I covered myself. Letting out a soft laugh, Bell patted my chest as if to tell me not to worry.

  Under my breath, I said, “If Kensington refuses
dames on the island, why does he allow a fellow who enjoys the company of men to live on this island.”

  “Zedd is quite the talker and has gotten himself out of many sticky situations. Besides, he has proven himself quite useful as quartermaster,” she whispered and then ran off to him.

  Her heels barely struck the floor. The patter of her feet barely resonated. That lifted some of my anxiety—some.

  “Well, Bell,” Zedd sang out her name and wiggled his shoulders. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen the likes of you.”

  He set her clothes down along a small table near the washroom. And then picked her up and twirled her around. Her giggle cut through the tension hanging in the air. The sound of her laugh made my heart swell. It’d been far too long since I heard that. Whomever this Zedd fellow was, it was nice to finally meet someone who didn’t want to hurt, disarm, attack, threaten, enchant, curse—pick one.

  “The monarch does not like to be kept waiting,” Deval sneered and then slammed the door shut.

  Zedd lowered her down. Her balance faltered slightly when her feet met the floor. He inclined his head like he was curious as to why she’d stumbled. He eyed me suspiciously.

  Bell shook her head. “Not him,” she promised.

  “Who?” Zedd asked.

  Bell pursed her lips into a thin line. Zedd eyed me again and I got the suspicion he wanted time with Bell…alone.

  With the pillow secured in front of my legs, I walked over to Bell, kissed her on the forehead, and excused myself into the washroom to dress.

  Busying myself in the washroom, I tried to give Bell and Zedd their privacy but the walls were paper thin. I’d gotten more used to the hook, but it would never feel quite right. I slipped on a pair of trousers first and synched them tightly with a belt.

  As I pulled the shirt over my head, I heard Zedd’s voice carry. “He’s been training with Kensington’s royal guard while you were napping.”

  “For a month?” Bell questioned.

  “That seems about right,” Zedd replied.

  I leaned against the door frame, fiddling with the buttons as I listened more closely. I wondered what rumors were carrying about. That, and I needed to know how much was common knowledge amongst the estate.

  “His sword?” Bell asked. “Is it fitting naturally in his hand now that he’s had more training?”

  “If you are asking if he’s the best, then the answer is no. But I certainly wouldn’t want to go up against him, not with that silvery stick anyway,” Zedd replied with a chuckle.

  “He isn’t hesitating though?” Bell asked.

  “Why all the questions? You’re acting like he just lost his hand,” Zedd stated.

  A long pause carried between them. It was long enough I almost opened the door to check and see if they were still there. Bell whispered something I couldn't quite hear.

  “A tear?” Zedd exclaimed.

  Shite.

  Chapter 17

  Miss Bell

  As soon as Zedd mentioned the tear, James strode out of the washroom. I supposed he heard Zedd shout out about the tear. His body stiffened at my remark.

  Tightening my skirt around my waist so it rested just below my vest, I asked, “You’ve been training with the guards?”

  “Did you expect me to do nothing?” he asked a little too sharp for my liking.

  “I’ll leave you both to it,” Zedd said and excused himself, picking up on the annoyance practically radiating off James.

  “Zedd seems to enjoy your company,” James stated as soon as the door closed.

  “He enjoys the company of men,” I replied. I didn’t bother mentioning it was the main reason why he didn’t hate this place or hate me for bringing him here.

  James inclined his head. “I’d appreciate it if everyone wasn’t aware of all the small details about my…” He held up his hook and frowned. “…about how my hook came to be attached where a hand should properly be.”

  “Do you not like it?” I tried to keep the hurt from leaking through my words.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  That wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted. What was I supposed to do? I manipulated magic but I was not a creator. “I’m not Mother.”

  He frowned, acting like he didn’t follow my logic. I drummed my fingers against my side, trying not to be angry with him when I knew the source of his anger was not me. I gathered his sword which was set on top of the dresser. Without a word, I handed it to him. The hardness in his gaze faltered slightly.

  I didn’t want an apology. Just the acknowledgment that I’d helped arm him. I’d been there when he needed my assistance. I protected him just as he fought for me.

  Groaning, James crossed the room and plucked his coat from the closet. He slipped it on and fastened the buckles in the front. Judging from his set jaw, he wasn’t the least impressed with my progress.

  I slipped on my boots, tying them tight. There, I was completely dressed. Boots, skirt, vest—I padded my pocket.

  Without having to ask where the pocket watch was, James withdrew it from inside his jacket. He held it up by the chain and waited. He was baiting me to come to him. Why? Again, I wasn’t sure. He was acting differently. Guilty.

  Since Peter walked into my life again, a poignant staccato deafened my ears as I walked. The noise made my skin crawl. At least in the sand, I didn’t have to worry about that horrid sound, but now, on the wooden floor, I should have heard the click. Yet, I didn’t.

  I raced to the bathroom, shrugged off my vest and stared at the reflection. Rippling just under my skin were shadowy lines. They drifted like a current, rolling as I moved, just like they had when they were over my back.

  I didn’t have to ask where the tear was. Not now. “You lied.”

  “I did not,” James said, coming up behind me and slipping the pocket watch in my hands. He looked at my reflection in the mirror.

  I wanted him to choke on my glare.

  I gathered the watch and slipped it into my breast pocket. “Yes, you did lie.”

  “I said I did not use it to heal you,” he stated.

  My mind raced. I thought back to our conversation where he stared out the window rather than face me.

  Spinning on my toes, I faced him. He needed to see me, the anger in my eyes. “The tear was mine to do with whatever I chose.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” I snapped.

  He sighed. The confidence in his shoulders fell with it. “The monarch insisted that payment for medical attention would be a mermaid tear. I couldn’t very well use a tear for payment. I may well have used it on you. But I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t take the sky from you, even if it is only a dream now.”

  “I am healed.”

  “Yes, I’m quite pleased with your recovery.”

  “I am healed and yet my back feels…more natural, like it did before Peter got a hold of me. Explain.”

  “On an island created from gold, that drop is quite valuable. Kensington obviously wanted that tear for himself, in exchange for medical attention for you,” James said. “From what I gather, Kensington has been ruling this estate for nearly a century. A legacy that long doesn’t come lightly. Additionally, in a land as corrupt as…well, his intention to claim that tear for himself, was going to happen even if I didn’t make the trade. He’d find a reason to charge me for it or have it stolen. I couldn’t afford to lose you and…Miss Bell, please stop looking at me like I betrayed you.”

  “Didn’t you?” I said. “I gave up my dream of feeling the wind carries me the moment I used the one for you.”

  “I don’t want you to give up your dreams for me.” He reached for me but stopped when my glare deepened. “But I couldn’t watch you suffering either.”

  “You should have let me suffer,” I yelled, hating that I couldn’t bring myself to say what I truly meant. What if he was in danger again? Watching him teeter between life and death—I couldn’t live with myself if he died. The tear gave
me reassurance. It gave me hope. But I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t admit that my greatest fear in life was losing him. “A tear might prove to be quite useful in a war with Lost Souls!”

  “Not if you were lying on a bed when they arrived!” he shouted back. “A month passed, Bell! A month! Each day that passed meant he was one-day closer and you had yet to awaken. I knew Peter was there tormenting you in your dreams. So I did what I thought was best, what was necessary.”

  “So, you didn’t use the tear to heal me, yet I recovered from my wounds faster than I should have?” My fingertips turned cold the angrier I got. “How is that possible?”

  James rubbed the back of his neck. His breath hung in the air for a split second, frozen as if he’d spoken the words in a winter storm. “Since I couldn’t make any headway with the monarch, I turned to Deval for his...assistance. It seems when you make a deal with Kensington it lasts a lifetime. Deval’s life for yours.”

  That sounded exactly like the monarch. Everything was black and white with him. The air hung thick. Drawing it in was like suffocating—drowning in the truth. My pulse hummed in my ears the longer he talked. I kept up with what he was saying. I just hated how the story was unraveling. I was unraveling. I curled my hands tight, trying to keep the threads of my sanity from spilling out around me.

  “The tear was too tempting, Miss Bell. So, I removed the temptation. That forced Deval to help me or his own life was put in danger. He waited. For weeks you made slow progress, but as time ticked by, anxiety grew.”

  The mirror cracked, shattering like ice. I paid little attention to the bits and pieces that cast out onto the floor. James’ gaze never slipped from mine. The resolve in those dark orbs never faltered.

  His chest spread wide as he drew himself up. I braced myself, expecting him to reach out to me. The illusion that he would do so fragmented as he tucked his arms behind his back.

  “He was quite motivated,” James stated.

  That explained everything and nothing. I demanded, “How did this particularly motivated trinket heal me?”