Page 29 of Dark Bonds
A movement in the corner of my eye startles me. For a moment, I see a shadowy figure reaching for me with gnarled hands, its face a twisted mockery of my own. I blink, and it’s gone, leaving only the lingering scent of decay. These hallucinations are becoming more frequent. I rub my eyes, willing the encroaching madness to recede, knowing it’s a futile gesture.
“Find anything useful?”
The familiar drawl of my uncle’s voice makes me flinch. I don’t look up, partly because I’m afraid of what I might see if I do. The scents of martinis and potato chips waft into the room before Everett does, a jarring note of normalcy in this mausoleum of madness.
“Nothing,” I croak, my voice raw from hours of muttering incantations and cursing at dead ends. I rub my eyes, trying to focus on the words swimming before me. “Just more useless gibberish about eternal youth and the price of vanity. Nothing we don’t already know.”
He sighs dramatically, flopping into an armchair and spilling some of his drink. “You know, kiddo, there might not be a cure. The painting was our salvation, and without it… well, we’re pretty much screwed—screwed with a capital S, and probably some fancy calligraphy to boot.”
I can’t help but smile despite the gravity of our situation. Uncle Everett has always had this effect on me, his irreverent humor a balm to the darkness that threatens to consume us both. I remember summers spent here as a child, with Everett teaching me to fence with tree branches and recounting outrageous family stories that walked the line between truth and tall tale. Those memories are tainted now, though, overshadowed by the knowledge of what’s to come.
As I meet his gaze, I see the weariness behind the mirth, the desperation lurking in the depths of his eyes. Everett has been fighting this curse longer than anyone. He’s watched family members succumb one by one, their minds shattered and souls corrupted. Now, he’s all I have left. The thought sobers me, a cold reminder of what’s at stake.
I turn back to the book, determined to find something, anything, that might save us both. “There has to be a way,” Imutter more to myself than to Everett. “I refuse to believe we’re destined to go mad and become monsters.”
“Monsters?” Everett laughs, but it’s hollow, echoing through the room like a death knell. “Hate to break it to you, but we’re already there. Ever wonder why I live alone on this massive estate and why our family tree looks more like a withered branch? We Gray men don’t exactly make great company in the long run.” He pauses, his expression softening into something almost pitying. “You know, I always thought immortality would involve more bikini-clad women and fewer dusty books. Talk about false advertising.”
The shadows around me pulse, like hungry beasts responding to the anger and fear inside me. I feel them trying to break free. My breath comes in short gasps as I wrestle them back, every fiber of my being straining against the darkness threatening to consume me. It’s like trying to hold back an ocean with my bare hands.
Control. I must maintain control. My shadow shifter abilities, amplified by the curse, are a constant threat. One slip, one moment of weakness, and I could lose myself to the darkness forever.
“I won’t accept it,” I say, standing. My words come out clipped. “And I won’t let it take me like it took my father.”
Everett’s face softens, the humor in his eyes replaced by a pain so raw it’s almost tangible. My father, his brother, succumbed to the curse when I was just a child. I still remember his descent into madness and the way the curse consumed him in the end, leaving nothing but an empty shell where a brilliant man once stood.
“Your old man fought it hard,” Everett says quietly, his usual joking tone absent. “But the curse… it’s relentless, and with your mom’s shadow shifter blood in the mix, well, it’s a whole new ballgame—for you, that is.”
I turn away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze and the truth in his words.
My mother, Evangeline, was a shadow shifter who thought she could tame a Gray. She believed love could conquer even the darkest curse. Her own powers accelerated the curse’s effects, leading to her early, tragic demise. Now, it’s just Everett and me—the last of the Grays, standing on the precipice of oblivion.
My gaze falls on a small, ornate box on a nearby table. Inside is a fragment of the original painting—all that remains of our family’s salvation. It pulses with a malevolent energy, a siren song of power and madness.
A dangerous and desperate idea forms, a spark of hope in the encroaching darkness.
“What if,” I say slowly, my tone laced with a power I can’t control, “we could recreate the painting? Not the whole thing, but enough to… contain the curse?”
Everett nearly chokes on his martini, coughing and sputtering. “Recreate the—Dorian, have you lost your marbles already? That’s impossible! And coming from a guy who’s seen the impossible on a weekly basis, that’s saying something.”
“But not the magic that sustained it,” I counter, grasping at straws, looking for anything that could save us. I lean in, my voice taking on a charismatic edge that borders on hypnotic. “Uncle, you’ve always said I have a knack for the impossible. Let me prove it one more time. Let me save us both.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Everett jumps up, spilling chips everywhere, his eyes wide with a fear I’ve never seen before. “Pump the brakes, kid. Your powers are wonky enough as it is. Messing with the curse could turn you into a human light switch—on, off, shadow, not shadow. Poof! No more Dorian, just a puddle of goo and regret on the floor.”
I want to argue, but a sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, stealing the words from my lips. The room spins,and shadows lengthen and twist into grotesque shapes. Faces form in the darkness, screaming silently, reaching for me with grasping hands. I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles white, willing the hallucination to pass, but it doesn’t.
It grows stronger, more vivid. Suddenly, the shadows in the room begin to writhe and twist, responding to my loss of control. Books fly off shelves, their pages fluttering like the wings of trapped birds. The fire in the hearth flares dangerously high, casting monstrous shadows on the walls. The very air seems to darken, thick with the taste of ash and decay.
“Dorian!” Everett shouts, his voice barely audible over the chaos. “Get a grip! Don’t let it take you!”
I can’t.
The darkness is overwhelming and consuming, a tidal wave of madness threatening to drown me. In my mind’s eye, I see Frankie, her face contorted in fear as she backs away from me. Her eyes, once filled with love and trust, now show only terror and revulsion. The image sends a jolt of pain through my heart, momentarily breaking through the haze of the curse.
With a monumental effort, I force the shadows back, collapsing to my knees as the room returns to normal. Everett rushes to my side, his face pale with shock as he helps me up.
“I… I’m sorry,”I rasp, my body trembling from the horror of what almost happened. “I couldn’t… I almost… Oh God, Everett, I almost lost control completely.”
“You shifted again,” he accuses.
