Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
I know from experience that unless I speed along the process, I could be in for hours of agony before the message comes through. So, instead of waiting, I stumble to my closet, pulling out one of my many hidden vials of dark liquid.
Uncorking it, I down the disgusting mixture quickly, gagging on the taste. A familiar burn floods my system before everything fades to black as I slump to the floor. Then, I feel nothing but cold.
Telum.
That word reverberates through my mind along with a flurry of images, all one after the other. Twisted trees decorated with hanging bones. Shadows sliding over corpses. A sky cycling through day and night, fourteen times, while snow falls.
But the last images are the ones that burn into my mind.
Lillian being tortured. Her in a room with blood and gore, surrounded by dark smiles, screaming as she’s slowly pulled to pieces. The screams of the others.
Telum…
The last echo dies out as a sudden, severe shock jolts me awake. I gasp and claw at my chest, trying to force the pain away. I’m lying on the ground in my room, head pounding while the cold gradually fades from my limbs. The vial I drank from is shattered on the ground beside me.
With a grimace, I try to pull myself up, but my body feels like it’s made of wet cement. So, instead, I lay back down and scowl at the ceiling, thinking.
The winter solstice is fourteen days and nights away. That’s what that image means. I have until the solstice to finish the first task.
And I certainly can’t do that with four idiots breathing down my neck all the time.
With a renewed determination to drive away my supposedly fated matches, I force myself to move, to sit at my desk, and pull out a paper and pen. I jot down a game plan—my
Make Them Hate Me list.
Once it’s done, I reread it before nodding with satisfaction. Tomorrow, if any of my rejected matches approach me, I’ll use the first tactic on the list:
Bore them to tears.
SILAS
Before sunrise, I arrive at the apartment reserved for my quintet. The only one who slept here last night was Baelfire since Everett was nowhere to be found after the Seeking and Crypt was likely out devouring dreams all night.
Myself, I stayed in my old private dorm room. I have no plans to stay overnight with my quintet until after our curses are broken at graduation. Otherwise, my curse won’t allow me to get a moment of rest around the others.
I set my hand against the apartment door, which I spelled to open only for my quintet members. When the door swings open, I raise a brow at the deer that Bael is skinning and cleaning in the large kitchen area to the left of the spacious entry.
“Delightful.”
“Please,” he huffs. “As if blood has ever bothered you. I haven’t finished draining it if you wanna sip on a vein or something.”
I don’t bother explaining for the umpteenth time that blood fae only feed on blood from magical beings. Whether my kind should remain in the House of Arcana or whether we’re more fit for the House of Craving has long been debated, given our similarities to vampires. But unlike other siphons, we don’t require blood for our sustenance. It just makes our magic stronger.
Deer blood is useless. I know because I’ve tried it.
“You’re up early.”
He shrugs and snaps the dead animal’s pelvis to remove more intestines. “Felt like getting an early start.”
Sometimes, I envy the ability others have to tell lies since fae like myself cannot. And I know Baelfire is lying. His early morning hunt likely had to do with his curse.
I’m one of the few who know the specifics of his.
The draconic brute is shirtless, only wearing dark trousers. The rest of him is smeared in blood, dirt, dead leaves, and gods know what else. At least he’s kept the apartment neat, keeping his mess in the kitchen.
“Clean this up before Maven arrives.”
His eyes flash to me, and the hopeful excitement that lights his face is almost childlike. “She’s coming? When?”
“I’ll convince her to.”
Mainly because the idea of my keeper staying in the tiny dorm room I identified as hers yesterday bothers me. It’s not safe enough. Keepers are considered the ones in charge, but they are also fiercely protected by their quintet because they’re the keystone, so to speak—the core of the group, without which the quintet would break and the curses would return. It makes keepers a target for other legacies hoping to climb the power rankings. Although the no-kill ban doesn’t officially lift until next semester when quintets train together, Maven is still in danger—especially considering how highly ranked the rest of our group is.
This apartment is layered with all kinds of protective spells that would reassure me that my keeper isn’t in any danger, and it’s stocked with almost anything she might need for her comfort. Which is why I’ll make sure she moves in sooner than later.
Baelfire grunts and returns to cleaning his kill. “I’m going to play hooky with Maven today. Take her out to Halfton for lunch and anything else she wants. My mate will accept me first, and after I spoil the fuck out of her in bed for a few days, I’ll collect on that wager you proposed. If Everett hasn’t joined the bet by then, I’ll make sure to demand something that’ll be a pain in your ass to pay up.”
Cocky bastard.
I didn’t make that wager lightly. Of course, it’s crucial for us to make progress with our keeper, but I also need quite a few of Baelfire’s dragon scales. He’s known for years that I want to use them in experimental spells and potions.
What he doesn’t know is why I want them. Certainly, they’re a rare ingredient many spells call for, but I have two specific purposes in mind for his scales.
The first, I wouldn’t dare breathe a word of to anyone I don’t trust. And I only trust myself.
But the second purpose, I can’t tell the dragon, or he’ll think I’ve gone soft.
I watch as Baelfire accidentally jostles the table while sectioning the deer. My eye twitches. That, combined with the scent of the carcass, the smooth glide of that knife through the flesh, the dim lighting of a cold dawn, and that familiar creeping feeling sliding like chilled oil over my spine…
How easy it would be for that knife to wind up in your back, a voice like my father’s whispers in my head.
My breathing quickens, and instinctively, my hand edges toward my pocket where my bleeding crystal is. I always carry it there in case I need to cast a powerful spell in the blink of an eye. I’m so accustomed to the slight ringing in my ears that I only realize Baelfire is trying to get my attention after the second time he’s called my name.
The ringing fades. My eyes snap to his, and I’m not sure what he sees on my face, but he immediately sets the knife down and steps back, wiping his bloodied hands on his trousers.
“Whether we like it or not, we’re in a quintet now. You know I wouldn’t.”
He means he wouldn’t kill me.
Only Baelfire knows how my curse affects me, and that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Most people can’t understand the severity of it, but he does because, in some ways, our curses are similar.
But just because he understands doesn’t mean I can trust him.
He’ll betray you. He’ll turn Maven against you, too.
The other voices in my head agree.
If you don’t get to him first, he’ll rip you to shreds.
I shake my head to dispel the suspicions crawling inside my skin like termites.
Baelfire scratches his chin, studying me. “On second thought, maybe I should show you some mercy and let you try to win Maven over first. Maybe being around her will make you less…you know.”
Neurotic. Haunted. Incredibly fucking paranoid.
My curse is slowly driving me mad, making me expect foul intentions from perfect strangers. I see everything through suspicion-colored lenses. It’s as if my nerves are always hardwired to everything, searching for the most minuscule way others might try to harm me. Some days, it’s debilitating.
Baelfire may be right. Perhaps Maven will soothe the backstabbing demons in my head.
I’m going to find out. Though Maven is in my House, I’ve never even noticed her existence until the Seeking, and I regret that heavily. It means I have no idea what to expect from her. She’s a question mark to me, and I intend to know every tiny detail about her.
Her likes. Her hates. How strong she is. How well she’ll be able to lead the four of us.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.