Page 4 of Cursed

Gray light spilled through the room from the skylight above the bathtub. A flash of lightning made me jump.

“There’s nothing there,” I whispered. “Nothing— You’re imagining—”

Drip.

“Avril—”

A moan tore from my lips as I realized the source of the sound.

My mother—

She lay in the bathtub, ethereally beautiful even in death, and her raven black hair spilled down into the water, floating like seaweed caught in a current.

“Mom—” My voice was a choked whisper, and I barely recognized it.

This can’t be real.

This can’t be happening.

She’s dead.

In a marble tomb at Juniper Gardens.

My mother rose out of the water and stood gracefully—silvered water streamed off her naked body and I tried to avert my eyes.

“Look at meee—”

A force I couldn’t resist took hold of the back of my neck and my chin and forcibly turned my head back toward her and I let out a whimper as the invisible grip tightened and held me in place.

Her pale flesh was perfect and unblemished. Impossibly smooth and ageless.

“Mom— I—”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “Youdid this to me,” she hissed.

“No—”

“You—”

She stepped out of the tub and the dripping water splashed against the pale marble tiles.

“No— I didn’t do anything— Please—”

My mother’s dark lips curled into a sneer. “Always begging. Always simpering—”

I was desperate to escape. Desperate to slam the door closed on this horror and hide.

But I couldn’t break free of the grip that held me. “Please—”

She walked toward me, slow and graceful. Her hips moved in a sensuous rhythm and her long black hair clung to her skin in wet tendrils as water continued to run down over her full breasts and over her smooth skin.

But as she drew closer, I noticed dark patches blooming on her unblemished figure.

Rot and decay.

With every step, her gorgeous flesh began to sag and peel away—a chunk fell to the floor with a sickeningsplatand bile rose in my throat. Her cheeks hollowed and her dark eyes sank as she approached me. Slow steps. She raised an arm and her red painted nails, sharpened to points, fixed on me.

“Why would he wantyou…” she hissed. Her cheekbone protruded from blackening flesh and her eyes were cruel and hard. Like stone. “A pale spark—”

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