A Curse Unbroken
Page 63

The scent of sex and chocolate collided with that of water crashing over stones. Misha had arrived and he was pissed. He attacked Aric, forcing him into a burning wall and pummeling him in a blur of fists.
Fire engulfed vampires like a match to rice paper, but Misha was a master. The fire caught on the fabric of his suit but dissolved when it reached his flesh. I tried to stand, only to crumple and dig the knife in my thigh deeper into my femur. I screamed for Misha to stop. He ignored me and continued to unleash his wrath.
Aric, while injured, was a Herculean Alpha male. It didn’t take long for him to fight back despite his crippling injuries. The strikes and blows tolled like boulders against a cement bell– deep, hard thuds—stone against stone.
Martin and Makawee charged them. They would have been able to subdue Aric, but not Misha—especially when his remaining vampires left their own brawls to aid their master. Another wolf lunged at me, his open maw revealing his deadly fangs. Koda threw him to the ground by the throat.
They fought while I yanked the knife lodged in my thigh and used it to gut another charging wolf. Her intestines spilled out like wet noodles. I wasn’t trying to kill her, just subdue her enough to get away. I scrambled up to meet Taran face-to-face. I only wish it was really her.
I staggered back from the pressure of the magic she’d begun to build when Genevieve bellowed, “Basta, smetti!”
An eruption of gold-colored magic flung us across the room, extinguishing the flames eating their way through the building. Instead of lessening now that the fire was contained, the chaos only soared.
Aric and Misha continued to throw down and so did their kind. I tried to stand, only to slip in a pool of my blood. Taran curled up into a fetal position, crying. I forced myself up on my arms and tried to raise my head when my arm was snatched out from under me and I was yanked into the air. I was suspended several feet from the floor by my wrist. The entity had claimed Emme once more.
She strolled toward me, smiling wickedly through Emme’s sweet face. “I like the way you scream,” it taunted.
My fingers were crushed, sending an electric charge of pain through me. I should have wailed, roared, something. But I couldn’t. A horrible numbness infected my body. I thought I was going into shock, but then images from my past shoved their way into my consciousness. Myriad versions of my dead parents crawled along the floor naked, reaching for me as blood and pus oozed from their mouths. “Celia, pretty Celia,” my mother cooed.
Everywhere I turned I saw them, their freak forms urging me to look at them, to see their suffering. The versions of my father wouldn’t speak. They mumbled incoherently, their dead eyes full of tears and their stark white hands batting at my feet. My body shook from my terror and another section of my arm was crushed while my zombie-like parents tugged on my legs, begging me to listen, to see them, to save them.
I was dying. And I no longer cared. Anything was better than this.
My vision began to fog when I caught Genevieve limping toward me. She leaned heavily on her long staff to support herself, her presence parting the sea of my dead parents’ forms. Her once beautiful milk-white skin blistered and swelled an angry red and her regal gown was nothing more than burned rags clinging to her body. The being infesting Emme turned to her and laughed. “Do you want to play, too, witch?” it asked.
Genevieve held nothing but focused fury. Her approach lured the creature’s interest away from me. I should have used the distraction to my advantage, but the continued whimpers and tugs from my parents kept me still and released my grief.
Emme took a step toward Genevieve, and that was when Genevieve demonstrated why she was Tahoe’s reigning head bitch. She raised the long staff above her head and slammed it into the floor. “Basta, demone. Basta!” she screamed.
A whirlpool of bright gold swirled from Genevieve’s staff, rippling out like water catching a skipping stone. The magic struck Emme, drawing an ear-piercing scream that crumbled the damaged fragments of wall.
I fell into Aric’s arms, his body saturated with his and Misha’s blood. The dark silhouette of Emme hovered above us, grumbling in fury. “Death,” it promised, pointing to my heart.
Aric’s chest rumbled against me. His growl matched those of the wolves and the hissing vampires who formed a protective arch around us. I would have liked to join their anger. I didn’t, choosing to burrow into my mate. With a thundering blast, the entity broke apart, dissipating in the air.
Aric rushed me outside onto the terrace. The cold air slapped at my skin and made everything hurt more than it already did. “Celia,” Aric said softly. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now.”
You’re not alone, those haunting voices said to me again.
I jumped, which caused the stabbing pain in my arm to soar. “Shit,” I muttered, bracing it closer to my body.
“Celia, try not to move, and let Emme heal you,” Aric said.
I nodded in Emme’s direction, although she seemed apprehensive about drawing near. “It’s all right, Emme. I know it wasn’t you.” My voice was unbelievably hoarse. Pain, torture, and dead parents begging you to help them could really screw with someone.
Aric’s hold strengthened as Emme realigned my bones and sealed my stab wounds. I thrashed, the agony of her mending almost as bad as the torment the entity inflicted. I slumped against Aric’s chest when she was done, breathing heavily.
Genevieve loomed over us, her voice weak. “Aric, is there any way this spirit has obtained a taste of Celia’s blood?” The color drained from his face. “Aric,” she insisted. “This is important. I need to know.”
He let out a pained breath. “It bit her when it was first inside of me.”
The only sound I could hear was that of my racing heart, trying to recover from the speed at which my sister healed me. Everyone waited in deafening silence for Genevieve to speak. “By ingesting her blood this dark creature has acquired a portion of Celia’s soul. With it, he can possess anyone she’s connected to—you, her sisters, and anyone in your Pack. He knows all her fears and all her secrets.” She sighed. “If he can’t kill her using one of you, he’ll drive her insane and force her to kill herself.”
I thought about what Genevieve said. The way I was feeling…it didn’t seem like insanity was too far away.
She edged away when Aric unleashed a deadly growl. “He won’t kill her. I’ll stop him.”