The Unbreakable Curse

by Alexia Purdy

  “You think so? Do you know anything about celestial artifacts?” Thalia asked. The old man clearly knew more. He looked up at her before glancing at the locket again. He’d never let on that he knew she was immortal, though she’d suspected it. Now he’d confirmed it.

  “It’s a key, isn’t it? A key to Heaven? My mother used to tell me tales about an old locket forged by Gabriel himself, an archangel of God. It was made from magic and materials from a lost realm. He gave it to another unnamed celestial being who had to retrieve a soul from that realm. He used the key to enter a labyrinth and would have had to use it to return to Heaven, but he never did make it back, and the key was lost forever.”

  Thalia wasn’t sure how many more surprises she could take. How did he know all this? A story told to a human child held more answers about the key than anyone else had given her. It couldn’t be so simple.

  “You said your mother told you this story? Would you know where she heard it from?” she inquired, completely enraptured.

  Paul shook his head, looking grim as he grew uncomfortable under the questioning. She hoped he wasn’t going to bolt.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you much else. I just don’t know. Our family has served immortals of all kinds for centuries. Try as we must to avoid eavesdropping, stories do get through and are passed down. There is no origin to be found. They could just be stories, that’s all.”

  “Thank you for telling us about the stories, Paul,” Thalia said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He threw her a grin before giving her a nod. There was no way to repay him for taking care of her sanctuary in her absence, and she didn’t want to scare him off. Good help was hard to find. “Please let me know if you think of anything else that could be pertinent to these. I’d really appreciate it.”

  He nodded, pressing his mouth into a straight line. He wasn’t a very chatty old man, but that was what Thalia liked about the caretaker.

  “I want you to know you’re not the only one I work for. I do not trade secrets that are not mine to give. I can only say that I take care of the homes of a few other immortals, and they expect complete secrecy too. That’s why I came calling, to bring this bag of artifacts personally. No one else will be knowing about them at all, I guarantee it.”

  “Thank you, Paul. I appreciate your honesty and discretion. I’m relieved we’ll be safe here.”

  Thalia invited him into the dining room, offering him food and drink, which he accepted readily. He settled into one of the chairs, appearing tired. He had probably had a long day, checking on various properties. Knowing hers wasn’t the only immortal’s house around here made her uneasy, but at least the others also wanted privacy. This she could deal with as it came. She quickly offered Paul some coffee, which she needed herself.

  “Any clue to this locket’s origins will be quite helpful, if you find or hear anything else about it,” she added.

  He grunted a response, sipping his coffee. He shook his head and frowned as she took a seat at the table and dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. She began unwrapping some of the objects, which were wrapped in disintegrating butcher’s paper tied up with crumbling cotton string. Someone had painstakingly taken care of these things before storing them away. There were also a couple of books among the artifacts, which had been carefully wrapped in old, waterproofed leather. She wondered if her parents had hidden these objects, hoping she would acquire them in the future. Somehow, she doubted it.

  Like the locket, the artifacts all had markings on them, and as Thalia began to sift through them, she paused as a surge of memories from her childhood flowed through her. Confused, eyebrows pinched, her thoughts flew to the years she wished she’d never forgotten, back to a time when her parents were still alive. At least, the people she’d believed to be her parents. Leaning forward, she gripped onto the table, feeling her stomach lurch as her head spun.

  A metal ball on the table rolled toward the locket. Other pieces began to also slide toward the locket, snapping into place on each edge until a star shape had formed, magically fused together into one cohesive whole.

  Amazed and dizzy, Thalia wondered how it had triggered her memories. The pieces had all been created by the same person from the same place… another world. A world she couldn’t remember. How she knew this was astounding to her. She really was from that place, wasn’t she? Past the veil and into a labyrinthine world as beautiful as paradise in Heaven and as dangerous as the battle rings of Hell. A scene played in front of her eyes, like a film. A girl, tiny and frail, barely able to walk, slipping on a rock and caught by her father.

  “Thalia, now be careful.”

  “I’m tired,” she whined, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “I want to go home.”

  “It won’t be long now. Just stay close. We’ll be at our new home. I promise.”

  The terrain spanned out before her, rough with tall hedges formed into walls, turning randomly and creating dead-ends or longer passages. Each movement made her parents groan and grow more desperate. Beyond them were thick, walled-off areas holding smaller towns and gatherings of beings. But these areas were wastelands filled with darkness… suffering. Still, beyond them were red beacons lighting up the atmosphere like floodlights aimed at the dark, blackened sky.

  “Ah!” Thalia gripped her head, tensing in her chair.

  “Are you okay, Thalia?” Matt asked. Paul watched calmly as though he already knew what was going on, but he didn’t look one bit happy.

  What was this place she’d just envisioned? The beacons call to you. She’d never experienced such force of power before. Not from any immortals or archangels either. Nothing felt like that place where she had walked when she was but a small child. Was it the artifacts and locket evoking these visions? What did it mean?

  “These metals aren’t from our world. They’ll affect you since you’re the only one who can use their power. You’re from that realm, aren’t you?” Paul leaned forward, looking worried.

  She panted, still sweating as she regained her senses. “I don’t know. I think so, but I just can’t remember. It’s been so long since I was there.” Thalia squeezed her eyes, tears slipping past the slits.

  “You’ll remember. The closer you get to the realm, the more will come back to you.”

  How did he know this? Was he psychic? Gifted? A seer? Possibly. Some humans had their own powers, even with their fragile bodies and fleeting lifetimes. None of the immortals should ever underestimate a human. This one was a gold mine of information, yet one had to ask the right questions to get answers from any kind of seer.

  She yelped again and grasped her head once more.

  Return. The beacons call you home. Return.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Another scene… the veil, soft like gossamer, tightly woven together and tickling her nose as her mother held her. She molded her tiny body to her mother’s chest.

  “Mommy, I’m scared.”

  “Hold on tightly. We’re almost there.”

  A loud noise like tornado warnings filled the air, wailing against the wind whipping around them.

  The veil. It’s soft and hypnotizing. Her father beckons them forward, reaching out to press the key into Thalia’s hand.

  “Whatever happens, don’t let go of this, and don’t let go of us. We’re leaving.”

  Leaving from where? Where were they going?

  Thalia squeezed her eyes shut, but the vision faded and catapulted her back to the present, where Matt’s concerned eyes watched her carefully. Paul’s expression remained solemn, almost sad. She sat back, slumping in her chair and exhausted.

  After a few moments, she glanced at Paul, her eyes full and wide as she caught her breath. “These things… they belong to my family. But how did they get here? That place… my parents.” She swallowed. “Why would my family leave the Skein and bring artifacts from the labyrinth that open a gate to Heaven? Did they steal them? Why would they bring me here?”

  She looked up, glancing b
etween Paul and Matt but finding no answers. The answers were in her mind, and she’d known this for decades. If only she could pry more of them out. But she had one answer right now. As absurd as it sounded, she was from the Skein. She’d been born there, a place beyond the boundaries of Earth and far different from Heaven or Hell. A world of mazes and old magic.

  “Somehow,” Paul said, sighing as he rubbed his face, “your family brought you to Earth. And for a reason. You could be stuck here forever, never allowed into Heaven because you’re not of this world.” He blinked his milky, light blue eyes, so pale they looked like glass. “It calls you to return, doesn’t it? Maybe your family calls to you.”

  “But my parents died on Earth and went to Heaven. I was banished from that realm but not told why.” Thalia slammed a fist on the table, her frustration venting. “So that theory wouldn’t be possible.”

  Paul looked apprehensive. “I don’t know the whole story, but I suspect your parents were not who they said they were. They were human. Taken from Earth to the fourth realm, where they acquired you somehow. Then, for whatever reason, they brought you here, but you are not human. You are not their true daughter.”

  “What makes you think that’s what happened?” Matt asked, leaning forward, his fingers laced together so tightly that his knuckles shone white as marble.

  “From bits and pieces… flashes I can read from Thalia’s thoughts. I see flashes from these artifacts as well. I am what you’d call gifted, but things do not come in complete pictures. My family has long worked as caretakers for the immortals because we all have these gifts and are more comfortable among magical beings who do not judge us. Not angels. Not demons. Just immortals. From what I garner, your family was taken from Earth to work the land in the labyrinth. When they managed to find the key to leave the realm and return to Earth, they brought you back with them. They were accepted into Heaven because they were human, but you are not. You’re from the Skein Realm.

  “When your parents were killed, they’d earned their way into Heaven. I could be wrong, but I sense that you agree with me. How and why this happened, I don’t know, but take this into consideration: it means you must return to the Skein Realm to find out who you really are.”

  “Whoa, this is absurd!” Matt cried. “There is no way Thalia was born there.”

  Paul shot him an impatient glare, but Thalia remained silent, her eyes wide in thought as her mind picked over the old caretaker’s words. Fresh memories were emerging… memories of her journey across the veil. His theory was possible. It could explain why, in her memories, her parents always seemed odd to her, different in a way she couldn’t pinpoint. Could she be a long-lost child of the Skein Realm? Why would her parents take her from there? Who was she really?

  “This is crazy,” Thalia finally said. Her heart hammered in her chest as she snatched the star locket from the table. It was no heavier than before but three times as big. It hummed with magic beneath her fingertips, alive and pulsating. That was new.

  “Thanks for bringing these, Paul. They must be the clue I’m missing about the past. I’m sorry if we’ve insulted you in any way. We truly didn’t mean to. This is just a lot to take in, and I’m ill-equipped to handle such revelations.”

  Paul gave her a curt nod and stood up from the table, looking more tired than anything else. “I’ll take my leave now. I wasn’t going to bring these until tomorrow, but tonight I was hit with an urgent need to do so. I’m sorry I didn’t give them to you sooner. It couldn’t be helped. In my family, we take hunches and premonitions seriously. It’s what makes us so special to the people we serve. I hope you find more answers, but I will also leave you with something useful in the search for your origins.”

  Thalia glanced up, caught off guard by his unusual offer. “What do you mean?”

  “The name of another who might know more about things beyond the veil. His name is Theroniel, and he lives in the outskirts of St. George, Utah. He is a Fallen but was here on Earth long before the gates of Heaven shut. Go find him; he owns a vast homestead he’s been hiding on for ages now. When you see him, you’ll know why he prefers solitude, much like you. He has information that might be useful to you about the Skein, and”—he paused, directing a sympathetic look toward her—“I suggest you make your way there as soon as possible. Once things cool down, of course. Time is vital. Now, after centuries of calm, I fear a war is stewing. Good luck to the both of you.”

  Paul turned and walked over to the coat rack. “I’ll draw you a map to Theroniel’s house in the morning. Good night.” He slipped on his jacket before opening the front door, slipping out, and shutting it quietly behind him. Thalia marveled at all the secrets the mysterious caretaker had kept. Why hadn’t she thought to ask him about things before now? It might have saved her so much grief.

  No matter, she thought. The past was the past. Things were coming to a head, and she needed to be on top of this situation.

  “So.” Matt placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, seeing that she hadn’t been in a hurry to stand. The dizziness was gone, but the rush of memories had sucked the last of her energy away. She rolled them over and over across her mind. “This guy, Theroniel… what do you think he even knows? And what the heck is a Fallen?”

  “I don’t know who Theroniel is, but if Paul says we should pay him a visit, I’m going to trust him. He’s kept my sanctuary safe for decades. If that doesn’t prove his worth, then nothing else will.” She sighed, feeling exhausted after the long evening. “And a Fallen is an angel who gave up his wings and the paradise of Heaven for love of a human.”

  “Wow. That would be a tough decision to make.” Matt scratched his head before sliding his hand over the two-day-old stubble growing on his jaw. The scruff looked good on him. It matured his youthful, twenty-two-year old face. She resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers over the smooth, slightly prickly stubble.

  Speaking of love… get a grip on yourself, she scolded herself, swinging her gaze back toward the fire, the safest spot in the room. If she’d had wings and access to Heaven, she didn’t know if she’d give them up for love. But if the right person entered her life, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t be tempted… very tempted.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What the hell is in St. George, Utah, besides dozens of steeples?” Matt wrinkled his nose as he peered out the window of the rental car, counting yet another church building in the distance. Flying there from New York had been the faster option but getting through airport security without scrutiny had taken some charm. Luckily, Thalia had the exact magic for that. Spellcasting wasn’t her forte, but she’d learned a thing or two after years of operating covertly. What good was being immortal if you didn’t pick up a few tricks?

  The FBI or CIA would love her. The thought made her chuckle as she gripped the steering wheel, squinting at each passing road sign for the right turn off. St. George looked deceptively flat, but it was full of little hills and ditches in between the houses and churches. Once they passed the outskirts, the number of steeples lessened, but they had reminded her that religion was a man-made concept. Still, she knew to never get into an argument with anyone about religion; there were just too many subjective variations to win such disputes.

  “There!” She pointed and slowed down as a rural, unpaved road appeared suddenly off to the right. There was a steep incline past the gate, but it had to be the right homestead. The actual house was nowhere near the road, but she could see the tip of the pointed rooftop from the highway.

  Dirt spewed up behind the car as they turned onto the road. Thalia hoped this Theroniel would have some answers. Any information she’d acquired so far had only brought more questions. It made her head ache.

  “What if he can’t help us?” Matt asked as he flipped through a map of Utah he’d found in the glove compartment of the rented Accord. Thalia had used one of her many aliases to acquire it, one that had a steady job in Los Angeles as a waitress at an exquisite restaurant. She kn
ew the maître d’ there, who owed her his life. Anyone who followed up would learn that Tina Johnson did indeed work there and made excellent wages and tips. Never late and always courteous. The ideal worker.

  It wasn’t much, but the identity had saved her butt more times than she could count, especially when it came to credit or places to stay.

  “I don’t know. We’re back to square one then. Not much different from where we started, I guess. Only now….” She paused. Only now she’d have to go crawling back to Ereziel for any information he might know and had conveniently held back in past. She gripped the steering wheel more tightly as they approached the ranch home. They came to a stop, and a bellowing cloud of dust surrounded the car.

  As the cloud blew away, a man with a cowboy hat and a shotgun appeared on the porch, his weapon pointed at their car. They glanced at each other before turning back to the stranger.

  “You’re trespassing!” the man shouted. “Turn around and go before I’m forced to shoot you!” His voice was harsh, tense, unwelcoming. She didn’t know why she’d expected him to have wings; Fallen were the only kinds of angels without them. Even so, she could see his regal bearing, his proud stance. He kept his knees bent and his shoulders crouched just a bit, as though centuries without wings had not corrected his posture.

  “Is that the angel?” Matt whispered.

  “Not a true angel anymore. He’s a Fallen. He has no wings.” Thalia frowned, feeling for the handle of her angel-killer sword by her thigh. She didn’t keep it anywhere but at her side. She couldn’t count how many times she’d been attacked getting out of a car, and even a Fallen had superhuman strength and abilities. The only thing that made them stand apart from other angels was the lack of wings.

  She knew more than anyone to never underestimate a Fallen. Her previous encounters with them told her they were almost always more dangerous than a winged angel. They were bitter. They’d each lost the mortal human lover they’d given up their wings for. Immortality was still their curse, except now they lived without wings.