Page 382 of Evil Hearts

Cursed to Stone: A Stone Brothers Prequel

USA Today Bestselling Author Lexi Ostrow

Chapter One

Elena stepped ontothe platform, her heels clicking against the weathered wood. A cool mist swirled around her as she inhaled deeply, the scent of her hometown—stone and rain—filled her lungs. Her eyes scanned the familiar skyline, and she smiled as she took in the Gothic spires piercing the gray sky like ancient daggers. The towering cathedral dominated the horizon, its gargoyles perched ominously atop their lofty perches, watching.

Always watching.

Elena smiled faintly, an old fondness stirring in her chest.

She hefted up her suitcase and strode forward, the cobblestones creating an echo under her steps as she wound through the twisting streets. Centuries-old buildings crowded close on either side, their crumbling facades etched with untold stories. Faded signs creaked in the breeze. Shuttered windows gazed down like hollow eyes. The city’s past whispered from every stone, its secrets beckoning like ethereal fingers twining around her heart and tugging her onward.

Toward the cathedral.

Elena quickened her pace, and her pulse seemed to thrum in anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure.

The mist thickened, curling tendrils of fog rolling down from the looming cathedral like a ghostly shroud. A shiver danced down her spine as she looked up again. The gargoyles seemed to leer knowingly from the shadows. They were ancient sentinels guarding...what?

She sped up, her heeled boots striking the uneven stones in sharp staccato.

Anticipation coiled tight in her stomach as an almost magnetic pull urged her forward. Adrenaline danced through her with more fury than a desperate ballerina. Elena narrowed her eyes against the swirling mist, fixing the cathedral’s imposing silhouette in her gaze. Its secrets called to her, primordial and mesmerizing, an insistent siren song only she could hear.

A song she tried to run from when she left almost a decade ago, and one it seemed she was destined to respond to.

Elena reached the cathedral’s towering entrance, its ancient wooden doors looming before her like the maw of some great beast. She paused, her heart thundering against her ribs, her breath shallow and quick, as she thought of her next move.

Reaching out, her fingers brushed the weathered oak, tracing the intricate carvings worn smooth by centuries of reverent touches.

With a deep breath, she pushed one inward.

The door groaned open, the sound echoing through the vast, shadowed interior like a weary sigh. Elena stepped inside, the air instantly warmer and heavy with the lingering scent of incense and aged stone. Darkness pressed at her from all sides, held at bay by the flickering glow of candles and the weak streetlights filtering through stained glass windows.

With measured and deliberate steps, Elena moved further into the church, her gaze drawn upward to the vaulted ceilings that soared high above. Intricate stone arches crisscrossed overhead, their lines blurred by the dancing shadows. And there, perchedat the corners and nestled in alcoves, sat one of many gargoyles that also seemed to stand watch on the interior of the building. Smaller, but there nonetheless.

Their twisted faces leered down at her, frozen in eternal snarls and leering grins and their tiny wings seemed to beat the air.

Elena’s fingers trailed along the cool, rough pew tops as she walked, each uneven old bench a testament to the history etched into the very bones of this place. Whispers of the past brushed against her skin, ancient secrets begging to be uncovered.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and Elena turned, her heart leaping into her throat as a figure emerged from the shadows, robes billowing like liquid midnight.

Recognition dawned on her, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Father Antoine,” she breathed, her voice hushed in the cathedral’s sacred stillness.

The elderly priest inclined his head, a twinkle in his wise brown eyes. “Elena. Welcome back.” His voice was a soothing balm, warm and rich as aged brandy. “I had a feeling you’d find your way here once your adolescence gave way to wisdom.”

Elena’s brow furrowed, questions burning on her tongue. “Father, I...” She trailed off, gaze drifting once more to the stone guardians above. “The gargoyles. I can’t explain it, but I feel...”

“Drawn to them?” Father Antoine supplied, his smile enigmatic. “Yes, I imagine you would be.”

“What do you mean?” Elena’s pulse quickened, the old priest’s words fanning the flames of her curiosity.

Father Antoine regarded her thoughtfully, the candlelight casting deep shadows across the lines of his face. “Walk with me, Elena. There are things you must know...about this place, about yourself.”

Intrigued and unnerved in equal measure, Elena fell into step beside him, their footsteps echoing in tandem through the cathedral’s cavernous halls.

As they walked, Father Antoine’s voice took on a hypnotic quality, weaving a tapestry of ancient tales. “The gargoyles, Elena, are more than mere stone. They are the guardians of this cathedral, the protectors of secrets long forgotten. Beings both created and born out of a need to ward off things that should not haunt certain places”

Elena’s understood, and didn’t understand why he felt this was news to her. “Yes, created to protect, which is why the faces are so menacing.”

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