The Cursed (The Unearthly) by Laura Thalassa
To Alison,
Best friends for life.
Chapter 1
Cluj-Napoca, Transylvania
“Please, help me.”
The night air nipped at Ana Gabor’s skin, but she could barely feel the sting. The voice she’d woken up to called out to her, beckoning her away from her home.
“Please, find me,” the voice whispered.
She passed the row of houses she’d lived by since the day she was born and left her neighborhood. Still the voice pleaded with her, and she was no closer to finding it.
The blocks of houses thinned out as she walked to the outer edges of the city, ignoring the growing pain in her feet as sharp stones and pieces of glass nicked at them. Soon the paved road narrowed, and asphalt gave way to dirt.
Ana sighed as her feet squished into the muddy street, the pain somewhat lessening. She couldn’t remember how long she’d been walking, but the moon had already crossed the sky and dipped below the horizon.
“Help me.”
The voice came from the woods that pressed up against the side of the street. She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Those woods had always made her skin crawl. Something unnatural lurked within them.
Yet now she placed one foot in front of the other, turning off the road and moving into the forest.
The damp underbrush crackled beneath her feet and her breath hitched. She didn’t want to be here, but she couldn’t turn away. Not when someone called out to her and begged for her help.
The trees twisted unnaturally, contorted as though they were in agony. She shivered as cold wind brushed past her, and she rubbed her arms. In the distance Ana could see the flicker of lights. Humanity—and maybe the woman in need.
The trees around her opened up into a small clearing, and the voice that had pleaded with her finally fell silent. Her steps faltered for an instant.
A dozen individuals waited for her, cloaked in scarlet robes, their faces obscured by hoods. One stepped forward holding a white garment in her arms.
“Change into this, then come back,” the voice instructed. The same voice from earlier. Only now, it didn’t plead, it ordered.
Ana glanced uneasily at the cloaked figures. Her brain was telling her to run, but her body calmly walked her a short distance away, where she changed behind the cover of a tree. Not that anyone could see her through the dark forest.
Her teeth chattered and she couldn’t stop shivering as she walked back into the clearing. Bare feet and thin fabric offered her little protection against a winter’s night in Romania.
She fingered the soft material of the gown as she faced the robed individuals.
“Come forward.”
She did so, noticing the way the group parted for her. Beyond them rested a stone altar. Vines—some dead and some living—wrapped their way up the sides. Her shivering escalated at the sight.
“Don’t be afraid,” the voice said. “Go ahead and rest your weary body.”
Ana’s footsteps dragged as her body carried her up to the stone altar. At least the cold ground had numbed the pain in her feet. She slid herself onto the stone slab, and her shivering somewhat subsided. Someone had draped a velvety cloth over the altar, so her skin wouldn’t touch the cold stone beneath. She rubbed her fingers anxiously over the material. They were the only part of her that appeared agitated.
Her breath billowed out around her as the cloaked figures clustered around the altar.
Someone fastened a noose around her neck, and she winced as it tightened, cutting off her air supply. She blinked frantically. This couldn’t be right. Hadn’t she been trying to save a woman? Had she just imagined it? Why couldn’t she think? Why couldn’t she act?
“Don’t fight it,” the voice soothed her.
Fight what? She pinched her eyes shut. So confused. The only thing Ana knew was that she couldn’t remember things she should be able to. And deep in her gut this situation felt wrong.
But even as that thought crossed her mind, black spots clouded her vision. She watched them spread. In the distance she heard chanting.
Focus. That’s what she needed to do. For a moment—just a moment—the blackness receded enough for her to see the glint of metal above her.
She had only time to recognize the blade of a dagger pointed at her heart before her vision clouded and the world fell to darkness.
“Move faster.” Andre’s voice taunted me from behind.
I ducked and dove left to avoid his hit, tucking my body in on itself as I somersaulted. This was a lethal dance, our bodies bending and twisting with each move.
Andre was on top of me in an instant, his hand going for the throat—the quickest kill. “Faster. You need to be faster. And think like a predator.”
I moved to slam my palm into his nose, but he caught it before I had a chance to land the blow. I was moving faster than the human eye could follow. Even so, Andre was still far quicker than me.
“That’s the best you got?” he growled.
Using my free hand, I punched Andre in the kidneys, once, twice, three times—until his grip loosened. He may not have used his kidneys in seven hundred years, but they could still cause pain if injured.
Andre made a move to grab my free hand, and I used the distraction to throw him off of me.
It didn’t work so well. For a split second his grip loosened, and then he placed his full weight on top of me, pressing me into the ground. I tried to ignore my body’s very non-combative response to that. It grew pliant under his.
“Damnit, Gabrielle, if your opponent is bigger than you, you cannot let them take you down,” Andre said, grabbing my wrists and holding them above my head just to further prove his point.
Unfortunately for him, it was proving another point entirely. My eyes dropped to his lips and my fangs descended.