Page 25 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

I had agreed to let them help me.

Of course I did.

But I didn’t trust them.

Not for a second.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the grimoire at my side. Waiting.

The grimoire’s whispers swirled around me, but for the first time I couldn’t determine if its words were encouraging, or warning me to stop…

Was I making the right decision?

A crossroads.

Down one path, Lucian awaited—arms open, but with a knife behind his back.

My stepbrothers waited at the end of the other path, ready to fulfill every dark promise they had made.

Lust. Possession. Power. Freedom.

Everything I craved .

A knock on my door made me jump.

I tucked the grimoire under my arm and gestured vaguely at the door. The door opened slowly, and I smiled as a lithe form emerged from the shadows.

They had sent Valen to fetch me.

A smart move.

He brushed his hand through his unruly brown hair and a smile touched his full lips, but only briefly.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I hugged the grimoire to my chest and relished the prick of the dark metal against my skin as I held it. “Yes.”

He led me down the stairs and through the winding hallways of Withermarsh, into a section of the mansion I hadn’t seen before.

“Does Lucian know about this place?” I asked.

Valen chuckled. “It’s his house. I’m sure he knows about everything that goes on within these walls. Or underfoot.”

A chill raced through me. “Are— are we safe here?”

Valen shrugged. “There are spells over the walls and the door—and the hallway is concealed. But who knows?”

I stopped walking. “I don’t like that.”

Valen turned and his dark eyes burned into mine. “Then go back upstairs.”

I didn’t like that option either.

“Well?”

“Fine,” I snapped. He flicked a glance at the grimoire in my arms before leading the way once more. The tattoos on his arms rippled in the dim light that filtered in from cracks in the heavy drapes that covered tall leaded-glass windows.

We wound our way through the house and down into lower levels I hadn’t realized were even there—the temperature dropped and the stone walls were wet with moss and moisture as we descended into the bowels of Withermarsh.

Valen finally stopped in front of a massive door crafted from solid black oak. Enchantments glowed faintly around its edges and slithered down into the ritually carved metal handle.

Valen placed his palm against it, and murmured words I couldn’t make out.

But as he spoke, the grimoire seemed to tremble in my arms.

Maybe I was just imagining it.

The door swung open, revealing a room that immediately stole my breath away.

As we stepped inside, dank air wafted towards us along with the scent of dried parchment and burning incense. The room was dark, lit only by smoky sconces that cast a strange light into the stone chamber.

THUNK!

I bit back a gasp as my eyes focused on a large sliver blade that quivered in a target on the wall near my head.

“What the fuck—” I choked out.

“Careful,” Bastian drawled as he sauntered toward us and pulled the knife from the target.

Valen glared at his younger brother and reached for my elbow, but I shook him off.

Titus stood at the opposite end of the room near a table covered in weapons.

Shelves holding a myriad of aged books, worn scrolls, and odd relics lined the stone walls. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and the room was warm and comfortable even though there was an unsettling energy that clung to the stones.

“There’s a table over here,” Valen said. He gestured toward a large ornate table strewn with scrolls and arcane instruments.

The whispering in my mind grew louder as I set the grimoire on the table and sank into the chair Valen pulled out for me. I traced my fingers over its wicked clasp and held my breath as my nails clicked over the red stones embedded in the grimoire’s cover.

I hesitated—there was something about laying it bare in this room that felt like exposing a secret to an enemy.

What would they do when they saw how much I had already learned from these cursed pages?

THUNK!

Another blade quivered in the target.

“Your aim is off,” Bastian’s lilting voice floated through the room, playful yet laced with menace as he crossed the room to retrieve the knife. I couldn’t help but glance up as he stood in front of the target with the large knife in his hands. His blonde hair caught the strange light from the sconces. Titus moved smoothly, and before I could call out a warning, he had loosed another blade toward the target.

THWACK!

Bastian didn’t flinch.

“Close enough,” he said with a shrug. He twisted to grab hold of the hilt and pulled the blade from the wood. “Mine was still better.”

Titus said nothing, but his dark eyes flickered to me.

Did he suspect something?

“Are you two just going to stand there?” Valen asked. “Or—”

“Or what?” Bastian retorted. “Are you asking for our help?”

“You promised,” Valen reminded him.

Bastian grunted and walked across the room to set the knives back with the others. “Did we?”

“We did,” Titus growled.

He grabbed Bastian’s shoulder and steered him toward the table.

“Draw the blade,” Valen said.

My jaw tightened as I did as he asked. The blackened silver dagger glinted in the strange light that filled the room as Bastian and Titus reached the table.

Bastian shrugged out of his jacket and flung it over a nearby chair. He held out his hand, palm up, toward me and nudged Titus. “Come on, you too.”

Titus grimaced, but offered his hand. Valen followed.

“All— all three?”

Bastian’s grin was wolfish. “That’s how we like it,” he said.

Valen chuckled, but Titus’ dark eyes burned into mine.

My hand shook as I raised the dagger. Could I do this? I wasn’t ready—

“Do it,” Titus commanded.

I bit down hard on my tongue and the pain made my hand lurch forward. Bastian grabbed my wrist and guided the blade against the side of his hand—I had never noticed it, but his smooth flesh was criss-crossed with thin silvery scars… reminders of his own path with the grimoire.

“This is going to take all night,” he muttered. “I’ll do it— this way you won’t cut my hand off.”

The blade kissed the side of his hand, and blood welled up and then dripped down the blade and onto the grimoire’s lock.

“Quickly,” he snapped. “Get the others before the damned book thinks I’m the one driving.”

Valen grabbed my wrist next and pressed his hand against the blade. His blood joined Bastian’s.

Then Titus. I didn’t need his help. Before he could grab me, I pressed the knife against the side of his wrist, just above the bone, and his blood mingled with his brothers’ on the blackened silver clasp.

“Now you,” Titus growled.

I pressed my lips together and did as he commanded. The blade barely stung—I was used to the feel of it—the impossible sharpness as it bit into my flesh and my blood dripped onto the clasp with theirs.

The stones embedded in the grimoire’s cover glowed bright red—like evil eyes—before they faded to a dull sheen.

They had never done that before.

I let out a small gasp as the clasp fell away and the grimoire snapped open. The pages turned, as though an invisible hand were reading the ancient texts, until it stopped. The markings on the page were unfamiliar, and I frowned down at it in confusion.

“What—”

“You haven’t seen that page before?” Valen’s voice caught in his throat.

“No,” I replied.

“I haven’t seen than page,” Bastian said, “what the fuck—”

Titus held his hand over the page and let his blood drip onto the parchment.

“Titus— are you sure?” Valen started.

“Do it,” Titus growled.

Bastian and Valen exchanged a look and then did as Titus commanded.

As their blood dripped onto the ravenous pages, they all looked at me. I hesitated for only a moment before I held my hand over the page and clenched my fist to make the blood flow.

The room was silent as we stared down at the blood-spattered pages.

Seconds passed.

Too many.

Why wasn’t it working?

“Why isn’t it—” Bastian murmured.

“Shut up,” Titus said through gritted teeth.

“We didn’t set an intention,” Valen said.

As he spoke those words, the ancient parchment absorbed the blood—slowly at first, and then faster until the page was clean once more.

They might not have set an intention for our spellwork.

But I had.

I bit back a gasp as new symbols began to emerge, written in our blood—secret spells that had been hidden in the fibres of the parchment.

They bloomed across the pages, filling first one, and then another, before the page flipped and more words, horrifying diagrams, and sigils appeared. They blotted out the original symbols and changed them into something twisted—dark.

“What the fuck?” Valen whispered.

The pages rustled with satisfaction and the whispers of the grimoire clawed at my mind. Bastian winced—he could hear them, too.

Titus’ eyes narrowed, his dark gaze fixed on the grimoire as it continued its malevolent display. “What have you done?” he demanded.

“I— I didn’t do anything,” I choked out. Beads of sweat trickled down my spine and I shifted slightly in my seat. I wanted to run away, but I was trapped here—

“You did,” Bastian growled, his usually playful speech replaced with a chilling seriousness. He turned towards me, his piercing pale eyes ablaze. “This is… this is what she wants.”

“And what does she want?” Valen asked. His gaze flickered to me and I kept my eyes on the grimoire.

“Power,” Bastian answered, and I was stunned to hear a hint of longing creeping into his voice. “Lucian’s power.”

As he spoke, I sensed a sinister change in the air—something heavier, something far more threatening than simple power, was uncoiling itself from those blood-spattered pages.

Dominance.

Control.

“I—”

Three pairs of eyes turned to me.

Their gazes felt invasive, as if they were trying to delve into the darkest corners of my mind, to search for secrets illuminated by the grimoire. Secrets I didn’t want them to see.

The silence was unbearable, intensifying the pulse in my wounded wrist. The blood had stilled its steady stream down my arm but left a cold stickiness in its wake. It seemed to seep further into the pages with every passing moment, fueling the grimoire’s unspeakable thirst.

“Stop,” I whispered, my eyes still locked onto the parade of symbols snaking and writhing on the grimoire’s surface. My voice came out as nothing more than a strained thread of sound, but it was enough to break the silence.

Titus’ lined brow furrowed and his chiseled jaw clenched as he regarded me with suspicion. “ What did you ask for?” His voice had changed; it was deeper and rougher edged.

“I— I don’t know… I didn’t ask for this,” I murmured, a familiar sense of fear creeping into my tone. The grimoire was voracious; its appetite for chaos and power was matched only by Lucian’s own dark lust. Bastian’s teeth gritted together as he leaned forward, his fingers knotted tightly in front of him.

“What did you ask for?” Bastian snarled.

The grimoire’s whispers pushed at my mind and scratched my courage to ribbons.

“Freedom—” I whispered.

Titus straightened, and Valen and Bastian stepped back from the table.

“Please—” I begged. I held out my hand and recoiled at the blood that stained my skin. “Please,” I tried again, “I need your help— You have to help me. You promised—”

Bastian’s icy eyes swept over me as I stood. The chair skittered back over the uneven stone floor and fell with a thud that made me jump.

“He’ll kill you,” Bastian said, and a wicked smile curved over his lips.

Valen’s eyes were wide, but he said nothing.

“Get out,” Titus growled. “Take that cursed book and get out of my sight.”

The harsh command hit me like a tidal wave. Paralyzed, my eyes darted between the three brothers, who suddenly seemed more like captors than allies.

“I didn’t...” My protest fell on deaf ears as Titus advanced on me, an almost animalistic gleam in his dark eyes.

“Leave,” he reiterated. His voice was a rough growl that vibrated through the oppressively silent room.

I instinctively recoiled from him, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him—there was a frigid intensity there that sent shivers down my spine. His face was full of unabashed dominance and power.

I forced myself to push past my fear and dragged my eyes away from him. I scrambled to grab hold of the grimoire and clutched it tightly against my chest. Its whispers seemed louder in my ears now, mocking me with hollow promises of unattainable freedom. It had been a mistake to believe that I held any control over this dark relic or the twisted spells within its pages.

I grabbed the knife and held it in my blood-slicked hand. Brandishing it in front of me to keep them away.

“Stay back,” I warned.

Bastian’s smile sharpened as he noticed the tremor in my hand.

As I stumbled backward toward the door, panicked breaths tore from my throat. Valen’s troubled gaze met mine as he advanced on me.

“Avril— Wait— we can talk about this.”

He moved closer, and I slashed wildly with the dagger. Valen let out a hiss of pain as the blade bit into his forearm and Bastian laughed.

“Careful,” he taunted. “Little snake has teeth.”

The door opened and, without thinking, I turned and ran down the long stone corridor. Tears blurred my vision and choked my breaths as I ran headlong for the stairs that would lead me back to the upper floors of the mansion.

I didn’t know the way—I skidded to a stop in the middle of a stone hallway that looked the same as the others.

Where— where do I go?

The weight of the grimoire shifted in my arms.

Had I just imagined it?

The grimoire shifted again—to the left.

I sucked in a breath and tightened my grip on the book. “Lead me back to my room,” I choked out. “Please— Get me away from them.”

One unsteady step led to two, and every corner and hallway looked the same. Every wet and mossy stone looked the same. But I followed the grimoire’s subtle pressures until I emerged from a crevice in the stone wall on the main floor of the house.

I could have sobbed with relief.

But there was nothing to be relieved about.

I was alive.

The grimoire answered to me.

But for how long?

Without Titus, Valen, and Bastian’s help—I was lost.

I stumbled down the hallway toward the foyer and up the grand staircase to my room.

I was safe behind these sigils—but if I wasn’t ready, nothing would be able to protect me from Lucian’s rage.