Page 71 of Cursed

You hit your head.

No sleeping.

The whispers in my mind swelled and throbbed and buzzed in time with the thud of my headache.

How was I going to master this book?

How—How was I going to be strong enough to perform this spell?

Then, there it was—words scrawled in jagged letters that sent a shiver down my spine:Hemorrhage of Power.

My heart raced as I read the words and a dark thrill sparked within me. Drain the power from a willing (or unwilling) participant.

A spell that would allow me to absorb another’s power—

Was I really considering this?

The thought twisted in my gut like a knife and the whispers in my mind became a little sharper—were they laughing?

I shook my head and concentrated on the words of the spell.

By blood, our essence entwines. By sacrifice, your strength becomes mine.

I sever your flame; I claim your light.

Through blood and bone, your gift is mine,

I drink your power, one drop at a time.

This was no Sage’s spell. This was something else. Scrawled in dark ink on an uneven angle—this was the spell of another sorcerer.

Was I really this desperate?

The image of my mother’s rotted face rose in my mind; its horror remained etched in my memory and I wondered if it would ever be scrubbed clean.

Yes. I was this desperate.

The dark velvet box that held Lucian’s ring caught my eye.

I couldn’t falter again.

If I was going to find out who had stolen my mother away—and her magic—I needed power, and if that meant reaching out to three of the men I hated most in this world—I would do it.

Lucian’s sons…they had all used the grimoire before.

It would respond to their power.

All three of them had approached me and offered me help—in their own way.

They were dangerous, and unpredictable… if I asked them for help, they would laugh in my face.

But if I took what I needed— Would they even notice?

They were all so strong. So powerful.

I would never be able to overpower them.

I examined the cuts on my arms and then looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror.

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