The Wanderer's Curse

Prologue

Riley

Five Years Ago

My head was cottony. Thoughts were abstract.

I couldn’t seem to remember the last few hours, except for the wine Mira had brought while I’d frantically racked my brain for a way out of drinking it.

The way she’d offered it had sent alarm bells ringing.

I knew no good would come from it. Never did.

It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d drugged me on her uncle’s behalf.

Why was I naked in my room in that godsforsaken house?

“Riley?” came my mom’s whispered call. “Riley, you need to wake up!” Her voice was more urgent this time.

Groggily, I got out of bed. “I’m coming, hold on.” My words came out as a croak, and a little loud considering the early hour.

We needed to be quiet, or our plan would fall to shit.

Hastily, I threw on some clothes and picked up the duffel bag in the back of the closet before tiptoeing across the room to where my mom waited at the door.

“I can’t come with you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I… I got him to agree to let you leave, though.” She was trembling. Her thin frame was wrapped in a robe, and her feet were bare. She truly wasn’t coming with me.

“Mom… we were supposed to leave together. That’s why I came back here!” I wanted to shake some sense into her. These last few months had been hard as I’d bargained with my stepfather for our freedom. It was supposed to be for all of us. Not just me.

Her tears fell unchecked. “If I don’t head back upstairs to him with the key in the next ten minutes, then the deal is off, Riley.”

“Why can’t we both go? We can meet Paxton—”

“No, I have to stay or we’ll all be trapped here. He’ll find your brother and…” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“The clock is ticking!” Boyce called from the top of the stairs. He sounded positively gleeful, as if he knew I wouldn’t be able to abandon my mom to him. Never had I hated him more.

I clasped her arm. “Mom!”

“No.” Though she trembled, I could see she was certain. She wasn’t coming with me. “I love you both so much. My boys are my reason for breathing.” She dropped her voice so low I could barely hear her. “Get out of here. I know you’ll free me. I can hold on. Just promise you’ll come back for me.”

The hope she still held was so fragile. I pulled her into my arms and spoke into her ear. “I swear on my life.”

When I pulled away, both of us were silently crying. It broke my heart to know I was leaving her behind with him.

Mom followed me to the door but hung back as I reached for the handle.

At the top of the stairs, I could see Boyce, my stepfather, his face in shadow.

The air bristled with magic, like it always did, though if my head had been clearer, if I’d been paying better attention, I would have caught the difference before the trap was sprung.

My fingers closed around the doorknob, a garish gold thing that practically dripped with dark magic. The moment my fingers connected, there was a flash of light, and a brand burned itself around my wrist.

Only years of living with Boyce stopped me from making a single sound. I gritted my teeth against the pain and held the doorknob tighter, forcing it to turn. The door slowly gave and swung inward, though whatever spell he’d worked didn’t want to let me go.

I took a single step over the threshold and was forced to my knees.

“You’ll have your time to wander, my pet. Then you’ll return to your home, with us.”

His scratchy voice sent a bolt of loathing through me. I wanted to shift, to bolt, but I didn’t want to give him any power over me. Without looking back, I took another step outside. I descended the steps and walked over the gravel driveway toward my beat?up old car.

It was only when I’d sat inside and turned the engine over that I let out a whimper and flexed my wrist, seeing the brand there.

I knew I couldn’t afford to linger, just in case Boyce changed his mind about letting me go, but once I got somewhere safe, I could work on finding allies and learning tricks to beat the bastard warlock.

The further I got away from the house of horrors I’d shared with my mom and stepfather, the lighter the hold on my wrist became until I forgot about it altogether.

Somewhere behind me, Boyce was probably laughing.

At first, everything felt normal. I traded my car in for a van with a trailer, something Boyce knew nothing about, just to make sure he couldn’t track me.

It hurt to leave the old girl behind, even if it was safer, but at least there was no trace of me owning either the new van or the trailer in any system.

I’d spent a fortune to ensure my digital footprint was gone.

Having the trailer was useful too, because it gave me somewhere to sleep.

Paxton had made sure it was covered in a bunch of wards to hide me on the road.

While I’d ditched my phone for a burner, I still checked in on Mom now and again.

We had code words and phrases only she would know.

It was the only way I could be certain it was her.

Still, to be safe, I didn’t tell her anything about where I’d gone or what I was doing.

Each SIM got snapped once it was used. I wouldn’t have put it past Boyce to threaten her into giving him information on me.

After the stunt he’d pulled with the door, I knew he wasn’t going to give me up easily.

Hiding magically was much, much harder.

Putting on a front was easy, but each time I tried to go near a witch, male or female, or any sort of magic user, my legs would shake and I often thought I was going to throw up.

Warlocks, even though they had the magic I really needed to beat one of their own, were an absolute no go.

I hated feeling weak, but I just couldn’t do it.

Maybe with a bit more time. Everything was just too fresh.

For a month, I thought I was fine. I’d put a lot of distance between me and Boyce. I’d even checked in on Paxton. Everything was going okay.

Until the curse hit.

The magic around my wrist lit up exactly twenty-eight days after I’d triggered the trap in Boyce’s house. It pulled at me until all I could think of was fleeing. I got behind the wheel of the van, and then woke up, van, trailer, and all my stuff, hundreds of miles in the wrong direction.

My stepfather was a talented, yet warped, warlock. He’d shackled me to him with the outward impression he’d set me free. I was far from free.

Every month I was forced to move on. If I wasn’t with my stuff at the time, it was gone for good. The only way to be sure I wouldn’t be pulled back toward him was to make sure I was moving when it hit. Even then it hurt like hell.

Weeks bled into months, which quickly turned into years. I grew stronger by growing colder. I knew I was nearing my breaking point, where I’d either return with my tail between my legs to my master, or find the courage to end him for good.

Greyhaven was my last stand.