Page 65 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
I shake my head, exhaling. My phone screen still shows the abrupt end to the group chat. “What do you think this means?” I ask, my voice barely cutting through the hum of the overhead light.
“With everything that’s been happening, it could be anything,” Ziggy replies. He doesn’t look away from the skillet, where the eggplants sizzle in a shallow pool of oil. The comforting crackle fills the silence. “I just want Mina to know peace at some point.” His eyes glimmer green for a moment—an eerie shine that makes my stomach tense. “She’s had a tough life; she deserves better.”
Reaching out, I rest a hand on his shoulder. The material of his shirt feels warm against my palm. “That’s what we’re here for. To make her life easier and better.”
A soft sound draws my attention; Mina steps out of her room dressed in her favorite leggings—and apparently my sweatshirt. The sleeves swallow her hands, and I catch the faintest whiff of my detergent clinging to the fabric. She’s holding the cursed eggs close, careful as if they’re alive and fragile.
I open the fridge, letting cool air rush over me, and grab her an iced tea. When I hand it over, condensation trickles down my thumb, making the can slick. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” I settle on the arm of the chair next to her.
She cracks the can open with a soft hiss and takes a long sip. “Yeah, the idea that I’m not going to be strong enough against my father haunts me.” Her voice is quiet, and her gold eyes flick up to mine—human, but undeniably fierce.
“It’s hard to fight someone with more experience,” I say, leaning in just enough to catch the faint floral note of her shampoo. I press a quick kiss to the crown of her head. “You have to out think and outmaneuver them—use their size against them.”
She nods as I stand and step away. “I’m going to finish dinner. Holler if you need or want anything.”
Her gaze flicks to the eggs in her lap. She hums softly—a gentle tune that resonates in the quiet space. The eggs pulse in time with her melody, glowing as if responding to her voice. The sight sends a shiver of something I can’t name down my spine: awe, maybe, or fear of the unknown. Either way, I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s mesmerizing how deeply connected she is to them, and I wonder if any of us truly understand what she’s capable of.
CHAPTER 40
Mina
The guys are hidingsomething from me. The air tastes stale—heavy with an undercurrent of tension that sets my teeth on edge. Vaughn’s movements are stiff as he paces near the kitchen island. His gaze flicking toward me the same way Leander does when he senses my temper rising. Ziggy, normally a chatterbox while he cooks, stands at the stove with his back to me. The sizzle of frying eggplant crackles in the pan, but instead of discussing spices and technique like he usually does, he’s silent. I hum a little tune under my breath, directing it at the eggs that are sitting in my lap.
A loud bang from behind startles me, and Abraxis barrels into the room. The door smacks against the wall, sending vibrations through my feet. I spin around in time to see him freeze mid-step, chest heaving. His phone is clutched in a death grip, the plastic casing creaking from the pressure. My gaze drifts to the scales creeping over his neck and forearms—dark and glistening in the overhead light. His drake is dangerously close to surfacing.
I don’t move, just wait, heart pounding. The room seems to hold its breath. Abraxis inhales, deep and purposeful, and I watch the scales recede inch by inch. A faint scraping sound accompanies their withdrawal, like sandpaper against stone.
“How’s dinner coming along?” His voice comes out tight, and he shoves his phone into his pocket like it’s offended him.
“Just waiting for the others to throw the steaks on,” Ziggy replies. The smell of sizzling oil momentarily overwhelms my senses. He forces a smile, but it’s empty, and his hand trembles on the wooden spatula. Whatever’s happening is bad, and they’re all trying to keep me calm.
Abraxis crosses the living area, picking up stray pillows and bits of cloth from our recent sexual exploits. The faint odor of our sweat and adrenaline still lingers, mingling with the fried eggplant. I snort softly when Abraxis pulls my underwear from between the couch cushions. He hastily stuffs the black lace into his front pocket, his cheeks darkening. Ziggy catches the movement and raises a brow at me. I shrug, forcing a casual grin I don’t really feel.
Callan, Leander, and Balor arrive almost thirty minutes later. Balor clutches a small box in his hands, the cardboard edges worn. He glances at Abraxis, who nods back—some silent exchange that makes my stomach knot. The weight of dread settles over us like a thick fog.
“I’m sorry, Mina,” Balor murmurs. His face is grim, gaze flicking to the box as he hands it to me.
Instantly, I tug on the tether of my bond with Iris, relief flooding me when she comes fluttering from the bedroom. At least it’s not her. The cardboard feels heavier than it should when I rest it on my thigh. My pulse thrums in my ears as I lift the lid. The stench of decay slams into my nose, acrid and suffocating. My stomach churns, and I snap the lid shut, the echo of the cardboard thud rattling through my skull.
But beneath that horrific smell, there’s something else—something heartbreakingly familiar. My heart seizes. I yank the lid off again, my hand shaking, and stare in shock at a pair of severed women’s hands. A whimper escapes me, my bottom lip trembling. I know those hands; the shape of the nails, the delicate bones. Gently, I replace the lid, forcing my breathing to steady as I hand the box back to Balor.
“My mom…” My voice is a husky whisper. “By the scent of it, my father found her. His scent is there, too.” Numbness spreads through my limbs as I look down at the eggs. My vision blurs with tears I refuse to shed just yet. Dad is hunting us. And he’s very close.
I gather the cursed eggs in my arms, feeling their subtle warmth through the thin fabric of my shirt. Each one seems to throb with a quiet pulse. The smooth shells send a shiver up my arms as they nestle against me. My bare feet brush across the cold stone floor, and I note how the musty smell of old books and damp corridors seems to cling to the walls of this makeshift living space. My heart thuds heavily in my chest with each step, the sound echoing in my ears as I pace.
I stop dead in front of Balor, close enough to catch a faint whiff of leather and steel from his clothing. “You need to move and hide my sister. She may not want to see me because of who my father is, but she’s still my sister.” My voice trembles with the weight of unspoken fears. Balor raises a gloved hand and, in a gesture both tender and hesitant, caresses my cheek. The rough texture of his glove sends a quiver through me, and I inhale the faint scent of sweat and scales. He pulls me close, and for a fleeting moment, his breath warms my skin before he changes his mind andpresses a soft kiss to my forehead.Then he’s gone, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.
My eyes remain locked on the door for several beats too long, my heart still pounding. The room feels unbearably quiet, and I’m oddlyaware of the low hum of electricity in the overhead lights. Shaking my head, I turn to face the others. Ziggy’s gaze is full of compassion, and I can almost taste the tension in the air—stale, heavy, like a storm about to break.He knows what I’m struggling with.
I lower my eyes and sigh, moving back into the main sitting area. Leander is on the couch and I climb into his lap, curling up as I hold the eggs protectively against my chest. There’s a faint floral scent from Leander’s shampoo, mixing oddly with the raw tang of fear I can’t shake. My mind reels with possibilities.I don’t know if my mother is dead or simply suffering somewhere without her hands. I don’t know if my sister is safe or in my father’s clutches.
Klauth’s presence thrums through the eggs, a low vibration that rolls through my arms and settles in my chest. It soothes me like a low purr, but it also draws Leander’s attention. He shifts beneath me, his breath tickling my ear.
“He’s trying to make you feel better,” Leander whispers, his warm breath brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.
“He does that,” I reply softly, letting my gaze wander to the shadows clinging to the corners of the room. “He’s worried about me. Worried about not being there in time when I need him most.”
“He knows about the vision?” Abraxis asks as he kneels before us, his hands resting gently on my legs. There’s a faint smell of fire clinging to him, the residue of whatever darkness coils in this academy.
