Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
I pick up a piece and unwrap it for a better examination. It gleams in the overhead mage lights, completely transparent but full of promise.
Thank the fucking universe. Now, my plan can go on.
“How have you gathered so much etherium?” I ask.
“Despite the Legacy Council trying to horde it all to themselves, you mean? Why, collecting oddities has long been a hobby of mine. I have always had a fascination with Paradise.”
“Clearly,” I say pointedly, looking at the well-read books on his coffee table.
Everett picks up one of the said tomes, skimming curiously through it as the wizard replies.
“Old favorites of mine. I merely desired a refresher. Now then, is the etherium to your liking?”
I nod.
He smiles and selects an envelope and a small, empty vial from his desk before approaching with his walking stick.
“Excellent. On to more business, then. Engela Zuma wrote this missive for you. It contains exact descriptions of those immortals’
life links, as she calls them, along with many of their safehouses and anything else she believes you may find useful. I only ask for two ounces of your blood in return.”
Silas’s gaze snaps to his mentor. “Absolutely fucking not. Her blood is mine.”
“And mine,” Crypt calls from the threshold in a sing-song voice.
That earns a sharp glare from Everett. “Shut up, freak.”
“Why the fuck do you want my mate’s blood?” Baelfire demands, lounging in one of the settees. It’s an antique piece of furniture clearly made for smaller people, so he looks comedically burly in it.
The Garnet Wizard looks at me. “They’re terribly possessive. And clingy.”
I smirk in agreement. “Like a bad rash. I’m a lucky revenant.”
Just admit you love us already, Everett’s voice teases in my head.
I roll my eyes and set down the etherium, getting back to the wizard’s request. “You all need to relax. It’s just two ounces of blood.”
Silas grumbles unhappily about it and goes to browse through books on one wall under a section labeled “
Restricted for Fools.”
What are you looking for?
I ask him telepathically.
Anything he has on necromancy that I can borrow. I must adapt and learn new spells to complement what I am now.
The Garnet Wizard isn’t aware of our internal conversation as he offers me the vial and a large needle.
“Keep the needle,” I grumble, pulling out one of my other daggers to slice through my palm.
I hold my hand over the tiny glass, watching it fill up. Baelfire grunts unhappily about it while Everett quickly stands at the ready with a clean rag he picked up somewhere in this wannabe alchemist lab.
“Why do you want my blood, anyway? Revenant blood is exactly like Undead blood.”
The Garnet Wizard throws his head back in a boisterous laugh, again giving me the impression that I’m missing something. “My dear Maven, that is certainly not the case, for Silas loathes the taste of Undead blood.”
Silas frowns, looking up from an old grimoire. “That’s true, actually. The magic in your blood tastes nothing at all like the Undead.”
It must be because of all the experimentation. Or perhaps the gods made me tasty just for you for the sake of sticking us in a quintet together, I shrug, keeping it telepathic.
Perhaps, he echoes, now lost in thought.
When the vial is full, Everett quickly wraps my hand, his touch as gentle as silk. I clean and restash the dagger. As I do, my sleeve moves, and the Garnet Wizard tips his head when he sees Pierce sheathed to my forearm.
“By the gods. Adamantine. I’ve studied weapons formed in the Nether extensively, and I must say that one appears to be of excellent workmanship. Did you make it?”
I shake my head. “It was gifted to me by one of the humans in Amadeus’s citadel.”
I met Olivia when I was twelve. We were the same age, and she was considered a pet of one of the blacksmiths in the citadel. She was fascinated that I came from the mortal world and would sneak to see me between my trainings and laboratory sessions. Though I never spoke more than ten or so words to her in all the time we spent together, she declared us friends and stole Pierce from her lich master to give to me as a gift. I thought it was harmless to acquiesce to her attachment to me.
Until Amadeus found out.
She’s the ghost who haunted me the most until Dagon hexed me.
The wizard hums and hands me the letter from Engela, drawing me from my dark memories.
“You should be aware that one of my acolytes recently used a powerful communication spell to speak with someone outside the Sanctuary. The council likely knows your whereabouts if they did not already.”
“Parker paid with his life for that,” Silas mutters.
“Poor chap wasn’t clever enough to live, then,” his mentor shrugs easily, returning to his desk. He peers up at me one more time as he caps the vial. “If you’re in earnest about leaving Engela safe here, I suggest you leave promptly. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your answers, and I shall greatly like to see how the rest of this plays out—but as you know, I prefer avoiding those immortal simpletons.”
I nod and then pause. “Have you considered whether you will test my other theory?”
“I have. Should you succeed, we shall talk again.”
I nod and give the briefcase to Silas to stash in his void pocket for safekeeping before we leave the room. I’m trailed by my quintet, who all give me curious looks about what I meant.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” I tell them instead.
After all, now that I have etherium, there’s no more reason to hide.
It’s time to hunt.
CRYPT
The pain is becoming unbearable.
I clench my teeth as my damned markings light up yet again, brighter as Limbo calls urgently to me from outside of this Sanctuary. But since I cannot leave the wards of the Sanctuary without permission, and I refuse to leave my obsession’s side anyway, there’s no help for it.
My limbs burn. Each breath scrapes. Even my skin seems to ache.
I’m searing from the inside out, pulled thin by this unbreakable curse—and now, my keeper knows it is slowly but surely destroying me.
I wonder if Crane would mind resurrecting that damned acolyte so I can have the pleasure of killing him all over again. Of course, it being just after midnight, I don’t suppose he would appreciate it if I were to wake him to ask such a favor.
Especially not when he’s lucky enough to hold Maven in his arms tonight.
I stand at the edge of the room, observing them all from Limbo. The cottage’s bed is not nearly big enough, so our oversized Decimus dozes on a simple makeshift bed of blankets on the floor. Frost is on Maven’s other side opposite Crane. The whole lot of them are peaceful, their subconsciouses wafting in this space as they pass through vague dreams—most of them centered around Maven.
Lucky bastards. I long to dream of her, too.
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.