Page 92 of Cursed

A desperate plea.

Icouldn’tbe like them.

But what had I traded away in exchange for the power that swirled in my veins?

“Nothing,” I muttered as I walked across the room. I swept the blackened silver dagger from the bed and cradled it in my palm as I approached the vanity where the Bloodstone Grimoire lay.

The stones embedded in the dark leather of its cover gleamed in the dim light, beckoning.

The whispers in my mind surged as I set the dagger down beside the grimoire.

I’d done what I had to, and now there was nothing standing in the way of the answers I sought.

Blood drippedinto the marble tiles as I traced out the sigils I needed to summon my mother’s shade.

The circle around the tub was almost perfect—no breaks, no wavering lines. My hands were steady as I sprinkled the salt and turned the pages of the grimoire.

My blood soaked into the pages and the words and symbols I needed bloomed across the scarred parchment.

A drop of water fell into the tub with a sharpplik, and the sound echoed in the silent chill of the bathroom.

Candles shimmered and flickered at the edge of the tub.

I was ready.

My last attempt at this spell filled me with terror, but this time, I was calm. The sigils were oriented to their cardinal positions, and my vision blurred at the edges as my newfound power surged and flowed through me.

With one hand, I opened the velvet box that held Lucian’s engagement ring and stood over the tub.

Without hesitation, I dropped the ring into the tub and watched it float down to the bottom. It lay against the smooth porcelain and winked dully at me.

This was going to work.

The flickering candles cast wavering reflections across the water’s surface, and steam curled around me, thick and heavy. Romano magic—stolen magic—coursed through my veins. Fresh and raw. It felt alive as it vibrated beneath my skin.

This had to work.

I stretched my hand over the still water and tightened my hand into a fist. Blood dripped in a steady stream and sank below the surface.

I held my breath and then spoke the words to begin the spell.

“By my blood, I call you forth. By my life, I bridge the chasm of death.”

The surface of the water rippled and then changed as my blood spread over it in an oily slick. The ring glinted from the bottom of the tub, taunting me.

I stepped out of the circle and wrapped a bandage around my hand to staunch the bleeding. “By these flames, I illuminate the shadows. Let the lost find their path to this place.”

The candle flames flickered and bent in an unseen wind and the thick scarlet

Water rippled and splashed against the sides of the tub. A tremor—subtle at first—shuddered through the tiles beneath my bare feet and then grew stronger, radiating out from the circle I’d painted in blood on the pale marble.

That was different.

“By myblood, I call you forth,” I repeated firmly. “With my will, I bridge the chasm of death.” I paused to take a breath. “Julia Velez— Come forth!”

The candles flickered violently, and shadows leapt across the walls and distorted into grotesque shapes that writhed in the dim light.

Icy dread settled deep within my bones as the vibration beneath my feet intensified and the whispers in my mind scraped at my courage.

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