Chapter 9 #2
“What the hell were you thinking?” He rounds on Jared. “Trespassing? Trying to get pictures of her?” He runs his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Do you want to be labeled a sex offender for the rest of your life?”
“Dad,” Jared starts. “I wasn’t taking pictures of her!”
“Then what in the hell were you—we’ll talk about this at home. Did you tell Detective Bisset you’re sorry?” Richard shakes his head.
“Yes, I did. And I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” I say.
“Get up,” Richard orders Jared. “You have no idea how lucky you are she didn’t press charges or arrest you herself.”
I walk them to the door, mind made up about that stupid picnic. There’s no way in hell I’m going. My hand lands on the doorknob and I mentally reach out, seeing if the guys are still on the porch. They are, and I feel them before I see them.
“No!” Jared recoils. “No, no, no! They weren’t there a minute ago!”
Richard grabs Jared’s arm and gives him a swift jerk. “Not this again.”
“I’m not crazy, Dad!”
“In the car. Now,” Richard says through gritted teeth, making me feel bad for the kid. He’s not crazy, but what the fuck is anyone supposed to believe? Gargoyles don’t come to life and move around. Magic isn’t real. Anyone who says otherwise is crazy.
I believed it.
And now I’m living it.
Fuck, this sucks. Jared is an arrogant prick but he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a crazy person. He doesn’t need to be taken to therapy and prescribed drugs for a condition he doesn’t have.
Because magic is real. These gargoyles are actually men. And monsters do exist.
I don’t have time for this, and my brain is already fried. The only thing I need to worry about when it comes to Jared is keeping him the hell away from my house and yard.
I should have made the circle bigger. Crowding in the salt circle I made on the living room floor, I inhale deeply, trying to draw energy in around me. I’m sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, holding out my hands. Thomas links his fingers through mine and meets my gaze.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” I push my shoulders back, thinking I should have put my hair up into a bun or something.
There are white candles along the salt line, bringing in positive energy.
Or so the grimoire said. After going over the notes I made this morning with Jac, we decided a generic curse-breaking spell would be the best to try first. The spell works by banishing negative energy, which is used to send and create curses.
We’re sitting in a circle of salt for protection, have white candles all around us, and the mixture of herbs in the bowl near me will help vanquish negativity once they’re burned.
Jacques said there’s a note added in there that makes him believe this spell has been used many times for centuries by my ancestors.
Despite it all, I still have a hard time believing in this shit.
Millions of people light candles every day and they don’t do spells. Thousands burn stinky herbs, like the mix I have in a bowl next to us. And even more believe in positive energy, karma, and a higher power looking out for them.
But to me, this still feels like a joke.
I look into Thomas’s eyes. He was born over a thousand years ago and doesn’t look a day over thirty. He turns to stone when the sun rises. He has wings.
Magic is real. Obviously. So why is this so hard for me?
Gilbert and Jacques are behind me, watching.
Hasan is outside, keeping an eye out on the yard to make sure there aren’t any more interruptions tonight.
Having an audience behind me makes me nervous, and though Gil won’t admit it, I know he’s worried about his brother. Who the hell knows what could happen.
I get to work, still feeling like I’m a B-grade actress in a low-budget paranormal movie, and grab the bowl of herbs, taking a sage smudge stick from inside and lighting it. Once the smoke starts billowing, I waft it around Thomas and force myself to concentrate.
“Do you feel anything?” I ask him.
“I feel like coughing,” he replies with a smirk, turning his head away from the smoke.
“Glad this is working.”
“You have to power it, Acelina,” Jacques says, voice coming from behind me. “The curse is there, inside or around or maybe both. You need to reach in—metaphorically, of course—and feel it. Find out what powers it, and how to break it.”
Setting the smudge stick down, I take Thomas’s hand again and let my eyes fall shut. Once more, I’m painfully aware of everything I shouldn’t be thinking about, though this time, I’m able to push it away.
Focusing on the warmth of Thomas’s skin on mine, I listen to my heart beating. The thumping in my ears fades away, and another heartbeat starts to echo in the distance. I squeeze Thomas’s fingers, and his heartbeat grows louder and louder in my head.
Show me the curse. Something dark rushes out at me. Show me the curse. Red eyes peer out from the darkness. The sound of crickets surrounds me, and moonlight reflects off a still pond. Pain radiates through my entire body, and I’m cold.
Lifeless.
Dead.
I’m watching from above my body, looking down at my tattered dress pushed up around my waist, at the thick blood dripping from my mouth, and the bruises on my neck from being strangled. It’s like I’m looking into a mirror of death, but the body on the ground doesn’t belong to me.
It’s Braeya.
Shadows rush, cloaking me in darkness once again. Then someone screams. It’s a broken-hearted, defeated cry, and I once again get a flash from above. An older man scoops up Braeya, holding her close as he sobs.
Something falls out of her clutched hand, shining under the stars. Braeya’s father brushes her hair back, using his sleeve to wipe away the blood from her face. His tears fall, and darkness starts to swirl above us.
With trembling fingers, he picks up the shiny object, holding it up to the moonlight to see what it is.
My own heart skips a beat, and whispers of the curse circle me.
It’s covered in blood, but there’s no mistaking the object in Braeya’s hand.
It’s a crucifix, and there’s only one reason she’d have it.
Jacques.
I yank my hands out of Thomas’s and fall back, almost landing on a candle. Jacques catches me, moving the candle out of the way just in time. I push myself up, scrambling to my feet.
“Fucking hell,” Thomas mumbles, rubbing his forehead. “Did you see all that too?”
I nod and look at Jacques. Everything rushes back and things start to click into place.
Braeya and her father were trying to get inside information on the Templar Knights, and already had a chip on their shoulder—rightly so—for the Knights trying to force Christianity onto them.
But then Braeya realized Jacques wasn’t some crazy fanatical priest but really believed in making the world a better place.
Gilbert told me they saw each other after she lifted the spell.
Had she gone to him, taken his cross as a sign of peace, and was returning to her coven to tell them to lay off?
My heart is still racing. I rapidly blink, shredding the lingering emotions, and take in a deep breath.
“Did you love her?” I ask Jacques.
His dark eyes sadden and he looks away. He knows I’m talking about Braeya. “I don’t know.”
Usually his lack of actually answering would annoy me, but I believe him. He was spelled to think he was in love. He was kidnapped, tied up, and visions of love and happiness—even having his own family—were forced into his head. That would fuck anyone up.
“What the hell happened?” Gilbert asks, looking at each of us.
“I think Ace channeled something,” Thomas explains slowly. “And I saw it through her?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I think that’s right.”
“What did you see?” Gilbert’s on the edge of the couch, blue eyes wide.
Thomas looks at me, and then at Jacques, and I get it. He doesn’t want to speak of Braeya’s death in front of Jacques. Thomas looks Gilbert in the eyes, and something unspoken is said between them. Gil nods and leans back against the couch.
“I feel kind of sick,” I admit, and run my hand over my face. Thomas wraps his arm around my waist and leads me up the stairs. We’re both still unsettled, and I’m thankful for a moment alone to gather my thoughts.
“That was fucked up,” Thomas says when he closes my bedroom door. I sit on the bed, processing everything. “But now we know why we were blamed for her death. You don’t think—”
“No. He didn’t do it.” My heart starts to slow and I fall back against my pillows. “I’ve had dreams or visions or something,” I admit. “I’ve seen what she did to him. How much she got into his head. He wouldn’t hurt her.”
“This is fucked up,” he repeats, and lies down next to me. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” I turn my head, taking solace in his crystal-clear eyes. “I didn’t break the curse, but something happened. Honestly, I didn’t expect a damn thing to happen.”
“You’re so confident in everything but magic,” Thomas says, moving onto his side and shifting his wings underneath him. Hand landing on the curve of my hip, he gently kisses my neck. “You need to start believing. You have power inside of you, Ace.”
I cuddle up against him, snaking my arms around his shoulders, and find the comfort I’m looking for. His large body spoons around mine, making me feel safe and protected. Gently, he kisses the back of my neck.
“What you did might not have been what you hoped to do,” he whispers. “But it was amazing, Ace. You are amazing.”
My heart speeds up, and tears bite the corners of my eyes. I feel so much for him right now, and it’s more than physical. I’ve offered my heart to him, and though it’s battered and bruised, he took it willingly, never blinking an eye at the mistakes I’ve made.
He likes me for me, and as lame as it sounds, I’ve never had this before. Not with friendships. Not with relationships. The bond I have with Thomas borders both: he’s my friend as much as he is my lover, and I never feel like I have to hide anything from him.