No sooner had my feet crossed the secret room’s threshold than something flared inside of me. Some pieces of myself, parts that I didn’t even fully realize existed, started lighting up and falling into place. The light here shimmered in flecks of gold, sort of like the way my blood looked when it came in contact with someone magical.
As the light washed over me, all my pain subsided, all my wounds tingled into a glorious numbness. Once my eyes adjusted from the burst of light, I began to take stock of the room. It was quaint, nearly empty. Nothing inside betrayed whatever importance existed within these walls. Why had keeping me out of here been so important? And why was this barren space able to keep us safe now when all other areas came up lacking?
Something was wrong about all this. I couldn’t pinpoint what, but unease was seeping through my bloodstream, rapidly replacing that brief moment of peace the light had afforded me.
I turned to Abram, my heart nearly stopping in my chest at the sight of him. While I’d ventured farther into the room, he’d waited just by the door. He was stunningly handsome, of course, but that’s not why my heart stopped. His eyes were so full of sorrow, and yet his expression was calm, his body language confident. I could only explain it as a quiet resolve. But it made me more concerned.
“Abram …” I said, watching his face carefully. He was scared about something. “The place is on fire Abram. There’s a mob building outside the door. Shouldn’t we be running?”
“It’ll be okay,” Abram said. But there was too much apology in his voice.
“Please, no more secrets.” I shook my head and splayed my hands. “How can anything be okay? How, Abram?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his jaw tensed. His chest puffed up a little as he took a deep breath, and I expected him to approach me, but he didn’t. I wished he would.
“There’s something you should know about this room,” he said finally. “About this town actually.”
Oh, no. Here is it. More things I don’t want to know.
But they were things I needed to know. I turned away, blinking back tears as anxiety throttled in my chest. “We don’t have much time, do we?”
“No,” he said. “We don’t. But it’s not what you think.”
My gaze landed on a crucifix on the wall and a stained glass window that sat under it. That window, with its red moon almost completely colored in—I had seen it before. I had seen this entire room before. But where?
“Oh, God,” I muttered as the answer came to me, as soft as the last whispers of a peaceful dream. “Satina. This is the room where it happened.”
“This is the genesis point,” he said, his voice gravelly. “The origin of the curse that, even now, still envelopes me.”
“That was here?” I asked, moving closer to the window. I turned to face him. “But it was a monastery. You said you burned it down.”
“I attempted to burn it down,” he said, eyes plastered on the floor. Even now, it seemed, the incident still brought about shame in him. “They don’t make buildings like they used to. The fire destroyed most of the interior, but the structure remained intact. And this room was completely untouched.”
“I don’t suppose that’s coincidence,” I answered, running my finger across the colored-in moon.
“Sometimes, if the magic is strong enough during a certain event or occurrence, it leaves something of an imprint on the area affected.” I felt him behind me, the heat of his human form radiating on my skin. “The magic that envelopes this room was made for me. To curse me. But part of that curse is also what keeps me alive.”
“Well, what good is a curse if you’re not alive to suffer through it?” I asked as he ran his fingers down my arm.
“That’s the idea,” he answered. His lips traced my hair, settling along my ear. “It’s stopped me from being able to end my life during my darker moments of the last century.”
My throat tightened at the thought of that, and although I knew emotions came from the mind and not the heart, I still felt that honest-to-God heartache in my chest. “You tried to … to what?”
“Shh,” he breathed into my ear. “It was a long time ago, before I had something to live for. Before you.”
My heart fluttered. I felt myself dancing close to a cliff that would drop me right off into ecstasy. It was strong. The way it always was with Abram. His musk, his lips—they all joined to form the sweetest and most seductive song I had ever heard. But I couldn’t allow myself to be seduced, not right now.
“Abram, they’re right outside.”
“And that’s where they’ll stay,” he answered, hands wrapping my waist.
“The fire,” I breathed.
“Won’t cross into this room. I promise you,” he said low into my ear. “The magic here is strong, Charisse. You need to trust it, to trust me. We don’t have much time.”
“I do trust you,” I answered wholeheartedly, looking into his eyes that were dark and mysterious pools. “But you’re also scaring me. What do you mean we don’t have much time? If this room will protect us—”