Page 147 of Cursed

She tried to turn away, but she was too weak.

Her power was mine.

Her life was mine.

I drove the dagger into her ribs, up and into her heart. Hot blood gushed over my hand and down the front of Clara’s filthy nightgown.

She stiffened and let out a choked gasp against my lips and I dragged my mouth away from hers just as she reeled back and let out a strangled cry—or was that her mother?

A dark clot of blood burst from Clara’s lips and smeared her chin as the guards let her fall.

I straightened and wiped my mouth with the back of my wounded hand.

It throbbed painfully, and I looked down at it in disbelief and flexed my fingers as the wound closed over—slowly at first, and then all at once. My fingertips tingled and my legs were unsteady.

I glanced down at Clara’s body, slumped on the floor. Blood pooled around her, shifting from red to an inky black. Each drop that fell seemed to absorb the dim light of the chamber, as if the darkness itself was fed by her despair. I stood there, frozen, torn between the exhilarating power that coursed through my veins, and the horror of what I had done.

A mournful wail pierced the silence, but the rising sound of rushing water drowned it out.

No. Not water.

Applause.

As it enveloped me, I realized that the members of the Black Council were applauding me.

Applauding the murder of one of their own.

“Look at her,” Lucian’s voice sliced through the thick air, smooth as polished stone, drawing my gaze to his shadowed figure. He spread his arms wide. “You’ve done well, my dear.” His pale eyes glinted with satisfaction. A predator admiring the spoils of the hunt. “You are one of us now—and you have taken the first step toward greatness.”

I felt his approval wash over me, an icy wave that chilled my skin. It was heady and terrifying all at once, a reminder of how easily he wielded control over me. There was a cruel delight in his gaze, a twisted admiration for my actions that made my stomach churn. “You have surprised me, Avril,” he said.

In an instant, I worried I had put myself in more danger. Had I wielded the spell with too much ease? Should I have pretended to struggle with it?

“She never stood achanceagainst you,” he continued. His words dripped with honeyed malice. “And now— Now you are stronger for it, and you may take your place among the Necromi.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I stared down at Clara’s motionless form.

This wasn't a victory.

It wasn’t justice.

She had never apologized.

She would never apologize.

I had created another shade to haunt my nightmares.

The knife slipped from my grasp and dropped to the ground. I winced as the glossy black stone broke apart.

But Lucian didn’t seem to notice.

The members of the enclave stirred, their cloaks fluttering like shadows as they turned away from Clara’s crumpled form. Lucian’s guards threw a length of black material over her body and plucked her from the ground as though she weighed nothing.

Two members of the Council seemed to linger behind—Clara’s parents—maybe? But they, too, turned away.

She had been abandoned.

Lucian had chosen her for me, and they had to comply.

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