Page 149 of Cursed

Titus?

Where was I?

Was I still in the horrifying catacombs beneath the crypts?

My mother’s tomb—

Oh, gods.

Cold air brushed my skin, and someone wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

My body lurched, and darkness swept over me again; the world around me flickered like a dying candle.

A broad chest cradled me, steady and warm, but all I could grasp was the heavy weight of exhaustion that pulled at my limbs.

The voices swirled around me—Bastian’s dark voice. Valen’s smooth tones, each word pierced through the fog in my mind.

“She’s burning up!” Bastian snapped. His voice was sharp, almost frantic. “You should’ve been faster!”

“Shut up. You’re not helping,” Valen shot back.

I tried to open my eyes, but it was so hard to see anything—everything was blurry—lights.Streetlights?

“I should have gone ahead—”

“Someone will go back for the bikes. We need to get her back to the house.”

A ripple of magic caressed my body, and I shivered. We’d passed through the protective barrier. Surely—

Gravel crunched under the wheels and the vehicle came to a stop.

Doors opened. Strong arms lifted me and cradled my body against that familiar warmth. I blinked, trying to focus, but shadows danced across my vision. Someone swung the door open and carried me from the vehicle; the night’s chill bit into my skin.

What time was it?

How long had I been in those catacombs?

How long had Clara been dead—

“Get the door,” Valen commanded.

I was barely aware as they moved—Bastian’s soft chuckle echoed in my ears, Valen’s muttered curses as he maneuvered me through Withermarsh’s grand entrance.

“Will you stop squirming?” Bastian said through gritted teeth, though I couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was genuinely irritated. My limbs felt dead and weak and my head lolled against his chest like a broken doll.

“Just get her upstairs,” Titus said, his voice a low growl. A shiver ran down my spine as something primal stirred within me. Bastian climbed the stairs with Titus and Valen beside him. I could feel their hands on me—steady and warm.

“Avril—” Valen coaxed. His fingers were gentle on my cheek and chin. “You have to let us into your room—”

Shit. The sigils.

My eyes rolled back as I struggled to take hold of my magic—there—the door creaked open and I envisioned the sigils being scratched off the wooden door frame to allow them to enter.

A ripple of power, a sigh—it was done.

“Shit,” Bastian breathed. “Did you feel that?”

“Stop talking,” Titus snapped. “Get her inside.”

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