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  Cursed

  Book 1, Enchanted Gods

  K.K. Allen

  K.K. Allen Books

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2021 by K.K. Allen

  Cover Design: Emily Wittig Designs

  Editing / Proofreading: Red Adept Editing

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  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Contact [email protected] with questions.

  For my son, Jagger. Your Enchanted spirit inspires me every single day. Never stop dreaming. I love you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Fated Prologue

  Fated Chapter 1

  Connect With K.K.

  Acknowledgments

  Other Novels by K.K. Allen

  About the Author

  As the wind swirls, fueling the raging fire at my back, I now know her words to be true. What makes us most powerful can also kill us.

  I’m Earth’s prisoner, sinking deeper into the sand and watching helplessly as a growing wave closes in on me until its massive form towers over the shore.

  Fire, water, earth, and air. It was all supposed to be in my control. Something went terribly wrong.

  They told me to stay away, that love was a dangerous game to play. I didn’t listen. And now I’m paying the ultimate price.

  I take one final glance in his direction, my heart aching as I say a silent goodbye. It’s time to let fate take its natural course.

  The wave folds over and crashes on me, the force of it releasing me from the sand’s grip then sweeping me off my feet. Its currents throw me like a rag doll, ripping me far from shore. With all my strength and remaining breath, I claw my way to the surface. I don’t know how far I need to rise, so I just keep fighting while my throat burns from lack of oxygen. The current is as resilient as an anchor.

  I’ve lost all air, and I can feel myself grow weaker until all I see is black. Unable to hold on to my power any longer, I release my will and float free within the quieting water, slowly overcome by an eerie peace.

  Not even my magic can save me now.

  My dirt-covered sneakers kick beneath me like a pendulum, timed perfectly with the beating of my heart. Tick. Tick. Tick. As if that isn’t already a haunting soundtrack to my thoughts, the second hand on the clock above my head grows louder, providing more chaos to my already-cluttered mind.

  The waiting game is longer today than normal. That’s fitting, considering the hard glare my mom gave me before strolling straight past me and through the door to my principal’s office. I try to combat the visual of my mom’s anger and the guilt that comes with it by searching my thoughts for something else—anything else. It’s close to impossible. The only other image flashing through my mind is of that cocky jock Steve Salmon and the crude words he muttered to me right before he went crashing through the first-story window of our science class.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Erica. I thought therapy was helping her deal with her anger issues.” My mom’s voice is faint through the walls but clear enough for me to make out every word.

  “Oh, Grace,” Principal Waverly says sympathetically, because apparently they’re on a first-name basis. “I know you’re doing everything you can. Maybe homeschool will be a better option for her. Then she can continue to get the extra help while keeping up with her schoolwork. She’s a great student. If it wasn’t for these little outbursts, she’d be thriving and well on her way to an Ivy League school after graduation. I just can’t put our students at risk any longer.”

  “So what does this mean for Katrina? There’s only a month left of school. What about graduation?”

  “I’m afraid it means Kat will be expelled from Silver Lake High, pending an expulsion hearing. However, if you choose to take her out willingly to homeschool, then we can forego the formal process. Then she’ll still have a chance to graduate on time. However, she will not be invited to the ceremony to walk along with her peers. I’m so sorry.”

  I bow my head, feelings of shame and disappointment snaking through me. Principal Waverly has always been kind to me. Understanding to a fault. But not even she can save me this time. No one wants me here.

  My mom starts to cry. “I don’t know how it got so bad.”

  The sound of a tissue sliding from the rectangular box at the edge of Principal Waverly’s desk paints a sad image in my mind. It seems like all I’ve been doing lately is making my mom cry.

  “Kat needs to understand what’s bothering her deep inside so she can better control her actions. Maybe this has something to do with her father. Have you been in touch with him?”

  “No.” My mom snaps the word. “Not since Katrina was born. But he’s not the problem. She doesn’t even ask about him.”

  The silence that follows is heavy enough to weigh down my heart.

  “Well, she’s got to be curious at least—”

  “She’s not.”

  The sound of a chair scraping the floor tells me their conversation is over, which doesn’t surprise me. There are many reasons why I don’t ask about my father, my mother’s coldness toward the subject being one of them. I tune out the remaining chitchat and instead focus on how I’m going to face my mom after this “incident,” as everyone calls it.

  A few minutes later, the door to Principal Waverly’s office opens, and my mom steps out, her eyes red and still moist from crying. She locks those sad eyes with mine and holds out her hand to me. “Let’s go home and have a chat.”

  I look from her to the principal before frowning. “I didn’t push Steve. I barely even touched him.”

  Principal Waverly gives me a small smile before placing a hand on my shoulder. “I believe you had no intention of hurting Steve, but there are too many witnesses who saw things differently. It’s important for you to take responsibility for your actions.”

  Her words aren’t cold in the least, but it still feels like a hard slap in the face. No one wants to hear me out. No one will even consider that there’s another side to the story. It hurts. My chest squeezes. Defeated, I finally take my mom’s hand.

  She says nothing as we walk to my locker, then she tells me to empty it. There’s not much to pack up. My course books, a light green jacket I haven’t worn since early spring, and a hanging mirror I used more for looking out for sneak attacks from my classmates than I ever used it to check my own reflection.

  I’ve just gathered the last of my things when the bell rings, signaling the end of class. I freeze, and I can see in my mom’s eyes that she’s dreading what comes next too.

  She leans in to whisper, “Keep your head straight forward and don’t react. Got it?”

  I nod and squeeze my lids together, summoning the courage I know I’ll need.
Then we walk toward the entrance. The heckling begins as soon as everyone begins to pour into the halls.

  “Look. There she is. Did you see what she did to Steve?”

  “No, but I heard about it. Katrina Summer is a freak.”

  “Well, I was there. It was terrifying. I hope his parents sue.”

  “I doubt they will. He doesn’t have a scratch on him. How is that even possible?”

  “Who knows? But Kat’s a fucking psycho. I’m glad she’s leaving.”

  “Look at what she’s carrying. Hopefully, she’s gone for good this time.”

  “She’s so tragic. I mean, look at that dress. She must have the same one in fifty different shades.”

  I swallow over the lump in my throat as my mom pushes open the front door for me to exit first. She leads me to a set of bikes parked on the rack. My mom has never driven, so we walk or ride our bikes everywhere we go.

  I assume we’re riding directly to our apartment, but we take a detour to the outdoor ice cream stand instead. It’s always been my favorite, with the top of its small roof shaped like a pink swirl of ice cream covered with rainbow glitter, but it’s not usually a stop we make when I’ve done something bad at school.

  “Mom—“ I start, but she shakes her head to cut me off.

  “This stop isn’t for you. It’s for me.”

  I snap my mouth closed and step back while she orders two strawberry milkshakes. We sit down at a blue table with a matching blue umbrella. I try to enjoy the creamy sweetness sliding down the back of my throat, but it’s impossible with our future conversation looming over my head.

  “I didn’t push him.” I can’t hold back the tears anymore. “I barely touched him. I only put my hands on him because he touched me first.”

  “That boy put his hands on you?”

  I can see the fury in my mother’s eyes. “Yes. After he told the entire school that I slept with him. I’ve never even seen Steve outside of school. And I haven’t—”

  “Katrina.” She sighs. “I believe you. I do. And if what you’re saying is true, then maybe Steve deserved to fly out a window, but I’m not worried about that boy right now. I’m worried about you. You have got to learn how to control your anger.” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “I don’t think you know your own strength at times, and that’s not something the school can consider as an excuse. That’s why I’m pulling you from Silver Lake High and enrolling you in online courses. You only have another month until the end of the year, and then you’ll be at the community college. Your best bet to get into a four-year institution is to keep a low profile, and we’ll get you some help in the meantime.”

  College. The dreaded subject. My mom has insisted on me furthering my education since I was a little girl. I don’t understand the point of it. And with how broke we always seem to be, I can’t imagine even being able to go when it’s time. But I don’t argue with her about it because I know how much it means to her. If anything, I try to avoid the subject.

  “What if nothing helps me? It’s like I’m cursed. What if bad things just happen when I’m around?”

  She averts her eyes and shakes her head. “You are not cursed. And no, bad things don’t just happen when you’re around. You just…” She clamps her mouth shut without finishing her thought, then she turns back to me and tilts her head. “I’m going to help you live a normal life.”

  A chill snakes through me at her words. A normal life? What does that even mean?

  “There’s something I want to give you.”

  My mom begins to fiddle with the gold charm bracelet that wraps her wrist. It holds a single heart-shaped locket, and she’s worn it for as long as I can remember. She always seems to be touching it in some way, but she does something I’ve never seen her do before—she unclasps it. Her breath is sharp, and her eyes close when the jewelry slides away from her skin. After a brief pause, she slips it around my wrist, her hands shaking.

  “Do you remember the story about how I met your father?”

  I swallow, feeling panicked as I search her eyes. If she’s bringing up my father, she must be trying to tell me something important. “You met him in Apollo Beach after you washed ashore. He carried you into his parents’ home, and you fell in love.”

  My mom nods slowly then reaches out to touch the locket hanging from my wrist. “This was the only item I carried with me. Like my life before Apollo Beach, I don’t know how I got it or where it came from. Yet strangely, I know it’s protected me over the years. Just like I know it will protect you.”

  I stare at the beautiful chain, a sick feeling swirling in my stomach. I’ve always sensed a deeper story to my mom’s past that she’s never been willing to tell me. “What do we need protection from?”

  My mom just shrugs and gives me a soft smile. “Ourselves. Promise me you’ll never take it off, no matter what.”

  I blink back at her, wondering if she’s serious.

  “Promise me, Katrina.”

  Hearing the sharpness in her tone, I nod. “I promise.”

  “Good.” She moves to my bench, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and presses a kiss to my temple. “Let this charm remind you of all the good you possess. And please,” she adds with a laugh, “put some other charms on it while you’re at it.”

  I promise her that I will and follow her lead to drop the conversation. She smiles while we finish our milkshakes and begin debating which movie to watch tonight. My mom always suggests thought-provoking dramas like Memento and Gone Girl, while I aim for romantic comedies like 10 Things I Hate About You and Clueless.

  By the time we park our bikes and walk up the two flights of stairs to our third-story apartment, we’ve narrowed it down to two options.

  “Let me hear your pitch,” she challenges as she sticks her key in the door. “Why should we watch The Butterfly Effect?”

  “You first.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Why should we watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?”

  There’s a grin on my mom’s face when she pushes open the door, and I almost forget the terrible portion of the day that came before now. She’s just opened her mouth to respond when her pocket buzzes, alerting her of a new message.

  “Damn,” my mom says, her eyes on her cell phone screen. “I have to go back to work.”

  I didn’t think my day could get any worse. “No. You’re kidding me, right? It’s your night off.”

  She sighs and reaches for her purse. “I know, but I had to leave in a hurry to get to the school. A patient needs discharge papers. I’m just going to run to work, type up my notes, and then I’ll be back here in time to start the movie. Two hours, tops.”

  I groan and roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll take a bath or something.”

  My mom’s eyes light up. “Great idea, sweetheart. Take a bath. Read a book soon. I’ll be back.” She leans over and kisses the top of my head. “I love you, Katrina.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.”

  Darkness, emptiness, loss. I’m swimming through the fiery depths of my own thoughts—past, present, and future—when I’m ripped from my slumber by three hard knocks on the front door. My mind is trapped in a fog, but I can feel my body aching from my having fallen asleep on our tattered, stiff green couch. I yawn and look at the digital clock above the television. It’s three in the morning. The television is on, but it’s stuck on the menu screen from the movie I started streaming earlier, and the bowl of popcorn I made hours ago is still sitting half-full on the coffee table. I must have passed out early.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “Mom?” I stand up and scan the apartment.

  I check her room. Her bed is still made. I look in the bathroom. No sign of her. Finally, I walk toward the front entrance and discover that her purse and keys are missing from the table near the front door, where she normally places them. She should have been home hours ago.

  It’s times like this I wish my mom wasn’t so against simple methods of communication like cell phones and email.
She’s always warned me away from the addictive technology that will consume my life if I’m not careful. I swear she would have put me in homeschool sooner if she didn’t have to work so much.

  Another round of knocks pound at the door, making me jump. I take another step to reach the door and peek through the little hole. The moment I see the police uniform, my entire body freezes. I can feel the blood draining from my face and pumping through my veins. Everything is racing—my heart, my mind. I can’t shake the dark, awful thoughts I’ve been experiencing lately. It feels like everything that’s happened over the past two years has escalated into this pivotal point, but I don’t know why. I don’t know what any of it means, but I can’t avoid whatever this is any longer.

  I unlock the door, pull it open, and face the two uniformed men, who have unmistakable sorrow in their eyes.

  “Hello, Miss. We’re looking for Katrina Summer, daughter of Grace Summer. Is that you?”

  I nod slowly, as if that simple act will delay the inevitable. I look down at my wrist where my mom’s bracelet now rests, and somehow, I already know what they’re about to tell me.

  I’ll never forget that hollow, rhythmic pounding on the door or the expressions on the officers’ faces as they delivered the news.

  “We regret to inform you that your mother was in an unfortunate accident.”

  I insisted that they’d made a mistake, that they had the wrong apartment. My mother was still at work. Then they described her blue vintage bicycle, including the tattered brown seat and large woven basket. That was all it took for my entire world to turn black.