Page 19 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)

The morning light filtering through the hefty curtains in my study is muted, the way I strongly prefer it. It’s been many years since sunlight posed a threat, but old habits die hard. Or perhaps it’s the weight of last night that presses on me more than the pull of daylight.

Sylvie.

I’ve met countless humans over my nearly two centuries, in passing and students, but none have unsettled me the way she does. Although, I suppose human isn’t the best word for her. Especially now that she knows what she is and she’s coming into her abilities.

I’ve seen her before, held her before, loved her before—in another lifetime—but this iteration of her—naive, determined, and wholly unprepared for the darkness she’s walking into—cuts deeper than I care to admit. Last night…

I grip the edge of my desk, steadying myself as the memory resurfaces. She had no business being in my home, no right to intrude where she didn’t belong—we agreed on her coming in the morning. She’s defiant. She’s seeking answers, and I suppose I cannot blame her. In fact, I am somewhat pleased I now know how she reacts to me—much in the same way that I react to her.

How I’ve always reacted to her, even to her memory while apart.

There she was, standing at the threshold of my library, watching with wide, innocent, dark eyes as I indulged in a moment of much-needed primal release with an old friend. The scent of her needy arousal hit me like a drug—heady and sweet, so fucking sweet, tangling with the lingering taste of Vivienne’s blood still on my tongue. It took every shred of control not to pull Sylvie into the fray, to claim her in ways that would damn us both. To finally claim what has been mine for centuries, though she has no idea of it.

To have my feral, animalistic, naturalistic way with her.

But I couldn’t.

And I am utterly thankful for my restraint.

She’s a virgin. Something I didn’t realize prior to last night—when her scent was lingering in the air—though, why would I know such an intimate detail about her? I don’t know her as I knew Seraphina, though sometimes I let the two women entangle in my mind, losing track of where Seraphina ends and Sylvie begins.

I exhale sharply, forcing the thoughts away. There’s no room for weakness now, not when the stakes are rising.

A knock echoes through the house. Not loud, but insistent. I already know who it is. Sylvie has a way of disrupting my solitude, her presence like a ghost I’ve tried—and failed—to outrun. I urged her to stay in one of my many guestrooms after our interaction in the early hours of the morning. I promised to be nothing but a gentleman. I didn’t think either of us were in the headspace to chat about her sister. We both needed sleep.

I open the door to find her standing there in the hallway, her expression a mixture of defiance and something fragile beneath the surface. She doesn’t wait for an invitation, brushing past me into the library, to the scene where last night unfolded. Her scent—a tantalizing blend of fear, determination, and the faintest trace of vanilla—lingers in her wake.

“I’m surprised you didn’t walk right in,” I say, closing the door with deliberate slowness.

“Can we talk about what I intended on talking about when coming over last night—this morning?” she asks, running her hands through her long, unbrushed hair. “I had a vision”—she blurts—“or maybe a dream”—her voice trembles slightly—“of Lara.”

Her words cut through the haze in my mind like a blade. I’ve been piecing together fragments of what the Solstice Society might be planning, but hearing that Sylvie’s had a vision brings the puzzle into sharper focus. Her powers are awakening.

“Come with me,” I say, leading her deeper into the library. She follows, her footsteps soft against the marble flooring. The room feels heavier this morning, the air charged with unspoken words.

I motion for her to sit, but she remains standing, arms crossed. Stubborn as ever.

“Did you sanitize that thing?” she asks, eyes wide, and I almost think I see a shred of jealousy, though I’m probably just imagining what I want to see.

Shrugging, I lead her to another sitting area, and she finally does as she’s told and sits.

“I suppose before we go further, I should instruct you to call me Lucian. You’ve seen me fucking a woman. We’re probably more on a first name basis now, don’t you agree?”

She swallows so hard it’s visible, and I’m amused her discomfort—only because of where it stems from.

Sylvie nods, and I give her a quick smile.

“Tell me what you saw in the vision,” I say, sitting across from her. My tone is measured, though inside, I’m already bracing for the worst.

Sylvie hesitates, then recounts the vision in painstaking detail. Her voice falters when she describes Lara suspended in the air, surrounded by glowing symbols and what I know to be whispers of ancient spells. The description sends a chill through me, though I don’t let it show; Sylvie doesn’t need to be further traumatized.

“Temporal suspension,” I say when she finishes. “A rare and dangerous form of magic. If what you saw is true, Lara isn’t dead. Not entirely.”

Sylvie’s eyes widen as shock crosses her delicate features.

“If I am correct, if you truly had a vision, your sister is in a state of limbo,” I explain, “a state between life and death. It’s a form of imprisonment, often used to preserve someone for a specific purpose.

“It makes sense now,” she says, and I wait as she pauses to collect her thoughts. “The authorities asked me to go into the station to talk more about Lara. I did, and I had a terrible feeling in my stomach throughout the entire conversation. It felt like they weren’t being honest with me. At the end of our conversation, I asked to see Lara’s body. With everything going on, people telling me various things, I just…I wanted to see her.”

I wondered when she was going to bring this up to me.

She continues as she shakes her head, “But, when I asked, I was told that her body went missing from the morgue, Lucian.”

I feign shock, although I was there for the entire conversation. I don’t want her knowing I followed her. It isn’t my goal to be deceitful, something just pulled me to her. I had to make sure she was safe.

“And you don’t buy it,” I say. “Your first instinct is to trust authorities because they should be in their roles for the right reasons. Not all are, Sylvie,” I tell her. I know I need to inform her that I believe one—or maybe even both—of the officers are working directly with Solstice, although it needs to be much more vague, because how could I know which officers she spoke to unless I invaded her privacy?

“It is possible that Solstice has some of the Blackthorne police force underneath their thumb. They have many people who seem ‘normal’ working with them.”

Her face pales, but her voice is steady as I cross to one of the shelves, pulling down a weathered tome. “So you do believe the vision could be true? That maybe the Solstice Society truly is behind this?” she asks, as I turn page after page, searching for what I know lies encompassed in these sheets.

I nod. “It’s likely. They’ve been known to dabble in dark arts with dark magic witches, because no true or good witch will associate with them, and they’ve shown an unhealthy interest in your family’s lineage. I could see them keeping your sister suspended while they figure out their next steps with you.”

I sense Sylvie deflate, and a similar sense of defeat settles in my own bones.

I find the section I’m looking for and scan the words.

“Your bloodline is unique,” I say. “Do you remember when we talked about the prophecy?” I ask in case I need to reiterate it. She’s been thrown so much information and so quickly. “Twins born into your family have always carried an even deeper connection to the supernatural. But you and Lara… you’re different. There’s a prophecy tied to your birth, one that speaks of a hunter born of twins who will tip the scales in the war between humans and vampires.”

“I remember,” she says. “How could I forget.”

I nod. “None of this makes you helpless, you know,” I say.

Her gaze snaps to mine, fire in her eyes. “I’ll decide what makes me helpless.”

A flicker of a smile tugs at my lips as I watch the woman in front of me grow stronger through her fear. Through everything trying to take her down. “Fair enough.”

As we sift through the texts, she finds a passage I hadn’t noticed before. It mentions a celestial event—an eclipse that aligns with the Solstice Society’s plans.

“If you’re serious about uncovering the truth, there’s something else you need to see,” I tell her, and my words, their cadence, come out darker than I intended.

I lead her to a hidden section of the library, where an ancient artifact lies encased in glass. The object—a pendant etched with symbols similar to those in her vision—pulses faintly with an otherworldly light.

“This belonged to Seraphina,” I say quietly. “The witch who created the vampire curse. This could be a valuable tool to you eventually, and I wanted you to know it’s here.”

Sylvie’s breath catches. “So Seraphina is the witch you told me about when you explained the vampire curse,” she says, connecting the dots. “Why do you have this?”

“Because I was there during the creation,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Because I am the first to be cursed. It started with Seraphina and me. I am the man who denied her in front of my father,” I tell her, watching as she realizes I am the man I told her about. That I am the one it all began with. “And because it’s tied to both of us in ways you can’t yet understand.”

Her eyes narrow, suspicion mingling with curiosity. “What are you hiding, Lucian?”

The sound of my name from her lips feels like an unknown heaven. I step closer, the burden of centuries pressing against my chest. “Everything you’ve ever known is about to change, Sylvie. And if we’re not careful, the world as you know it will burn to the ground.”

“I want to know more about her. More about Seraphina,” she says, and as much as I don’t want to talk about that time in my life, I do believe she is owed answers.

I sigh and take her hands in my own. “Seraphina and I had a love affair that was not meant to be, according to my powerful family. Her family were direct descendants of the original witches, and mine were nobles who hired them to be our healers, among conducting other duties for us. My father regarded her as the help, and he’d caught me being slightly”—I search my mind for the correct word—“infatuated with her. She and I became pregnant and reality hit me. I knew when my father found out, if I did not deny her in front of him, she and the baby would be killed. And I would suffer a grim fate as well. But to me, it was always more about her. About the child we created.”

Sylvie stares at me, her eyes and features displaying a mixture of shock and confusion as she nods. “So you did? You refused her?”

“I did. It was to protect both of us—and our child—but it hurt her in ways she never recovered from. She and I had one more meeting after my father caught us together, and then I never allowed myself to see her again.”

A long stretch of silence fills the room, and it nearly suffocates me, just as it did all those years ago. The regret warring with the love I had for the woman. Sylvie doesn’t push for more details about Seraphina, and I don’t give them freely, as it still feels like a fresh wound, even after all the time that’s passed. I watch her as she digests what I’ve told her and seemingly moves on, but I’m sure there will be more questions eventually—once she processes.

She admires the artifact and allows the soft hum of the overhead lights to fill the silence between us as I move back toward the tome to give her space.

After a few more long, drawn out moments, Sylvie finally says, “There’s one more thing.”

I can’t quite place the way it makes me feel. I nod, as if to persuade her to continue. “I had a strange vision with you in it, too.”

“Do tell, Sylvie,” I say, knowing this would come eventually, because as much as she may not want to be, at least right now, she is drawn to me. We’re connected. And it’s not something she can run from.

“If you believe that my vision of Lara is truly just that—a vision—last night, after you showed me to my room, I saw something else, too.”

I close the tome in front of me and erase the distance that separates the two of us, unaware of what she’s getting at but feeling a distinct need to be closer to her.

“I think I saw the night you became a vampire. Maybe. The night you were cursed by the original witch. And it might have been a silly dream, but I need to know. Because if what I saw is correct, and I really am capable of these visions , then I have to have hope Lara really is suspended somewhere in time and not dead. That’s what it could mean, right? That these truly are visions…”

I take in a deep breath as she continues to prattle on about the potential vision. I don’t want Sylvie to see me in that state. If she’s seeing me acting on my newly developed disease, the night Sera condemned me to this hell, it won’t be pretty.

When she finally tells me of it—of the moon, the way it hung low in the sky when she closed her eyelids, and of the clearing in which I stood and begged Seraphina to spare me…I know she’s experiencing her abilities. Not silly dreams, as she suggested.

“Seraphina, the one who cursed you…in my vision it was me. She was me. I mean, I looked different in many ways—the way I dressed, how I styled my hair— but I was her. We were one and the same. Down to the coloring of our eyes and hair, to our bone structure. It felt so real…” She trails off, her eyes seeming somewhere so far away, as if she’s recalling the vision. “Why was I putting myself in place of the witch? Does that mean anything?” she asks, and I long to tell her the truth.

But I truly fear it might break her before she has the chance to save her sister—and herself.