Jennifer Armentrout: Cursed

Then nothing was holding me.

I hit the wet, unforgiving ground hip-first. Fresh, new pain stole my breath. I rolled onto my back, squinting through the sheets of icy rain at the dark shadow towering over me. Slowly, I lifted my head. I recognized the body—the face—as someone I trusted, someone who would help us.

“Please help him,” I whispered, crawling onto my knees.

Without any warning, a booted foot connected with my head. Everything went white, then black.

When I came to, I noticed two things immediately. I was freezing—so cold my teeth chattered and I couldn’t feel my toes. And I couldn’t move my arms.

I opened my eyes to see nothing but darkness. It was hard to distinguish anything until my sight adapted. Once it did, I delved headfirst into freak-out mode, which didn’t help the pounding in my skull.

I was in a cellar of some sort—an old one used to store things no one wanted. The walls reflected a slimy sort of surface. It took me several seconds to realize water dripped down the blocks, pooling along the floor, soaking my jeans. The thin tank I’d thrown on before leaving the house now clung to me like an icy sheet. I had no idea where my hoodie was.

I really started to spaz out then.

Kicking my legs up, I tried to stand, but couldn’t get my arms out from behind me. They were tied to something—a thick, cold pipe cut into my back. Metal sliced my wrists as I struggled wildly to get them undone. All I succeeded in doing was tearing the skin open, spilling more blood.

A squeaking noise came from one of the dark corners, then the sound of something scurrying across the room.

My heart lodged in my throat. I stopped moving, staring blindly into the shadows. Two beady eyes became visible. I shrieked and yanked my legs up, knocking my shins against something—several coarse, hairy little bodies.

Rats.

I screamed, really screamed, until my throat felt like it’d ripped open. Rats hurried back to the corners, their claws clicking across the cement. I pulled against the pipe, thrashing until my fingers turned numb. Terror consumed me, eating away at the thin grasp I held on sanity.

Time came and went. I lost track. My throat was so hoarse my screams sounded more like moans. I peered into the gloom, sure everything moved—the rats, waiting until I passed out to start nibbling on my skin. A hysterical laugh escaped me—little did they know that the first bite would kill them. My mind started playing tricks on me. I was sure I heard movement above me more than once, but no one answered my cries. No one came. Was this how I would die? By rats or blood loss? Or by freezing to death, because I was pretty sure hypothermia was setting in. At one point, I swore the shadows whispered my name— called to me like some sick chorus of death.

Above me, a door opened. With the sound of a thrown switch, a bulb overhead came on, sparked once, and then dimmed. Footsteps came down the stairs. Boots first, then jeans, leather-covered hands, a heavy sweater rolled up to the elbows… and then any hope I had that this was a good thing crumbled and died.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep—or dead.

The footsteps neared, stopped, and poked my curled toes. “I know you’re awake.”

I didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe. Not even when the buzzing droned to an intense pitch.

A sigh came. “Ember, I can read your thoughts. I know you’re awake. Don’t make this harder on yourself, or me.”

My eyes snapped opened then. I hadn’t realized how close the monster was to me, but only inches separated us. “Why?” My voice came out hoarse and weak.

Mr. Theo gave me a smile—the same one he wore when he lectured in class. “I’d think it would be obvious at this point.”

But it wasn’t. “I don’t understand.”

“Sorry to make you wait so long. I had to finish up school.” He picked up a rat by its tail. “Dirty little things.”

I swallowed back the taste of bile. His words gave me a hint at the timeline. Hours had passed if he was done teaching.

“You look cold.”

“I… I am,” I whispered.

He tossed the rat aside and rested his hands on his knees. Theo sighed. “You could’ve avoided this. I tried to make it fast before.”

My gaze fell back to him. “I don’t understand. I thought… I thought you liked me. That—”

“That I related to you? With my sad, sad story about a sick mom and kids who hated me? Sorry. Not particularly true. My mother was a cold-hearted bitch who thought her kids were nothing but freaks. She shipped me and my sister off to the Facility when I was only six. Really, this—all of this—isn’t anything personal.”

“It’s not?”

His brows furrowed and he removed his glasses, putting them aside. “I tried the night of the bonfire.

You would’ve been another teenager killed by one of their drunk friends, but you moved out of the way.

Then the night you went walking through the woods, it seemed even more perfect, especially after all those nasty things were left in your locker. I figured they’d blame the empath, but once again you survived and no one blamed the other girl.”

My brain slowly worked though the sludge of fear and confusion. “You won’t get away with this.”

“I won’t?” His tone relaxed. “The last time I checked, Hayden was in the hospital and, thanks to your plans to snoop around, I know Jonathan Cromwell is out of town. By the time either of them realizes what’s going on, it’ll be too late.”

“No—no, you’re wrong.”

“The sad thing is that they could find you if they cared. Phoebe could trace your feelings. Parker could get in there just like I have so many times and figure it out. But I must say, I don’t think they’ll put too much effort into it.”

Right now I could care less about them, but I knew to keep him talking. That’s what they did in the movies. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d launch into an evil villain speech, and then… what? I’d freeze to death. That sounded like a better alternative to whatever he planned. I twisted my wrists. Blood, water, and cold sweat coated the cuffs. There was a chance I could slip out of them. Maybe, but not likely.

He rocked back on his heels and reached into his pocket. Withdrawing a tiny silver coin—my coin—

Theo held it up. “Ah, I see you recognize this. It’s the same coin I gave you. After all, how else could I get into that little head of yours? I either needed something of yours or you had to have something of mine.”

It all started to click into place. The times I’d started to feel dizzy in his class or sick to my stomach when I talked to him. He’d been in my head, messing around. And when Parker was reading my thoughts, he’d held a sweater of mine—a connection to me.

“You’re a telepath.”

Mr. Theo reached out and patted the top of my head with one gloved hand. I winced. “Good girl. I also can put thoughts into other people’s heads. Make people believe whatever I want them to.”

“And—and the papers I found? You made me think I saw the articles and the menu—because I had that coin?” I would’ve smacked myself if I could get my hands free. “Why did you make me see those things?”

“Because I knew that was your worst fear—and what you already expected. I figured you’d run away at that point, giving me my chance to swoop in.” He leaned over, plucked up another rat and threw it. The soft thud and shrill shriek made me shudder. “When I saw you leaving school, I followed you. I should’ve expected Cromwell’s little prodigy boy would follow you. I’ve seen how you’ve spent your Thanksgiving break, you naughty, naughty girl.”