Curse Reversed Read online

  She glanced at the tattoo he’d noted. “I get inked almost every time I’m released as sort of a yay I’m currently not in the hospital kind of reward to myself. This one my mother got for me when I was thirteen. It’s meant to…”

  “Ward away evil spirits.” His grin was huge while he interrupted. “I’ve never seen it as a tattoo before. Your mother gave it to you? Polite society must be different where you’re from. Mothers don’t do that in my town. Are you going to order?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe I’ll be hungry tomorrow.”

  He frowned. “You need to keep your strength up. It only feels like a lot of sitting around in here. The work they do on us takes a toll. You need protein.”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time. What I need, when I’m hungry, is sugar. You still haven’t answered my initial question. The one that drove me across the room to infringe on your meal in the first place. Why aren’t you—looking like you should be in a gym, a restaurant, a coffee shop, on a vacation—anywhere but here?”

  His smile was slow. “I know.”

  “You know what?” She didn’t follow.

  “I know that I didn’t answer you. And you don’t need sugar. That’s the last thing you need.”

  Maybe he was some kind of dietician gone mad who also happened to be well versed in ancient symbols. In any case, he was playing with her, and Eleanor still hadn’t gotten her question answered. “What if I say please? Will you tell me then?”

  “How come I haven’t seen you out here before? I saw them bring you in three weeks ago. Then nothing.”

  He’d noticed them bring her in? She must have been making some kind of a scene. There were whole portions of her life she couldn’t account for, and sometimes that sucked. She never got to answer him. Behind her, a woman suddenly shrieked. Something crashed and Eleanor whirled around to get a look. An older woman stood, covered in food, wailing at the top of her lungs.

  “They’re coming for me, Michael. They’re coming.” The screaming woman must still have some magic at her disposal because she lit up slightly in her eyes. “They’re going to get me. And no one will protect me. The walls are climbing with them.”

  Eleanor had seen this more than she cared to remember. The first time she’d witnessed magic sickness she’d been fourteen, locked up in her first mental facility after the death of her mother, and terrified. Now, her heart broke. No one should end their days like this. Prestige must think they could still help her or they’d have taken her magic away already.

  From what she could gather, there was a tremendous amount of pain in this kind of madness. Ruttan and his ilk meant well, but they’d never understand what it felt like to be this vulnerable. When you can’t trust your own mind.

  Eleanor jumped to her feet, and although the woman was a complete stranger, she embraced her like they were best friends. “It’s okay. Nothing is coming. Nothing will hurt you. You’re safe. You’re not alone and this too shall pass.”

  The woman continued to rock and Eleanor continued to hold her until she stopped. They stood there and eventually two doctors appeared and took her from Eleanor. The old woman lifted her eyes and met Eleanor’s gaze, steadily. “Thank you, my dear. That is so sweet of you. But you know better than anyone that there are things that come for us. Lots and lots of things.”

  To anyone else, her words would sound like the continued ramblings of a person on the edge. Eleanor shivered. Yes, she knew. She knew better than anyone else that things came for you when they wanted. Sometimes it doomed them all to a life spent alone, misunderstood, laughed at, and distrusted because it was the only way to keep everyone else safe.

  She was cold now, and she was done. The flirtation with no-named eyebrow man was finished because it had to be. Eleanor didn’t flirt, anyway, and he was probably laughing at her inside. She’d forgotten for a second that she couldn’t be happy.

  Ever.

  Don’t ever tell, Eleanor.

  No chance of that.

  It was past time to return to her room. There wasn’t a frozen yogurt machine anywhere to be found. That was really too bad.

  She left, turning down the hallway toward the direction of her room. This time it was numbered 55A. That meant she was in the A ward and room fifty-five.

  “Wait.”

  She turned at the sound of Eyebrows’ call as he ran down the hall toward her.

  She stood still, the weight of the world settling on her shoulders. Things were hard. They always were. For a minute, she’d forgotten.

  “You were just going to leave?” He scrunched up his face. “Without answering my question.”

  “It’s not a day for answered questions.” Sleep called to Eleanor. She’d crawl into bed. When her eyes closed, she’d be back in Egypt, under the pyramids with her mother, laughing as they took impressions and planned for a future that wouldn’t include lying. Even if they’d both known that wouldn’t come.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “You answered mine and then I… I was rude. I apologize.”

  “I never should have asked you to begin with. But what can I say? I’m crazy.”

  He winced. “There you are again with that word. I’m in here because I was hexed for a year. Hexed to break up with my fiancé, who I then left at the altar, and to marry another woman who wanted to use me for my social power to advance herself both politically and within her career. Every day for a year she hexed me. I said and did horrible things to the woman I loved, until she lost her love for me, and is now married to someone else. Then I stumbled upon some enforcers who took the hex off me and woke up to discover a year had passed. That I’d been… forced to do things I never would have done. Both emotionally and physically. And I’d lost everything. I’m having a little trouble dealing with that. Also, there are ramifications to having been hexed that long that the doctors here can help me with.” He cleared his throat. “Or were able to help me. We’re talking about sending me home very soon.”

  Well, in all of the things Eleanor could have imagined for this perfect looking man she hadn’t thought that would be the answer at all. She stared up at him. He was taller than she’d thought when he’d been sitting. At least six-foot-two since he stood higher than her father who was six-foot-one inches, if she remembered correctly.

  “That really, really sucks.” Sometimes there was nothing else to say.

  He snorted before he outright laughed, throwing his head back when he did. “Yeah… it does.”

  She nodded at him. If anyone understood being out of control, it would be this man. “Have a nice evening.”

  “Hold on, will you come out again? I don’t know your name.”

  Some of the ease from before moved through her. “I don’t know yours either.”

  “There’s a good way to remedy that. I’m Mitchell Sharpe. And you’re No-first-name-given St. Vincent.”

  She still held to the idea of him being seriously cute. How had any woman replaced him in so little time? Oh, what did Eleanor know about relationships anyway? She’d never had one. Not ever. She never would. Even if she wasn’t nuts, half-breeds didn’t fall in easily with witches when it came to love, and she had too much magic for the humans to accept her. But none of that mattered since she was, in fact, nuts.

  “I’m Eleanor. I don’t suppose we’ll see each other again. You’re leaving, and they don’t let me out much.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t seem dangerous to me. So whatever you did to get out today? Do it again. Let’s be friends while we’re both in here. I want to ask you more about that tattoo.”

  She looked down at the symbol. “Ah, it makes sense then. Why you want to hang out.”

  “Maybe I just like you.”

  Eleanor held up her wrist. “Maybe you just like tattoos.”

  He laughed again. It was an easy sound. And because nothing was easy—not in this place or outside the walls—she ran down the hallway to her room, unsure what she was escaping.

  Chapter 2

>   Eleanor dreamed, but it wasn’t of Egypt. Instead, she was on a beach, feet in the sand. The water rushing up to dance on her legs was warm. Mitchell walked a little bit ahead of her. He was beautiful in the sunlight. She blinked, heat warming her cheeks.

  “I always live in the sunlight, or at least most of the time. Something happened to me, that’s why I’m not there right now. You? You’re unworthy. That place where we met, they’re made for people like you.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He jumped around to face her. “People like me, we sometimes fall off our paths, we take a step into the mess that is your life for a little while, but then we get back to it. Trust me, there are women waiting for me. You? You belong in the dark mess with the hard lights and a future of nothing better.”

  Eleanor jolted awake, pulling the covers up to her chin.

  She didn’t feel more rested, and the little bit of sun coming through her window didn’t inspire her to believe the day was going to be great.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “I’ve been talking to some of the other doctors.” Ruttan greeted her with that news. She’d no sooner dressed herself after her shower than he’d appeared with this news.

  “You want to try to treat me with a hybrid of human and witch techniques.” The doctors always decided that together. At least there was routine to life. That was good, she supposed.

  He held up his hands. “I know. I know you’ve had this before. But not here. I promise you. We’re good here. Just a light dose of some antipsychotic human drugs, little mood altering, with some of my magic and we might see some real results.”

  The doctor wasn’t really asking her if she wanted him to do it. Not really. In these places, she had no say in her treatment, and they both knew it was only a matter of time before she lost herself again. She managed to get a little toast into her stomach before she swallowed the pills he held out to her.

  “How’s that?”

  She lifted her chin. “Great. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

  Eleanor had warned him about the lying.

  Her agreement seemed to please him. Rather than leave her with a book or a journal assignment, he sent her to the main room where the others were having free time before they saw the soul easers in one of the therapy rooms. She hadn’t progressed to those treatments yet.

  The drugs hit her system fast, and she’d no sooner made it to the couch in front of the television before she had to sit, lest she fall over. That was the problem with the human drugs. They did work on her human side. Just not the way they did on regular humans.

  Her whole body itched, and her vision blurred in and out. Yep, she’d had these before—or something similar. Maybe they’d given her a different dose. Her vision blurred again. Yep, probably more.

  The couch dipped next to her, and she turned slightly to find Mitchell sitting there. He said something to her, but it all sounded like echoes.

  She turned her attention back to the television. Eleanor would just float. Besides, if her dream had taught her anything, it was that he was in the sunlight, and she would never be. He’d just be a temporary friend. He was leaving, like everyone else.

  “Eleanor,” he shouted at her, clapping his hands, and she winced at the reverberation in her head.

  He must really want her attention. “What?” She might have shouted back at him. It was hard to control the volume of her voice.

  “What have they done to you?” He took her hand, his fingers coming over her pulse on her wrist.

  She shrugged, sort of, more like flopped around a bit with her shoulders. She was sure she’d be embarrassed that he saw her like this later. Of course, he might see her totally out of it at some point. Or maybe not. Remember, he was leaving soon.

  She must have answered him, but she really had no idea what she said because he spoke again like she had.

  “Why did they do that? Witches don’t react well to human drugs.”

  She pointed to herself. “Half-human.”

  He groaned. “I don’t know much about people who are half one and the other, but you looking so out of it over there doesn’t seem right to me.”

  “It’s not.” Her words slurred, definitely not a good sign. “I’m probably going to pass out and drool all over myself. It won’t be pretty. You should go.”

  He shook his head. “I think I’d rather stay here and make sure you’re okay. That you don’t quit breathing. I can get some help if you end up needing it.”

  Maybe time passed. Maybe it didn’t. It was hard to tell. People came and went. Laughter. Crying. Someone stopped to speak to Mitchell then left again. Or maybe she dreamed all of it. Eventually, her ears rang and that was a sign the drugs were leaving her system. She sat up slowly, wiping at her face. A sheen of sweat covered her, and her hands shook.

  At least the doctors had gotten this over with. They always tried this at some point during her treatments.

  Mitchell sat on the couch next to her, reading something. He didn’t look up when she moved. His gaze never strayed from what he read as his fingers quickly moved to turn the pages. There was a symbol on the outside of the book.

  “I’ve seen that.”

  He lifted his gaze. “Hello. You’re awake. That’s good. The healers have agreed not to do this to you again. They agree with me that this was excessive and too much.” He leaned forward. “Do you want anything? Water?”

  “You’re very sweet, but that’s not your job, right? I mean, you don’t have to get water for patients who can’t be cured as some kind of getting over being hexed thing, right?”

  He smirked at her. “No. It’s called basic courtesy. Mental note, Eleanor wakes up cranky from the misuse of human drugs.”

  She groaned. He was probably right. “Thank you, but no. No water.” She sat up. “I’ve seen that symbol on the outside of your book.”

  He shut the book. “This one? Where have you seen it?”

  “In one of the old cities of Babylon. One of the ones preserved magically underground. It’s on a wall there.”

  He threw the book down on the table in front of them, which made her jump. “You’ve been there? I’ve been there, too. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else who has. I went in college. When did you go?”

  He’d been to college. Of course he had. The whole sunlight bit. She shook her head. Eleanor hadn’t gotten to finish high school. “With my mom when I was ten. I’ve been all over the world. She was an archeologist, of the magical variety. Took me with her everywhere.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing. What a great life for a kid.”

  Eleanor had never wanted to change the subject more. Discussions about her early life, the one she’d had before it had all gone to hell, brought her too close to the things she could not discuss and that made her head hurt. And it was already doing enough of that for the moment.

  Never tell…

  Enough with that.

  “Do you want to play cards?”

  He leaned on his elbow. “Cards?”

  “Sure.” She flicked her wrist, and a card deck appeared. “Let’s play cards. I must warn you that all of my years in these places has made me really, really good at this.”

  He grinned at her. “You have magic.”

  “Even half a witch is part witch.” She floated the deck for a second, letting it shuffle without having to touch it. The cards flicked in and out of each other.

  Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest. “My fiancée, sorry, ex-fiancée, she didn’t have magic for a long time. I don’t assume anyone has magic. Are you a card shark or do you cheat? Pretend to be randomly shuffling and really stacking the deck?”

  His magic pulled at hers, taking the deck from her power to his own. The cards reshuffled, and she gasped. “I do not cheat and that is bad form right there. You can’t take my cards while I’m spelling them.”

  “Take them back then.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “If you can.”

  That was a chal
lenge if she’d ever heard one. He hadn’t needed to use his hands to take the cards from her, his magic was stronger, but he was full-blooded and she wasn’t. That didn’t mean she couldn’t meet his unspoken dare. She’d just have to pull at the energy using her fingers instead of only her mind.

  She’d long since stopped being embarrassed by it. “I don’t have much magic, but I can still take my cards back from you.”

  With a yanking motion, she returned the cards to her own control and resumed shuffling them. “I am many things, but a cheat is not one of them. At least not when I’m fully in control of myself. I don’t know what I do when I’m out of it.”

  “Fair enough.” He smiled at her slowly. Whatever test he’d given her, she’d somehow passed. Why Mitchell Sharpe would bother with anything like that was beyond her. Did he do this with all his temporary friends?

  With another tug at the energy, she distributed the cards and soon they were playing, using pretzels from a bowl on the table as chips. He was good, almost as good as she was, but not quite. He almost won in each game but she beat him every time, mostly because she’d been entirely right about him. He had no game face. Every time he had a good hand, she knew it, and when he didn’t, she knew that, too.

  “So how come your ex didn’t have power for a while? There has to be a story there.” She’d never heard anyone say that before. Witches had power. Humans didn’t. And people stuck in the middle like her had some powers and mostly they went mad.

  He raised those gorgeous eyebrows while he stared at his bad hand. “They told her for years that she was just unlucky genetically. Turns out her mother was cursing her because her powers were so extreme most of the women in her father’s family who had them ended up in places like this. The irony is that her mother and father are now here, downstairs in the permanent wing. They ended up here, not her.”

  She digested what he’d said. “You really operate around some shady people don’t you? I mean, hexing and curses? I live mostly in these places, and I’ve never heard of so much of it.”