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.”
