Cursed by Diamonds (A Dance with Destiny Book 1) (8 page)

“…Alastyn?”

“Yes?”

She turned to face him and was immediately lost once more in those fascinating emerald eyes, completely enchanted by the sheer flawlessness of his lovely face. She had never felt such an intense attraction to anyone before.

“I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” she confessed.

“Is it a good thing?”

“I know not. But I like it.”

His dazzling smile nearly stopped her heart. She tenderly placed her hand upon his cheek. She couldn’t help it. She never wanted to move from this very spot. She was in awe of him.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered.

He laughed softly, blushing. “I believe I’m the one who should be telling
you
that.”

“Tell me this, Alastyn. If I were allowed to stay here, would you visit me?”

“Every day.”

“Promise?”

He bent closer, whispering in her ear, “I have no choice, Milady. You have stolen my heart. I can no longer breathe on my own. Will you destroy me, or love me? I cannot prevent either. But I prefer love.”

He brushed the tip of his nose lightly against her cheek and softly kissed her ear. It was the most magical feeling she had ever known. She very nearly swooned.

“I would never destroy you,” she whispered shakily.

He kissed her forehead. “So, you would love me, then?”

“I fear I am way past being able to stop,” she confessed, breathlessly. “It happened in but an instant. When I looked into your magical eyes, they pulled my soul into them. I was floating through the stars, Alastyn, floating within the heavens. And wishing only to remain there… always.”

He made a soft rumbling noise in his throat. It sounded like a growl or a raspy purr. “How is it you speak so openly? These same words were dancing about in my mind. Yet I had not the strength to give them a voice. You appear to me as an Angel. No, as a dream. I cannot pull my eyes from your enchanting face. I wish never again to take a single breath unless it is filled with your magical scent.”

He ran the backs of his fingers down her soft cheeks. Her whole body tingled, like countless little fireflies were lighting upon her skin.

Alastyn’s hand was trembling slightly when he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I freely admit to knowing nothing of love or magic. But they would fail in comparison to what you have done to me this day. I am forever changed. I haven’t even the words to describe it properly. Who
are
you, Milady? Did the heavens form you just for me? I feel I have captured a rare moonbeam—an ethereal treasure. I’m too terrified to relax my hold upon you for fear the heavens would fast reclaim you.” He tightened his embrace. “Leave me not, Maiden. You now hold my soul within your tiny hands. And a man will go mad if parted from his soul. Do not let me go mad with want for you.”

She watched as his lips moved closer to hers. Her heart started racing like the fluttering wings of a caged bird. She was terrified and thrilled. Countless butterflies were warring in her stomach, making her knees go weak.

Alastyn did not close his eyes. He could not close them. They were magically locked with hers. To him, she was the only other beating heart within the whole of this vast universe.

Then… the teapot whistled loudly.

They both jumped nervously, each releasing a little sigh. Alastyn rested his chin atop her head, pressing her even closer. She melted against him.

“Tea’s ready,” Jezreel called out.

*****

After a long sip of the sweet hot nectar, Jenevier smiled and laid her head back on a pillow.

“Ahh… exactly what the doctor ordered. Jezreel, you are an Angel sent to guide me, my friend.”

“And
you
are my light in a dark place,” Jezreel replied.

The girls looked at each other before bursting with laughter. These were the words they had used so many times in their lives, and they were the only words that could possibly ease the tension of this night.

“Very well, then. Now that I am refreshed, I shall start a new book,” Jenevier said with a smile.

She began fingering through the many books on the shelves when she stumbled upon an idea.

“Umm… I’ll be right back.”

She returned with a dull purple box covered all about with pieces of broken pottery, a few feathers, some shells, and lots of beads and colored stones.

“Aunt Marlise’s treasure box,” she announced.

Plopping down on a pillow beside Alastyn, she withdrew the golden key hanging from the chain hidden within her bodice.

The odd little box caught everyone’s attention. Jezreel moved in to get a closer look. It was filled with old letters, mementos and other precious little things Marlise had prized. On top of it all was a dyed purple leather bound book. The writing on the front stated simply, ‘Hexes, Curses, Spells and Marks.’

“Spells? But I thought she told us she never…” Jezreel’s voice trailed off as she watched Jenevier open the aged cover.

Quickly flipping through the many hand written pages, she finally reached the section labeled
Marks.

Looking up at Jezreel, Jenevier smiled. “I’m going to need more candles.”

Chapter 7

Jenevier

(ZHEN-ah-veer)

The eccentric little package held her full attention.

Where in the world did—

A slight shiver caressed her spine. She quickly glanced around. As usual, no one was there.

An eerie uneasiness began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She ran her finger across the thin frayed string and gently tugged at the end. A strangely familiar odor emanated from it, sending her mind into a slow spin. Jenevier tried to place the bizarre scent. But the answer remained just outside the brink of her memory. It was like… all she had to do was just reach out and take it. But her mind refused to let her, denied her the needed access.

I will not let such things as this master me. I’m being ridiculous. It is but a package, a gift.

She gently pulled back the ancient paper. There in her lap, lay the oldest book she had ever seen. Examining it closely, she flipped the edge of the pages in front of her face. The mesmerizing aroma captured her senses. A bright light shot through her head. Visions of the most familiar yet unknown faces flashed in and out of focus.

The book fell from her trembling hands. Her body rocked as her mind swayed. She collapsed. A peculiar darkness settled over her, claiming her conscious.

Tiny glass bottles emerged from the shadows, dancing and clinking together. Faces moved in and faded back away. Their lips were constantly moving, but she couldn’t make out their words. Their slow-motion speech refused to register in her addled mind.

“My dreams have finally taken me.” She spoke aloud, yet no voice came forth. “Please go away,” she cried out, in silence.

The face of a man sprang from the darkness. He was so close she could only see his eyes. Still, she couldn’t make out his muffled words.

“What do you want?” She tried to scream, but there was no sound, only silence.

The man’s face slowly moved away. But his eyes, his eyes were so sad they tore at her heart. She tried desperately to reach out and touch his face. Her arms wouldn’t obey her. Again he was speaking. She tried to focus only on his mouth and the words falling from it like leaden droplets.

“Who are you?
Where
are you?” she pleaded. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

His tormented face faded away.

“No. Don’t leave me. Please stay.”

But the melancholy face had vanished. Her mind began to reel once more. A sharp pain ripped through her head when an old woman materialized. She was so pale and shadowed, she looked long dead.

“We need you.” The old woman’s voice was as fair as a young maiden’s. “We need you to wake.”

“I cannot,” Jenevier cried. “I try. But… I cannot.”

“We need you to wake.”

The beseeching words rang in her ears, echoing like the mournful prayer of a haunted choir.

“Please, help me wake. Help me remember.” She pleaded with the vision as the tears poured down her face. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to find you.”

She tried to reach out for the lady. A black gloved hand appeared, covering the old woman’s wrinkled face, pulling her back into the darkness.

“No! Don’t leave,” she cried. “You have to tell me!”

The clinking little bottles crashed to the ground. The jolt sent her mind spinning. It was as if she were caught up in a tumultuous whirlwind, spiraling around and around so fast the world blurred out of focus. Then everything stilled. Everything stopped. The darkness slowly lifted.

Jenevier found herself lying on the parlor floor, covered in sweat. Her chest heaved frantically, yet her limbs refused to obey her. When the strange paralysis slowly ebbed, she snatched the book up and ran into the bedroom. After bolting the lock, she rested back against the door.

Filled with raw terror, and an equally desperate need to know what just happened… Jenevier futilely fought with her unwilling memory.

“What in the seven hells… This was no dream. No, this was definitely no dream. Not this time.”

She paced across the crimson rug—one hand running through her mussed hair, the other gripping tightly to the book. She stopped sharp in front of the large window and stared out at the waning light.

“What the… How can it
possibly
be getting dark already?” She closed her eyes and tried to steady her chaotic mind. “No. It’s
not
possible.” She gazed out at the now setting sun. “It was only just morning, dammit… only just.” She banged her fist against the window frame. “It’s true then. I am losing my wretched mind, aren’t I?”

Jenevier sighed wearily, wholly exhausted. Rolling her head from side to side, she popped the bones in her aching neck. When she again opened her eyes, she realized she must have dropped the ancient little book. It was now lying at her feet. She gave it a good kick, sending it sliding under the bed.

“Who would have sent such a horrible gift? What vile little servant of hell dug that stupid thing up?”

Her stomach roared. It actually ached.

“I have yet to eat.” She felt nauseous. “And now the day is spent.”

*****

She picked at a bowl of fresh strawberries, but couldn’t bring herself to swallow more than a few bites. When she realized she was absently drumming her fingers atop the table, she balled her hand into a fist.

“There must be some
reasonable
explanation. If only I could remember…” She pinched hard at the bridge of her nose, squinting tightly. “A bath. Yes. That will help. A bath
always
helps.”

Jenevier’s beloved bath time—a much needed luxurious escape. It was an escape from the wretched dreams. An escape from the ever present loneliness she constantly denied even feeling. And most of all, it was an escape from herself.

When she tried to remember her life, when she felt coherent enough to study upon it, all she could glean was the feeling of many different people waging war inside her. Only in her bath did she find inner tranquility. It was her happy place.

Ahh… I am only whole within these waters. I must be part Mermaid.

Feeling refreshed and whole again, she was daydreaming, tying her robe as she walked back into the bedroom.

“I was right. A bath does the trick, every time.”

Then she banged her toe. Hard.

“Ouch! What the…”

The ancient book was lying in the middle of the floor.

“How in the world did you… Ugh, will you not leave me in peace? Have you been sent here to torture me, to haunt me?”

For the first time, she noticed the faint, well-worn writing on the cover. Her brows furrowed as she tried to make out the faded words.

“I am exhausted,” she whispered. “And as usual, time eludes me. My days are spent before they’ve even had a chance to start.”

It was true. For as long as Jenevier could remember, her days had escaped her as a thief in the night—one day running into the next with no real stopping point. It was like she lived in a completely obscure world. When lucidity tried to snap her back into focus, the day would be gone and sleep would consume her.

Then, the dreams would come—vivid and unforgiving. Mostly, she would lose all memory of them upon waking. Only a faint picture sometimes yet remained of a forgotten place she may have once been. On and on it went with no real ending place… one day bleeding into the next for the whole of her life.

“Very well. I will succumb to your lore, you little demon.” Her words dripped with sarcasm as she climbed into bed and opened the faded cover. “Now, decipher your message for me. Spill forth your secrets and then leave me be.”

The ancient hand written pages looked as dark and crisp as the first day the ink was laid to the paper. There, within the opening pages of the book, was a folded piece of parchment.

It read…

My Dearest Jenevier,

The time has now come when the putrid shadow I foresaw in my vision is closing in on you, crushing you. I knew I would not be there to help when you needed me the most. Please forgive me, my child.

Within the pages of this book I have written all that I’ve learned of the dark arts; of curses, of spells, and of marks scarce known throughout the world. I have no idea what you are up against, child. Yet I hope what is written here will touch on a way for you to defeat the evil I know is trying frantically to consume you.

I have placed a spell upon this book, one of rarest magic. It will come to you in your most needed hour—traveling through both time and space to find you.

My dear sweet Jenevier, if you do not yet fear the evil or even know it is near, let the appearance of this book be a warning unto you. All is not well, my child.

Please, look to these pages, look to the friends and allies you may have gained. I only pray you are not alone and unknowing of the craft herein when this fatefully reaches your hands. If that be the case, if you are all alone… then I pray now and forever that all the divine powers within the seen and unseen worlds come to your aid, my dear sweet precious child.

Blessed be, little one,

Marlise

Jenevier’s hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the ancient paper still.

When the sorrowful tears rolled down her face and dripped upon the open pages of the spell bound book, a hideous shriek sprang forth, piercing her ears. Fear engulfed her.

She flung the foul gift into the corner of her room. It landed in the shadows… just as her bedroom door was violently kicked in.