Page 36 of Necromance
His steps faltered for a moment, and I could hear the bitter amusement in his voice when he replied, “I am a caged animal, if you recall.”
I glanced up, meeting his smirk with a glare. “Don’t you need to rest or something after using all that energy to transport my bag?”
Lucien grinned, the familiar wicked glint returning to his eyes. “I thought youknewthings about ghosts?”
I rolled my eyes, trying to stay focused. But that grin, there was something about it, something that tugged at me in ways I didn’t want to admit. It distracted me more than I’d like.
“Of course I do,” I muttered. I lifted my gaze to him, a playful glint in my own eyes now. “But, you’re not… normal.”
His footsteps paused for a moment then slowly came closer. “True,” he said, that velvety smooth voice close to my ear now.
I gave him a pointed look, irritated yet amused at how well he seemed to push my buttons. “What are you doing?”
He paused, as if considering my words carefully. “I’m merely trying to keep myself entertained while you play with fire,” he said, stepping even closer. “Besides, I thought you liked my company.” His voice dropped to something softer, more intimate.
I could feel the air around us shift, a tingle running down my spine. I wanted to snap something snarky back at him, but instead, I felt my pulse quicken, the words catching. I cleared my throat and turned back to the book.
I flipped through several pages, trying to ignore Lucien’s warm body pressed so close to mine as I continued to translate the context. I tried to push away the acidic guilt that hung in my chest as my eyes roamed over my grandmother’s death book.
My breath caught in my throat as I traced the delicate, curling script with my fingertips. The words, ancient and foreboding, pulsed with an energy that stirred something deep within me. My magic hummed in response, an undeniable confirmation. This was it. This was the spell that had bound Lucien to the painting, that had cursed him to linger in this half-existence.
I read faster, my heart pounding. The spell was intricate, woven with dark magic meant to trap a soul between the veil of life and death. My fingers trembled as I reached the final lines, the cruel revelation sinking in.
“Lucien,” I breathed,my voice barely more than a whisper.
He leaned closer to peer over my shoulder. “What is it?”
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I forced myself to say it aloud. “You’re not dead.”
Silence stretched between us.
Slowly, I turned to face him, my eyes locking onto his. There was a flicker of something in them—hope, disbelief, fear.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice measured, but I could hear the tension beneath it.
I glanced back at the page, my vision blurring slightly as I forced myself to focus. “You’re stuck in between. You exist here, bound to the painting, but your body…” My breath shuddered out as I reached the final words. “Your body is still here. Somewhere in the castle. In eternal sleep.”
Cursed to dream in eternal sleep, until a heart he shall keep.
My grandmother’s story was right here on these pages. It wasn’t a story at all, but the words to bind the curse. All those years, she’d tucked me into bed with the story… no, the curse. For what? Why had she engraved this curse on me? Why had she shared it? Had she been the one to cast the spell? Had Serena convinced her to open this book again, to forego her own morals and rules?
An image of my mother’s undying corpse flashed through my memory. Skeletal fingers gripping my father’s throat as he fought to stay alive. His eyes met mine just before he gave in, letting death consume him. It had been the only way to release her from the bond, send her back into her grave.
Tears burned behind my eyes, a hot, tight pain filling my throat as I forced the memory away. I kept my gaze downcast so Lucien wouldn’t see the pain… the secret I was hiding. If he knew that this was my grandmother’s book… that my family had caused his curse…
I swallowed. What would he do?
Lucien took a step back as if the weight of the revelation had physically struck him. His jaw tightened, and when I was finally able to look at him, I could see the struggle in his expression, the desire to believe it, the fear of what it could mean.
“My body…” he murmured, almost to himself. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “It’s here.”
“Yes.” My voice was steady, though inside, I felt anything but. “If we find it… if we break the curse…”
He exhaled sharply and turned away, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as if the very idea was too much to grasp.
I understood. The thought of him being trapped like this, of his bodylying somewhere forgotten, sent a sick feeling twisting through me, even more so now that I knew it had been my grandmother who had caused it.
“We need to find it,” I said, determination hardening my voice, guilt overwhelming me.
