A Curse Unbroken (35 page)

I nodded, fighting to hold back my tears so I could speak. “Griselda was the one who sent those men to kill us. But they found Mom and Dad first.” I released a breath. “That’s why you could see Mom and Dad’s murder in their reflection. Griselda was the one behind it all along.”

Taran lost what remained of her composure. Gemini hauled her to him. She didn’t fight him, clinging to him as she broke down. Koda gathered both Shayna and Emme, his hulking body trembling from the strength it was taking to hold back his wolf. Bren and even Danny had to be subdued by the Elders. “Let her finish speaking first,” Martin whispered tightly.

“You weren’t supposed to live!” Rosaliana accused, her voice quivering as her focus traveled to my sisters and me. “All of you were supposed to die. The evil is coming, and he must be allowed to come!”

“No,” Genevieve said quietly. “Celia and Aric’s children will be strong enough to stop him, just as Destiny herself has proclaimed.”

Genevieve didn’t know I couldn’t bear children. But I wouldn’t admit that now, especially if it meant granting Rosaliana even a shred of peace.

“She needs to die, Genevieve!” Rosaliana screamed at her. “They all do. The darkest one has promised unimaginable power to anyone who stops them.”

Genevieve’s perfect face remained impassive yet deadly. Aric was all ire. He released me and prowled toward Rosaliana.

Genevieve intercepted him, placing her staff firmly on the ground in front of him. The base of the staff stirred with pulses of magic and ripples of gold smoke swept along the dirt. Her eyes sparkled, not with their typical wisdom and beauty, but with something darker, deadlier. In a way it seemed wrong for someone so lovely to look so dangerous.

Her voice remained calm, but her magic screamed for vengeance. “No, Aric. Rosaliana is my responsibility. She dies by my hands.”

Rosaliana’s head dropped as she shrieked with rage.

Aric ignored her and shoved his face into Genevieve’s. It may have seemed odd for Genevieve to appear so deadly, but it wasn’t for Aric. My wolf did lethal well. A hideous growl built from Aric’s core and rumbled like the angered Greek gods of ancient myth. “She orchestrated the torture and attempted murder of
my
mate
and her sisters. It’s my damn right to kill her. I will kill her, and if you get in my way—”

I tore Rosaliana’s arm off her body, just like I would a leg from a well-done turkey. The bone snapped cleanly from her shoulder and the muscles and ligaments ripped like wet paper. She screamed. Loudly. The witches who were holding her stepped away, fast.

Blood splattered like a sprinkler as I literally beat her with her own goddamn arm. With each blow I thought of how she caused me to relive my abuse and experience Aric’s death. Her gurgled screams annoyed me. The pain I inflicted couldn’t possibly compare to Shayna’s blade piercing through my sternum.

Why was she yelling? Had she smelled her mate’s skin burn at the hands of her sister’s magic? Had she witnessed her sisters’ torment? Had she experience their nightmares?

No. I had. I’d suffered. And so had those I most loved.

How dare she try to crawl away when I couldn’t escape Emme’s telekinetic grip around my throat or the countless attacks from those I trusted. Because of her, I was almost raped by the man I loved. Because of her, I feared my lover. Because of her so many had perished.

After a few more blows, my weapon became useless. There’s only so much you can do with a severed limb once all the bones have been shattered. Besides, I’d tired of her screeching. I tossed the arm aside and punctured her sternum with my claws.

My methodical actions surprised me. It was as if I was performing a simple task like dusting. But instead of spray, wipe, spray, wipe, I separated her rib cage with my hands and ripped out her heart without bothering to glance at her face. It beat one time in my hand before I tossed it over my shoulder.

Rosaliana’s heart landed with a wet thud by Genevieve’s feet. Genevieve stiffened. To her credit she didn’t so much as cringe, although I could tell she very much wanted to.

I wiped my hands as if they’d been merely coated with dust. “There. That settles that.”

Genevieve’s mouth dropped open. Aric crossed his arms. He watched me closely but said nothing. My freak-out disturbed them both. Not that I could blame them; that was a bit mental even for me.

I stormed away then, away from the clearing and toward the forest, stomping along the snow with more noise than my feet had ever made. I continued walking through the dense trees until I came upon a tiny brook. I fell into it on my hands and knees, weakened, exhausted, and disturbed by my actions.

The water was ice cold, yet surprisingly refreshing. It felt good to feel something other than pure, unadulterated hate. As much as my life had sucked, I never truly hated anyone until Anara forced his way into my life. Since his death, I’d absolutely convinced myself I could never hate so deeply again…then Rosaliana and Tura came along.

Who else would come?

I washed my hands and face and stared at my reflection in the water until the tiny fragments of Rosaliana’s tissue and bits of clotted blood polluted the clear brook. When I finished, I sat on the edge and hugged my knees. My jeans were soaked with water, blood, and God only knew what else. Yet I ignored the chill of the approaching night.

It was a long while until I actually allowed myself to think. I had survived. Again. But although my inner beast was a cat, I didn’t believe I had nine lives to live.

The sun had set when soft steps pressed into the snow behind me. I knew it was Genevieve even before my nose caught her scent. She moved like a graceful swan in water, despite the rough terrain of mountain. “May I sit with you, Celia?”

My jaw clenched tight. “You don’t have to ask. It’s not like I’m going to rip your arms off or anything.”

“Yes. Of course not,” she answered slowly if not nervously.

Genevieve used an elegant hand to tuck her long velvet skirt beneath her, though she kept a firm grip on her staff. When she saw that I’d noticed, she laid it beside the small boulder where she sat. It was a polite demonstration of trust, more out of courtesy than the actual belief that I wouldn’t eat her. I had frightened her. Hell, I had frightened myself. But sometimes a girl couldn’t help but to wig the fuck out.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened.” She sighed. “There’s been a tremendous upheaval within my coven since the war. By taking in more witches who have lost their Leaders, power struggles have caused a lot of needless bickering.”

“Like with you and Betty Sue?”

She quieted for a moment. “Yes, but I see now that Rosaliana had likely played a role in that, too.”

Yeah. She probably had
. “Where’s Betty Sue, do you think?”

“She’s dead, Celia,” Genevieve answered. “Aric sent a team to her house. They found her buried in her garden. My guess is she discovered her old friend wasn’t her old friend at all.”

“So the real Delilah’s dead, too?”

Genevieve’s focus dropped to the stream. “She has to be. Rosaliana couldn’t have taken on her identity without killing her. And in taking a pure witch’s form, she was able to mask her own darkness.” She clasped her hands. “We don’t know when it happened. But it was definitely before she came across you the day of the shifter attack.”

I didn’t argue. Nothing with the supernatural was ever a coincidence. “They were working with each other from the start.”

“Yes. She must have created a spell to allow Tura to leave his form. I believe Tura meant to invade your heart and kill you, but the ability Rosaliana granted him allowed him access to Aric when Aric took the blow meant for you.”

In saving me, Aric had given Tura life, power, and access to all of us. At the very least, the asshole owed us a thank-you note. “Rosaliana showed up after the attack just to make sure I was dead, didn’t she?”

“That’s what we’ve concluded.” She looked at me then. “I’m sorry. I should have discovered Rosaliana regardless of the mask she wore long before you and everyone else suffered.”

I blinked a few times. She seemed sincere. “Okay.”

She raised her eyebrows elegantly, the same way she did everything else.
“Okay?”
she asked. “You can’t be serious?”

I fixed her with a hard stare. Although I suspected it alarmed her, she didn’t wince. “What else do you expect me to say? Until recently, I’ve tried to avoid the supernatural world. I don’t know the rules.
Am
I supposed to kill you?” Genevieve remained quiet, leaving me with the impression that maybe I had that right. I muttered a swearword under my breath. “You weren’t the cause of all this, Genevieve. I accept your apology, just leave things at that.”

She nodded. We sat in silence for a while. I stared at the peaceful brook, now illuminated by a full moon. I wondered how some places could always remain tranquil while in others chaos forever reigned. It surprised me when Genevieve’s delicate hand squeezed my shoulder. Her smile was small, pleasant, and that lovely sparkle had returned to her eyes. “You know, Celia. If your sister didn’t hate me, I imagine we could be friends.”

But she does, so we can’t.
I gave Genevieve the once-over. At first glance, anyone in the mystical world would assume she was a vampire. Her skin was flawless, her body perfect, her face heartbreakingly beautiful. She was strong, intelligent, ethical, and kind. I couldn’t blame Taran for feeling threatened by her. On my best day, I couldn’t match her on her worst. And that annoyed the hell out of me. “You were homecoming queen, weren’t you?”

She grinned despite my irritated tone. “Prom princess, too. What about you?”

I scoffed. “Everyone hated me. I was constantly in detention for fighting.”

Genevieve hugged her knees and cocked her head slightly. “And yet here you are, engaged to the class president, the most valuable player, and the captain of the football team all rolled into one.”

She tried to give me a compliment, but her words only made my eyes sting. I glanced at my nails, still stained with blood. “Yes…but sometimes I don’t know how.”

She placed her hand over mine. “I do,” she said softly.

About a hundred feet away, the almost silent footsteps of a predator treaded through the darkness. From behind a stand of trees the class hunk stepped out. I rose and hobbled toward him, noticing for the first time the bloody footprints I’d left behind. Yeah, I might have been a tad easy to track.

As I limped, Shah appeared in my hands. He’d left me when Aric had embraced me during Rosaliana’s big reveal. Genevieve followed, noticing Shah almost instantly, but failing to reach for him. I stopped directly in front of Aric and showed him that Shah was with me. He stroked my cheek with his hand, although that was probably still bloody, too. I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “I’m tired, and he’s not mine to keep. Will you come with me so I can hand him to Makawee? She’s the only one I trust to look after him.”

Aric bent and kissed my lips. “Nothing could keep me from your side,” he whispered.

—

Emme rushed to me after I handed Shah to Makawee, but not before I told him goodbye. He’d helped me realize how to lure Tura out of hiding, and as much as he could, he’d been my friend.

Emme healed me, but my filthy condition and demolished clothing kept us at the Den a little longer. Aric led me to his new quarters and into a hot shower. We took our time bathing and holding each other before we finally stepped out.

The mystery behind my parents’ death and the bull’s-eye we’d been marked with had left me raw. I needed the intimacy and security that only time alone with Aric gave me. When he and I made our way down the grand staircase and into the foyer below, I was wearing the spare set of clothes Shayna had brought me from the room assigned to her and Koda. They were there, and so were Bren, Emme, Taran, and Gemini, although once again, Gemini appeared to be keeping his distance.

He sighed as he left Taran’s side and approached us. “Shah’s power has abandoned him. He is no more. The Leaders of the Alliance would like a word with Celia.”

Aric narrowed his stare. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Taran hissed. “They’re convinced you took their last wish.”

At once the Leaders piled out of the room to our far left. Aric met them with a growl that shook the room. “You insult my mate and the woman who saved us by calling her a thief!”

Uri, Misha’s master, stepped forward, his phony gentleman persona absent in his rage. “We don’t fault Celia, after all, with so much power in her grasp, temptation was surely hard to resist.”

“And yet I did,” I countered. Misha met my stare with a sharp expression clearly meant as a warning. He didn’t want me to offend Uri, the other grandmasters, or the
were
and witch elite who had arrived. But I did, my sisters’ gathering presence driving me to do so. “And where were any of you, when your clans, covens, and Pack members were out there dying and trying to bring back Shah? You didn’t want to get your hands dirty. Then again you never do. All you wanted was to reap the rewards like always.”

Aric wound his arm around my waist and gripped my hip in a show of unity, just as my family closed in the circle they’d formed around us.

“Despite our lack of involvement, you owe us the truth,” an unfamiliar head witch ground out. “Shah’s last wish was proclaimed to be the strongest and most significant of all. The one that could tip the scales on either the side of good, or in the dark ones’ favor.”

“Are you deaf, Broomhilda?” I shot back. “I didn’t wish for anything!”

What seemed like Aric’s entire Pack appeared in front of us, shielding us from the encroaching supernatural elite. I thought Aric’s growl had summoned them, but it wasn’t until Martin stepped forward that I realized it had been him. “You know Celia speaks the truth—you can scent it, you can feel it. And now that you know you may evacuate our premises.”

Everyone piled out slowly, leaving only my closest allies in the spacious foyer. I exchanged brief glances with my sisters. Their shattered expressions and silence demonstrated their pain. They were seconds from breaking down, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to spare them from their misery.