Page 81 of Cursed


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“Silas and I are in charge of breaking the wards.” I took a fortifying breath. “If you can help the Rangers get people off this island as a precaution, that would be best. I’m sure you have strengths that could be useful.”

“She thinks I’ve got strengths.” Atlas winked playfully at his brother. “Hear that, Silas?”

I held my breath, a little worried this snipe would start a world war, but Silas just rolled his eyes.

“Your ability to Phase and...” I waved a hand. “Do Titan things surely can be put to use.”

“I’d like to help too,” Millie said. “I’ll go with you, Doc.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “I think you should stay with Atlas and help at the portal.”

“No, thanks.” Millie spoke simply, like I’d offered her ketchup and she preferred barbecue sauce. “I’d prefer to be with you.”

“It’s going to be dangerous, and it requires a certain form of magic.” I faced Millie. “If you really want to help, they’ll need all hands-on deck at the portal.”

Millie considered, gave a little huff. She looked at Silas. When he nodded, it was as if he were giving her permission to listen to me.

“All right,” she said finally. “Wherever you need me is where I’ll be.”

The four of us stood in a lopsided diamond, everyone completely still. Prolonging this single moment of normalcy before it was blown to bits—possibly literally.

“See you in the next one,” Atlas said finally, breaking the tense silence.

“Next what?” I asked.

“Life,” he said.

“I love your optimism,” I said.

“You can’t possibly think we’re going to survive this.” Atlas waved a hand. “The second you break the wards, the curse will attack this island, and you’ll be exposed. Y’allmight be able to Phase out, but everyone else will be left for dead.”

“We’re not Phasing anywhere until everyone is off this island,” Silas said in a gravelly tone. “We don’t run.”

“That’s why I said I’ll see you in the next one.” Atlas shrugged. “I’m not sticking around if it all goes to pot. I’m out of here the second the wards go down.”

“Trust me, I know.” Silas walked toward Atlas. “I never fooled myself into thinking you’d care about this place or the people on it.”

The two men stood next to one another like towering redwoods, limbs thick and muscled—one fair-haired and the other dark. One radiant light, the other shrouded in night. Blue eyes fixed on black ones.

Silas dropped his voice, muttered something I couldn’t hear to his brother.

“If you do nothing else for me in this life,” Silas said, louder, “promise me that.”

Atlas extended a hand, gave a solemn nod. “I promise you, brother.”

They shook hands, and then Silas whirled on a heel like he was embarrassed.

This was it. I could feel it in the air. The trepidation hanging around us like a train barreling toward a cliff and unable to stop. The flowers in the garden dipped and bobbed with nervous energy. The bees buzzed with extraurgency. The breeze curled around us as if holding us hostage.

My eyes smarted. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Millie, the woman who’d welcomed me like a friend I’d always dreamed of having. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Wisteria Cottage, a place I’d only called home for several days, but a place that had felt like more of a safe haven than any brownstone in New York. I didn’t even want to say goodbye to the golden-haired man with an eyewatering amount of confidence.

And I especially didn’t want to say goodbye to the thunderstorm raging next to me.

Silas grasped my hand, but before he could Phase us to the outer limits of The Isle, Millie threw her arms around me. She squeezed me to her chest, holding me tightly, whispering in my ear.

“We love you, Alessia.” The small, red-headed fairy pulled back, gave me a meaningful look. “Remember, this island loves you too. You belong here with us.”

I swallowed over a hard lump in my throat, unable to respond to such a simple yet vast kindness. This was the only thing I’d ever desired in my life. To be accepted and loved, to bask in such a plain and wonderful gift. It cost zero dollars and cents, required no promises or lavish extravagances. I only wished I had longer to savor it.