Page 10 of A Cursed Heart
Chosen Master
Malacoda
Throughoutthecenturies,Ihad many control my gem. So many beings who were too caught up in their greed to see how the heart ruby was poisoning them from the inside.
It did not take me long to give up hope of ever being free. Instead, I longed for those periods where my gem would be lost to the reach of the greedy souls who wished to claim it. Then I could sleep, letting time pass me by. It was a sort of stasis. I was still aware, always aware, of what was going on in the world, yet Idid not have to watch everything around me. For long stretches, I was content to let the world pass me by.
When the gem slipped into the human world, I gained a sliver of hope that there I could find someone to unlock this curse. Humans had the ability to perform magic, they had just forgotten how. They shared their realm with other beings, ones who stuck to the shadows, and pretended they ruled over everything. They were liars, without the will to live out in the open, they were nothing but fools, living at the whims of the humans who truly ran this world.
Several humans, some with magic, most without, took control of the gem, until their faces all became a haze to me. Knowledge of how to unlock the power slipped out of memory, which was lucky when the heart ruby appeared in notable places throughout human history. The greed for power that my gem inspired was bad enough alone without my presence and magic fueling things further. I was thankful I didn’t have the murder of millions on my conscience.
Eventually, I found my way into the hands of a basic mobster. Sure, he had a successful front as an entrepreneur. One who held property. He owned a casino, a hotel, restaurants, and he dabbled in the tech industry, which I found fascinating. Underneath though, he was ruthless, unfeeling, as sharp as the name they called him: The Scythe. Usually just shortening it to Scythe.
As his criminal counterpart, he ran the underworld of the city I found myself in. There he ruled over a sprawling drug empire. He controlled the weapons being sold in the city. Controlled everything from the prostitute on the corner to black market deals for organs, particularly those organized over dinners in his restaurants. Nothing happened without his say so.
The man behind Scythe, Sloane Salvatore, picked up the heart gem through less than honest means. My prison was stolen once Sloane heard I was in a collection of occult treasures.
Sloane was obsessed with the idea of overcoming mortality. Of living as a powerful being for eternity. He studied magic and the occult, even managing to cast some basic spells, which, given his propensity for violence, was terrifying. What he could do with the gem haunted my every moment. I had to either end him before he could tie me to him, or find someone else to belong to, preferably someone who could end the criminal’s life.
A target came into view quickly. Salvatore had been practicing his magic for hours in between taking calls. A pentagram was etched into the marble floor for casting. He was using it incorrectly, but I wasn’t willing to lecture him on how to craft it properly. He kept at it, trying different summoning spells with little to no success. I could see he was getting frustrated and enjoyed the way his anger showed on his face. Two flags of red over his cheeks, his cold blue eyes glittering dangerously, as if he couldn’t comprehend why the magic was daring to deny him what he wanted.
Salvatore was a man used to getting his way, either through money or violence. Magic could not be bought nor bullied. It had its own laws, and something fundamental in him was too broken for genuine power to flourish within him.
“Bring him to me,” he demanded on yet another call. He flung the ingredients for the spell aside, cursing up a storm at another failed attempt. Once he got himself under control, he cleaned up the mess and hid the pentagram under a beautiful and intricate carpet.
By the time one of Salvatore’s biggest guards guided his unwilling visitor into the room, Scythe was in place where the Sloane Salvatore mask usually sat. He was seated behind his desk, looking casual, as if he hadn’t just been dabbling in thedark arts to gain immortality through the heart ruby. Not a hair was out of place. The anger was banked, his face set in a cool, almost bland expression.
The young man immediately piqued my interest. He had to be in his early twenties, with messy chestnut brown hair cut around his ears, pretty long-lashed honey brown eyes, and a tanned complexion clear of any flaws. The turn of his nose was interesting, and his pouty mouth pleasing. I wondered what his lips would look like wrapped around my cock, or even sucking on the tip of my tail while I fucked him. In short, he was gorgeous, a specimen my brother would have coveted for his sacred palace. He would have been a beauty within the inner circle of concubines, if not a favorite.
I wanted him for myself in all the ways. As my master. As my lover. Then under my control, willing to do anything to please me. Those eyes would look so nice filled with tears while he begged me to give him release.
How was I to gain his attention? I needed him to covet the gem for himself, to take it away from Scythe and unlock this prison, setting me free for the first time in at least a century.
Thanks to the last magic my brother had performed, I could adjust the gem’s appearance. A protective measure, which had been useful on more than one occasion. I used that ability once the young man was seated. Salvatore had placed the gem in a case, high on a shelf where it would go unnoticed thanks to the debris covering it, dulling its shine.
Focusing some magic on the outer crust around the gem, I pushed the dirt away at a strategic point, allowing a shaft of sunlight to hit the ruby’s surface and reflect a beam right into the young man’s eye. His gaze snapped up to the gem. A frown briefly marred his face before he wiped it away.
Done with my task, I let the magic go and observed the situation. Salvatore hadn’t noticed the interest in the gem, which was lucky. He didn’t even like his guards looking at it.
“Mr. Mallory, do you know why you’re here?”
“No, I don’t, sir.” I liked how this Mallory guy kept his answers short but polite.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Did you know your wife—”
“Ex,” he interrupted. Usually, this would have been a mistake. Scythe hated being cut off. This time, the charming Sloane part of his personality must have been in charge, because he let it go.
“Right, well, Jasmine still had you listed as her next of kin.”
When the room lapsed into silence, I saw the man shift in his seat uncomfortably. “That’s only because she had no one else. No family outside of me. We were doing the co-parenting thing together—”
“Yes, how is Freya doing?”
The younger man flinched. “She misses her mom.” I saw just the tiniest thread of guilt.
“Does anyone know you killed her?” The almost gleeful expression on Salvatore’s face made unease grow within me. I didn’t like him having the upper hand.
Now the younger man looked like he had been slapped. A murderer? Wasn’t that interesting? Considering how brightly he shone, I would never have expected he had stains on his soul.
