Dark Curse

  Dark Curse

  Darkhaven Saga: Book Five

  Danielle Rose

  This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

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  Copyright © 2020 Waterhouse Press, LLC

  Original Cover Design by Wicked by Design

  Cover Redesign by Waterhouse Press

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  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Acknowledgments

  Continue the Darkhaven Saga with

  Also by Danielle Rose

  About Danielle Rose

  For Nicki—

  If you made it this far in the series,

  you should stop telling people you’re “not a reader.”

  Chapter One

  I thought the vampire was dead. After the witches dabbled with the black arts, I assumed my punishment for all my misdeeds and bad choices was to live a life just barely grasping the power that lies beyond my fingertips.

  It turns out I was wrong.

  The vampire has always been inside me. She is now, but we are disconnected, and I have only myself to blame.

  Now that I know she is simply slumbering, I feel her. I sense her desires. When she has a particularly restless night, I crave the sweet aroma of blood on my lips and I yearn for vengeance against those who cursed me to live as neither witch nor vampire.

  Before, when I only had to worry about Mamá’s spell, I was still a witch, but now I am not even sure if I am human. Because of my choices, I am cursed to remain in darkness without the ability to truly appreciate the shadows.

  My exile feels permanent, as if I am forever condemned to the void that is nestled within my very soul. I should feel happy here, because I know the vampire is trapped with me. But I do not. Lifeless and still, I remain within the abyss, just waiting for the moment the witches come for me. Because I know they will. The spell I cast was nothing like the black magic they used against me. Hexes can be broken, and therein lies the irony.

  I damned myself.

  When I cast that spell, the link Mamá formed between us ensured I doomed myself as well. I knew what I was doing. I used the power of both my coven and the moon, harnessing enough energy from the vampire to formally take a stand against the witches. When I used our link to suppress their magic, I suppressed mine as well.

  But even though I know I am to blame for the cost I must now bear, my situation never gets easier. I never become less of a burden to those I now consider family.

  For one month, I have lived with the vampires as a mortal, but I do not fear for my life the way I do when the witches are near. In fact, the vampires have given me something priceless, something I never experienced under Mamá’s roof. Peace.

  It has been thirty days and thirty nights since I hexed my former coven, and not a day passes when I do not think about the ramifications of all that has happened since Jasik sired me. He feels responsible. He refuses to listen when I argue that this is not his fault. Over the weeks, I have grown tired of trying to convince him, so now we live in an uncomfortable silence.

  I roll over in bed, repositioning my pillow as quietly as I can, desperately trying not to wake the slumbering vampire beside me. If I were still a hybrid, I could have leaped from this bed and run down the stairs without ever making a sound. Unfortunately, the spell that I cast severed my connection to my magical side also suppressed my fantastical abilities.

  So I ask myself, what is left when I am no longer a witch or a vampire?

  A clumsy human.

  Something I have never been but now must embrace.

  I open my eyes, letting my senses adjust to the unlit room. Even though my sense of sight is no longer heightened, if I wait long enough, I can make out Jasik’s features. Tonight, it does not take as long as it normally does for me to see him clearly.

  He is lying beside me. I shimmy closer to him, desperate for warmth I know I will not find in the body of a vampire. Deep down, I know the chill nestled in my bones is because I am sleeping beside the undead, but in my heart, I cannot force him away. I feel safe when Jasik is near.

  I poke my head up, peering into my dark bedroom. I do not know the hour, but I know it is daytime. Thick burgundy curtains block out the sunlight except for one solid line at the corner of the window. The sun splashes into the room, illuminating what should be a pitch-black space.

  Cursing inwardly, I gnaw on my lower lip. Soon, the sun will make way for the moon, and the chance it will harm Jasik is unlikely. Still, I feel compelled to draw the curtains even tighter.

  An invisible force pulls me to the window, summoning me to its side, and all I can do is obey its silent order.

  I pull back the covers and rise from bed before I even make the decision to stand. I tiptoe, walking around the four-post bed, trailing my fingertips along the mattress top. My fingers snag in the blankets, and I freeze, glancing over at Jasik.

  We decided he would stay in my room the night I returned home. For the first week, he slept in a chair. The next week, I woke to find him on the floor. He balled his jacket into a makeshift pillow. After that, I told him to come to bed with me. He was hesitant, but he conceded when I starting having the nightmares. After several nights in a row of waking the entire manor with my screams, we knew we needed to try something else.

  The first night I dreamed, the other hunters—Malik, Hikari, and Jeremiah—rushed into my room, expecting to find a bloodbath, only to see me drenched in sweat, cradled in Jasik’s arms as I screamed about the witches and how they were coming for their revenge. The details are still fuzzy. I do not remember most of the nightmares, but I do remember the way they made me feel. That fear has clung to me since the day I escaped captivity, and it is tightening so ruthlessly around my chest, I can barely breathe even when I am awake.

  I feel it now. The familiar sense of being asleep leaves a stagnant odor in the air, but still, I have to ask myself.

  Am I dreaming?

  I cannot always tell. I feel controlled, as if I am not aware of my actions until after I commit them. But this does not feel like a dream. This does not even feel like a nightmare. It is just me and Jasik and the horror my life has become.

  He seems unbothered by the rustling of sheets, even though I have pulled them tighter over his frame. I am surprised he is using them at all. He rarely sleeps with the covers on. Too often, I wake to find them bunched all around me, but today, he is covered from his waist down. Still, one leg dangles free.

  I am still staring at him when I step on a loose floorboard. I hold my breath. I freeze, letting the room settle into silence once again before I continue—this time actually watching where I am walking.

  At the end of the bed, I grip the footboard, my heart steadily hammering in my chest. The constant thump has reached my ears, and it is all I can hear. I try to breathe slowly, calmly, chastising myself for being far too emotionally invested in this window. But even as I mentall
y berate myself in a sad attempt to regain my composure, my fear never lessens.

  I do not know why I am so scared. I am not even sure if my concern is for the sunlight, which is slowly creeping closer to my bed, or because I am desperate not to wake Jasik. After disturbing his sleep more times than I care to admit, I worry that he is not resting enough, especially when he still has his daily patrols.

  I have already rounded the bed, and I am now on the side Jasik sleeps on. I glance at him, and he still sleeps peacefully. I find myself wondering what he dreams about and if he sees me. I used to dream about him all the time.

  “Are we happy?” I whisper mindlessly, but I quickly suck in a sharp breath, scolding myself for being so stupid.

  Jasik frowns and shifts in his sleep, but he does not fully wake. I release the breath I was holding and try to calm my nerves.

  I want to touch him, but I do not. I know he would wake. So I allow myself to hover above him. Using my hand, I map the sharp edges of his strong body, balancing my arm several inches above his frame. He never moves, and I am certain he does not even know what I am doing here.

  My bed is encased in sheer fabric, but it is pulled back now. I have not used it as an enclosure since the night I returned, when I awoke screaming, fearing I was still in captivity. I looked around, and even with Jasik assuring me that I was safe, I felt trapped. I could not escape. Now, the fabric twists around the four posts that nearly reach the ceiling. I have no intention of pulling it free.

  When I bring my hand to Jasik’s face, I stop. I pull my arm away, afraid I might lose all sense and touch him. Everything about him is perfect—from his devotion to me to his fierce protectiveness. Sometimes, when I am around him, it is almost too hard to look at him. My hands get clammy, my mind fuzzy, and my chest hurts.

  Sometimes I catch him looking at me when he thinks I am not aware. It is the way he regards me in those moments. My heart stops, and I want to die.

  I am never afraid when I am with him. Even now, as he sleeps, I know I am safe. But that still has not steadied my heart. It races in my chest, hammering so hard against my rib cage I worry it will break free.

  Something catches my eye, and I tear my gaze from the vampire beside me. A shadow moves across the strip of light penetrating the room, and I freeze. I do not move again until my chest burns. Only then do I release my breath and take the final steps to the window.

  But I do not dare a peek. I refuse to look outside, to see what awaits in the forest that surrounds the manor. With a shaking hand and weak arm, I reach forward. I tuck the curtain around the bend in the windowsill, pulling it tightly so that the sunlight is completely blocked.

  Only when I hear his screams do I realize I did not take enough care to enclose my bedroom in darkness.

  I blink several times, awakening from my trance. I shield my eyes, the sunlight burning too brightly against my weakened senses.

  My bedroom is engulfed in sunlight, and my bed is immersed in flames. Mesmerized by the fire, I am stunned silent, only regaining my control over my voice when it is too late to save him.

  From where he lies on my bed, cast aflame in a fiery rage, Jasik bellows, the agony in his voice like a knife to the gut. His pain encompasses me, cocooning me in its clutch, and his screams penetrate straight to my heart. The accusation of his words wraps around me, looping over and over again, and I know I will never be free of it.

  I hear nothing else. His scream falls silent, his pain extinguished, and I am showered in ash. But the fire looms, growing brighter by the second as it spreads to the hardwood floor.

  The floorboards feel like molten lava against my bare feet. I look at my arms, where Jasik’s ashes mix with my sweat. I swirl the mixture together, frowning at the mess I have created.

  Someone is banging at my bedroom door. I hear voices, but I do not bother responding. I do not even look their way.

  The air is thick with smoke, and I choke on my breath, sucking in sharp gasps as my chest heaves, my body begging for oxygen. My eyelids are heavy, and my limbs are shaking.

  But I do not move. Even though I know my senses should be rapid firing, screaming at me to escape, I do not listen to them.

  Because all I can hear is Jasik’s voice in my head. His cry is like twine, and it threads around me, trapping me in this place, in this time.

  Frozen.

  Hollow.

  Dead.

  What have you done?

  That evening, as I get ready for another long night of reading stacks of books that can tell me nothing about my condition, I do not look at Jasik. I fear if I do, he will see the guilt etched across my face. It is in the way I look at him, the way I touch him, the way I say his name. I cannot avoid it, and the more time we spend together, the better Jasik becomes at reading my inner thoughts, as if I speak them aloud.

  I know I was having another nightmare last night. If I was not, Jasik would be dead right now—killed by my hand. I shiver at the thought, still letting it invade my innermost consciousness. The images lash out at me, and I flinch, allowing my visions to stain my mind in red.

  I need to get better at controlling my emotions. The worst part of my transition—from witch to hybrid and hybrid to human—has been my inability to remain calm, lucid in all situations. Every little thing irks me, as though I am some ticking time bomb waiting to burst. And if it does not anger me, it hurts me. There is never an in-between. Either I am mad or sad, but regardless of my emotions, I am slowly drifting into madness.

  I try not to agonize over Jasik’s fake death, but the fact that my unconscious self unwittingly sacrificed my sire has left heaviness in my soul. And it smothers me. I carry that presence with me, hoping I can veil my inner thoughts as well as I have been hiding the toll a life without magic has had on my mind and body.

  Spring is a few short weeks away now, but it is hard to tell based on the color of our surroundings. The world is dusted in snow, but slowly, the morning sun melts everything.

  One of the perks of living in Darkhaven is the change of seasons. Winter is cold and snowy. Spring is rainy and warm. Summer is hot and humid. Autumn is colorful and cool. It is no wonder my ancestors settled here. Darkhaven is absolutely an elemental witch’s dream. Everywhere I look, there is something nearby to use when invoking the elements. That is, if I still could.

  There is a chill in the air—one that only I can feel. The vampires are immune to the hindrance of the elements, whereas I now wither in them. Everything is either too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry. I am never at peace—not with the icy air blowing over Darkhaven, not with the silent moon, not with the rays of sunshine I attempt to soak up with Holland, not with my decision to oust myself from the magical kingdom I was born into.

  I did what I had to do, but is the cost too much to bear?

  I tug on the hem of my sweater. I must do this often, mindlessly so, because threads are beginning to come loose where my fingers pick at the fabric. I gnaw on my lip, thinking about my wardrobe.

  When I was a hybrid, I did not have to worry about exposure to the elements. Now, that is all I think about—and not just from the elements. My skin. I worry my secrets will not remain hidden for long.

  When the weather warms, I will not be able to hide behind the many layers of clothing covering me now. I blame being bundled up all the time on the frosty air, and the vampires believe me, even when Holland lounges in a thin T-shirt. The vampires trust me, believing, after everything we have been through, I would not hide anything from them.

  But I do.

  Not out of fear or shame. I just…do. I cannot help it. Whenever I think about admitting the severity of my situation, something stops me. I do not know what it is, but it is always with me, waiting, lurking, watching as I succumb to the silence. I have never before felt as lonely as I feel now.

  I do not tell Jasik or Holland how loud the darkness has become. I do not admit to my nightmares, even when I wake screaming and Jasik has to hold me close in order to steady my overwor
ked heart. I do not tell him what happens in my dreams, even though I can see the fear in his eyes when he wakes me. He knows something is amiss. He knows my nightmares are becoming far too real for me. Still, I do not admit how close I am to the edge of the abyss, even when Jasik whispers into my ear that he will always keep me safe.

  One night, when Jasik thought I was sleeping, he told me he would sacrifice his own life if that is what it took to keep me safe. I believed him. He has always been loyal and honorable in that way. Nightly, he risks death to protect the manor, so I have no doubt he will offer everything he has to save me, for I am his first. I am the only one he offered immortality to, and as I am sired to him, I did not have the courage to tell him it will come to that. Soon, the darkness in me will take control, and it will be him or me. I just hope he makes the right choice, for evil can wear the mask of a girl.

  I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I do not look the same anymore. My irises are a dirty dark brown, murky and cloudy in color. I am pale, my eyes are sunken, and my skin is taut and dry. My cheekbones are more pronounced, and I feel every rib when I hold myself at night.

  I use my fingers to brush my hair, attempting to calm my wild mane, but I only end up looking more haggard, the harsh winter air drying what used to be luscious strands. I frown, giving up as I huff dramatically and take in my appearance one final time.

  That is when I notice it.

  A sliver of something black is creeping up my neck. I adjust my sweater, hoping to cover it, but no matter how much I shimmy within the fabric, I cannot. It remains there, poking through, announcing its presence to the world I am desperate to elude. I squint, my vision fuzzy, as I try to better look at the mark.