Jennifer Armentrout: Cursed

Strength. Warmth. Humanity.

All in one simple touch.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered hoarsely. My gaze locked on his hands. His fingers were long and graceful-looking. They were strong.

“I’m absorbing your gift,” he said. “I’m like you, Ember. Gifted.”

I lifted my eyes, and saw the proud lines of his face tense. Hayden’s fingers left my hand and slid under the cuff of my sweater. His touch was scalding, and my skin tingled wherever his fingers went.

Dizziness swept through me, and Hayden seemed to sway. The room spun. I blinked, but everything still moved. Panic squeezed my heart as I tried to pull my arm away, but he held on.

“What are you doing to…?” I couldn’t remember what I was saying.

“I’m sorry, but this is the only way,” Hayden said, sounding like he truly was. “We’re going to help you.” He placed his other hand on my cheek. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me, Ember.”

My name was the last thing I heard. The world went black, and then there was nothing.

I knew I needed to wake up, but my eyelids felt like they’d been glued shut. Slowly and with much effort, I peeled them open. Dazzling sunshine flowed in through the lace-covered windows.

Curtains?

There wasn’t a single curtain in my entire house. Not that I had anything against them, but I could never figure out how to get the damn rods up. Woozy, I pushed myself onto my elbows and glanced around. I was in a bed much bigger than the one I was used to. Gilded frames decorated the buttery yellow walls. A flat-screen TV sat on a cherry oak dresser that looked like something hand-carved in the nineteenth century. A matching desk stood beside the dresser, with a slender, expensive-looking laptop perched atop it. French doors led to what appeared to be a balcony and on the other side of the room, another set of doors led to a bathroom… and a walk-in closet.

Okay, this was definitely not my room.

I sat up, biting my lower lip as a rush of dizziness threatened to push me back into the soft comforter.

The events leading up to this fuzzed in my brain, but I remembered enough to push down the nausea the headache was causing. I swung my legs off the bed and stood. The room spun for a couple of seconds before righting itself.

The bedroom door opened, revealing a man with neatly trimmed, dark hair and a tailored business suit. I stepped back, bumping into the bed.

“Good. You’re awake. We were getting worried. Hayden’s gift can pack quite a punch,” he said pleasantly. “My name is Jonathan Cromwell. You are in my home.”

“Who… where is my sister?” I asked hoarsely.

He folded his hands behind his back. “Olivia is here, and she’s been asking for you. I can take you to her. Then, you and I must talk.”

I placed a hand to my thumping temple and winced. “Talk about what?”

“I think you should see your sister first, Ember. It would ease her anxiety tremendously to know that you are well.”

Concern for Olivia urged me forward, but suspicion pinged my thoughts. “How do I know this isn’t a trick… or something?”

A patient smile formed on his lips. “I know you have a lot of questions, but you must put them aside.

Olivia needs you, Ember.”

Olivia needs you .Those words had always provoked an instantaneous need. I nodded and scrunched my face up in pain. My head felt like it was going to explode.

Mr. Cromwell stepped aside, motioning for me to follow him. I kept a safe distance between us as we made our way down the wide hallway, passing several closed doors. Instead of stopping at the last one like I expected, he went down a winding staircase. Below, I could see two more levels. Everywhere I looked, there were various paintings of Greek and Roman gods on the walls. Anatomically correct marble statues stood in the corners.

We stopped outside a door on the second floor. Childish giggles radiated from the room, pulling me forward like a moth to light. I’d recognize the sound of her laughter anywhere. I stepped around the guy and pushed open the door.

Relief flooded me. Olivia, her hair subdued into two little pigtails, sat in the middle of a large bedroom, surrounded by a ridiculous number of toys, stuffed animals, and… Mom. My mother sat in a chair, wearing an oversized sweater and slippers. Her face was as blank as ever, but she wasn’t in bed.

This had to be a dream.

Olivia twisted around and erupted in high-pitched shrieks. “Em! Em!” She was on her feet, rushing at me like a mini-tornado. “I’ve missed you! Emmie! Em!”

“Olivia,” I choked out.

She wrapped her arms around my legs without hesitation. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms, but my gloves were gone. My hands hovered above her curls as if they had a mind of their own.

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled sharply.

“Em!” She tugged on my jeans. “Look!”

I opened my eyes. She broke away from me, pointing at the cage atop the dresser. “They let me bring Squeaky. And look! This is Mr. Sniffles!” She rushed toward a large tabby cat I’d thought was a stuffed animal.

“That’s nice.” My eyes fell to Mom. She occupied a rocking chair that I imagined belonged in a nursery room. “Mom? It’s me.” I took a step forward.

She blinked slowly, but it was like a soundproof wall prevented her from hearing me.

“Em, what have you been doing?” Olivia asked, drawing my attention back to her. She’d dropped the cat and moved on to a baby doll. “I wanted to see you, but Mr. Cromwell said you needed to rest.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the dark-haired man. “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping.”

Olivia held the doll by one arm, swinging it around and around. “You’ve been sleeping for days.”

For days ? “Um… well, I was really tired.”

Skipping up to me, she seemed to accept my excuse. “I like it here, Emmie.”

“Really?” I felt dizzy, faint. God, was I going to pass out again?

She nodded impishly and then twitched her chubby index finger at me. It was a habit of hers whenever she wanted to tell me a secret, so I bent closer and lowered my head. “What?” I whispered, ignoring the white specks of lights dancing across my vision.

Leaning in, Olivia whispered near my ear. “Mr. Cromwell says I’m gifted.”

“Oh. Okay,” I whispered back, my brain reeling. Olivia jumped away and twirled across the room.

“Squeaky likes it here.”

“Ember,” Mr. Cromwell said.

I nodded without looking back. “Olivia, I need to talk to Mr. Cromwell. Are you okay up here?”

“Yep. Mommy and I are playing with my new toys.”

Against my will, I looked at my mom again. She turned her head and smiled down at Olivia. Just seeing her provoked so many emotions. I tried to remember what she’d been like before the accident, but her current state overshadowed those memories.

I shook my head and turned to where Mr. Cromwell waited, a patient expression on his face.

“We can talk in the kitchen,” he said. “I’m sure you must be hungry.”

Before I could pull myself away from the room, I heard Olivia speak. “Mommy?”

I stopped. My heart fluttered in my chest. I just wanted to hear her voice, that’s all. Then: “Yes, baby?”

“Why don’t you talk to Emmie? It makes her sad.”

There was a moment of silence. “Baby,” Mom said softly, “I can’t talk to her. Ember’s in heaven with Daddy.”

We sat in the type of kitchen my mom would’ve given her firstborn child to have before she had lost her mind.

“Your mother is very ill, Ember. Possibly one day her memories will resurface.” Cromwell frowned.