The Cursed (The Unearthly)

by Laura Thalassa

  He came around behind Oliver and positioned the fairy’s hands over the gun, ignoring the lust pouring off the boy.

  “Safety,” Andre said, pointing to a switch near the trigger. “Keep this on until you’re ready to shoot. Front and rear sight,” he indicated to two eyepieces. “Line these up with your mark for better accuracy. And lastly, the trigger,” he said, pointing to it. “I’m sure you know what to do there.

  “This gun has eight bullets, seven in the magazine and one in the breach, so make them count. Try for close range targets and aim for the chest. Got it?” Andre said, stepping away from him.

  “I think so.” The fairy no longer sounded so flippant. Violence had a way of making men out of boys.

  “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to use that at all,” Andre said, “but if someone tries to hurt you, don’t hesitate to defend yourself.”

  Oliver jerked his head in answer.

  “Good.” Andre clasped him on the shoulder. “Now take me to my soulmate.”

  I opened my mouth and something more than just words and notes came out. I couldn’t see my skin, but I could feel it ripple as my essence freed itself.

  Magic flowed out from my lips, arcane and powerful. Every instance I’d used glamour up until to now had been child’s play in comparison. This, this was the true extent of my power, and it was terrifying.

  The universe moved through me as I sang, and with each note I hit, I learned a new, impossible secret—how to seduce the unwilling, how to bring the proud to their knees, how to bring comfort to the desolate and leave the content wanting.

  I tipped my head back and laughed even as I sang, the laughter fluidly weaving itself into the melody. I was getting high off the power. I might be tied up, but I was not the prisoner at the moment.

  I listened for those humans who’d fallen under my spell, but I was met with … silence.

  “Nice try Gabrielle,” I heard Morta say in the distance.

  My voice faltered at her words. Nothing was happening, but surely something should be.

  And then something did.

  The smell of brimstone assaulted my nostrils as a being crept closer to my door. An unholy chill wrapped around my skin and seized up my windpipes. My voice painfully died away. The hollow sensation stroked my skin like a lover.

  The being paused outside my door. My stomach clenched painfully, and my unseeing eyes darted under the blindfold.

  Oh dear God and heaven above, my voice had garnered the attention of something.

  After a pause, whatever lingered left, but not before it made me a promise.

  Soon, Gabrielle.

  Damn, but Andre hated ley lines. The twisted, unnatural trees they passed were evidence of the snags in the fabric of this world. So was the strange, bloodied altar Oliver hoisted himself onto. The altar from the case Gabrielle was working on.

  Oliver patted the stone slab, indicating that Andre join him.

  In one fluid moment Andre lifted himself to the altar. He caught a whiff of an angelic being, and beneath that, a more familiar smell. Gabrielle. Her scent made him hiss through his teeth. Sometime recently she’d passed through here.

  But now she was nothing more than a phantasm. And in a few more days, all traces of her would vanish from this place.

  A fierce chill whipped down his spine. What did they call that? Revelers dancing over his grave? Whatever it was, it was a bad omen.

  Oliver stretched out his hand. “Ready, Andre?”

  In answer, Andre took his hand.

  He’d die before all that remained of her was a scent in the wind.

  The stink of evil had barely left the hallway when I heard the click of two sets of footfalls. The door opened.

  I almost choked on the smell of ash and roses. Two beings and only one scent.

  “Oh lookie who’s back!”

  “Miss me?” another voice purred. The cambion from the club

  I frowned. “I guess that depends on whether you’re here to kill me or not.”

  “I heard your voice,” she said. “Lovely. It will enchant our dark lord.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think I’m happy to see you.”

  “All our preparations are ready,” Morta interrupted, nearing the bed.

  I heard the other woman approach the bed, and felt her soft touch as she grabbed my arm.

  Morta hauled me off the mattress with impressive strength, and I felt the other woman adjust her stance to support my weight.

  I didn’t realize my feet were bare until they touched the cool floor. As for my wardrobe, the material swished around my ankles. A dress. Just like what the other victims wore.

  What had Oliver said about virgins only being good for sacrifices? Damn him, he’d jinxed me!

  “I know you’ve figured it out,” Morta whispered next to my ear.

  I turned towards her voice.

  “The myth of Pluto and Proserpine,” she explained. “It really is a prophecy. A very old and very popular one. And it is a prophecy about you.”

  “But the details …” My voice trailed off as the cambion traced a finger down my arm. I grimaced as the sensation.

  “The details matter not. That is what happens when a story outlasts several civilizations. Along the way word of mouth and cultural appropriation warp the details.”

  “Why was it so popular?” I asked before the two could haul me out of the room.

  “Because it has to do with life and death,” the cambion whispered into my ear, her breath hot against my skin.

  “You were born of life but possess death in your bloodstream—you die even as you live. And yet in your death you’ll live forever an immortal. You see?” Morta said. “You’ve been married to the god of death since your birth. Two sides of the same coin.”

  “But he’s not the god of death. He’s the devil.” How many times did I have to say that?

  “Best start thinking of him as Pluto,” Morta said, “for I assure you his actions will conform to your beliefs. You want him cruel, he’ll be cruel. You want his kindness, think of him as capable of it.”

  “Here we are,” the fairy said.

  When Andre opened his eyes, for a single moment he mistook his surroundings for the afterlife. The whiteness, the soft silence of falling snow—it was such a vast contrast to the vivacity of life as he knew it.

  All around him stood tall trees. Cut between them was a snow-covered path marred with several pairs footprints. Several interwoven scents clung to the path. Supernatural beings. At least a dozen of them.

  He stretched his senses. In the distance he felt a pulse of life and amongst it …

  “Gabrielle.”

  He could feel her ahead of him. He almost fell to his knees; even with all his knowledge, he hadn’t been sure she’d be here, and if she was, that she’d be alive.

  He pushed forward. “There are at least twelve beings near Gabrielle, and we have to assume all are hostile. You should stay here.”

  “Oh hell no—I didn’t come all this way just to be left out of the fun,” the fairy said

  Andre turned to give Oliver an appraising look. “This is not a game, fairy. People will get hurt. You will probably be one of them.” Even as he spoke, he could feel his bloodthirsty nature rise.

  Gabrielle never again wanted to see Andre massacre people. Tonight he was going to have to disappoint her.

  “Argue all you want, Rambo,” the fairy said. “I’ll still be sticking to you like a nymph to a tree.”

  Andre didn’t have time for this. He growled in frustration. “Fine,” he said, defeated. “But once we get inside, you’ll follow my orders.”

  The fairy’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Agreed.”

  They pressed forward once more, and as
they did so, the trees began to thin out, and their destination towered over them. Made of marble and rock, conquests and cruelty, it was the perfect gateway into hell.

  Bran Castle.

  There was that reminder again, that belief trumped fate. Ironic that a Fate would be the one to tell me this.

  “I’m going to cut the bonds around your ankles,” Morta said. “If you try to pull some stunt on me, Lila will knock you out and carry you to your destination, and any remaining questions you have will go unanswered. Understood?”

  Lila—I finally had a name for Creepy McCreeps-a-Lot.

  I felt Lila stroke my cheek. “Please be difficult,” she whispered in my ear, and I recoiled. I was beginning to think that Lila was here just to ensure my cooperation.

  “Fine,” I said to Morta, “so long as you answer more of my questions.”

  She knelt down at my feet and unwound the rope that shackled them together. “You do not get to make demands. However, I will entertain a few more questions, so long as it pleases me.”

  I didn’t wait for more. “What kind of power would the devil possess by being with me?” I asked. The last of the rope fell away from my ankles, and I shook them out.

  In front of me I heard Morta rise. “How does the end of the myth of Pluto and Proserpine unfold?”

  Was she asking me? “Persephone’s mother kills everything off until she gets her daughter back.”

  “After that,” Morta said. “What is the end result?”

  “Persephone gets to live half the year on Earth and half the year in the Underworld.”

  Morta took my arm once more. “That is the answer you seek,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  Lila gave my face another caress, and her burnt floral scent assaulted my nose. Her lips brushed my cheek. “It means that you will be a creature that can freely travel between Earth and Hell.”

  With every step Andre took, her scent got stronger. The smells of the damned seeped in along with it. Bran Castle had long been a place of pain. History knew the most public examples of it, but there were so many more that went unrecorded. Torture, rape, incest, murder—the place was saturated with it. Blood had fed the soil here. The place was stained with horror.

  And somewhere in there Gabrielle was being held against her will. Silently Andre crept up the stairs to the entrance of the castle. His muscles twitched with the need to kick down the doors and unleash his fury, but he’d been in enough battles to know that brute force didn’t often win, especially when outnumbered.

  But the element of surprise, that could turn the tables. So rather than kicking down the door, he turned the handle. When he met resistance, he gave a deft yank, breaking the lock.

  He pushed the door open, and then he and Oliver were inside.

  My back went ramrod straight as a pulse of power thrummed along my skin. Andre was here.

  But how? How had he found me when I had no clue where I was?

  Morta gave me a yank. “Time to meet your destiny.”

  “Who even says that?” I asked, walking forward, but my mind was distracted. Andre had found me!

  Together we crossed the room and slipped through the door. The hallway was chillier than the room I’d been in, and familiar dread churned in my stomach.

  “No.” I staggered and came to a stop.

  “Move.” Morta shoved me forward, but I refused to budge.

  This place couldn’t be real, but so help me God, somehow it was. I was back in the devil’s home.

  Even with Andre’s soothing presence nearby, I began to shake, and my fangs descended. “Not here—I don’t want to die here!” My voice became frantic.

  I tugged on my bindings again, and began to struggle to get away.

  “I warned you what would happen if you tried to get away,” Morta said.

  I couldn’t die here; I refused to.

  Power built along with my panic. At first I thought it was my own, but as the ground began to rumble and the sensation lashed against my skin, I realized it wasn’t me at all.

  Someone had officially pissed off my boyfriend.

  As soon as Andre stepped inside, the connection between him and Gabrielle flared like a live wire.

  “What is this place?” Oliver whispered. “The hall of horrors?”

  The smell of decay and dried blood hit his nostrils. It came from all around him. From the leathery map that hung on the wall to the stained furniture. A fire crackled in a nearby hearth, but instead of emitting heat, it seemed to drain it from the room.

  He turned to Oliver and pushed him into a nearby alcove. “Stay here,” he said, his voice pitched low. He could hear the shuffling of feet in the distance.

  “Not going to happen. Especially not next to this thing.” He pointed to the marble statue of a horned being situated in the alcove. It had lifelike, inlaid eyes, and dried blood ringed its lips.

  “Oliver, you agreed to follow my orders once we were inside. This is one of them.”

  “So you want me to stay here with this … thing?” Oliver eyed the statue with obvious disgust.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, but I have a condition.”

  He didn’t have time for this. “Whatever it is, it’s yours. Now stay here.”

  “Deal.” The fairy smiled, which probably meant Andre had agreed to something ludicrous. Fucking fairies—you could always guarantee they’d take advantage of a situation.

  “Oh, and if this thing eats me,” Oliver added, “it’s your ass I’m coming back to haunt.”

  Andre nodded absently, already strategizing his next move.

  “Who even says that?”

  Andre’s head snapped up at the sound of Gabrielle’s voice. Relief coursed through him at her insolent tone. It was an act, but it meant that she was alright for the moment.

  He began to move towards the voice, winding his way through the castle nearing what appeared to be a turret.

  Two women held a bound and blindfolded Gabrielle.

  A sweltering rage burned inside him. If he let it, it would consume him. He stepped into the shadows and stilled, waiting for the appropriate moment to attack.

  “No,” Gabrielle choked out.

  Andre closed his eyes when he heard the fear in Gabrielle’s voice. Don’t lose control, he willed himself. Not yet.

  “Not here—I don’t want to die here!” she begged.

  As soon as he heard her desperate plea, Andre only had time to think of a single word before his rage consumed him.

  Fuck.

  My captors stopped walking.

  “Let her go,” Andre’s voice was sweet music to my ears.

  The ground trembled violently beneath us, and I could hear metal clattering and glass tinkling.

  Morta cursed. “It seems the vampire king has come after his mate.”

  Did they have no idea how close he was to losing it at the moment? They should be scared. Hell, I was scared, and I was his soulmate.

  Air brushed against me, and the current between Andre and me throbbed; those were the only signs that Andre had moved.

  Morta’s grip was wrenched from mine, and I felt the ground shake as Andre slammed her into the wall. “You will die for daring to hurt her.”

  I didn’t waste the opportunity Andre had given me. My leg shot out, and I kicked Lila. She gasped, and her hold on me slipped.

  I pulled my foot back, preparing for another kick. “You do not want to fight, vampire,” Lila said, glamour filling her words. “Gabrielle is in good hands.”

  The tremors racking the building softened.

  I opened my mouth. “Don’t listen to her,” I said, pulling the siren into my voice. Poor Andre was getting majorly mind-raped right now. “She wants to—”


  Lila covered my mouth. “Leave this place, vampire.”

  The trembling subsided, and I heard Morta suck in air. The current between Andre and I began to fade, which meant … he was leaving.

  I tried to shake Lila’s hand from my mouth, but she held on. “Looks like your love is abandoning you,” she whispered into my ear.

  I screamed against her hand and yanked my head away from her mouth. Hate filled me. She’d glamoured Andre into abandoning his rescue mission.

  Using as much force as I could muster, I head-butted the cambion. Her hold loosened on me, and I jerked my arm free of her hold. I began to run, almost falling when I realized I was moving down stairs.

  “You stupid, little fool!” Morta was yelling at me.

  Someone plowed into my back, and the two of us lurched forward. I fell, my head cracking against the edge of the stairs. I felt an instant of pain, and then I blacked out.

  “Andre!” the fairy hissed.

  Andre ignored him, heading towards the front door.

  “What are you doing?”

  Once he passed across the threshold, his head cleared. Andre stopped, swiveled around, and locked eyes with Oliver.

  That woman had glamoured him into leaving, and his only saving grace had been her vague wording. Otherwise, he would’ve left his soulmate to die.

  The maps and antiques set on display began to shake.

  “Uh, your hair’s lifting,” Oliver said.

  “Give me your iPod.”

  “Hot damn,” the fairy said, eyeing him, “are you going to blow?”

  “Now!” Andre bellowed.

  The fairy reached into his pocket and handed the iPod over.

  Andre placed the earbuds in his ears and turned the music on, cranking the volume all the way up.

  “Stay here, fairy.”

  Oliver’s lips moved, but Andre heard nothing over the music. And if he couldn’t hear outside noise, then he couldn’t get glamoured.