Page 20 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

It was useless.

I’d tried everything I could to banish Avril from my mind—I’d even gone as far as to seek out spells to try to dampen my obsessions… but everything I tried only increased my longing for her.

Ridiculous.

Childish.

Weak.

Thoughts of her gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, an unsettling itch that refused to be scratched.

Memories of her body—the way she had submitted to me… to us. They interrupted my thoughts at the most inopportune moments.

But it wasn’t just her body, or the thought of possessing her completely— Now that she had the grimoire, everything had changed.

The grimoire was the key to unlocking deeper, darker magic than she had ever encountered before. Its power had driven some of the most pious Sages in Messan’s history insane and it had become a relic of the Necromi faction because of that legacy.

Someone like her—a witch in possession of pale and inconsequential magic—should never have come into contact with it.

It should have swallowed her whole.

Bastian should never have shown her how to open it.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep this up,” Valen’s voice cut through the silence in the room.

“What?” I snarled.

“You’re pacing again.”

Leaning casually against the doorway, Valen ran his hands through his unruly hair and pulled it back from his forehead—he looked more like Lucian as the shadows revealed and defined the angles of his face. He hated it.

“I’m not pacing,” I retorted.

But I had been.

“What do you want?”

Valen entered the room slowly, and my lip curled as I noticed Bastian behind him.

“Both of you?”

“We’ve been thinking about something,” Bastian said, as he took a seat on one of the plush chairs. His curling blond hair fell into his eyes as he scanned the room. The corners of his lips curled into a smirk, but I detected the shadows of something else lurking beneath his charm.

“What?” I replied tersely.

“Something is… different. In the house,” Valen said. He took a seat opposite Bastian and put his boots onto the table between them.

Irritation crept over my shoulders.

Were they being purposefully vague? Or were they trying to antagonize me?

“I don’t have time for this—”

“It’s Avril,” Bastian blurted out.

“What about her?”

Valen chuckled, but the sound was flat. “He’s just upset he can’t watch her mirrors anymore.”

“That’s not—” Bastian started, but then he shook his head. “Fine— I can’t get into her mirrors.”

“She covered them again?” I snapped. “You’re such a child—”

“No— she didn’t cover them,” Bastian said evenly. “I… I can’t get in. Something is blocking me.”

Valen shifted in his chair. “Her dreams are cut off, too,” he said. “I haven’t been able to—”

My head fell back as I laughed and the sound echoed through the room. My brothers’ glares were sharp.

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Bastian demanded.

“You assholes— You’ve been stalking her this whole time,” I said. My amusement was bitter. “I thought I was the only one who was fighting it—”

“You?” Valen looked shocked. “I thought—”

Bastian turned in his chair and hooked his legs over the arm so he could lounge across it. “We’re all idiots,” he said with a wry laugh.

“Avril’s had the grimoire for a few weeks,” Valen said after a moment’s silence. “Do you think— do you think she’s used it?”

“Successfully? No,” I said flatly. “It’s impossible. She’s not strong enough. The spells are too advanced. They’re meant for people—”

“Like us?” Bastian suggested.

“Exactly.”

Valen’s fingers tapped on his thigh. “There are spells in there that she could use.”

Bastian’s head tilted. “Which ones?”

“Spells that would… ease her into the grimoire’s power.”

“You mean its control,” I snapped. “She wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that—”

“I don’t know,” Valen said. “There’s something… different—”

I rubbed a hand along my jaw. “You already said that.”

“I’m serious,” Valen protested. “When I saw her in the garden, there was something… different about her . Something darker. More chaotic.”

“Enough with the details, Valen,” Bastian cut in, his eyes glinting with an unfamiliar intensity. “This sounds more like one of your fantasies than reality. Did you show her your magic vines?”

Bastian’s mockery was pointed, and Valen’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve felt it too,” Valen shot back. He leaned forward to glare at our younger brother. “Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

I could almost taste the bitterness in the air as my two brothers locked gazes, and I wondered again why I was in this room, listening to their pathetic conjectures about our little witch.

“I couldn’t get into her dreams,” Valen repeated, and his gaze shifted toward me. “I’d say that sounds like reality.”

“So she’s learned a few protective spells from the grimoire,” I said dismissively, and then pointed at Bastian. “You shouldn’t have shown her how to open it.”

“Poor Titus, in denial,” Bastian crooned, as he kicked one foot lazily in the air. His smile was irritatingly smug. “It’s clear our sweet little bird isn’t as innocent as you think.”

My jaw tightened. “Enough.” The single word echoed around the room and they both fell silent.

In the silence that followed, something twisted inside me—an unfamiliar sensation that made me glance between my brothers suspiciously. The thought of Avril delving into the dark magic contained within the grimoire was unsettling—not because of the danger it posed to her, but for a different reason entirely.

If she had used the grimoire... I wasn’t sure how that made me feel.

“Should we talk to her?” Valen asked.

“About what?” Bastian asked. “I offered to help her—”

“So did I,” Valen cut in.

“So did I,” I said.

Valen and Bastian looked at me in surprise. “You did?” Bastian laughed. “We really are fucked.”

“Did she come to you?” I snapped.

Valen nodded, but his eyes were clouded. “At least— I think she did. She was wearing a black velvet dress with stars—”

“What happened?” Bastian pressed, as he leaned forward eagerly.

“I— I don’t remember. She came to the garage, and then… I don’t remember.”

Bastian let out a derisive noise. “Another one of your dreams— maybe a vision. You’ve been spending too much time with your poisonous flowers. They’re starting to fuck with your mind.”

Valen glared back at him, but didn’t respond.

But something about what he’d said tugged at one of my own memories. “She came to the library,” I said. “She wanted to talk about something— but I sent her away.”

Or had I?

The memory was shrouded in mist and shadow—and I couldn’t pick out anything else about that night.

I’d been in the library, and she had come to see me, to ask for my help— Or had I imagined it?

“Bad memories seem to be catching,” Bastian quipped.

“Are you saying we’re lying?” Valen growled.

I expected Bastian to have a retort ready, but he shook his head. “No. I— I found Avril walking in the hallways… she asked me for help with the grimoire.” His eyebrow rose lasciviously. “She was willing to trade anything for my help.”

I crossed my arms over my chest as I stared at him. “And?”

“And I remember walking up the stairs to her room, and then— shadows. I woke up in my bed with the worst headache… like I’d been on a three-day bender.”

Valen chuckled.

“What?” Bastian snarled.

Valen smirked. “A girl who barely knows a hex from a charm has tricked us. Unbelievable.”

“Shut up, Valen,” Bastian hissed, his pale eyes icy.

I was tired of this back and forth. It was getting us nowhere.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Valen’s gaze flickered to me. “When I saw Avril in the garden, she was frightened— she had a vision. But she wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“It’s the grimoire,” Bastian said. “It gets into your head.”

The room fell silent as we each considered our encounters with Avril. There was a feeling of unease that lingered in the air, and it made my skin prickle.

The shadows in my memories were something I’d tried to ignore—every day seemed to blend into the next at Withermarsh.

But if we were all experiencing the same thing—

“We need to deal with this,” I concluded darkly. “If she’s tampered with any advanced spells in the grimoire...”

“She’d be inviting danger,” Bastian finished grimly.

“And not just to herself,” I added. Our magic had always ensured our supremacy in the city’s underbelly. But if Avril had somehow managed to tap into the grimoire’s power—

“We can’t afford to lose control,” I said.

“Of what?” Bastian snorted. “If she’s using the grimoire—”

“Don’t say it,” I warned.

But the thought had occurred to me, too. If she was already using the grimoire, there was no telling what might happen.

But I needed to know how .

How had she been able to decipher those pages? How had she been able to resist the grimoire’s dark power? It had been years since I’d bled onto those pages, and the damned thing still whispered in my mind.

I didn’t want to admit it, but the whispers had grown louder in the last few weeks.

I thought I’d imagined it.

But if Avril was working spells without knowing what she was doing—

“Look, whatever she’s doing— we need to figure it out before she does something stupid.”

“Agreed,” Bastian said, and Valen nodded.

Before I could respond, a knock shook the room, and we immediately looked at the heavy oak door. It swung open slowly and revealed a servant who stood at the threshold.

“Master Lucian has summoned you,” the servant announced. His words sliced through the air with an authority that left no room for disobedience.

A silence blanketed the room, thick and suffocating.

Refusing an order from Lucian wasn’t possible.

We exchanged glances, but said nothing. Bastian let out a long breath. And then, with a nod, my younger brothers rose from their seats to follow the stone-faced servant down the hall toward our father’s study.

As we moved through the silent halls of Withermarsh, I couldn’t escape a sense of foreboding.

The heavy, dark door to Lucian’s study served as an imposing gateway into our father’s private world— It didn’t matter how many times I’d been summoned here. There was no way to know what to expect. Our father’s mood was unpredictable.

When I was younger, Lucian’s study had fascinated me. His study brimmed with relics, forbidden books, and other artifacts of our grim heritage. The stench of old magic was potent here, spiced with the undertone of a lacquer that had begun losing its battle against time long ago. There was something else, too. The faintest tang of dried blood—metallic and strange. Unnerving but powerful.

A reminder of how deadly Lucian could be when he wished.

When the servant opened the door, Lucian sat hunched over his ancient desk, which was littered with an assortment of scrolls and aged texts. The glowing red orb that hovered above his shoulder swirled with blood-tinged mists and cast its macabre glow over the parchment under Lucian’s hands. His quill scratched over the surface of the page and I wondered—but only for a moment—whose death warrant he was signing.

“Come in,” he commanded without looking up.

The murmurs of the room faded as soon as we stepped in. Bastian fidgeted slightly, but Valen’s stance was firm. It reminded me uncomfortably that despite our power, despite everything we had accomplished in Messana’s murky underworld—Lucian still controlled everything. Even us.

Without preamble, Lucian set his quill into the ink well, leaned back in his leather chair, and tapped his fingers on the parchment in front of him.

“You will retrieve someone for me,” Lucian stated flatly.

“Who?” Bastian asked. Curiosity always outpaced his caution.

Lucian’s expression betrayed nothing.

I didn’t like it.

“My sons,” he began, “I trust you are aware of the growing unrest within Messana?”

Unrest? Why would there be any unrest?

“We hadn’t heard anything,” I replied.

“No matter,” Lucian said. “There’s a matter of utmost importance that requires your immediate attention.” He paused for a moment to look at each of us in turn. Valen shifted beside me, his fingers twitching at his sides, while Bastian leaned forward slightly.

“A member of the Sage’s council is to be brought to heel,” Lucian continued. “His influence has grown too potent, and he must be… reminded of his place.”

“Will he be expecting us?” I asked, unable to suppress the edge in my voice.

“Discretion is paramount,” Lucian replied as his gaze narrowed on me. “We cannot afford any missteps in this delicate situation. His estate will be well guarded— You’ll need to tread carefully, act swiftly, and leave no witnesses.”

A wicked smile spread over Bastian’s face. “Not expecting us,” he said.

I exchanged a glance with Valen. Concern furrowed his brow.

Why now?

What had changed?

Had we really been so distracted by Avril that we hadn’t noticed what was happening in our own city?

My father’s command had taken me by surprise. That never happened.

And even though my mind raced with possibilities, my gnawing sense of unease about Avril lurked at the edges of my thoughts.

“Bring him to me,” Lucian commanded.

“Of course, Father,” Bastian replied. “It’s been too long since you sent us into a Sage’s nest…”

“Discretion is paramount,” Lucian snapped. His pale gaze pierced through us. “Messana is crawling with rats who are loyal to the Council. We cannot afford errors.”

Valen spoke next, his voice low and steady. “What if he refuses, Father? What if he has protections in place?”

“Then you will break them,” Lucian replied, his tone flat and unyielding. “Your skills are sufficient. Do not let his defenses lull you into complacency. And remember: failure is not an option.”

The weight of his ultimatum settled over my shoulders.

“Understood,” I said finally, forcing the words past my lips as tension coiled tighter around my throat.

Valen nodded, as did Bastian, and I could see the eagerness in my youngest brother’s eyes.

He was always hungry to flex his dark powers—especially where the Sages were concerned.

“We won’t disappoint you,” Bastian said. “He’ll never see us coming.”

“Good,” Lucian said in a voice that was full of dark satisfaction. “It must be done before dawn. Prepare yourselves accordingly.”

He rested his elbows on his desk, fingers steepled in front of him. The ominous red glow of the orb at his shoulder painted his moonlit hair a sickening shade of crimson and deepened the hollows in his angular face.

I approached the desk and held out my hand for our instructions.

Lucian’s gaze held mine for a moment before he selected one of the parchment scrolls on his desk and set it into my hand.

A fat, black wax seal, marked with the Romano seal, was affixed to the scroll. An official command. I snapped it with my thumb and unrolled the parchment.

“It contains all necessary information for your mission,” Lucian said, not bothering to elaborate further. The stoic line of his mouth didn’t waver as he added, “Remember, we do not exist in the mercy of time. This task has the utmost priority over everything else.”

I nodded, re-rolled the parchment, and tucked it into my jacket pocket. Everything from a target’s name to their preferred breakfast was likely inked on that page with sharp precision.

Valen’s dark eyes narrowed minutely as he watched me put away the parchment. His swift shifts from brotherly camaraderie to calculating wariness were unnerving, but I knew I could count on him when it mattered.

Bastian was already turning on his heel, moving towards the exit of the study. His steps were quick and light, not his usual careless saunter. There was an eagerness in his pace that left tendrils of unease curling in my gut.

Valen and I followed Bastian’s lead, and the door swung closed behind us and the ominous thud of it echoed through the hallway as we strode toward the foyer.

“Are the bikes ready?” Bastian asked, without looking back over his shoulder.

“Of course they are.” Valen clearly wasn’t in the mood for whatever Bastian was trying to do.

But Bastian laughed. “Don’t get pissy, I’m just asking.”

“When have the bikes not been ready?” Valen growled.

We didn’t have time for this. “Shut up, both of you.”

Bastian chuckled as he flicked his wrist and gestured toward the front door. It swung open without hesitation and we stepped out of the house and into the gathering darkness. Clouds swirled over the estate and hid the colors of the sunset, but that wasn’t new.

It was always dark here.

Lucian liked it that way.

At least it wasn’t raining.

As promised, the bikes were ready—tuned and gleaming—Valen spent all his time in the garage for a reason.

I gathered my belongings with a mechanical precision. Each item I tucked away into my bag had a purpose—we would need more than magic to bind a Sage… especially a member of the Council.

I glanced at Valen and Bastian as they moved around their bikes with their own deliberate motions, but there was an unspoken current flowing between us.

“What do you think Avril’s doing?” Bastian asked.

I glanced at him and caught his sharpened grin.

“We can’t afford distractions,” I snapped.

Bastian’s laughter echoed off the high ceiling.

Valen rolled his eyes and came closer. “Are you taking an SUV?”

I nodded.

“What’s in the scroll?”

I had barely scanned it when I’d taken it from Lucian’s hand. I pulled it from my pocket and handed it to Valen. He unrolled it quickly and a thoughtful frown etched his features. As always, I could assume that the details of our mission would be outlined in Lucian’s secretary’s familiar shorthand.

Valen turned the parchment over. The map of the Sage’s mansion was sketched there with careful precision and marked with numerous points of attention and caution.

Nothing left to chance.

“It’ll be heavily fortified,” Valen murmured as he traced a finger along the outline of the estate’s boundaries.

“They always are,” I responded simply.

“Sounds fun,” Bastian said with a wicked grin. He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

As much as I tried to ignore it, Bastian’s delight at our dangerous assignment was infectious. We’d done this countless times before without any trouble. Tonight wouldn’t be any different.

I snatched the parchment out of Valen’s fingers and tucked it back into my pocket. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Ready?” Valen asked, though it sounded more like a command than a question.

“Always,” Bastian replied. “It’s been too long since Lucian sent us out to do anything meaningful.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Valen strode across the garage and slapped the door control.

As it slid upward, I ran my hands through my hair and then picked up my bag.

“Grab the keys,” I ordered Bastian. My voice cut through the silence as I scanned the darkness beyond the estate’s walls.

Valen lingered at the edge of the door for a moment, and his gaze lingered on the trees that lined the property. Their branches clawed at the sky like skeletal fingers.

“What?” I barked.

Valen shrugged. “Do you ever wonder if there’s anything in the woods?” he asked. His tone was strange, almost playful—

What the fuck was he doing?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. The edge of my irritation was sharper than I intended. I’d told him stories about monsters in the woods to scare him when he was young—but I’d never really been sure that it wasn’t true. “Get your shit together. We only have until dawn.”

With a grunt, Bastian returned and tossed the SUV’s keys to me with a flick of his wrist. I caught them mid-air and the metallic jangle echoed in the garage.

“Let’s make this quick,” I said, my tone clipped as I gestured toward the vehicles parked beneath the overhanging eaves. Each motorcycle gleamed under the overhead lights, sleek and powerful. My SUV sat nearby, dark and brooding. I would have preferred to take my bike, but we were going to be transporting cargo—and I needed the space.

Valen shook off whatever had come over him and he strode toward his bike. “Right behind you.”

Bastian’s motorcycle roared to life first, and the sound echoed against the stone walls of the estate. Valen kicked his bike into gear, and the growl of the engine vibrated the air around us. I threw my bag into the back and slid into the SUV’s driver’s seat and set my hands on the wheel.

As we pulled out onto the winding road, the estate fell behind us and my grip tightened on the steering wheel as we passed through the ward barrier Lucian had set over the Withermarsh’s boundaries.

The motorcycles roared as they put on speed and flanked me. My brothers knew what they were doing.

I didn’t always trust them—especially when it came to Avril—but I could trust them with this.

They knew what awaited them if we failed.