Page 52

Chapter Thirty-One

S he awoke to a loud noise, like a door being thrown open.

Sitting up in alarm, she looked around, realizing she had fallen asleep after crying.

Carefully getting up so as to not make too much noise, she slipped into the shoes by her bed and padded toward the door.

Glancing toward the closed door that she surmised was her aunt’s room, she crept toward the stairs.

If this world was similar to hers, it would take a lot more than that to wake her up.

Heart pounding heavily, she made her way downstairs, trying to stay in the shadows cast by the dim lights in the living room.

She could hear whoever it was in the kitchen, moving around with only the slightest of movements.

Odd, for someone who had forced the door open.

Looking around for a weapon, she grabbed the poker from the fireplace, and then crept into the kitchen.

The intruder was a lean man with his back turned to her, and he seemed to be just… standing there. In fact, there was something startlingly familiar about that back. She dropped the poker in shock.

“Grim?”

The man turned around, and it was in fact Grim.

She breathed out a sigh of relief and braced herself against the table. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t Grim breaking into the cottage at what seemed like midnight.

“Are you insane?” she hissed. “I was about to bash your brains in with a poker! And what are you even doing here? I thought I told you to come at dawn!”

He didn’t reply, and it was then she felt a curl of unease snake in her belly. For the first time she noticed the unfocused gaze in his eyes and the way his fists were clenched. She took a step toward him hesitantly, not sure what was going on.

“Grim? Is everything all right?”

“Our friend Grim is…how do you say it? Not home at the moment.”

She whipped around to see the one person she loathed the most in the world.

“You,” she hissed.

Lore stood there, this time dressed head to toe in crimson.

He looked like a mess; his hair was unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot.

If not for the fact that he was an immortal trapped in a book, she would say he looked like he had spent a rough night in the tavern.

He approached her, his gait slightly unsteady, and came to a pause right in front of her.

“Me,” he jeered in response, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

She jerked back as if burned and glared at him, acid pooling in her stomach. If he had done anything to Grim…

“What did you do to him?” she asked sharply. “Fix it, fix it right now.”

“Temper, temper. You should really calm down, Rosie.”

Her stomach lurched. “How do you know that name?”

Lore smiled, a nasty ugly smile, and looked around the cottage, taking it in.

“Funny thing about curses, if they go on for too long, they almost become…sentient. They begin to evolve, to learn. Sometimes, they even develop attachments to the person they’re making suffer.

And you, darling Serena, are such a delicious little target, it’s no wonder the curse has developed a liking for you. ”

Almost as if in response, the tattoo on her chest began to burn, and she gasped.

“You see?” said Lore in delight, “Now I must confess, this was not part of my plan, but it worked itself out so beautifully. To be quite honest, I’m surprised you’re not writhing in pain right now, begging for my help. It’s almost as if you’re being shielded from its full effect.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and it hit her. The crystal. Nerida had said it would protect her, and it was clearly doing so. She had to distract Lore before he pondered on the subject for too long.

“What does that have to do with you knowing that name?”

The distraction worked, and Lore smiled again.

“Well, the more attached it gets to you, the more it wants to know. You must have noticed the stories getting more and more personal, involving more and more people, you know. That’s because the curse is changing, becoming stronger.

Previously, it would only dump you into worlds and let you figure your way out, much like the Faery Trials.

But now—now it wants to torment you. The stories are no longer to test your courage or your strength of heart.

No, the curse wants only your sorrow, your suffering, and it drinks your pain like a thirsty man in a desert.

It feeds on your nightmares—it creeps into your memories and watches them like a voyeuristic hedon. And then, it whispers them to me .”

Bile rose in her throat at Lore’s words, and she felt like she would be sick. His revelations were disgusting, a violation of her mind in the vilest of ways.

“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked, in a scratchy voice.

His eyes danced at the question. “Because the look in your eyes right now gives me such pleasure. You think you’re so smart, you and that spirit touched warrior of yours. Well, let’s see how you deal with what is to come.”

His eyes shifted to Grim then, and Lore snapped his fingers.

“It’s almost time.”

A door opened upstairs, and Serena heard footsteps down the stairs. Panic rose in her throat as she scrambled for a reason to keep her aunt upstairs.

“Serena? Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody! Please go back to sleep.”

Some of her urgency must have bled into her voice, for the footsteps became more hurried, and her aunt stepped into the room, only to see Serena standing in the kitchen with two strange men.

“What in the stars above is going on here,” she whispered blankly, and then, “Young lady, you better explain yourself.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be any time to explain,” said Lore calmly, and at that very moment, Grim let out a groan. Whipping her head toward the sound, Serena rushed toward him, placing her hand on his shoulder and bending over to where he was hunched on the floor.

“Grim? Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

He looked up and she gasped.

His eyes were red.

“Stay…away,” he said in a guttural voice.

No…no please, not again. She had broken his curse, this couldn’t be happening again. He raised a hand to push her away, and she saw that his nails had sharpened to claws, and were those…ears at the top of his head?

She took him in again and came to a horrifying realization. “No…” she whispered. “No, it can’t be.”

“Oh, my stars,” came her aunt’s whispered reply from where she was rooted to the ground.

In the back she heard Lore laugh.

“Meet your wolf, Little Red.”

She looked at Grim in horror. He seemed to be fighting against himself, his claws digging into his palms, as blood dripped onto the floor.

Guttural snarls erupted from his throat as he threw himself back into the cabinet behind him.

Dishes clattered to the floor, the shattering of glass echoing within the room.

She dived forward, only to be wrenched back by a pair of hands.

Her aunt had finally stirred herself from the shock and was pulling her away from the man she loved, who was growling insensibly in the corner, his eyes glowing rubies in the shadows he was crouched in.

“Let me go,” said Serena, her voice breaking. “He won’t hurt me, I know he won’t.”

“Child, don’t be foolish!” her aunt replied. “I may not know what is happening, but I can tell you that that beast will kill you if you go near it! ”

“He’s not a beast!”

At that moment, Grim straightened and looked right at her aunt, and his eyes grew hazy with hunger. He took a shaky step toward them, and then another, not looking away for even a second.

“Grim, stop it,” she said, her voice wavering. “Snap out of it, please.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as he continued his pursuit. A claw-like hand swiped forward and they jumped back.

“Grim!”

“It’s no use,” came Lore’s voice. “As long as he plays the part of the wolf, the curse controls him. There’s only one end to this story.”

No.

“You bastard,” she whispered.

A silver dagger with a gleaming red stone in the middle materialized on the kitchen counter next to her.

“All you have to do is just stab him with that knife,” said Lore. “He won’t harm you—he’s supposed to kill your grandmother first, remember? Stab him, and you can return home.”

“You’re a monster.”

Grim charged at them then, and she grabbed her aunt’s hand and rushed toward the staircase. Unfortunately, Grim was faster, and he appeared in front of them, blocking their path.

“Serena,” whispered her aunt, her voice shaking. “I’ll distract him, and you run and get help, all right?”

Serena shook her head.

“I can’t just leave you like this.”

She couldn’t voice the second part. That she could not get help because she did not want to hurt Grim.

There was no time to explain what was going on; all she had to do was figure out a way both of them escaped this alive.

Grim growled again, and was about to lunge forward when Lore snapped his fingers again, and this time he froze where he was, his eyes still darting around wildly.

“Of course, there is one other option,” he mused. “You once accused me of not knowing what love was, so to prove you wrong, I will give you one more choice. You can stab the lovely woman standing next to you instead.”

“What?” she whispered in horror.

“I will change the conditions required. If you cannot sacrifice the wolf, then sacrifice the grandmother instead. It should be easy for you, considering this woman is not real—just a puppet created by the curse.”

A sharp intake of breath next to her, and Serena saw her aunt’s face turn white as a sheet.

“Not…real?” her aunt murmured.

“Don’t listen to him!”

Lore laughed.

“What? You don’t want her to know she really died a long time ago and only exists in a story created using your memories? You humans never cease to amuse me with your irrationality. Why do you care about a memory’s feelings?”

“Serena…is this true?” asked her aunt in a broken voice.