Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by Amy Lee Burgess

  Logan took a moment to register I’d spoken. He bent over Thirteen’s journal, so absorbed I had to say his name three times before he shook himself and glanced up.

  “Did you?” I demanded, stretching my legs. I’d been sitting cross-legged for what seemed like hours, and now pins and needles pricked my muscles.

  He shook his head, a rueful smile curving his mouth. Beard stubble dotted his cheeks and chin, and I wanted to crawl over to him and rub my face against the roughness. “I didn’t hear what you said, Dem. Sorry.”

  “Tatiana and Reilly were the first witches marked by Othala to cast the spell of Reutterance. They were the only witches who ever became co-regents after casting that spell,” I said.

  Logan blinked and eyes narrowed. “Really? I could’ve sworn there were more. The non-magicals make it seem as though they suffered under witch rule for centuries.”

  “A century anyway if you count Thirteen’s rule. After she died, one of her daughters, Wanda, took over, but only until the spell of Reutterance, and then she gave way to Tatiana and Reilly.”

  “I guess if I’d stopped to do the math I would’ve realized, but I never did.” Logan rubbed his eyes with a fist, fatigue weighing down his shoulders. “Any luck figuring out why the non-magicals staged the coup?”

  “They were resentful of weak witches ruling them,” I said. “Tatiana tried hard to appease them. She appointed non-magicals to her council, created good jobs for them. Up until her rule, sea witches did all the fishing. She gave the fishing fleet to the non-magicals and appointed a non-magical councilor to oversee them, relegating the witches to working for the non-magicals. But that still wasn’t enough. She gave the non-magicals Moody Gardens, and, again, the witches started working for them.”

  “Weak?” Logan frowned. “Sounds like everyone had the same powers they ever had.”

  “I guess once Thirteen’s daughter died, there weren’t any naturally powerful witches left. Just the ones marked by Othala.” I massaged my tingling calf, kneading hard. “What have you found out?”

  “I still haven’t found the volume where she creates the spell of Reutterance, but everything I read about her fascinates me.” Logan climbed stiffly to his feet and returned to the bookshelf. He put back the journal he had in his hands and took the one next to it.

  I fell back into Tatiana’s journal and reality faded.

  “Dem!” Logan’s strangled shout tore me out of Tatiana’s journal and plunged me back into the real world as if I’d been thrown into frigid water.

  “Did you find it?” I set aside Tatiana’s journal. When I really looked at Logan’s face, my heart seized. “What’s wrong?” I listened intently, for a moment sure the guards had found us, but silence lay thick as a rug over everything.

  “I know why Mary-Angela had a non-magical last name.” Logan stared at me, stunned, as if he’d been injected with a paralyzing poison. His throat worked. Was he going to cry?

  “No wonder they called us weak in Tatiana’s day.” He choked on his words, struggling for control.

  “Logan, you are scaring me. What happened?” I crawled to him as fast as I could on stiff hands and knees and settled against him, needing his warmth. He wrapped an arm around me and buried his face in my hair, shuddering.

  “They gave up half their power for Galveteen,” he whispered brokenly. “In the beginning there weren’t earth witches and sea witches. There were just witches. Everyone had a connection to both. Nobody was as strong as Thirteen, not even her daughters, but everyone was much stronger than the witches of today.”

  “I don’t understand.” I stroked his hair, trying to comfort him even as my own heart galloped and bucked behind my ribcage.

  He sat up straight, his eyes blazing. “In order to create the pool of magic that bestows the extra power to the witches marked by Othala, Thirteen devised a spell that syphoned off half the magic of every witch on the island. And they all gave up this magic willingly. Proudly. They chose between earth and sea and gave the other half up. Then they took new last names to commemorate the event. The spell continues in perpetuity because at birth every witch is born with both kinds of magic, but one half syphons off, renewing the magical pool. If your parents are sea witches, you will be too. If your parents are one of each, you could be either, whichever magic is strongest in you stays, while the rest is given up. That’s why it takes two witches to cast the spell of Reutterance.

  “The witches did this for everyone and were repaid with murder, exile, and humiliation.” Logan’s lip curled back into a feral snarl. “Thirteen thought the non-magicals would be grateful.” A bark of disillusioned, angry laughter burst from his throat. “What a joke on us, huh, Dem?”

  Now everything I’d read in Tatiana’s journal made so much sense. She had been born after the witches gave up half their power. She’d never known any different, and she only cryptically referred to the “sacrifice” the witches had made, but never the how of it.

  “Instead of being thankful for what the witches did, the non-magicals took advantage of the fact they couldn’t do the things they used to do. Oh, Logan, why are people so hateful?”

  He shook his head, bitterness hardening his mouth and eyes.

  “So this pool is renewed by every baby witch born on the island. If we gave the current adult witches back their power from the pool, would enough children be born in the next fifty years to replenish what we take?” I asked.

  “Maybe. If there were a concentrated effort for witches to have large families,” Logan said, but his eyes still glittered with fury.

  “A baby boom,” I said, trying to make him smile. “You and I will have to do our part. I always wanted a daughter. Maybe now I want two. Or four.”

  “Should we do it?” Logan grabbed my hands and squeezed them. My heart sped up unevenly, and I couldn’t breathe. So I nodded.

  “Good.” Logan released my hands and helped me to my feet. “Let’s get our asses back out to sea. We’re going to conjure up a ton of lightning bolts! He kissed me hard, surprising me for a moment until I melted into his mouth. Desire and elation shivered down my spine.

  “Maybe we can try for that baby before we sail,” I murmured, sliding my hand down to his belt.

  He chuckled, then groaned when I cupped his balls through his trousers. “Dem. I want to, but we have to go. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can take over this island and right old wrongs. Okay?”

  “I’m being rejected.” I mock pouted, but he was right, and I knew it. Mother would not suffer a minute more than she had to under David Trumbull’s false regency.

  “Never,” Logan whispered, biting my earlobe. “I’m not ever rejecting you. Besides, this floor is hard. Imagine us on a soft mattress on the deck of a boat far out to sea.”

  I swayed into him, seduced by the idea. Would I ever smell the salt tang of the sea and not flash back to our first night together? I hoped not.

  We carefully replaced Tatiana’s journal, and Logan tucked Thirteen’s back into its slot. We wanted to take it with us, but we knew the spell, and her journal was priceless. Too precious to risk being lost if we didn’t make it back to the docks.

  Linking hands, we left the secret archive room. I glanced back once and extinguished the candle with my magic. Using Logan’s flashlight beam as a guide, we returned to the passage and made our way toward the exit.

  Chapter 29

  Logan pushed against the trap door we’d found at the end of the passageway. The muscles in his arms strained as he applied pressure.

  “Damn it.” He bent over, breathing hard from exertion. “Something’s blocking it. I don’t have the strength to shift it.”

  He’d never liked being underground, and now the beginning of panic flared in his eyes as he struggled to figure out alternatives.

  “What do you think it is?” I slid around him and lifted my arms so I could place both palms on the trap door. The metal was cool beneath my skin. I gave an experimental push, not expecting muc
h since I wasn’t half as strong as Logan, but the door shifted slightly. A strong connection opened between me and the earth.

  “It’s dirt!” I grinned at Logan, who stared at me uncomprehendingly for a moment until he, too, smiled.

  Summoning my magic, I pushed against the trap door, asking the dirt to please move away. Sliding sounds filled the air, and when I pushed, the metal trap door creaked open and admitted filtered sunlight and a cold breeze.

  “What time is it?” I asked as Logan boosted me up, and I scrambled onto dirt and dead leaves. I got to my feet quickly, trying not to trip on the hem of the cloak. A quick glance around revealed we were beneath a small grove of trees. The stables were across a dirt courtyard. I ducked behind a trunk, belatedly realizing there would be guards. Logan joined me a moment later, his brow furrowed with confusion.

  “I don’t hear anything, do you?” he asked.

  I strained to listen. Aside from the stamp of a horse’s hoof against the stable wall, I heard nothing but the quiet soughing of the wind in the branches.

  “Where on Othala are the guards?” Logan muttered, and the horse inside the stable screamed in pure, wild terror.

  Instinct had me running away before I even registered what was happening. Logan grabbed me around the waist and spun me around, toward the sound. The horse shrieked again, and kicked frantically against the wooden stable.

  “We can’t leave him. We have to find out what’s spooking him,” Logan said urgently, and ran for the open stable door. Swallowing as much of my fear as I could – which wasn’t much – I followed.

  Logan disappeared inside the stable, and almost immediately I heard him yell.

  “Dem! Stay out! It’s a ravager!”

  Terror rooted me to the ground for a horrible moment. A ravager? How? We were supposed to be safe! Far out to sea. How could...

  “The Mary-Angela,” I whispered, dread coating my words. The current had taken her far out to sea, too. Damn the Regent for forcing those fishing vessels out!

  Logan ran full out from the stable, the ravager hard on his heels. The horse kicked the stable wall again.

  Stupidly, I stood there watching for precious seconds as the ravager gained on Logan. When Logan tripped and sprawled onto the dirt, something inside me came to life.

  “Hey, asshole!” I screamed at the eyeless monster. It turned its head in my direction, tongue flickering past sharp fangs. Logan was closer, but the ravager took a step in my direction. Logan huddled low to the ground, his face a rictus of terror. He had no magic to fight ravagers. His magic needed the cooperation of the ocean.

  I lobbed a fireball at the monster when he took two more steps in my direction, and he exploded in a shrieking burst of flame. Logan rolled away to avoid being trampled as the ravager tried to outrun the fire consuming it. A few feet from the trees, it abruptly dropped and melted into bubbling goo.

  “Demetria!” Logan stared at me, his eyes full of horror.

  “It’s okay, Logan.” I took a step toward him. “I killed it.”

  Logan opened his mouth and croaked, “Run!”

  I swung halfway around to see what was behind me, and someone’s fist connected with my jaw so hard I toppled to the ground in agony. The same person kicked me in the side, and I screamed.

  “Stop! Stop hurting her! Didn’t you just see what she did?” Logan shrieked. I turned my head toward him and saw two guards from Regiment Thirteen grab him. One held him while the other punched him in the face and then the stomach, again and again, until Logan lost consciousness.

  The guard who’d hit me, kicked me again, so hard I saw nothing but darkness interspersed with bright pinpricks of stars. I slit open my eyes to plead and saw the leering face of Colonel Murgatroyd.

  “Think you could come back and take over by bringing ravagers with you? Filthy witches! We’ve got you now!”

  I tried to tell him the ravagers were from the Mary-Angela, but he kicked me in the head and everything went black.

  ***

  “Logan?” I croaked. My head ached abominably. Where was I?

  “He’s not here,” Matilda told me, wringing out a wet cloth that she placed on my forehead. “The Regent has separated you so you won’t use magic on us.”

  “But the ravagers,” I whispered. I tried to sit up, and a wave of agony rolled over me. Matilda held a basin while I puked for what seemed like hours.

  “The colonel kicked you in the head.” She set aside the basin, her face grim. “I’m no healer, but I’m sure you must have a concussion.”

  “Logan,” I pleaded. “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Matilda said with such bluntness my heart stuttered in terror.

  “Let me up.” I tried to shove her aside, but she easily pushed me back against the pillows.

  “You rest. I’ll find out.” She edged toward the door, clutching the basin.

  “But the ravagers!”

  “The witches and soldiers are handling them. There’s been several deaths, but Colonel Murgatroyd feels confident they’ll be contained.”

  “Did he tell you I killed one at the stables? How contained is that? It means they made it to Regents Row.” I braced myself on one elbow, trying to ignore the way the world spun and dipped.

  Matilda blanched. “No. He told the Regent he found you both in the stable yard attempting to steal horses.”

  “Could he really have not seen the ravager?” Trying to cast my mind back to the moment the ravager melted hurt my head. The damn thing had made enough noise to wake the dead. So had the horse. Murgatroyd must know. Was he that stupid to believe I’d killed the only ravager that had made it off the beach and into Regents Row? The sheer arrogance of the man astounded me.

  “I’ll be back.” Matilda backed out of the door, drawing it shut. A key turned in the lock. As if that would stop me if I wanted to get out.

  I grimaced, holding my head with both hands. The problem was I couldn’t even get out of bed. Damn this pain. I’d never felt so weak and horrible in my life.

  Gasping, I fell back on the pillows. Futile tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

  The door almost immediately creaked back open. I glanced over, expecting to see Matilda, but it was Mother, dressed in a peach silk nightgown with a matching robe she clutched to her throat.

  “Mother?” Bewildered, yet overjoyed, I stared at her as she advanced toward the bed. Casting a furtive look at the door, she perched on the edge of the mattress and reached out a hand to stroke my aching forehead.

  “Dem,” she whispered, her brow furrowed with consternation and fear. “I can’t stay long. If we’re discovered together, you’ll suffer for it. And Chelsea.”

  “Chelsea’s safe. They’ve hidden her with the rest of Logan’s family,” I told her, wanting to see relief coast across her face, but her mouth remained pinched.

  “No one is safe on this island with that madman in charge,” she declared then gasped as if she’d committed treason. Biting her lip, she glanced back at the door. “I’ve got to go, but when I heard they’d brought you here, I had to come see you.” Her face softened as she stroked my face. “And tell you how proud I am of you for what you did for Galveteen.” Her eyes darkened. “I wish you’d stayed away. Please tell me you didn’t come back here to rescue me.”

  I opened my mouth to answer her, but the door opened before I could. Mother gasped, her face bleaching bone white.

  “It’s only me, but you’d better go.” Matilda looked at my mother with the same devotion she’d showed the Regent. For me, only a few days had passed, but I had to remember for them months had gone by. Mother had somehow won Matilda’s undying loyalty during that time.

  Mother pressed her lips to my forehead and glided away. Matilda watched her across the hall then turned back to me. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to get up and get dressed. The Regent wants to see you.”

  The world whited out for a terrible second. Terror speared me like a ravager’s claw. The Regent wanted to
see me. Was this code for I would walk into the room and be greeted by soldiers with drawn bayonets? I swallowed back bile, willing myself not to throw up. Othala curse it, if that happened, they’d better hope they struck fast because I was damned if I wouldn’t bring the house down around them defending myself. Witches protect, but did that mean they must stand still and allow themselves to be tortured and murdered?

  I looked helplessly at the nightgown enveloping my body. I didn’t want to die in my pajamas.

  “Please. Can you help me get dressed?” I asked Matilda, who nodded.

  My head throbbed alarmingly when I sat up in bed, but ignoring the pain, I pushed my way out of bed and across the wooden floor to where Matilda stood by the open armoire. The dresses Regina had given me still hung inside, and a lump of grief formed in my throat as I looked at them.

  I chose the evening gown I’d worn the first night I’d been brought to the mansion. Scarlet to bolster my flagging courage. If I was going to die in a few moments, I would die in a defiantly red dress.

  Matilda gently brushed my hair, and I tried not to cry out when the brush snagged, and a bolt of agony ripped across my skull. Instead of winding it up, Matilda left my hair down.

  “So your head won’t hurt worse,” she muttered, fussing with a few strands. “It’s beautiful hair. Putting it up would only hide it.”

  I examined myself in the mirror, wincing when I saw the purple-and-black bruise spreading across the left side of my temple. I had a matching, bigger bruise on my left side, and if I thought about it too much, it hurt to breathe. Buttoning the dress in back sent bolts of agony through my ribs. Some of them had to be cracked. For a moment I fantasized I was back by the carriage the day Murgatroyd had kicked Logan, and I’d nearly thrown a fireball at his smug face. In my dream, I threw it, and the colonel was consumed by righteous fire.

  “Can you walk in those heels?” Doubt creased Matilda’s dour face as she watched me hobble for the door. We’d chosen the lowest set of heels available, but they still wreaked havoc with my ribs.

  “I’m going to have to.”