“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were. It is a curse, female, meant to punish.”
She frowned. “But for how long?”
“Forever.” He moved on, leaving her to follow him or not.
It was darker in here but at least the fog didn’t venture inside. “Forever,” she whispered then hurried to catch up to him. “But there must be a way to break the curse.”
He whirled around to face her. His large body overshadowed her and she had to step back. “I have been stabbed and shot in this...” He looked down at himself, the wings opening then coming to his side with a snap. “...this state of being and still I wake up in the morning frozen in the position the witch put me in.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you know you’re frozen? You are aware of all that goes on around you?”
“Earlier, you walked around me, touching my wings like a caress. You said my legs distracted you.” He lifted his brow, waiting for her to try to deny it.
Her hand flew to her mouth. She swallowed back the tears, knowing he didn’t want her pity, but by God, his life was hell on earth. Frozen to view life from inside a stone statue. “And Samael, how does he view life? Is he the devil’s chair?”
Michael shrugged. “His spirit is trapped within the chair. Like I said before, he has no corporal body but it doesn’t stop him from trying to obtain one.”
It all made sense then. “Sitting in the chair gives him the opportunity.”
He nodded. “Humans are such fools.”
“Humans? Michael, you were once human. Have you forgotten?”
He didn’t answer. “Follow me.” He headed down the hall at an even pace. The blackened walls and floor were a testament of the fire that ravished the home. She didn’t understand why he had brought her here. What did he want to show her?
He halted his steps in front of a door. His hand gripped the charred handle, turning the knob and opening the door. They were on the side of the house that wasn’t damaged by the fire. The sconces on the wall lit as they entered. The burgundy sofa sat against the wall with a tapestry hanging above it. The ornate fireplace looked as if it had just been carved. The bookcase stood filled with books untouched by time.
Her brows furrowed. “This can’t be. This is an illusion.” She looked at Michael, wanting an explanation.
He sighed and explained with patience. “Forget the world you live in. Until the sun rises, you are in the world Sophie created for Samael and for me. This side of the caretaker’s home is the side of light. You will be safe here, but you must not leave this room. Promise me, no matter what happens you’ll remain here.”
His gaze latched onto her, demanding she give him the answer he needed to hear. She crossed her arms across her chest, letting him know she didn’t like his demand, but she would give it if only to relieve his mind. “I’ll stay.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze burning a path over her features as he tried to discern if she spoke the truth. Finally, he nodded. “Good.”
She would stay put. Unless you need my help, she thought to herself.
Michael strode to the bookcase and removed a leathered bound book from the shelf. He turned to face her. “This book has information about how to break the curse.”
She stared at him dumbfounded. If he had the book, why hadn’t he used it to his advantage? “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you have the means to release yourself from all this?”
He shook his head. “I cannot do it myself. Someone from the outside must manage the feat.”
“Mmm…hmm. Do you really expect me to believe no one has tried to help you?”
“The connection was not there. Everything must be lined up correctly. What do you see in this room, Clarity?”
“Why?”
“It is the answer to your question. Humor me and tell me what you see.”
“A lighted room with a sofa, fireplace and bookcase…and this is ridiculous.”
Michael ignored her outlandish reply and continued to push her. “What do I hold in my hand?” When she didn’t answer, he took a step toward her. His gaze held her still as he pleaded for her to answer him. “What do you see in my hand?”
“A book. You’re holding a book.”
He let out a sigh of relief, which only proved to confuse her more.
“You see within the illusion. No one has been able to see what I see here. No one has been able to breach the plane of my existence, but you have.”
His words finally sunk in. She crossed over some line, some point where his life hung in the balance between life and death and he believed she could change his fate. Her gaze met his. “You think I can cross you back over to the living.”
He nodded. “I believe so. It’s the first time I have had hope.”
“Is the answer in the book?” She nodded toward the item in question.
He glanced at the book he held in his hand then to her. “It has a different glow about it.” He paused as if waiting for her reaction.
“I don’t see anything odd about its appearance.”
His head lowered and his shoulders slumped as if somehow she’d disappointed him.
“May I?” Her hand reached for the book and he handed it to her. She flipped through the pages, scanning the contents and reading a few paragraphs. “These are fairytales.”
His gaze riveted to hers in surprise. “You can see writing on the pages?”
“Of course I can. Can’t you?”
He shook his head. “The pages are blank to me, but the binding has a radiant glow around it, like a beacon pulsing. No other book on the shelf has this appearance. You say the stories are fairytales. I don’t understand. I was sure it was a spell book.”
She flipped through the pages again, wondering if she had missed something. Maybe the spells were hidden within the stories, but she could find nothing that stood out. “The tales are: Sleeping Beauty, The Princess and the Frog…hmm…Snow White and Beauty and the Beast.”
“I do not recognize these stories. Are they familiar to you?”
She looked at him, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Some of these would have been written after you were cursed.”
His deep sigh was of a man exhausted and ready to give up. “Then this is not the book we seek.”
“Maybe it is. You told me what I see in this room is an illusion. The book holds blank pages for you, but I see stories. Maybe if another person from the Peabody bloodline entered this world, the book would reveal something else entirely to them.” Her hand slid down one of the pages. “There’s a connection to each of the stories. Perhaps, it’s a clue I need to break the curse.”
His gaze locked onto her. “Explain?”
“The book is about people who were cursed in one way or the other. They were folktales passed on through the ages. Maybe there’s a bit of truth to them.”
He nodded. “I’m listening. Go on.”
“Sleeping Beauty was cursed to die, but a fairy took pity on her. She couldn’t break the spell but she could alter it. Sleeping Beauty would sleep until her one true love awakens her with a kiss. In the Princess and the Frog, a prince was cursed to live out his life as a frog. Only a kiss from a princess could break the curse. Do you see a pattern here?”
“I take it that in the stories, Snow White and the Beauty and the Beast, a kiss broke the curses as well?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“But we’ve kissed,” he voiced the obvious. His lips flat lined against each other and his brows drew together.
Silence radiated between them as precious time ticked on with no clear cut answers to help them.
She skimmed a few pages more, hoping for a miracle.
He blew out a frustrated breath and threw his hands wide. “Sophie toys with us and thinks these fairytales are humorous.”
She gently closed the book. “I don’t know. I’ve always believed a kiss held some power. Its emotions are a part of us we share with a special someone. Like…” She met h
is gaze and hated the despair she saw there. “It’s like giving a part of your soul.”
His brows lifted and he gave her a grim smile. “A bit dramatic, do you not think?”
“You were affected by our kiss. Don’t deny it. Even lust is a reaction.”
“Woman, you are too bold.” She was primed to argue, but he lifted his hand to halt her words. “Let us just say for the moment, there is some merit in what you say, but if it is a kiss that is needed to break the curse, why am I still trapped?” His wings opened to their full length, a majestic beauty of dove-colored feathers, but then he closed them again with a snap of frustration.
“Well that is the million dollar question, isn’t it?” She paced the room, trying to come up with a good answer, but coming up short.
A low rumble startled them both. It vibrated the flooring and then to the walls.
Clarity held out her hands to steady herself. “What’s happening?”
Michael withdrew his sword. “Come stand behind me. Hurry.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. Her feet moved and she stumbled toward him and he reached out his hand, pulling her behind him, shielding her from whatever was coming.
Chapter Eight
The weather changed with Samael’s mood as if the air around him was manipulated with his temperament. The clouds overhead darkened to black now, and the only form of light came from the lightning streaking across the sky.
Michael had taken his prize. “Clarity Shaw is mine!” He shook his hand at the sky. The moment she sat in his chair, Samael felt the difference. Her blood hummed with power and he wanted it, needed it to set him free.
He looked over at Hester who huddled with fear at the gates. To her credit, she hadn’t scampered away like a frightened rabbit as he thought she would do. But then she did have her reasons. She wanted her niece healed. Hester didn’t realize it was too late for her niece. He took what he needed from the little chit and cast her aside. He couldn’t fix her, but Hester didn’t have to know his little secret. He needed minions on the outside to do his bidding.
He looked down at his fading hand. He couldn’t keep a solid form for long and it didn’t help that he’d used some of his energy in anger. He had only hours to complete the ritual. If he missed the window, he’d have to wait another year and hope for another descendent of Sophie Peabody’s to waltz into the graveyard. The chance of that happening was next to nothing.
“Open the gate, Hester. I need your help.”
He needed the energy from humans to maintain a corporeal state. Unfortunately, the process leaves the human’s brains fried.
Mr. Donner appeared beside Hester with his intent to interfere with Samael’s plans. “Don’t do it, woman. I beg of you.”
Hester’s gaze darted to Mr. Donner. “I have to.” She chewed on her lower lip, which worried Samael. Mr. Donner might be able to persuade her to his side. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Samael floated closer to the fence, wishing he had the power to step over the barrier that kept him locked within the graveyard’s limited perimeter. “If you don’t do as I say, your niece will remain in the hospital.”
“He lies to you,” Mr. Donner told her.
“What if he isn’t?” Hester’s hand fiddled with the key, slipping it into the keyhole. With her shoulder, she nudged the gate open.
Mr. Donner reached for her, but his fingers slid through her body. He had no substance and was beginning to fade fast. Good.
“Don’t do it,” Mr. Donner pleaded. “You’ll end up like your niece. He saps energy from humans. You can’t get it back.”
Damn the meddling ghost. All Samael needed was for Hester to take one little step over the line and he would have her.
She edged closer, her toes almost over the edge. The tension rose to where he could barely contain himself.
“Lock the gate, Hester. Step away before it’s too late.
It was already too late. She leaned her weight on one leg and in doing so her toes had slipped over the edge and into his world. “Gotcha,” he murmured under his breath before he used the last of his powers and snaked a vine around her ankle, pulling her toward him.
He ignored her screams of protest and her hands clutching at the earth, trying to latch onto something that would keep her from his grasp, but he proved too strong. She lay at his feet, a whimpering bag of bones. The woman didn’t weigh much. She was fragile with age and worry, but her essence would suffice.
“Leave her alone. She does not consent,” Mr. Donner appeared in front of him.
His pleas did not move him. He needed energy and Hester would provide it. He leaned down and she tried to scramble away. Fear etched her features and caused her heart to pump faster. Adrenaline would only amp what he took. His palms clasped her head, stilling her movements as he pressed against her temples and absorbed her essence. Her terror filled eyes glazed over and her mouth hung open, saliva sliding down the side of her mouth. When he was finished draining her, he tossed her body like a discarded ragdoll. He inhaled deeply, taking in the thick ozone layer hanging in the air. He withdrew his sword and headed for the caretaker’s home. Michael would be there and so would Clarity Shaw.
Chapter Nine
“What’s happening?” Clarity asked Michael. The wall shook as if a giant had taken an interest in them and now demanded entrance.
Mr. Donner appeared beside them, making Clarity jump. A curse left her lips and her hand flew to her chest as if she could prevent her heart from leaping from it. “Dear Lord, can you give us a warning before you pop in for a visit?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, but I came to warn you. Samael has gained power. He’s in a solid form now.”
“How did he manage such a feat?” Michael asked.
“He took Hester Higgins’s essence.”
“Is Hester dead?” Clarity swallowed back the lump in her throat. Even though the woman had some serious issues, she didn’t wish her dead.
Mr. Donner nodded his head. “Most likely. She stepped over the line and into our plane of existence.”
“But I thought they were working together.”
Michael turned toward her. “Samael manipulates and uses. He has no loyalties.” His gaze shifted toward the door again. His restlessness made his wings pulsate and his arm muscles flex. “It will be over soon.” He spoke the words more to himself than to anyone in the room.
“What will be over soon? What do you mean?” Her hand lightly caressed his arm and he looked back at her, his brows furrowing as if for a moment, he forgot she stood there.
“He must fight Samael,” Mr. Donner informed her. “It’s the ritual that cannot be avoided.”
Michael caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. His eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and lethal determination. “You must stay here, where it is safe. Remember, you gave me your word.”
Her fingers gripped his arm. “Stay here, too. Don’t fight him. This could be the answer to breaking the curse.”
He shook his head. “Once long ago, I thought so, too. I tried to stay away, but the compulsion to fight grew too strong and my feet moved of their own accord. I have no choice, Clarity. I’ll be drawn to the fight as if I have no will of my own. I must live the final moments of Mary’s death. The only difference is that only Samael or I die.”
Tears stung her eyes and she gritted her teeth tightly, trying to keep her emotions under control. “The outcome being different each time, but nothing ever settled.”
He nodded. “Once one of us lies in a puddle of blood, the night ends for us. We both return to our stone slumber to wait for the next thinning of the veil, where we’ll fight once more.”
“Halloween is the only night to break the spell.” She glanced at the book she still held in her hand. “What do fairytales have to do with your plight?” Her gaze met his again. Then she looked at Mr. Donner, hoping he had the answer.
His bony shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m afraid, I do not know. I
had hoped you would. The witch’s journal claimed the female descendent would know the meaning of the kiss.”
“It is the kiss, but I have kissed him. It didn’t break the spell.” She didn’t want to let Michael down, but without seeing the connection the kiss had to the stories and to the curse placed on him, how could she free him?
“I know you’re in there. Come out and face me.” Samael’s voice rumbled from outside the door, anger pouring over each word with a promise of death.
Michael closed his eyes as if wishing to block out the summons. Sweat trickled down the sides of his forehead. “I must go.” He looked at her one last time. Passion, longing, and regret radiated from the depths of his eyes before he turned away from her and headed for the door.
“Wait,” she called to him, not sure he could stop.
When he slowed his steps and turned to her, she ran to him. Her hands lifted to her eyebrow earring and quickly unfastened it. Slipping it free, she grabbed his hand. She placed the earring in his palm, curling his fingers over it. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have. For protection.”
“I am honored to carry this into battle.” He pinned it to the sash of his leine. Then he opened the door and stepped over the threshold to fulfill the witch’s curse, the eternal punishment of the death battle.
Clarity wanted to turn away from the scene, but she couldn’t stop herself from watching the fight unfold.
Michael’s powerful wings spread wide as he lifted his sword. Samael had his sword in his hand, too. The fight was like a lethal dance of thrusts and jabs. The clanging of steel against steel the music filled the night air.
Clarity’s heart pounded in her chest at the sight as she prayed for Michael to win. She had to find a way to end this. She opened the book and skimmed the first story. She had read all of them, word for word. “It has to be here.” She turned to speak to Mr. Donner, but the ghost had vanished once more. She was alone in this.
The battle drew her attention once more. Samael’s eyes glowed red. He pursued Michael without mercy, the gleam of hatred lighting his features. “You will not win this time. I will slice you in half then claim the woman for my use.”
Curse of Tempest Gate Page 5
