Page 104 of Cursed

Bastian’s motorcycle roared to life first, and the sound echoed against the stone walls of the estate. Valen kicked his bike into gear, and the growl of the engine vibrated the air around us. I threw my bag into the back and slid into the SUV’s driver’s seat and set my hands on the wheel.

As we pulled out onto the winding road, the estate fell behind us and my grip tightened on the steering wheel as we passed through the ward barrier Lucian had set over the Withermarsh’s boundaries.

The motorcycles roared as they put on speed and flanked me. My brothers knew what they were doing.

I didn’talwaystrust them—especially when it came to Avril—but I could trust them with this.

They knew what awaited them if we failed.

Elder Craster’sestate was on the upper crescent of the bay that overlooked Messana’s busy harbor. The road was unpaved and wound through a dense forest of black pine trees. I parked the SUV in the shadows of the towering trees just beyond the warded border of the Sage’s estate.

The estate loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the faint glow of Messana’s distant lights. Somewhere behind those walls, Elder Craster lay oblivious to the fact that he should have been counting down the final moments of his life.

Lucian said he wanted to speak with the old Sage—but I knew better.

My father didn’t make requests.

He made demands of his followers.

And examples.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and glimpsed Valen and Bastian as they pulled their bikes off the road and pushed them between the trees. The engines silenced, their forms melded into the darkness like wraiths.

I pulled my bag from the back seat and strapped my knife to my belt.

“A knife, Titus?” Bastian’s voice echoed from the trees behind me. “I thought we were beyond such… pedestrian approaches.”

“Keep it quiet,” I murmured, my voice low.

“Whatever you say.” Bastian flashed a disarming smile, though the glint in his pale eyes held a strange hunger—he was too eager for this assignment. He’d been restrained for too long. I wondered if he would blame Avril for his recklessness. Though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, it was clear that she’d done something to us.

I’d never been captivated by anyone the way I was with her.

The way we all were.

Bastian tossed his unruly blond hair out of his eyes and his nose wrinkled. “Whoever laid that perimeter ward didn’t do it right—” he muttered. “Goddamned Sages don’t know what they’re doing.”

Valen stood beside me and cast a sidelong glance toward the estate. “Let’s just keep our heads on straight. Craster’s wards might not be tricky, but getting him out of there will be.”

“No mistakes.”

“None,” Valen agreed. Bastian shrugged. He flexed his fingers and his knuckles cracked ominously.

With a nod, we pulled our masks up over our faces—black fabric swallowed our features and helped us blend into the night. I felt a familiar rush of adrenaline, cold and electric, course through my veins.

I gestured toward the shimmer of the ward and Bastian walked toward it with bold steps.

He lifted his hands, and the ward shivered as he bent his power toward it. In no more than a moment, the shimmer drifted, and then flickered and fell. It collapsed to the pine-needle strewn ground and vanished into a thin mist that dissipated under our boots as we strode forward into the forest.

“Pathetic,” Bastian muttered.

He was right. I’d barely registered the remnants of the ward as we stepped over its ashes.

Even in the face of their own hypocrisy and failure, the Sages were arrogant.

This is why they will fail.

I led the way through the trees, every nerve ending alert, every instinct honed sharp. The manicured gardens of the estate sprawled before us. The gardens of a wealthy man who had enjoyed power and prestige every moment of his life—and he was about to lose everything.

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