Page 46 of Cursed

Valen’s hands stilled immediately, suspended in the grimy depths of the engine. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us and I wasn’t sure if he’d snap at me to fuck off or if he’d be willing to talk. Everything had been balanced on a knife’s edge since Avril and her mother had come to Withermarsh. Now only Avril remained.

Valen’s brow furrowed and the lines on his face deepened.

“Time for what?” he replied. He didn’t look up, and there was irritation in his tone, but I didn’t care. Valen was more honest when he was pissed off. His fingers gripped the wrench with a white-knuckled intensity as he remained hunched over the bike.

“Avril has the Bloodstone Grimoire,” I said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

Valen’s expression sharpened. “How— How did she get it?”

“How do you think?” I snapped. “Lucian gave it to her.”

“Fuck.”

I flicked a piece of metal off the workbench and watched it bounce along the concrete floor. “I guess that answers that question—”

“What question?”

I leaned against the bench and crossed my arms over my chest. “Titus thought it was impossible— that Lucian wasactuallygoing to go ahead with the marriage— I have to admit, I doubted it… but now—”

“How do you know she has it?” Valen snapped.

“I have my sources,” I replied vaguely. “And before you ask… They’re very reliable.” I relished the way Valen’s mouth twisted. He focused on the motorcycle again, but I knew I’d hit a nerve. There was no reason for me to be an asshole, but it came naturally and there was no taking it back now.

“What would she do with it, anyway?” Valen growled without looking at me. “She’s not strong enough to use it properly. She’ll probably end up hurting herself before she figures it out.”

“Maybe,” I said. “She definitely would have wasted a lot of time if someone hadn’t shown her how to open it—”

The wrench slipped out of Valen’s hands and clattered to the concrete floor. “What?”

“She’s quite taken with it,” I said, letting the insinuation hang tantalizingly in the air.

“What have you done?” The accusation in his tone was clear as he stood and glared at me. I didn’t answer. After a moment of silence, he pushed a grease-stained hand through his hair and swore as he realized what he’d done.

Valen’s anger simmered in the grimy air of the garage. His glare pierced through me, but I couldn’t flinch. We were well matched when it came to our magic, so I wasn’t afraid of him, but I couldn’t afford to fight him—not now.The grimoire had taken more from me than I wanted to admit.

“Bastian,” he started, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me this is one of your sick games.”

I lifted my chin in defiance and met his gaze evenly. “Why would I lie about something like this?”

“You shouldn’t have involved her with that damn book,” Valen snarled, his hands clenching and unclenching as the tension between us escalated.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her struggle with it until Lucian got tired of her and—”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Valen cut me off, rounding his motorbike and coming towards me. Anger radiated off him, but beneath it was a worry that I hadn’t seen before. An edge of fear that had nothing to do with the grimoire and everything to do with Avril.

“Valen,” I began, but my attempt to calm him was met with a glower that could have shattered stone.

“You don’t understand,” he growled, fists clenched at his sides. “You’ve handed her a weapon she doesn’t know how to wield! It’s not like teaching her how to ride a damned motorcycle, Bastian! This is the Bloodstone Grimoire!”

“If she doesn’t know what she’s doing, then it’s not going to be dangerous,” I said, brushing off his concerns. I knew better than anyone what the grimoire could do… “She’ll read it, nothing more. She’s not strong enough— the grimoire won’t want her the way it wanted—” I let my voice trail off.

Valen stiffened at my words. His eyes narrowed as he studied my face, searching for some hint of deception. But he wouldn’t find it. I had a reputation for spinning tales and playing games, but when it came to Avril… Well, things were different than they used to be.

“Bastian,” he pleaded, “tell me you’re lying.”

I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and tense as a predator readying for a strike. Then, with a string of curses hanging in the air between us, Valen spun on his heel and strode out of the garage.

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