Marked
The library swallows me whole.
I have spent hours here. Days. The shadows bring me food and wine, and I consume them without tasting, my eyes never leaving the pages spread across the massive oak table.
Books surround me in towering stacks, their spines cracked with age, their pages yellowed and brittle.
I have read about curses and bindings, about demonology and blood magic, about the nature of darkness and the power of ancient oaths.
Nothing.
Nothing in any of these texts offers a solution. Nothing explains how to break a curse that has held a three-thousand-year-old vampire-demon trapped in a portrait for two centuries.
I slam another book shut, frustration burning in my chest. Dust motes dance in the shaft of light that cuts through the library window. Outside, the sun climbs higher, and I realize with a jolt that I have been here since dawn.
Today is the last day.
My period ended yesterday. The bleeding stopped.
The heat has faded. There is no reason for me to remain in this tower any longer.
Lady Vesper will come this afternoon to escort me back to the manor.
Back to the other girls. Back to the nightmare of the Crimson Order.
I have money enough to run away and I will never see Blake again.
I press my palms to my eyes, willing the tears away. Last night, he held me in his arms, his body cold and solid against mine. We made love in the ancient bed, the shadows curling around us like a living blanket.
He whispered my name like a prayer, and I felt a current snap through my veins—a wildfire that recognized its own kin.
I can’t leave him. I will not. But I do not have a choice…
Or do I?
The thought strikes me like lightning. My hands drop from my face, and I stare at the books around me.
I have been looking for answers in the wrong places.
The texts are filled with spells and rituals, with complicated incantations and impossible requirements.
None of them apply to Blake. None of them can break his curse.
But what if the answer is simpler?
What if love is what breaks the curse?
It is a foolish idea. Childish. The stuff of fairy tales and bedtime stories. True love’s kiss breaking the evil spell.
And yet.
I think of Blake. Of the way he looked at me when he confessed his love. Of the way he held me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
He loves me. I love him. If that means anything—if love has any power in this world of shadows and monsters—then perhaps it is enough.
I grab one of the books I discarded earlier. A thin volume with a cracked leather cover, its pages filled with instructions for mirror magic. The spell is simple, requires blood and the spoken truth of the heart, repeated three times before the portrait.
I tuck the book into my bodice and stand. My legs are stiff from hours of sitting. My back aches. But I feel lighter than I have in days because I finally have a plan.
I find the clean Crimson Order uniform that the shadows brought me days ago. It is still folded where they left it, pressed and pristine. I dress quickly, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. The fabric feels rough against my skin after the silks of the tower, but I don’t care.
I slip through the secret passages that Blake showed me, moving carefully through the narrow corridors. The air grows warmer as I descend. I emerge into the main part of the tower, where the other girls are gathered in the common room.
They look up as I enter, their eyes widening. Jenny rises from her seat, crossing to me with concern etched on her face.
“Lucy,” she says. “We have been so worried about you. You have been up there for days. We barely saw you.”
I force a smile. “I needed rest. The wound…It took longer to heal than I expected.”
She studies my face, her eyes narrowing. I’m a terrible liar. I know this. But she seems to accept my answer, nodding slowly.
“My isolation period is ending,” I say. “Lady Vesper should be here soon to collect a few of us.”
“I know.” I clasp my hands behind my back, trying to look calm. “I’m ready.”
Ready to leave. Ready to sneak away from the group. Ready to find the portrait office and break the curse.
The minutes crawl by. I sit among the girls, listening to their chatter, offering the occasional nod or murmur of agreement. My mind is elsewhere—racing through the plan, rehearsing the words of the spell, imagining Blake’s face when I free him.
Lady Vesper arrives. The old woman moves through the tower with surprising grace, her gray hair pinned tight, sharp eyes assessing each of us in turn.
She stops before me, her gaze trailing the violet blooms on my neck, my arms, my thighs. Mapping every bruise Blake left like constellations.
“You’re marked,” she observes. “The Order doesn’t t like marks on their pets.”
She leans closer, whispering for my ears only. “Hide them. Long sleeves. Pantyhose. Face powder on the neck. We will speak after, and I promise you, it will not be pleasant.”
I drop my gaze, suppressing the protest clawing up my chest. “Yes. Lady Vesper.” Then she announces to all: “Come. It is time to return to the manor.”
Four other girls rise. I follow at the back of the group, my heart pounding. This is my chance. My only chance.
We pass through the main hall, into the corridor that leads toward the girls’ wing. The servants are preparing for the evening meal. No one notices as I slow my pace, letting the distance between me and the others grow.
Jenny glances back, a question in her eyes. I shake my head slightly, and she turns away, accepting my request to stay quiet.
I slip into a side corridor. Then another. The manor is a labyrinth, but I have a map a page i ripped of from a book.
I find the door. My hand trembles as I push it open.