Page 42 of The Cursed

WILLOW

Iban and I walked into the library, meeting up with Della and Nova as they lurked by the windows. Iban pulled a skeleton key from his pocket as he moved to one of the back rooms, leading the way as we approached. He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled one of the unmarked books from the shelf, revealing a hidden lock in the wall.

Making sure there were no Vessels to uncover the secret trove.

I stared in fascination as he inserted the key, turning the lock slowly. The clink of metal gears moving against one another came from behind the bookshelf as he pulled the key free and returned the book.

Della moved as the shelf slid forward, revealing a narrow passage between it and the wall. Iban cut her off, stepping inside and pulling a cord. Light filled the space as the three of us followed after him and as the shelf slid back into place and locked us inside, I winced.

Iban wasted no time searching the spines of books as Della and Nova explored. I ran a finger over the leather, the whisper of magic within those books brushing against me. “You can feel it, can’t you?” Iban asked, pulling a book from the shelf when he found the one he wanted. He set it on the table carefully, flipping through the pages as I found one that called to me and did the same opposite him. Della and Nova took longer to explore, pulling books out before they inevitably returned them.

“These are all in Latin,” I said, opening the book about Charlotte’s bargain and skimming the first page. It was the details of her life prior to making the bargain and listed the names of the men who’d accused her of witchcraft.

Jonathan’s name stood out in bold, and it horrified me to think of what he’d done to earn a place among the Cursed. He’d accused a dozen women before Charlotte, forcing them to prove their innocence by dunking them in the river.

When they survived, he’d condemned them to hang in the gallows.

It seemed a far cry from the cat sleeping peacefully in my messenger bag, purring away happily as he dreamed. I let the bag drop to the floor slowly, settling him even though he probably didn’t deserve such kindness from me.

If he’d never named Charlotte, none of this would have ever happened.

The next page told the story of how she’d gone into the woods, and I touched a finger to the neatly scrawled cursive on the page. How many years after had she gone back and told her story, laying it out here for any who came after her?

“This is Charlotte’s journal,” I said, looking over at Iban.

He nodded, glancing over at it. He’d clearly already read or at least skimmed the contents enough to recognize it as Della and Nova took their seats. “You should take it with you. She would want you to have it.”

I nodded, setting the journal aside as I got to my feet. If I was going to take it with me, I wanted to find something that might contain the answer to Gray within the texts that would stay behind. If Iban had already read the journal, I assumed it would not provide us with the answers we needed.

“Here it is,” Iban said, turning another page and getting to his feet. I moved to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder as he pointed down at the drawing on the page. The weapon on the page was crude, a handle carved from bone set into steel. I read the words on the page, skimming over them and swallowing back the immediate protest.

Diabolus Interfectorem.

Devil Killer.

“That kills them. I thought we were looking for a way to send them back to Hell,” I said, attempting to keep my calm. I walked back toward the shelves, thumbing over the spines as I ignored the pointed silence of the others behind me. My pulse rang in my head, drowning out all sound as I touched the books. The words blurred, dizziness settling over me at the thought of what they might ask me to do.

“Willow, are you alright?” Della asked, being the first to cross the gap and approach me. She touched my arm, pulling it down from the shelves and forcing me to look over at her.

“I’m fine,” I said, focusing my attention back on the shelves.

“Then maybe we should at least see what Iban has found and what it would require,” she said, her voice far too gentle.

“Juliet will never forgive you if we kill them,” I whispered, unsure if Iban was aware of her relationship.

Her face softened. “You let me worry about that.” She guided me back to the table, forcing me to look down at the dagger that made a hollow pit sink in my gut.

Lucifer could be killed.

“We would infuse it with the magic of every house,” Iban said, moving toward one of the shelves. He grabbed a chest from the top shelf, pulled it down, and set it on the table. He opened it slowly, turning it so we could see the dagger resting within the case. All creations had a distinct feeling of the Source within them, and the handle being carved in bone should have meant that I felt the magic of it within me. But this dagger was different.

Where there should have beensomething, there was only an empty void waiting to be filled.

“It’s too risky. He’ll kill anyone involved in this,” I said, shaking my head as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“It’s not going to be risky at all, Willow,” Iban said, his face softening. “Because you’re going to be the one to do it, and you’ll just have to make sure you follow through.”

I swallowed, staring at the knife in horror. “Sending him back is one thing; killing him is another entirely. I'm not…” I trailed off. I couldn’t admit that I wasn’t strong enough to watch the breath fade from his lungs and the light dim from his eyes. Doing it would break something in me, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

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