The Unbreakable Curse Read online

  The Unbreakable Curse

  Accursed Archangels #1

  A Dark Urban Fantasy of Magic and Realms

  Copyright © March 2018 Alexia Purdy

  All rights reserved

  Published by

  Lyrical Lit. Publishing

  Cover Design by Melancholy Muse Designs

  Stock Art Credit: Katie Litchfield k12

  www.alexiapurdybooks.com

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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  Click here for more books by Alexia Purdy:

  Accursed Archangels:

  The Unbreakable Curse

  The Cursed Labyrinth (Coming Soon)

  The Irredeemable Soul (Coming Soon)

  The ArcKnight Chronicles:

  ArcKnight

  Sovereignty

  Reign of Blood Series

  Resonant

  Reign of Blood

  Disarming (Reign of Blood #2)

  Elijah (The Miel Chronicles):

  A Reign of Blood Companion Story

  Amplified (Reign of Blood #3)

  A Dark Faerie Tale Series

  The Withering Palace (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.1)

  Evangeline (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.5)

  Ever Shade (A Dark Faerie Tale #1)

  Ever Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #2)

  Ever Winter (A Dark Faerie Tale #3)

  The Cursed (A Dark Faerie Tale #3.5)

  Ever Wrath (A Dark Faerie Tale #4)

  Without Armor (A Dark Faerie Tale #4.5)

  History of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #5)

  Ever Dead (A Dark Faerie Tale #6)

  Legends of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #7)

  Guardians of Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #8)

  Other Stories

  The Fall of Sky

  Papercut Doll

  Wicked Grove

  Anthologies

  Soul Games

  Faery Worlds

  Faery Tales

  Once Upon a Curse

  The Shapeshifter Chronicles

  It’s a Bird! It’s A Plane! A Superhero Anthology

  Once Upon a Kiss

  The Aching Darkness

  Once Upon a Quest

  Wicked Magic

  Dreams Are Stranger Than Fiction

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sneak Peek: ArcKnight k12

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedicated to Rayven, my fierce warrior.

  Chapter One

  Thalia Brennan dodged another street vendor, nearly sending them flying into a group of tourists skittering out of her way. It was a bad time to be chasing someone through the main streets of New York. It was smack in the middle of the dinner rush, with people everywhere, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the turmoil of the hidden world within their midst. Even the weather couldn’t keep everyone inside despite its turbulent moods of extreme heat, humidity, and the occasional cold burst of spring rain. The streets were slick from the recent sprinkle, though for the moment, it had paused.

  “Move!” she yelled, shoving another bystander watching the chase with his jaw hanging open. The idiocy of people was unbelievable. Moments later it’d all be forgotten, a brief aside everyone would just shrug their shoulders about. Not much more. Though Thalia liked being an afterthought in strangers’ minds, she wished one would put a leg out to trip her target and give a girl a hand.

  The man she was chasing turned the corner into an alleyway between buildings. Thalia almost slipped on the slick concrete as she shifted to follow him. The guy was fast, she had to admit. Of course, anyone could turn into the Flash if running for their lives, which he was doing. She was out for blood, and he was next on her list.

  Heading around another corner, deeper into the back alleys of several apartment buildings, she yanked out her club and aimed for the man’s ankles before arcing it back and sending the wooden baton sailing. Her aim would be true; it always was. A second later, the man’s yells echoed across the brick walls, followed by a thud as his body violently rolled across the asphalt.

  He didn’t stay down. Of course he wouldn’t. It couldn’t be easy, could it? Thalia groaned as she reached for the second baton. She slammed it down onto the guy’s forearms as he held them up, easily deflecting her hits without too much effort. If he was so adept at fighting, why was he running from her?

  That’s right, he was on her kill list. Running was better than sitting still if someone was out for your blood and soul.

  “You’re not going to win,” Thalia snarled, shoving at the man before reaching for a short blade hooked in a sheath on her belt. “Fighting only makes it worse, Ariuk.”

  “I understand,” he answered. Not the response she’d expected, but he continued to block each of her swings even though his forearms were surely bruised and broken by now.

  “The hell? Just die already!”

  “If only it were that easy,” Ariuk said. His dark eyes flashed between normal brown irises and complete black orbs.

  “What?” She shook off her confusion. The guy was a horrible conversationalist, but she wasn’t here to chitchat. He would be the next to surrender his horrid and vile soul to her cause. She didn’t care who the hell he was or how much he wanted to live. She only cared to add his soul to her cache.

  Tired of the game, she stepped back and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him toppling backward. Swinging forward a split second later, she caught her blade on flesh and bone, inciting a scream from the stranger’s swollen and cut lips.

  “Please!”

  Here came the begging. She rolled her eyes and bent over the guy as he attempted to scramble back. Dark black blood squirt from the stump of his right hand, which she’d severed during his fall
. He grasped at it, his fingers pressing against the mess to no avail. She jumped over him, one foot on each side of his torso before she bent down, slamming her weight against him. He groaned, his breath squeezing out from the impact in one abrupt hiss.

  By leaning forward, Thalia had no problem digging her knee into the man’s chest until he grunted and gurgled on the blood blossoming from his mouth. She watched a bead of sweat slip down his brow, a faint metallic scent hanging in the air from their struggle. This part always drove a rush of sweet, mood-enhancing adrenaline through her veins, pushing the euphoria of the fight deep into her core. It was a drug she craved, one that only came when she checked another soul off Ereziel’s kill list.

  “I’m going to kill you now,” she whispered, her fingers curling hard around the dagger, its blade pressed at the man’s jugular. He yelped, his eyes wide at her words. Somehow, saying the words out loud made it more real. Death by her hand, a soul collector, and the most feared of her kind. Her victim? A man named Ariuk, who’d never begged for his life before. In Thalia’s clutches was the last place a demonic creature such as he would ever want to end up.

  His body tensed as he gasped for air, fighting for each breath. They eyed each other, consuming one another as though either could make the other disappear with the sheer might of will.

  “Wait,” he choked out as she continued to press the blade against the skin of his neck, ready to break the flesh. Damp with sweat and blood, her hand remained steady as her body expertly pinned him down. He’d be unable to buck her off if he tried.

  But this man, Ariuk, the scummiest of demons made no move to escape. He didn’t even plead for his pathetic, twisted life. He was one of the unforgiven, a damned nightwalker who roamed the streets free of the confines of Hell. Like Thalia, he was immortal and would not die from old age. But he could be killed. She could not.

  He cleared his throat as best he could. “I have something of yours, ma petite mort,” he whispered, the words heavily accented in French creole. His sharp, white eyes no longer held any glamour to colorize them. Dark, rancid blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, increasing with every breath. His pallor told her the oxygen was leaving his earthly vessel, a dead body he’d acquired with his powers. It was not invulnerable. He could possess another corpse if one was nearby, but there were none, so she let up just a smidgen to allow him to talk.

  “I meant to return it to you sooner, but I knew, eventually, you’d come looking for me.” His one free hand shifted, struggling to reach into his left breast pocket. The stump of his arm bled profusely, stinking of death rot. She carefully watched him fumble then reach into the right pocket of his slacks once he realized there was nothing in his jacket. The pants, once crisply white, were now dirtied with blood and asphalt from their scuffle. She was no worse for wear and wondered why he’d let her take him down so easily. What could he possibly have that belonged to her? They had never met before this day.

  “Hurry up,” she snapped. “I don’t have all eternity to kill you.”

  She refocused on her mission. She couldn’t forget that this nightwalker was marked for death, and she’d been assigned to take him out. Every wicked soul she collected was currency to buy a ticket back to Heaven. Without knowing how many souls it would take to garner entrance into Purgatory, from which she could make way through the gates to Heaven, she killed them without remorse. Forbidden to enter Heaven, all immortals, like her, were banished. Unlike the others, though, Thalia had once been mortal. When she had stood in Purgatory before the gates of Heaven with her deceased parents alongside her, she’d been tossed out as her parents had been graciously accepted.

  That had been a long time ago, and her memories of that moment had faded to flashes, feelings of confusion and rejection as she was cast back through Purgatory and back to Earth.

  Hundreds of years before, and without warning, Heaven had shut its gates to all immortals, stranding those still outside—even angels and archangels. The only way back was through Purgatory, but only humans who lived and died on Earth could get in.

  “You’ll thank me for this later, I guarantee it,” the living corpse said, bringing her back to the present. His one good hand struggled to tug at a chain stuck in his pocket. “You’re trapped without a way back. I can help you, you know. This locket—it’s your ticket in.”

  She pressed her knee harder against his chest, cutting off his voice. “Lies. I detest liars.”

  The stranger squeaked before holding out a locket. It dangled on a tarnished silver chain tangled around his knuckles. His hands were unnaturally smooth, unused to hard labor. That didn’t change the fact that he resided in a corpse. Thalia eyed the glimmering talisman, feeling oddly drawn to it.

  “That’s not mine. You’re just trying to stall. I’m still going to kill you, and it’s useless to attempt to save yourself. You’re going to die tonight.”

  She shifted on his chest, causing him to hiss out a breath. He struggled in this position, but there was never any panic or pain in those dark eyes. Apprehension, regret, fear… none of those things existed in this creature. It was as though he knew this day would come and was just playing a role, as he’d done many times before. It made Thalia’s blood run icy beneath her skin, causing her to shiver. His blood was already slicked across her arms, but now it felt like crystals were forming on the drying fluid, even though it was late spring, edging towards summer, and the air was warm.

  Who was this man Ereziel had sent her to kill? He was different from the others. Though he fit the definition of a demonic figure, he wasn’t a run-of-the-mill immortal craving violence, blood, and terror. This one was resolute. He knew his end had come and had embraced it calmly. Even when she’d surprised him, it’d been mainly her brute force tossing him about, without much rebuttal from him. He’d put up slight resistance, yes, but when he’d realized who his attacker was, he’d refused to fight and had barely touched her. It was odd to not have to chase prey across the city. She lived for the hunt. Craved it. And she always got her man. Always.

  “Trust me, the locket is yours. I’ve had it for years. It’s just the type of talisman which belongs to the wraiths of the Skein Realm. A place so different from Heaven or Hell would bear unusual magic like this. You also are not of this world.”

  Thalia scowled.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

  “Enough with the stories.”

  “But you must know—you don’t belong here. This is the key to where you’re from. Take it, it’s yours. But once you do, you’ll have no claim on my soul. That is the price for your token, ma petit mort.”

  She hated that nickname. He would die just for repeating it.

  He held out the locket, his fingers shaking from blood loss. His body was dying a second, permanent death.

  Thalia scoffed. He was a pretentious fool. What good would killing him do if his soul was uncollectable? But he had to be lying. She needed currency to enter Purgatory, and his soul was part of the payment.

  “Keep your infernal locket. It serves me no purpose. You’re the currency I seek.”

  Struggling to come up with more words to stall and delay his final moment, Ariuk gasped as she pressed more of her weight against him, crushing his chest. Her paltry hundred and twenty pounds must’ve felt like a thousand to him by now. It was too late; there was nothing he could say that would spare his pathetic life, and she was done talking. She jerked the blade across his neck, a line of darkness blossoming where blood seeped from the wound. She took great satisfaction in killing an unvirtuous creature.

  The vile man’s body writhed beneath hers. As he fell still, she reached down and plucked the locket from his fingers. It sent an odd sensation of déjà vu through her, causing another shiver to run along her spine. Had she seen it before in a dream? The truth about her origins was buried in a life she couldn’t remember, and she wondered if this locket had been part of it. She should’ve let him live a bit longer. Maybe he had more information. A
ll she had now was a pathetic trinket, one that couldn’t possibly be hers. Why would he hold it for her? Why give it back?

  Thalia clutched the locket, curling her fingers over it until the nails dug into her palm. Already, she could feel the pain riding up her arm. Was it true that his soul was not hers since she’d claimed the locket? Would she not be able to use it as payment when she entered Purgatory? That alone was her goal. This vile man had somehow known a large piece of her history, but she’d prematurely cut off his life force.

  How timely. She groaned and stood up. Ariuk was dead, but she still had to take care of the body. Her heart settled into a slower rhythm. The pleasure of the hunt and kill had taken over far too much for her logical side to consider keeping him alive for questioning. Ereziel had sent her to kill Ariuk, but she wondered if he was aware this man had known something about her past. Now she would never know.

  Collecting an evil soul was the purpose of her work, but the kill was more than thrilling. She always told herself it was a necessary deed, an essential service required of her. Besides, it was the archangel Ereziel who’d ordered the kill. He was corrupt beneath his angelic form, yes, but still dignified in certain ways.

  After burying the corpse in an unmarked grave in the old Moore-Jackson Cemetery, a forgotten, dilapidated place, she stalked away, cursing under her breath as she headed to one of her favorite bar haunts. She sneaked in through the back by picking the lock then washed up in the poorly maintained, dark restroom, where no one would notice the grime and blood staining her skin and clothes.

  Scrubbed clean, she emerged and slid onto a barstool near the corner of the bar where the red indoor lights hid the residual dirt on her dark clothing. A drink was in order. Though she hated the taste of alcohol, she craved the numbness that came with it. She needed to blur away her thoughts. She knew she could never outrun them, and they’d eventually catch up to her. But not right now. Not tonight.

  Chapter Two