Page 21 of Castle of the Cursed
I nod again. Something hardens in his expression, and too late I realize I’ve answered wrong.
“It was you.”
An edge sharpens the smoothness of his voice. “I do not know your plan, and I do not care. You have one breath left to end this spell—or I will end you.”
I stare at him, my jaw hinging open.
They warned me at the center that the black smoke could progress to other visions, so I’d need to be vigilant. I focus on the calming mantras they taught me: Don’t engage in my mind’s games. Concentrate on what I know to be real. The shadow beast is an illusion, and illusions can’t touch me—
“One,” he counts off.
I have no idea how to fight—much less defeat—my own mind. I can’t move or think, but my heart is raging.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Calm down, Estela! I inwardly shout at myself. He’s not real, he can’t touch me. I have to slow my pulse, breathe, focus—
The air siphons from my lungs as a steel vise wraps around my neck, caving in my throat. Pain explodes through me as spots darken my view, and I know I won’t inhale again, not ever.
With the last gasp of air in my mouth, I blow out my final breath, and I hear a raw, raspy voice I almost recognize whisper-shout:
“WAIT!”
CHAPTER 7
MY THROAT TICKLES. MY TONGUE tingles. Tears wet my lashes.
I spoke.
I’m so shocked that it takes me a moment to process my other shock—I’m still alive. His hands are no longer around my neck, and there’s a few feet of space between us.
He listened to me.
“End the spell,” says the shadow beast, his beautiful voice at odds with the death it promises.
How is it possible I could feel his touch if he’s only in my head? Or have my hallucinations gained so much power they can hoodwink my other senses? He takes a threatening step forward that cuts the distance between us by half.
“What spell?”
My voice comes out creaky and a notch higher than I remember. And despite the doom facing me, my blood floods with relief that I’m still alive.
No, it’s more than that. Something I didn’t know until this moment—
I want to live.
“No more games.” The monster’s warning comes shrouded in shadow as clouds fill the silver of his eyes. “I know what you are, bruja. Release me or die.”
Bruja—I know that word. It means witch.
“I-I’m not.” I clear my throat of its cobwebs. “I’m just a girl—”
His shadows expand like smoke, darkening the air. “Liar.”
His whisper is everywhere, voice blowing through my hair, ears, fingers. I sprint along the wall to the other end of the room—
But he’s already there.
His shadows enclose us in a smoky night, his silver eyes our only source of light. “Please,” I beg, my heart reverberating in my throat, slowing my speech. “I have no idea… what you’re saying—”
