Page 24 of Necromance
Lucien’s voice shattered the nightmare.
I was wrenched back into reality, gasping, my body seizing with panic. I wasn’t running anymore. I was on the floor, my back against the cold stone, my throat raw.
Had I been… screaming?
Lucien was crouched over me, his hands on my shoulders, his face tight with worry. “Mia, look at me.”
I blinked rapidly, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My heart still thundered in my chest, but the castle, the study, Lucien. They were all real. I was back.
His grip on me tightened, grounding me. “What the hell just happened?”
I swallowed hard, my pulse still racing. My hands trembled as I slowly released my grip on the letter, the parchment crumpled from the force of my hold. Something or someone didn’t want me to see Lucien’s memories. Whoever it was… whatever force had hijacked my magic just now was determined to keep me from finding the truth.
“I…” My voice came out hoarse. I swallowed again. “I don’t know.”
I sat up slowly, still feeling the lingering terror of the vision crawling along my skin. My breath was uneven, my hands trembling as I tried to gather myself. Lucien remained crouched before me, his hands still on my shoulders, his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity I wasn’t sure how to name.
“What did you see?” he asked, his voice quieter now, steadying.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “A woman,” I murmured, my voice hoarse. “Black hair, crystal-blue eyes. She calledmy name… and then she—” I hesitated, the memory of her body snapping into that monstrous form making my stomach twist. “She changed suddenly and… became something horrible and chased me.”
Lucien’s expression darkened, and something flickered in his eyes… recognition. He was silent for a moment before he finally said, “I think I’ve seen her.”
My breath hitched. “What?”
He stood then, holding out a hand to me. “Come with me.”
I hesitated, glancing at his outstretched hand, then took it. His grip was strong, warm, grounding. With careful ease, he pulled me to my feet. I wobbled slightly, my head still light from the vision, but Lucien steadied me.
“There’s a painting,” he said. “A small one, tucked away in one of the bedchambers. I saw it while I was wandering, waiting for you to wake up.”
I frowned. “You didn’t think to mention it before?”
His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I saw many things in this castle while you were sleeping the day away, witch,” he murmured. “Not all of them seemed important.”
I glared at him, considering correcting him once again that I wasn’t a witch. He let go of my hand then, turning toward the door. I followed without hesitation, my pulse still uneven.
If Lucien had seen a painting of the woman from my vision… then she had been here. And that meant she was connected to all of this—his curse, the castle, the spirits that refused to speak.
And I intended to find out how.
He led me through the dim corridors of Ravenspire, the flickering candle in my hand dancing along the dark halls. My pulse thrummed in my ears, my fingers still cold from the vision. I’d never experienced anything like that when trying to peer into a spirit’s memory. Usually, I was merely a specter to the visions, unseen, unheard. This had been entirely different. It hadn’t seemed like a memory at all, but rather a horrid nightmare that I’d been dragged into.
The bedchamber he brought me to was one I hadn’t yet explored, its heavy door creaking as he pushed it open. The air inside was thick with dust and silence, the kind of silence that felt watchful.
“There,” Lucien said, nodding toward the small vanity table near the curtained window.
I stepped forward, my breath catching when I saw it—a small portrait, no bigger than a book, propped against the tarnished mirror. I reached for it hesitantly, my fingers brushing the aged wooden frame.
The woman’s face was unmistakable. Black hair, pale skin, crystal-blue eyes that seemed to see me even through the layers of paint. She was beautiful in a way that unsettled me, her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
A chillran down my spine. “It’s her,” I murmured.
Lucien’s gaze lingered on the painting. “You’re certain?”
I nodded. “I saw her in the vision. She called to me.”
As soon as the words left my lips, the castle shuddered.
