Page 57 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

The Prophecy of Everly Nice

“Jerk!” I swerved around the oversized SUV taking an illegal U-turn.

Thank the goddess my Chevy Malibu was small, or I’d have been hit by that dingus.

I huffed through my clenched teeth, shaking my head until my frizzy red hair shifted across my shoulders.

With a glance at the rearview mirror, and a hasty pass of my pasty fingers, my bangs laid straight again.

At least, as straight as I’d managed to blow out my curls this morning.

My freckled hands gripped the steering wheel as I smoothly merged into the legal U-turn lane to wrap back around Montgomery Boulevard. The building complex I called home was only another two turns, and I breathed a sigh of relief once parked in front of my apartment door.

Stomach growling, I hopped out with my canvas tasseled purse in tow.

Sunshine beat down, and sweat trickled down my neck as I hurried to unlock my front door.

Bast’s welcoming mews greeted me as I slipped inside.

The rotund black fuzzball did a cute little trot across the tile toward me, before immediately circling her food bowl.

My shoulders dropped. Gods, I was battered , but happy to have my independence.

Which of course came with working seven days a week to get my psychic business going.

With a resigned sigh, I strode into the kitchen to crack open a can of soft cat food while heavy metal chords drifted down the hall from the closed door at the end.

So, Addison was home. Once Bast was contentedly lapping at her dinner, I bent to give her a quick scratch behind the ears before getting my own.

Leftover guacamole and tortilla chips would have to do.

At least I’d bought the avocados myself and squeezed the organic lemons from the farmer’s market without having to resort to pre-made plastic wastage.

The dining table was empty and clean, a perk of living with Addison, but I bypassed it.

Headed straight for the couch on aching feet.

Even my back was sore from sitting in that awful lumpy-upholstered chair I’d thrifted for the shop.

A heavy sigh deflated my chest as I plopped onto the couch, picked up the game controller, and booted up Addison’s console attached to my outdated television.

I flicked for the juicy Turkish drama a client recommended, and since the rock music pounding out down the hall made it impossible to hear anything over the TV’s crackly old speakers, I turned on the subtitles while crunching down on guac-dipped chips.

The typical hetero-pairing being showcased on the screen was in the middle of a mushy declaration, and I rolled my eyes, but grinned.

Honestly, they didn’t seem so different from my best friend with her new beau. Considering they’d become practically inseparable since Maria returned home a few weeks ago. I totally called it about her ‘vampire problem.’

Smiling, I left the plate on the coffee table to settle deeper into the cushions and tugged the patchwork quilt from Goodwill around my shoulders.

Addison’s music faded into the background as my eyes grew heavy, and the sun started to set behind our slatted-plastic curtains.

My eyes must’ve closed at some point, because the images behind my eyelids turned strange.

A scene unfolded, pulled into existence one shadow at a time.

As if the room itself was shrouded in permanent night, with no lights to give my eyes anything to latch onto.

Silhouettes solidified like ink spilled in water, reminiscent of coiling smoke, until human features formed.

Four men, two women, each seated on uncomfortable-looking chairs with high backs.

Behind them, a fractured throne splintered the stone it was made from.

A hum reverberated underfoot, barely noticeable beneath my bare feet.

Chills along my arms raised goose-pimples, and I folded my arms across my chest as my breath fogged the air.

It was weird to feel cold in my own dream, but something about the place screamed magick .

Confused, and clearly invisible to the people speaking in thoughtful low voices, I drifted a few steps closer. Foreign words sounded muffled in my ears, but something ancient pulled their meaning into my thoughts.

“There must be a means by which we can hunt the descendant.” The blonde woman dressed in an indigo gown—with a Queen Anne neckline, revealing plenty of cleavage—frowned. Her full lips pouted in her attempt to sneer.

“I am not concerned with the young girl.” The man bedecked in scarlet might’ve been annoyed, but his scarred face obscured his emotions.

“Ignatius Drake has betrayed us, and an immortal who shares our knowledge and secrets may become a dangerous enemy. During his isolation from our community, he has developed a survivalist instinct and contacts outside of our reach.”

“The force he has allied behind could destroy us from the inside out. Until now, we believed the descendants to be of little consequence. What did it matter if the descendants of Helsing culled the weakest of us? Those lacking the intelligence necessary to overcome centuries…” The dark-haired man wearing black pursed his thin lips, his expression ugly.

“If we mean to hunt the spider, we must tear off its legs.” Another man chimed in, his silver brocade muted by the pitch-darkness.

“Then it is agreed.” Golden robes clashed with this man’s light hair, but the steadiness of his gaze indicated some position of leadership over the others. “The Helsing line must end—once and for all.”

Chill sweat dribbled down my shoulder blades. My eyes widened, stuck to the spot. Like any other nightmare, I experienced the worst of it in slow motion.

A beautiful woman in a violet gown inhaled a short breath to speak, her words ringing like an echo in my ears. “We will summon Belial.”

Inhaling like I’d just surfaced from a deep dive, my eyes flew open and I bolted upright. Addison leaned back fast, like she’d been hovering over me, and I gasped two-fold.

“Damn it, Eve.” Addison exhaled a staggered breath, as surprised as I felt. “A little warning next time.”

“Why were you standing over me?” I stuttered, blinking away the deep sleep my nap had dragged me into.

“I was checking if you were still breathing.” Pink blotted her pale cheeks before she turned away, heading for the kitchen. “You were muttering in your sleep, and then all of a sudden went deathly still.”

“Oh… Sorry.” Goddess, I felt sick. My mouth tasted wrong, like wilting flowers—or something rotting. The confusion accompanying my growing migraine was cut short by the notification lighting up my phone. I plucked it up off the coffee table and unlocked it, smiling even before the message loaded.

Courtney must have gotten off work late—wherever she was in the world for her art-dealer job—because the ‘good-night’ text she’d sent with the cute kissing-face emoji was timestamped at 11:06 PM.

Grinning unashamedly down at my screen, I thumbed out a quick response before relaxing into the tan suede couch with a longing sigh.

Maybe Maria wasn’t the only one who ’ d gotten it bad this spring.

“Tea?” Addison leaned over the counter that separated the kitchenette from the dining area.

“Definitely. Herbal.” I rubbed at my pounding forehead.

Something indistinct nagged at my subconscious, and I tried for the life of me to remember what the heck I’d been dreaming about.

Vaguely renaissance-like imagery popped into my head, with a big circular room and a bunch of people in fancy dress-clothes…

Maybe I’ve watched The Da Vinci Code one too many times.

Addison returned to the living room area carrying my favorite mug.

‘ Are you kitten me? ’ was stamped across the steaming ceramic cup she offered, and I accepted it with a hasty sip.

Then Addison sat down on the coffee table, her willowy frame modelesque and her slim face puzzled.

I opened my mouth to ask what was up—but she beat me to it.

“So, who’s Belial?”