A Curse Unbroken

by Cecy Robson

  I stared into his familiar strong gray eyes, feeling strangely at peace. “What did you do to me?”

  Misha kept his arm around my shoulders while his right hand stroked my hair from my face. “I was in the parlor entertaining a business associate when I sensed your fear. I thought you were being attacked. We arrived to find you piercing your wrists with your fangs.”

  “My fangs?” He nodded. Oh hell, Aric was right. My tigress was still with me.

  “You would not respond to the sound of my words or my touch,” Misha said. “It was only when you met my eyes that you stopped.” He dropped his hand, his voice dripping with regret while his face only demonstrated anger. “I saw everything that has ever caused you pain—everything. I felt it and experienced it all at once.”

  I gaped at him with wild, horrified eyes. “How?”

  “In returning my soul, you have given me unimaginable power. Some gifts I have learned to control. Others unveil themselves as my spirit permits. I used what I’ve learned to share the darkness of my own past.”

  At first I didn’t know how to respond, sadness throbbing mercilessly in my chest. “But why?”

  He skimmed his fingers gently down my face to rest on my chin. “Because of who you are. I knew that in sharing my suffering, you would abandon your own to come to my aid.”

  My attention fell to my wrists. In addition to giving me a glimpse into his past, Misha had managed to heal me.

  “How is it that death has not claimed you?”

  “That’s a good question.” I shrugged. “For the most part, I’ve been lucky, I guess.”

  Misha laughed without humor. “Luck? No one is that fortunate, my darling. Your cunning, strength, and magic have certainly played roles in saving you.” His voice quieted. “Only your beauty, which brings me to my knees with the force of a tidal wave, can rival the power within you.”

  I edged away from him, his words making me uncomfortable. I didn’t belong to him. Despite our current situation, I very much remained Aric’s mate. I owed it to him to remind Misha as much and although there were many ways to respond to his words, at the top of my list being run like hell, I resorted to making bad jokes. “You’re only saying that because I’m sitting here covered in blood.”

  “No I’m not,” he added almost silently.

  “Misha…” I inched away from him and tucked my knees against me to create space between us. Misha may have felt what he felt, but thankfully he didn’t press. In the silence between us, I considered his words.

  Misha was right. I had left my own misery behind to help him—and I’d do it a thousand times over if he needed me—yet that didn’t explain why I felt better. Not only had my spirit been rejuvenated by the trip into his memory, but physically, I also felt stronger. “Why am I no longer weak or bleeding?”

  “I used the healing power of my essence to mend your physical form. It is not a power I can use freely,” he added. “Tura has left your soul battered, thus, it is more vulnerable to intrusion. When you return to your former self, I will no longer be able to assist you in such a manner.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Thank you.”

  Misha kissed my forehead before standing. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. Will you join me?”

  I closed my eyes, relishing the peace that bathed my soul before answering, “Yes.”

  Misha gave me a small smile. “Very well.”

  I followed him out, but clasped his hand before he could leave. I wanted to say something poignant. This brief moment of tranquillity he gave me could have possibly saved me from plunging into darkness. How do you express gratitude for something like that? I searched for the right words before finally saying, “Misha…thank you for being my friend.”

  Misha raised my hand and kissed it. I half-expected to catch traces of that terrified little boy somewhere inside him, but there was nothing left of that boy in the man who stood before me. His eyes were sharp with intelligence, arrogance, and control. He appeared omniscient, as most everyone saw him. I almost asked what happened to that man who had made him and his mother suffer, but I wasn’t callous enough to question him.

  Misha stopped, considering me before stepping into the garden. “Your words inspired me, Celia,” he said. “I killed him the next time he sought the company of my mother. I sliced his throat with the same knife we used to cut the bread he brought us.”

  With that little bombshell, he entered the garden and disappeared toward the house. I started to shut the door when the speaker system that connected the guest and main houses crackled. Once more the Eagles began to sing “You Are Not Alone.”

  You’re not alone, the voices whispered again, bouncing along the walls from every direction.

  I covered my ears, swearing as the voices repeated themselves. So much for thinking Misha had saved me from going nuts.

  You’re not alone, the voices insisted.

  My head snapped up as I realized who was speaking to me.

  You’re not alone, they said once more, over the sound of the Eagles’ harmony.

  “No…I’m not alone,” I said aloud. For a moment I couldn’t move. When I finally did I tore after Misha.

  My bare feet slapped against the fresh snow falling on the slate walkway. I ignored the biting cold and the sting it caused my feet. “Misha, Misha!” My voice was lost, drifting away as the wind pushing its way toward the lake howled along the path. “Misha—Misha!”

  I raced through the garden and was almost to the stretch of lawn leading to the house when he whirled and caught me in his arms as I stumbled forward. Vampires emerged from every direction, circling us protectively in anticipation of another attack.

  Misha gripped my arms, his fierce stare taking in our surroundings in a glance. “What is it?” he asked.

  I could barely get the words out, my body once more drained of its strength. “I know how to stop Tura.”

  Chapter 28

  We gathered everyone at the Den, weres, the vamps, the witches, too. Honestly, I didn’t trust anyone, not then. Thankfully, those who mattered seemed to trust me.

  Aric and I watched each other from opposite sides of the clearing where we’d congregated. I didn’t want to risk damaging any more Den structures. The last two buildings I’d played a role in demolishing surely were enough. As I looked at him, all I wanted to do was rush into his arms. And I would, if I could somehow pull my plan off.

  “I don’t like this,” Genevieve said. “Celia, I wish you would just tell us your thoughts and explain your strategy.” Her magic and that of Delilah’s and the rest of their coven circled the perimeter, but she kept her attention on me.

  “She doesn’t have to tell you shit,” Taran answered for me.

  Her response infuriated Genevieve’s coven and earned frustrated groans from Gemini and Aric. Taran so didn’t care. When Genevieve did little more than raise her eyebrow, Taran responded by flipping her off with her gloved hand.

  I tried to keep my eye from twitching and failed miserably. Forget that Taran despised the very snow-covered ground Genevieve seemed to glide over. And forget that there was a body-jumping psychopathic shape-shifter using our power against us. Taran was severely sleep deprived. And a sleep-deprived Taran was scarier than hell.

  Dark circles ringed her eyes and those of Shayna’s and Emme’s. The dreams haunting them made them afraid to fall asleep, so like me, they’d done their damnedest to stay awake, severely impacting their health and moods. They wouldn’t look at each other, and although only ten days had passed since I’d last seen them, it was obvious that they’d lost a significant amount of weight.

  I stepped toward the center of the circle. “Everything will make sense once it happens, but it may take a while so be prepared to act.” My eyes cut to Delilah. “Remember how you told me you wanted a little payback when we first met?” She nodded. “If this works, you’ll get your wish.”

  I nodded to Misha, who did little more than blink before every vampire in his keep, along w
ith his mystics, who took point behind each were present. That move was as popular as you might imagine. “What’s this?” Martin demanded as the weres around us growled.

  “A small assurance to keep Celia safe,” Misha answered for me. “None of your Pack will be harmed—unless, of course, Tura chooses to invade their bodies and turn them against Celia.”

  “No one will be killed,” I shouted over the increasing growls. “In the event of an attack, the vampires are only to force the invaded were into submission.”

  “Unless they try to kill us first,” Edith added with a smile.

  Edith was no help and “submission” wasn’t the best choice of words. I was dealing with a bunch of “doms” after all.

  Aric, for as angry as he was, seemed to understand, and thankfully backed me. His steely expression halted the weres’ increasing ire and he didn’t hesitate to join me when I motioned him forward. I took his hands in mine, hoping like hell I wouldn’t break down. “What are you thinking?” he asked, lifting my hands and brushing his lips against my knuckles.

  “That I really want this to end, so I can be your wife.”

  His gaze softened as mine blurred. He traced his thumb over my ring finger. “My name will go here where it belongs, just like I’ll claim yours as mine. No matter what happens I’ll be your strength, just like you’ve always been mine.”

  My stare traveled to my ring finger as Aric continued his caress. During the marriage ceremony a pureblood were’s name was magically traced onto his mate’s ring finger, signifying their union and their eternal love. In exchange his mate could receive the same. It was something Aric and I had planned to do, and we’d still do it if I could get us through this. “I love you,” I told him.

  “I love you, too,” he said back. “Celia, whatever happens, you have to believe that together, we are unstoppable.”

  A wolf yelped, steering our attention away from each other. Tim lay across Bren’s body. He’d broken Bren’s neck to stop him from attacking us. Shit. The stupid stunning spells the witches had crafted weren’t having any effect. “Tura’s here,” I said, quickly.

  Another roar, another sound of bone breaking, followed by two more yelps, and then another. Aric backed away from me as he scanned the perimeter. Agnes jumped on a werecougar bounding toward me, bringing him down. “Go, Celia,” Aric urged. “We’re out of time. Do what you have to—”

  He tackled Danny in wolf form. I cringed when Aric forced him down. I motioned my sisters toward the center of the circle. They rushed to me. “Taran, put us to sleep.”

  “What? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

  More and more bodies were being invaded. Tura skipped from one to the other, moving faster, and drawing closer to me, forcing the Elders and the vampires to scramble to protect me.

  “Taran, put us to sleep, now!” I yelled. Shayna and Emme began shaking. They didn’t want to go to sleep. They knew their nightmares awaited them. “Taran, please!” I begged her.

  Her tearful blue eyes took in the growing chaos; the weres were healing quickly, their beasts awakening enraged and turning on the vamps who’d harmed them. The coven scattered, trying to flee from the rows of snapping fangs and deadly claws. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “Ceel, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I didn’t. Not really, but I had to try. “I love you,” I told them as Taran’s blue mist enveloped us. Emme and Shayna collapsed at once, Taran quickly followed. My body wobbled as Aric forced a giant grizzly bear into the thick snow. “Come to me when I call,” I managed to slur.

  The flicker in his eyes told me he’d heard me, but then it switched to something dark and sinister. Tura had claimed my wolf once more, sending him barreling toward me as I crumpled to the frozen ground.

  —

  You’re not alone, the voices whispered.

  Something tickled my cheek. I woke up in the bedroom of that tiny apartment we used to live in. I batted at the roaches crawling across my face and those making their way up my legs, knowing things were about to get way worse. The roaches stayed put, my gestures seeming to have no effect on Tura’s mind games.

  You’re not alone, the voices whispered.

  I rose from the beat-up mattress as more roaches swarmed me. They seemed to be everywhere, crawling from every crack in the wall, every buckle in the linoleum tile, and from behind that old mirror our mother would brush our hair in front of. They sought me, their tiny antennae eager to probe my flesh and find a break in the skin where they could crawl beneath and feast. I slowed my breathing as best I could, trying to shove away my fear even though by now, I was completely covered with roaches.

  A blast from a shotgun, followed by another, echoed from the other room. I meant not to react, but I did anyway. In our tiny living room, Tura was reenacting my parents’ murder. Because, I imagined, the other times I’d been forced to relive it hadn’t been horrifying enough. My body trembled as I worked to calm my racing heart. I had to go into that room. I knew I did, but not until something insisted I turn around and see who lay in bed.

  Tears burned my eyes as I saw the corpses of my sisters being devoured by roaches. It was bad enough to see them being eaten, but to see them as they had been as children made it that much more painful. “You’re an asshole, Tura,” I said aloud, then turned away from my sisters and walked into the living room.

  You’re not alone, the voices repeated.

  “I know,” I said, my voice gaining an edge. “My sisters are always with me.”

  My declaration caused the roaches to die on my flesh and fall away in clumps with each step I took. The gang members were there as I expected, their sawed-off shotguns trained on me as they loomed over my parents.

  Once more, I saw the gaping holes in my beloved mother’s and father’s chests, their hearts spilling the last of their blood. This time, as much as it hurt, I ignored them. I glanced around, searching—knowing she had to be there. My eyes took in the small living room where only the pullout couch that served as my parents’ bed and a small TV would fit. I ignored the men taunting me.

  “They deserved to die, puta,” one of them told me. “Just like you do.”

  “Look how they bleed,” another said as he struck my shoulder. “Do you like the pretty color?”

  My gaze traveled to the small kitchen even as my parents’ corpses pulled my hair and shirt, trying to draw my attention. I did my best to ignore them, needing to find who I was looking for. She had been there with us the night of the murder. She had kept us safe. My eyes searched the room several times. I cried out with relief when I finally spotted her, sitting in the corner licking her chops.

  Aric was right. My tigress hadn’t left me. She simply needed me to believe that I could find her, and that nothing could pry us apart. “Come on, little kitty. We have to get Emme first.”

  My tigress bounded toward me, tackling me so hard that I barely kept my footing. It was as if she’d vanished, but my protruding claws made it clear she was with me. I needed her when I caught the first of Emme’s screams. But the men didn’t want me to leave. They jumped me at once, not expecting that I was ready for them.

  I slashed one with my claws directly over his jugular. His blood spurted, splattering my back while I wrenched the shotgun from another man and used it to bust the skulls of the men who’d killed my parents.

  My parents stumbled toward me in their zombie-like forms. “You’re dead, and you’re at peace,” I told them. They froze before staggering with their arms out, their hands opening and closing as if pleading with me not to leave them. It took all I had not to cry when I heard their bodies collapse on the floor as I tore out the door.

  Joe and Ray met me in the dark corridor. Without hesitation, I shot Ray in the face and tore Joe’s head off. I tossed it behind me, forcing myself to ignore what I’d done and who they were to me, and keep on task. “Emme. Emme, where are you?”

  Her screams seemed to come from every closed door lining each side of the corridor. I
wrenched open the closest ones to me. “Emme, I’m here. Tell me where you are!”

  Her shrieks were suddenly silenced before she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Celia!”

  I took off at full velocity, barreling through the furthest door on the right to find Emme in her nightmare. She lay naked on the floor, her limbs pulled outward. A swarm of vampires punctured her veins and arteries, draining her blood as her dead ex-lover stroked her face and hair. Liam had no eyes, and pieces of his skin hung from him in strips.

  Tura was going to burn in hell for this. And I would get him there.

  Tears soaked Emme’s face and her eyes pleaded for me to help her. “Don’t be afraid. You’re not alone,” I promised, wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

  I didn’t speak again until I killed the vampires feeding from her and wrenched her away from Liam’s hold. She sobbed into her hands when Liam tried to follow her, his hands reaching to play with her hair. “He’s gone, Emme. You have to leave him here.” I clasped her wrist and pulled her away from Liam and into the hall, screaming for Shayna.

  Emme’s clothing returned the moment we left the room. Her wild eyes swept up and down the endless hall only to return to the room we’d just abandoned. “Liam’s hurt,” she said. “We have to help him. I-I can’t leave him….”

  I shook my head. “He’s already gone, honey. And where he is, I swear to you he’s whole.”

  Although she cried, she nodded and stepped away from the door. “Now, I need you to concentrate. Tell me where Shayna is.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but then she veered in the direction I’d come from, and pointed. “There. She’s down there.”

  I didn’t hear Shayna, but Emme did. “Show me,” I told her.

  If Emme was afraid, she didn’t demonstrate it then. She sped down the hall, cutting right to a dark corridor and then left into another. She flung open the first door, yelling Shayna’s name.