Serpent Cursed (Lost Souls Series Book 2)

by Bree Moore

  “Any last advice?” he said aloud, not sure if the voice would return or not.

  “Don’t fight it.”

  “Who are you?” Tyson managed to grunt past the exertion of holding himself up.

  “I am he who is in you. I am Nukilik.”

  Tyson’s muscles caved and he released his arms, thrusting them upward and dropping into the crevice. The grey light darkened and turned to a brilliant aqua color. Stalactites made of glittering white crystal hung like icicles from the ceiling of a deep underground cave Tyson plummeted past. Some instinct told him to straighten his legs and cross his arms over his chest, so he did, bracing for an impact.

  He struck ice-cold water and went fully under. A current swept him away, dragging him in the undertow. He fought the urge to struggle and try to swim, the words of his grandfather ringing in his ears. Don’t fight it.

  He rushed along with the current, toward whatever fate awaited him.

  ⇺ ⇻

  Chapter Sixteen

  Becca

  Becca dragged herself out of a stupor that coated her like a blanket. A thick, itchy blanket that she never wanted to wear again.

  It wasn’t a blanket, but a dress, made of animal skin pieces that scratched against her skin with every movement. She sat up from the ground and her head spun.

  “Who knocked me out that time?” she said crossly, holding her head in both hands. No one answered, and she realized she was alone. It didn’t last. A dark-haired, dark-skinned figure ducked through the hut entrance and smiled a familiar, alluring smile.

  Avaan.

  “Guilty,” he said, waving a sheepish hand. “But to be fair, you almost killed Quinn’s grandmother, so—”

  “What?” Becca shrieked and stood up.

  “Now, now, don’t excite yourself. Stress-induced transformation is something we want to avoid. I don’t want to put you under again. It’s such a shame. Even if you are lovely while you’re sleeping.” Avaan stroked the flute against his chest.

  “It was you?” She stepped closer, clenching her fists. “How come I don’t remember? What else did you make me forget?” She couldn’t remember another time she’d felt this furious.

  “It was the transformation, love.”

  Becca recoiled. “Don’t call me that.”

  Avaan reached for her, a concerned look creasing his face.

  “Don’t touch me, either. Where’s Quinn?”

  “With his sister.”

  Becca sat back down. She expected a bed, but realized before her behind hit the hard ground that there hadn’t been one. Just a bundled up coat on the packed dirt floor where she’d lain moments before. She sat in the prison-hut she’d shared with Avaan before. Or had she been returned to it?

  Avaan’s eyebrows drew together. He reached down to help her up, but she slapped his hands away.

  Becca put her hands over her eyes and rubbed them. “Let me get this straight. I transformed and tried to kill someone. Quinn’s grandmother? And you…you used that flute thing to what, subdue me? Put me to sleep? Who are you?”

  “I am Avaan Mansur. You might call me a snake charmer. We are the Muluk Altheaebin. For centuries my people bonded with the race of Lamia and made our armies, and our families, together. Now we can renew the traditions and powers we shared in the past.” He clasped his hands together over his chest, eyes wide and hopeful. Hopeful that she’d share his perspective? That she’d rejoice at the prospect of slavery, even if it did mean some sort of status or wealth in his culture?

  “You’re mad. I never wanted anything less than what you’ve suggested. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He froze, hands dropping, expression sinking. “You don’t have much choice. If you don’t stay with me, the serpent will consume you and you will die a violent death at the hands of your enemies.” He spat on the floor.

  Becca’s stomach clenched. She shook her head. “No, there’s another way. There has to be.”

  “He’s right, Becca.” Quinn’s voice floated across to her from the doorway, more subdued than she’d ever heard it. “More people will get hurt if we don’t… if you don’t listen to him.” His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to have trouble making eye contact.

  Becca pushed off her hands, getting to her feet and crossing the room. As she neared Quinn, however, he flinched away.

  “I see.” Becca tucked her matted hair behind one ear and clasped her hands together. “What does that mean for…” She stopped herself from finishing her sentence.

  “Becca, if things were different, if there was a way to fix…” He ran a hand through his long, beautifully dark hair in that frustrated way Becca had come to see as sexy. Now the sensation that pulsed through her was a heavy pain, like her heart was being squeezed. Whatever had happened, whatever she didn’t remember, it had changed things between them.

  “There has to be a way to break this curse. I mean, it was a mummy that gave me this stupid scratch,” She gestured to her scaled arm. She had a full sleeve of scales now, all the way up to her shoulder. “Mummies have curses, and curses can be broken.”

  “The gift of the Lamia is not a curse,” Avaan insisted. “There is nothing to break. You’re perfect.”

  Based on the wounded look in Quinn’s eyes, he didn’t see it that way. He would never see it that way.

  “I’m a monster,” Becca hissed. It startled her how snake-like the sound was. She bit her own tongue, to make sure it was human. The tang of blood coated her mouth. She swallowed and straightened the animal skin gown she wore. “I won’t stop until I find a cure, Quinn. You have to believe me.”

  He looked at her, the sadness in his brown eyes deepening the pain in Becca’s heart. “If anyone could find a cure, it would be you. But I can’t… I don’t think…”

  “You’re thinking of staying,” Becca realized out loud. “Aren’t you?”

  He sighed. “Not forever. But at first… probably.”

  “I guess having a half-snake girlfriend wouldn’t fly. Especially…” She swallowed hard and licked her lips. “Especially after what I almost did. Is your grandmother going to be okay?”

  “Avaan had a remedy. It seems to be working. We won’t know for sure until tomorrow when she wakes up.”

  Becca heard the unspoken or not. Her palms felt sweaty. She’d never been responsible for almost ending someone’s life. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said desperately.

  Quinn shook his head. “You couldn’t help it. That’s why you’re leaving with him.” He jutted his chin—that handsome, square jaw—toward Avaan.

  Avaan shouldered the duffle bag he arrived at the airport with and gestured to Becca. “Come. With me, you can learn of your abilities and thrive in a place with people who appreciate you for all that you are and will become.”

  “I—” Becca looked to Quinn, who nodded once, then glanced away.

  “He made a deal with the chief,” Quinn said. “You’re free to go. And I think you should.”

  “If that’s what you think.” Becca said haltingly, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. She took one step toward Avaan, and then another. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t want to die, which she surely would here at the hands of the raven tribe. But she didn’t want to leave Quinn, either.

  “You found Harper?” she asked.

  Again, that silent nod. Becca did her best to smile, emotion like a rock in her throat.

  “I’m glad for you. What about Tyson?”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “He wasn’t with her. She mentioned something about a bear-man cutting a hole in the sky and pushing Tyson into another dimension. I don’t know what that’s about, and we don’t know what’s become of him. I’m sorry I can’t give you better news.”

  “If…” She corrected herself. “When he shows up, could you tell him about me? And tell him hello for me, and that I’m sorry I couldn’t be here?” Her voice wavered and Becca had to shut her mouth tight and
breathe deeply to stay in control. She folded her arms tight over her chest, as if she could hold the bursting dam of emotion inside.

  Faint shouting came from outside. Quinn opened his mouth to reply to her, and then her brow creased. He darted out, and Avaan and Becca followed.

  A figure lay on the bank of the river running along the edge of the village. His nearly naked body shivered, only a scrap of filthy cloth at his waist.

  “Tyson!” Becca shrieked and ran to him. Half a dozen men with spears sprinted forward and surrounded her, blocking her path.

  “You don’t understand! He’s family. My cousin,” Becca insisted.

  “Let her through,” Quinn barked. The men exchanged confused looks, but parted, and Becca ran to Tyson’s side. His hair was damp and plastered against his face. Becca moved it aside, taking his face in her hands. His skin was like ice, but his chest rose and fell, so she didn’t need to try CPR. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake.

  “Tyson? If you can hear me, open your eyes. Do anything.” The stress of the past few days broke past the dam inside and tears flowed hot down her face.

  Quinn crouched beside her, examining Tyson. “He looks like he’s been through a lot.” He glanced at the women standing a short distance away, fishing baskets in their hands. “Did you pull him out?”

  They shook their heads. A younger girl spoke up, her wings trembling. “He climbed out and collapsed.”

  Tyson moaned and tried to sit up. Becca reached for him, supporting his arms. She sniffed, rubbing her tears off on one shoulder.

  “Wish I’d had a warning about that last drop,” Tyson muttered, holding his head in one hand. He stared at the ground. No, not the ground. Becca’s bare arm, coated with green scales. His eyes traveled up it to her face, and his wide eyes softened when he recognized her.

  “Becca. What happened?”

  She couldn’t stand that pitying look on his face. She ducked her head and picked at the hem of the dress. “You know how I always wanted to be able to shift forms?”

  “You wanted to be a werewolf. Or a bear,” Tyson said.

  “But I’m a snake. Or will be. Permanently. It’s not everything I imagined it would be. Apparently, ‘my kind’ has to be controlled, and there’s no fix. At least none that anyone here knows of.” She glared at Avaan. She wouldn’t put it past him to withhold that information. If it existed, she was determined to find it. A solution that wouldn’t have her enslaved to a charmer for the rest of her life, no matter how hot he was.

  “I keep telling her it isn’t a curse, but she won’t listen. This is how it has always been. Charmer and serpent.” Avaan gestured between himself and Becca. Tyson studied him, brow furrowed, but he didn’t seem angry. Finally, he nodded.

  “It makes sense. But Becca won’t go quietly to a fate like that, not if I know her.” He grinned and Becca’s mouth stretched into a smile. Just like Tyson to cheer her up. “Now, I’d like to see a man about some clothes.”

  Becca laughed and even Quinn smiled. He stood, but froze midway up. Becca turned her head to see what— or who—he was looking at.

  It was Harper.

  Harper gazed at Tyson, face an indecipherable mix of emotions. Her mouth pursed and twisted one moment, then her face gave way to a look of utter relief. Quinn quietly slipped away.

  Tyson grabbed Becca’s shoulder. “Help me stand.”

  Becca put her arm under his and they stood together. He released her after a moment and took a few steps forward. Becca expected a movie-style reunion, with running and crying. Her heart ached, even though she’d be happy for Tyson. But after a long pause, Harper folded her wings in and pushed back through the small crowd of villagers that had gathered.

  Tyson put a hand up to the back of his head and rubbed his hair. “Guess that was pretty awkward.”

  Quinn returned, looking back the way Harper had gone. “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing,” Tyson insisted. “She’s just being Harper.” He shrugged. Was that a blush? Becca thought she saw his cheeks redden, but it could have been the cold. The goosebumps on his arms and legs were ridiculous.

  “She’ll come around.” It seemed like a safe thing for Becca to say. “Probably overwhelmed.”

  Quinn eyed Tyson before handing him a set of clothes. “Might fit you. Wasn’t sure about your size.”

  Becca made eye contact with Quinn briefly before they both looked away.

  Quinn gestured for Tyson to follow him. “I’ll show you a place to change.”

  “Thanks.”

  As they left, the crowd’s murmurs turned from curiosity to dissension. A hand landed on Becca’s shoulder.

  “That’s our cue to go. Before this group turns into a mob,” Avaan murmured. He was probably right. But couldn’t she have more time with Tyson before they left? Tell him what was happening to her, get some of his amazing advice? Hear his story and how he ended up naked on a riverbank in Alaska at the exact place he needed to be?

  “I’m not ready to go.”

  “Sometimes you have to leave before you’re ready.”

  Becca hated his poetic words and his soft brown eyes and how everything that she wanted to like about him was all tainted with the knowledge that she didn’t have a choice. At least, not a reasonable one. Not one that wasn’t between slavery and death. But weren’t all great choices impossible ones?

  She squared her shoulders. “I’ll come with you on one condition: we search for a way to end this.”

  Avaan laughed. “We will waste precious time, risking capture and the erasure of who we are. Why fight this?” He lowered his voice and leaned in, the flute dangling out of his shirt. “I could tell from the time we met that you were drawn to me.” He raised his eyebrows. Becca felt like spitting.

  Becca eyed the flute. It was within reach. Her fingers twitched. “Being attracted to a handsome man isn’t the same as consenting to a lifetime of servitude.”

  He paused, and in that pause Becca took advantage of his proximity. She grabbed the flute, yanking the cord over Avaan’s head. He shouted and lunged at her, but she hissed, letting her fangs emerge. Her eyes flashed with thermal colors. The snake coiled itself inside of her, prepared to take over her body and strike, but somehow, she managed to remain in control.

  Avaan scrambled away from her, straightening his clothes. “Give that back,” he whispered loudly. Becca became aware that their spat was drawing attention from others. Good. She gripped the flute. It didn’t feel like anything special. No tingly magic or weird sensations came from the wood touching her skin. She pulled the cord over her own head and tucked the flute into her dress. “Now you can’t coerce me. Do we have a deal?”

  He pouted, which accentuated his handsome lips, but Becca did her best to ignore the twinge of attraction she felt. She tossed her hair and crossed her arms and waited.

  Avaan sighed. “Very well. But we will give it a month.”

  “Two months.”

  “Six weeks,” he said firmly. “Six weeks of my best efforts, using all of my knowledge.”

  “Can I read your notes?” Becca countered.

  “If you can read Arabic.”

  “Drat. You’ll have to read it to me, then.”

  He rolled his eyes and Becca nearly laughed at how ridiculous the expression looked on him. He gave her a pained look, but eventually held out his hand.

  “You have a deal.”

  Becca moved to take his hand, when a glimmer of silver light caught her attention. It hovered above Avaan’s left ear, and her jaw gaped open as it grew from the size of a quarter to that of a golf ball, and then a softball.

  “Well, will you shake or not?” Avaan asked, unaware of the disc of light hovering just beside him.

  “You should move,” Becca said.

  “Now look, I don’t have to obey your every whim. That’s not how—” He yelped as the disc grew to melon size and clipped his ear. It started to bleed, and he finally
noticed the light.

  Becca grabbed his arm and pulled him to her. Excitement built in her chest until it was full to bursting. It looked like a portal. Who or what would come through? Avaan tugged her out of the direct line of whatever would emerge. Becca watched, transfixed on the swirling light, which was now the size of a large vanity mirror.

  Shouts of surprise came from behind her. Villagers gathered around with rustling wings, spears and knives held ready. The chief appeared, his usually stoic expression wide-eyed and fearful. Becca thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “Now, what’s next?” And it nearly made her giggle.

  The portal was taller than a man now. A hand emerged—dark-skinned and covered with the most unusual tattoos. Dozens of eyes. The hand turned over and another joined it, and then a whole man stepped through, towering over them, a good six and half feet tall. He flashed a brilliant white smile at them all. Becca glanced around at the awed faces. How many of them had seen a man this dark? Or this tall? The eye tattoos, she noticed, covered all of his visible skin.

  “Hello, Tulukaruq tribe,” he said. “I am Hal. And I’m here to speak to all of you on a matter of importance.” His glittering eyes turned on Becca as the portal dimmed behind him. “Especially certain individuals among you.”

  She swallowed, apprehension rapidly replacing her excitement. What would he say? Where had he come from?

  The chief came forward, wings flared in challenge. “We are not interested in your politics or gimmicks. Leave us now, and we will allow you to leave in peace.”

  The man, Hal, tsked. “Surely you have an ear for a cause that interests us all. I talk of freedom. Of release from oppression. No more hiding, no more mere survival. And you have one among you, several in fact, that can lead us there. I must insist on speaking with them, although I have every ounce of respect for your desire for privacy. I will meet with them here, on the riverside. None of your people need to listen unless they wish to join us.” Hal held up a large brass coin between his fingers. Becca could make out a ‘V’ etched on the surface. It seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn’t recall why.