Page 13 of Cursed to Be Mine
An anguished cry comes from Cid, and his soul flickers rapidly between man and wolf. I drop Abril’s stone into the fire.
“Stop!” he shouts, and I still, holding his gaze. “If I tell you what I know,” he grits out, “will you release your curse of Elena and Abril?”
“You better talk quickly,” I say. “Poor Elena sounds like she’s already dying.”
Abril’s screams overtake her mother’s, but hers are alone. No one there to try to put out the flames. No one there to comfort her.
“Mom!” she sobs, her cries muffled under something crashing around her and the roar of the flames. “Dad!Someone...please help me!”
“Abril, baby, just –”
“She can’t hear you,” I cut in, picking up Jorge’s stone. His only son. His heir. But not his favorite. Perhaps I should skip the line and go directly to Zita.
No. There is chaos without order.
And I am a man of my word. Jorge is next, then his whore Rei, then Zita.
“He’s trying to make hybrids,” Cid spits, dropping to his knees, a proud man forced to beg.
The door opens behind me. “Burn them, Khalid,” my mother says as she enters.
I incline my head as I curl my fingers around the ball of fire. It explodes up, its heat sucking the air from the room as Cid screams with a raw fury. He slams himself against the cage, and it falters for a moment as blood spurts out of my mouth. I grunt as I lash out with my own power, forcing him back as the flames grow ever higher, ever hotter.
“Daddy!” Abril screams.
“Elena!”
“You can’t save her!” someone shouts, the sounds of a scuffle bleeding through the flames.
Their voices fade, Cid’s wife’s whimpers extinguished forever. Now it’s only Abril’s screams filling the room. Pathetic and desperate, she begs for her father to save her. Does she know she is dying because of him?
I bow forward as a blow ruptures across my stomach. Blood sprays across the black floor, and I wipe it free of my mouth as I straighten. Cid is slamming back and forth against the cage, attacking every part of it, hoping for a weakness somewhere. His form solidifies into that of his wolf, and with a chilling howl, he lunges straight up.
He’s found the weakness.
His claws dig into the shield, and for a moment, he hangs as power crackles across his body, a circuit for pure agony. Snarling, he fights through it, his arm and back muscles bunching as he pulls himself up.
Mother walks past me and to the werewolf’s cage, her footsteps sure and unafraid –foolish. Cursing, I increase the power of the flames, and Abril’s screams are snuffed out just as Cid manages to rip through the magic circle.
Chaotic energy rips across the room, the broken magic uncontrollable, and I’m tossed back as I throw up a shield around Mother. My head snaps against the wall. I crush Jorge’s stone in my fist, my magic killing him quickly.
Mother stays standing just in front of the werewolf, a billowing vortex of blue energy surrounding her as I use my power so she doesn’t have to. Cid lunges for her neck, and the runes around me glow red as I dart forward to intercept him.
Our souls touch. Agony burns through the both of us, like bolts of electricity made of knives dipped in acid and salt. I scream as he howls. My body curls in on itself, but Mom’s close presence forces me to fight through the pain.
“Don’t!” I shout at her as the air around her crackles.
Holding my arm out to the stones, I call Cid’s to me. It flies towards my palm, and I pull a pin out of the hot electrified air. The stone slaps my hand as I shove Cid’s soul away from me. All the runes in the room burn red, and I slam the pin into his soul doll. He jerks on a howl, his claws brushing my leg.
Blood ruptures from my lips as I kick him away and pull into existence another pin of energy.
“Areic poland eockin viltovar,” I chant, stabbing his stone in the heart and finally releasing his soul from this world. The runes around me and Mother glow bright blue, keeping us safe from the rapid release of energy explodingfrom where he stood.
Mother stands unmoving, her long black hair billowing around her. My fingers press into the floor as my body shudders against the onslaught of power. Magic does not care who it attacks. If I cannot control it, if I am too weak from pain, it will just as greedily take my life as it will my enemies.
When the room finally settles, I cough up more blood. Dealing directly with souls requires the energy of your own to do it, and exhaustion hits me with all its force. More blood sprays across the floor; pain quakes from my chest, Cid’s blows still resonating inside my soul. As I shudder on my hands and knees, Mother kneels in front of me.
“You did well, Khalid,” she says. Reaching out, she touches my forehead. “Now rise. We need to discuss how to kill the Garcia line.”
