Page 23 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

I stood over the lifeless body of the Sage, but I wasn’t looking at him. I was staring at my own hands.

How had my magic failed?

Why?

The stench of spilled blood clung to the air like a sinister perfume and mingled with the scent of damp stone.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Lift him,” Titus commanded. His voice was cold and sharp—as chilling as Lucian’s—and it knocked me out of my trance.

There was no room for hesitation.

Bastian and I exchanged glances, but we bent in unison to grasp the corpse’s cold limbs. Together, we maneuvered the Elder’s corpse, lighter than I’d expected, back through the catacomb, up the stone stairs, and through the graveyard.

Titus strode ahead of us and opened the back of the SUV. He pulled a tarp from the bag he’d packed and spread it over the carpet.

“Hurry up,” he snapped.

Bastian grunted as he shifted the weight in his hands, his youthful face drawn tight with exertion. “Are you even lifting?” he grunted. “The old man was lighter in the catacombs.”

“Quit complaining,” I shot back. We heaved the corpse into the back of the SUV in an ungraceful tumble of limbs. Titus watched without lifting a finger to help.

“Why do we get stuck with all the hard work?” Bastian complained as he wiped his hands on his jeans. His pale eyes seemed paler in the early dawn light.

“What now?” I asked. “Are we just going to dump him at sea?”

“Do you have a better plan?” Titus snapped. He slammed the trunk closed, and the thud echoed through the graveyard.

Discomfort blossomed in my chest. “What if someone finds him?”

“They won’t,” Titus assured me, and a predator’s grin framed his words. “And if they do...well, let’s just say that a discovery such as a dead Elder washed up on shore would send quite a message.”

“We have enough eyes on the harbor,” Bastian sniffed. “No one will say anything. Besides, no one would believe it. The old man had enemies—”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked.

Bastian shrugged. “Like I give a shit.”

“We’re wasting time,” Titus growled. “Get on your bikes. Meet me at the harbor.”

I frowned at the dawn light. “We’re running out of time.”

Titus walked toward the front of the SUV. “Because you won’t shut up,” he said without looking back.

Bastian laughed and loped over to his motorcycle. He threw his leg over the black beast and grinned at me before shoving his helmet over his blond curls. I hated Titus for the way he insulted us—me, in particular—but he was right. We were short on time.

The engines of our motorcycles roared to life and shredded the silence of the graveyard. The SUV kicked up gravel as it accelerated out of the parking lot and I shoved my helmet down onto my head. I kicked off the pavement and revved hard, shooting ahead of Bastian, who cursed and gunned to keep up. Our convoy plummeted through the waking streets of Messana, and the shadow-lit cobblestones hummed under our wheels.

Bastian and I made it to the pier minutes behind Titus, but he was already out of the SUV and strode purposefully towards us. His icy eyes met mine. “Get the body,” he ordered.

With another round of shared glances, Bastian and I complied.

We hauled out the Elder’s corpse and followed Titus toward the pier.

Tall freighters loomed over us, waiting for their cargo to be loaded. Titus dropped a weight and some ropes onto the concrete docking and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s your job?” Bastian sneered. “Supervisor?”

Titus’ lip curled, and he bent to pick up the ropes. “I’m here to make sure you don’t just leave him on the beach.” He threw the ropes at me and I caught them awkwardly with one arm and Bastian let out a grunt as the dead man’s weight shifted.

“Hey!”

“Get to work,” Titus growled. “We don’t have much time.”

We fastened ropes around the body and secured the weight.

“Will it be enough?” I asked.

“Until the fish eat through his ankles and the body floats away,” Bastian grinned.

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

Titus wasn’t amused. “Get on with it.”

We lifted the body again and Titus uncrossed his arms and lifted one hand. He muttered the words of a spell that I’d heard before—a spell to hide the body, conceal it from outsiders, and wipe it clean of any evidence of our involvement.

As I watched, the pale green smoke of Titus’ magic trailed over the old man’s corpse and the wound in his throat closed over, leaving only the smear of dried blood behind. The salt water would wash that away soon enough.

“Drop him,” Titus grunted.

I glanced up at my elder brother and noticed the tightness of his jaw. Was he struggling with his magic, too?

Bastian lifted the old man’s feet in one hand and picked up the weight.

“Heave-ho,” he muttered.

The weight hit the water with a splash and we heaved the body out and released it. It flew a short distance through the air until the weight dragged it down.

The old man’s nightshirt billowed up, white and stark against the dark water.

“Oops,” Bastian laughed. “The poor fish will have to stare at his shrivelled cock—”

“Shut. Up,” I muttered.

Dried blood still marked our hands, and I dropped to one knee and dipped my hands in the water to wash them off. Bastian did the same, but this time he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

But not for long.

“So,” Bastian said in his deceptively playful tone as he clapped the water from his hands and stood. “Should we get breakfast?”

The suggestion was absurd given our recent deeds, but it was equally tempting to normalize the horrifying events of the last few hours. It almost amused me how easily Bastian was able to discard his actions to satisfy immediate pleasures.

“I could eat,” Titus said, equally unaffected.

Ghouls.

As we walked back to our bikes, I turned back toward the water. The harbor was just starting to hum with activity. Soon enough, it would be swarming with dockworkers, longshoremen, and cargo transfers. I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on the patch of water where the Elder had disappeared into the depths. A pale shadow seemed to linger there. Was the water deep enough to keep the body hidden? Messana’s harbor was deep, but was it deep enough to conceal what had been done?

How long would it be until news of the old man’s kidnapping swept through the streets?

Bastian had wanted to kill the Elder’s wife—perhaps we shouldn’t have left her alive.

I only hoped her fear of Lucian would keep her silent.

“Let’s leave,” I muttered and turned my back on the water. The unrepentant cheer in Bastian’s voice grated on my nerves.

“Where to then?” Bastian asked. Titus’s phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, but he ignored it.

“Far enough that we don’t arouse any suspicion,” Titus said.

“I know a place,” Bastian said eagerly. “They have key lime pie with meringue—”

I gritted my teeth as Titus nodded and his phone buzzed again. He pulled it from his pocket and strode toward the SUV to answer it.

“You’re in a bad mood,” Bastian sneered. “Lighten up.”

I pushed at his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

“Come on,” he cajoled. “You don’t need to be like that.”

The SUV’s engine revved.

“Titus doesn’t know where he’s going,” Bastian grumbled, and he turned for his bike. “He’s going to take us to a shit place with shit food—”

“Wait.” I grabbed his elbow and Bastian glared back at me.

“What?” he hissed.

“What about what the old man said?” I asked.

“What did he say?” Bastian snapped.

“About Avril—”

My younger brother’s pale eyes fell on the SUV.

Titus hadn’t left yet, but he would be eager to move on.

“What about her?”

Frustration set my teeth on edge. “You heard the old man,” I hissed. “He said that there was something about her— Something her father had done—”

Bastian’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t tell me you think he was telling the truth?”

I shrugged. “Who knows? He didn’t get to finish.”

“Dario Velez tried to kill our father,” Bastian snarled. “He attempted to overthrow his leadership and take control of the Necromi. He failed. And he paid for that betrayal with his miserable life. He’s probably at the bottom of the harbor with Craster—two cursed and rotted corpses keeping each other company. I’m sure they’ll have a lot to talk about.”

Bastian shook off my hand and walked toward his bike.

Questions churned in my mind.

Bastian’s dismissal didn’t bother me, but the worry that Craster did have something to tell us— That stuck in my mind.

The idea gnawed at me as I watched Bastian swing a leg over his bike.

I shook my head and walked toward my bike as Titus revved the SUV’s engine again.

Bastian’s bike roared to life, and I kicked mine over, but as Bastian and Titus sped out of the port, something nagged at me.

I had to know.

I cut the engine and flipped down the kickstand before I swung my leg over my bike. With desperate strides, I made my way back to the pier and stared at the dark waves that lapped against the wood and concrete.

“You’re insane,” I muttered.

But maybe I wasn’t.

I wanted answers—and the only way to get them would be to drag them out of the corpse we had just flung into the water.

I shrugged out of my jacket, dropped it onto the pier, and pulled the dagger from my belt.

You know the drill.

The blade was suddenly heavy in my hand as I pressed the blade against the side of my palm.

I took a quick breath and pressed it against my flesh. Crimson droplets beaded against the blade and dripped down onto the concrete. I dropped to my knees and quickly moved my hand over the water so the blood dripped into the waves.

Bound by anguish, cheated by death.

I summon thee from silent depths,

Rise and speak—

The blood that fell into the water dissipated—and then formed a black slick on the surface.

Good. It was working.

But why did I feel so weak?

My thoughts tumbled frantically back to my studies—with no personal item or talisman, I was the anchor that bound the shade to the mortal realm.

Shit.

“Craster,” I hissed. “Come forth— You lazy old bastard. Rise and speak. You are commanded to speak.”

The water thickened, and it swirled and eddied until it had created a small maelstrom.

Fog crept across the water and spilled up and over the pier like shadowy tentacles.

Come on.

“Craster,” I hissed again. “Come forth—”

The air around me thickened and pulsated as a shimmering form emerged from the waves that lashed against the pier. Salt spray stung my eyes, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare move even though the temptation to fall face-first into the dark water was strong—so strong.

The shade materialized slowly, at an old man’s pace, an emaciated shape dripping dark water.

Pale, watery violet eyes turned toward me, and the wound in its throat gaped obscenely. Red and black and jagged.

Craster.

“Speak,” I demanded. My voice carried a weight that urged the spirit forward, but what emerged was not the defiant presence I had hoped for. Instead, it quaked, and its features distorted—

“Who... who calls me?” The shade’s voice trembled with dread. It recoiled slightly as it seemed to recognize me—as though it expected the same fate that had befallen its lifeless form.

“You tried to tell us something,” I said as firmly as I could. “About Avril— and the grimoire.”

“Lucian…” the shade stuttered, its voice a hollow echo of the man it once was. “Betrayal… I felt the betrayal…” Panic coursed through its spectral frame and sent ripples across the water.

“Tell me!” I pressed again, but my chest tightened as the shade’s fear intensified.

“Please,” it whimpered and its form flickered briefly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“What did you want to tell us?” I demanded.

“Avril…” The shade’s voice cracked, and its watery gaze seemed to drift past me, fixating on something unseen. The water that cascaded down its frail body did not disturb the surface of the water it hovered above, but around it, the black waves churned. “They tried to take her. Dario… he wanted her.” It faltered, as if recalling a memory too painful to hold. “He thought… He thought he could control her— But it was impossible—”

“Control her?” I echoed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Kidnap…” The shade continued, trembling as though the very notion of it terrified him. “Her father attempted to seize her… to harness the power he thought she held.” Its watery violet eyes darted around before returning to me. The wound on the shade’s neck oozed blood, dark and sludgy, and it soaked into the shoulder of his ragged nightgown. “But there was more… he gave her something…”

“What do you mean?” It was impossible to keep the desperation out of my voice. The sun was rising, and the harbor was getting busy—I’d be discovered soon. My brothers would definitely have noticed I wasn’t following them—

Fuck.

“Foolishness…” The shade was fading, its voice trailing off. “She is… the key….”

“Wait!” I shouted as the shade shimmered and sank back down into the dark water. Waves splashed against the pier and the salt stung my eyes. “No! You can’t just fade out! I haven’t released you!”

But it was too late. A wrenching sensation clawed at my chest, taking my breath with it, and in an agonizing instant, the wound in the shade’s neck opened wider, and a gout of dark, viscous liquid poured out of it and covered the figure’s chest and torso. Its mouth opened and elongated into a horrifying caricature of pain and horror before the creeping ooze covered its face and blotted out the watery violet eyes. The shade’s tortured groan echoed in my ears as the figure shivered, and then the rivulets of gore flowed down into the water and disappeared. I was frozen in place, kneeling on the concrete pier, staring at the ripples on the black water as the echoes of the shade’s words reverberated through me.

It made no sense.

Gibberish nonsense. Riddles and half-truths.

I didn’t know what I’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t that.

I swayed just a little—weakened by the effort of bringing the shade back to this plane on my own.

I tightened my wounded hand into a fist and the cut on the side of my palm ached and stung.

A waste of time—and my magic.

I could hear Titus’ scornful voice in my mind.

“Did you expect a treasure trove of wisdom? It’s a dead man’s spirit, not some oracle.”

Lucian hadn’t told us much about Dario’s betrayal. We only knew that it had turned the Necromi to a different path.

But Avril’s father had attempted to kidnap her—she had only been an infant. Why?

I stared at the darkened waters; the rising sun’s gleam suddenly shattered the shimmering reflections. The splashes of the waves faded into silence, as if the harbor itself was holding its breath. The finality clawed at my insides, leaving behind a hollow ache.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself to my feet.

I pulled my jacket over my shoulders and pulled my phone out of the pocket. Five missed calls and some angry text messages.

They could wait.

I looked out towards the harbor, where the first rays of the morning sun were sparkling on the water. I imagined the body trapped beneath those dark waves, its secrets locked away forever with it. A shiver ran down my spine and I pulled my jacket tighter around myself; not from the chill in the air, but from the cold tendrils of dread that tightened in my gut.

The spectral wail of Craster’s shade echoed morbidly in my mind, and his haunting words lingered like a foul taste in my mouth. “Foolishness… She is… the key…” The same words I had parroted back to him over and over, as if repetition would lend them clarity. It hadn’t.

Avril was... a key. To what? Had her father tried to kidnap her because he believed she held some sort of power? Or was it something else? But why would he put his own daughter in harm’s way? And what power could make a man do such a thing?

My mind drifted back to the grimoire—and the blood sacrifices that were required to unlock its secrets.

What had Dario sacrificed for his power?

What else had he been willing to give up to gain Lucian’s position?

The harbor hummed with activity now—the sound of machinery and men, and the rumble of trucks and forklifts.

I had to get out of here.