Cursed Hearts (A Crossroads Novel) (11 page)

Aria
and he followed after their group, listening to a few of the lectures from
their tour guide as they went. The man seemed like he’d rather be shoveling
horse manure.

“Do
witches really use wands?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes,” Ariahna said. “At least, they used to. Today
they’re
considered
more of a novelty than a necessity, though.”

He glanced up, looking at the sign above the large, open
doorway
that led
into the next exhibit. “
The Wands of the Artisan
,” he read. He was
actually a little excited to see a piece of his family history – a piece of his
mother’s history, to be exact. It didn’t even matter that it was something as
ridiculous as a wand.

“I
thought there were six of them?” he said, looking down into the display case as
they drifted closer. Four wands were cradled carefully inside matching wooden
boxes.

“The
museum only has four,” she explained. “Porter, Scott, Navarro, and Hayes.”

Rome
noticed the empty areas labeled Graham and VayRenn just as the tour guide
explained that those two wands had been lost over the years. He went on to say
that the Graham wand had been missing for so long, that no one even remembered
what it looked like anymore.

“That
sucks, I was hoping to see yours.” He watched as she played nervously with a
strand of her hair, avoiding his gaze.

“Ariahna?”
he grinned.

“Yes?”

“Your
family’s wand isn’t really lost, is it?”

“What
would make you say that?”

“I
can feel your pulse racing against my hand,” he smiled. “It’s okay. Your
secret’s safe with me.” Rome turned to the tour guide, speaking up abruptly in
the middle of his speech. “What makes these so special?” he asked. “And why
does the museum have what’s technically my property locked up in some dusty old
case?” He watched as the old man spared him a glare, pausing only long enough
to let him know he didn’t intend to answer.

Dick
, Rome thought.

“The
Wands of the Artisan were the only wands crafted using woods
from The Grove,” Aria whispered. “They were the
only wands from
their time period that were crafted in this manner. Most
wands, at the time, were much simpler objects—just bits of wood smoothed into a
natural shape. These… these are artwork. And they’re here because they were
deemed too dangerous for use by The Collective.”

“Good
to know they’re just like any other government,” he mumbled, kneeling down to
get a closer look through the glass.

Three
of the wands were lighter in color, comprised of different hues of brown. The
Scott wand, however, was almost pure black. Each had its own rather unique
design, a distinct identity. But if you looked hard enough, you could see an
unwritten signature, the mark of the hands that had forged them. It was something
harder to define – the care given to every detail. It was a personality,
almost, the touch of a person’s soul.

“If
they’re so powerful, why keep them on display?” Rome said, unable to tear his
eyes away. “I’m surprised they haven’t been stolen.”

“Not
just anyone can use them. They were handcrafted specifically for each family’s
bloodline. If I tried to pick up your wand, for example, it wouldn’t work. Only
you can use it. I suppose if one went missing, they’d know right where to start
looking.”

“So
how long have they been here?”

“They’ve
been in the hands of The Collective for a few centuries, give or take. Before
that, they were passed down one generation at a time. If you weren’t an only
child, that meant fighting for it. See the long crack in the Hayes wand?” she
said, pointing it out.

Rome
nodded, glancing at the dark fissure near the tip. His eyes kept catching on
the oblong sphere in the center of the handle. As he admired the pearlescent,
Celtic-themed inlay, he couldn’t help but think that these really were like
works of art.

“Dallas
told me that’s how that happened,” Aria said. “Two of his family members were
arguing over it. He mentioned something about a gunfight, too, but I don’t know
how much of that is actually fact.”

“Wait…
Dallas’s last name is Hayes?”

“I
thought you knew that for some reason,” she mumbled. “Sorry, I suppose I didn’t
really introduce you.”

“That’s
okay; don’t worry about it.”

“How
did you even know my last name?” she asked suddenly.

“I
saw it on your schedule,” he laughed.

Rome
turned his attention back to his family’s wand, pressing a hand against the
glass. Seeing it helped make all of this seem so much more real. For being
several centuries old, it actually didn’t look too bad, either. There were four
elegant, interlocking spirals carved into the center of the wand just above the
handle. The handle itself was a deep chestnut brown, with a design carved out
of it that reminded him of lacy, Victorian sleeves. It seemed to be made of two
different types of wood, and he noticed then that the names were etched into
the lid of the hinged box. “Laurel and pear wood,” he said, nodding to himself.
“I’ve never heard of those before.”

“They’re
both pretty uncommon. The handle is laurel, and the main part of the wand,
along with the decorative piece on the end, are pear.”

“You
know a lot about all of this stuff, don’t you? I don’t know if I said this
already, but thank you. I’d be more than a little lost without you. Without
your help, I mean,” he corrected.

“You’re
welcome,” she smiled. “Most people find it annoying that I’m a bit of a
know-it-all.” Ariahna shrugged like it didn’t bother her.

“Well,
I’ve been called a box of questions on more than one occasion,” Rome laughed,
standing up and placing his hand back in hers. “Speaking of questions… what’s
The Grove?”

Before
Aria had a chance to answer, she was startled by an old man she’d never seen
before. He was just suddenly standing at her side, and it wasn’t until then
that she realized the group had moved on without them. He had dark, heavily set
eyes that seemed to have sunken into his face with age, and several discolored
patches marred his skin. There was something particularly eerie about him that
she simply couldn’t explain.

“The
Grove,” the man said roughly, “was a sacred place created by the family of the
Artisan. They brought trees from all four corners of the world to bloom and
flower into what some would come to call the perfect garden. It was a place for
gatherings, for great spells and rites to be performed; a place to celebrate
life, and mourn the loss of the dead. Magic lived in the very air, in the
earth. Stepping into The Grove was to be saturated in purity, wrapped up in
magic and held safe,” he whispered, clenching bony fingers close to his chest.
“It was an Eden.”

Aria had grown up learning about The Grove; she’d like to
have thought that she knew most all there was to know about it. But the way
this man was speaking… There was something in his tone, a certain
wistfulness in his eyes. He
spoke not as if he was reciting something out of a book, but as if he were
seeing it. It was as though he was recalling a treasured old memory. Everything
about him, from his hollow cheeks to his wild silver hair was filling her with
dread. Rome’s thumb brushed soothingly over the back of her palm, and she
noticed the man staring at that.

“We
should probably go catch up with our group…”

“You
talk about this place as if it’s gone,” Rome said.

“It
was destroyed,” the man groaned.

“The
tree at the center of The Grove died off, actually,” she said.

“Is
that the story now days? More’s the pity. The yew tree did not merely die. It
was poisoned,” he hissed, his voice heavy like the weight of a stone. “With the
heart gone, The Grove could not live. The rest of the trees, they withered and
died around it.”

“I’ve
never read anywhere that it was poisoned,” she said skeptically.

“I
suppose you don’t know the legend of the six wands then, either?” he whispered,
a thin smile playing at the curve of his lips. “The Artisan crafted the wands
from those ancient, sacred trees as a show of goodwill to the five oldest, most
influential magical families. The sixth… the sixth was gifted to a woman whom
he loved.”

Ariahna was gripping Rome’s hand so tightly her fingers
hurt,
almost
pressing herself into his side. Other than the bit about the sixth wand being
intended for a lover, she had known all of that. The way he told it made it
sound more like the beginnings of a ghost story than a lesson in history,
though.

“Go
on,” Rome said, catching Christian’s scent in the air a second later. It
occurred to him then that he hadn’t smelled this guy before he appeared; he
hadn’t even heard him walk up.

“The
wands, though presented as tribute, had in truth been cursed. Each held its own
misfortune to be inherited by the five families. And to the woman who had
wronged him, he sent a bitter curse of revenge; that neither she, nor her
descendants, would ever again find love.”

“Cursed?” Rome said disbelievingly. He tore his eyes away
from
the old man,
admiring the elegant, unassuming pieces of wood. “Curses aren’t real… are
they?”

“But
why would he curse them?” Aria asked.

“Navarro,”
he said distantly. “It was a Navarro who stole away his love. He had wealth,
and power, and she was drawn to them both. He captured her heart and blackened
the Artisan’s. Her leaving left him bitter. Not long after, the head of the
VayRenn household came to him requesting a powerful wand crafted from the trees
of The Grove. He demanded a wand made largely of yew. So arrogant was he that
he believed him and his family alone was deserving of possessing a piece of the
yew. But the Artisan would not sacrifice the sanctity of the garden to satisfy
one man’s wishes. He turned him away, insisting the tree was too significant to
risk. VayRenn,
displeased
with his decision,
acted impulsively, and without regard for consequence. He poisoned the yew with
magic, killed it from within, and then was even so bold as to proclaim to the
Artisan that with it no longer living, he had nothing left to protect. He
thought to have won, to have taught the humble Grove
keepe
r a lesson. The lesson, he would discover, was one that was
meant for him.”

Ariahna
couldn’t listen to any more of this.

“Are
you implying that my family killed The Grove? That’s ridiculous. And if that
were the case, then why would the Artisan have done as he wished? I know for a
fact that there is yew in that wand.”

“Yes,”
the man confirmed, nodding. “Two pieces of yew went into the wand –
representations of the curse he laid upon it. Do you know what they say of the
yew?” he breathed. “It is the sustainer of life, purveyor of death. Bringing
both beginnings and ends, it is a tree of completion.

“Navarro
and VayRenn,” he commiserated. “To them he bestowed the harshest of curses. The
two lines were bound by dark magics, destined to fall in love, and fated for it
to end in tragedy. They were doomed to fail from the moment they met. Nothing
but catastrophe awaited them. And yet, they would forever fall in love. They
would struggle, and suffer, and then,” he whispered, “…death.”

“Death?”
she breathed.

“Their love, a cursed love, would always end. As it is
told, the VayRenn’s have been watching the descendants of the Navarro
bloodline
die for centuries as punishment. They will forever have
something
precious stolen from them, just as they took what was most precious from the
Artisan – just as they took what was most precious from the whole of the world.
For the yew was not just a tree, it was hope. It was a beacon of light bathing
the land in promise. And when that light went out—well… that is when the
darkness came rushing in.”

“That sounds like a bunch of crap,” Rome said.

“Where have you guys been?” Trevor called,
leaning
around the open
doorway. “The chaperones are freaking out.”

“We
were just talking to…”

Rome’s
face twisted in confusion.

“Where
did he go?”

Aria
shivered violently.

He
was gone. He’d disappeared as mysteriously as he’d materialized. But his
cryptic stories and foreboding presence were still lingering like a foul taste
at the back of her throat.

“Let’s
get out of here,” she said.

Chapter 9

The
lounge was desolate in the still of the night. Flames flickered in the hearth,
casting harsh shadows upon the walls. Ariahna stared out across the empty room,
turning back to watch the fire a moment later. She closed her
eyes, brushing her fingers over her lips and
thinking about their kiss
—her first kiss—and all the kissing that had
followed it. Her hand fell away as the old man’s voice slithered unpleasantly
through her mind.

Cursed
. Could that really be true? The longer she thought about
it, the more plausible it became. What else could explain how drawn she was to
Rome? They were practically strangers, and from the moment they’d met
, she had trusted him without
hesitation. And he liked her. Aria had never even thought about romance or
relationships before, but with Rome, she could just see it. It felt like no
matter what, they were going to end up together – that they were meant to. And
that, more than anything, now had her terrified.

“Hey,”
Christian whispered, dragging his fingers over the arm of the loveseat. Ariahna
jumped, screaming before she could stop herself. “Sorry,” he smirked. “I didn’t
mean to scare you. What are you doing out here?”

“Christian,”
she said, pressing a palm over her heart. “You need to learn to make noise when
you walk.”

He
laughed, slipping down into the seat next to her as she folded her legs up near
her chest. “That’s no fun,” he grinned. “Seriously though, you look upset. It
wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain creepy old man, would
it?”

“How
did—?”

“I
heard,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t worry too much about it. He probably
just knew who you two were and wanted to mess with you.”

“Maybe
you’re right,” she murmured. Now if she could only believe that. “Why aren’t
you asleep?”

“…Can
I tell you a secret?”

She
looked back at him suspiciously.

“I
was making a break for it,” he grinned. “Want to go?”

“You
mean… leave the school?” She shifted anxiously on the cushion. That was
probably a bad idea, she thought. They’d only get in trouble. It didn’t stop
her from wanting to say yes. “Where would we even go?” she asked. “We’re twenty
miles outside of town.”

“I
have a ride,” he shrugged. “Slip on some sneakers and meet me in the parking
lot. You won’t be sorry.”

She
watched him jump up from the sofa and disappear down the stairs. Aria sat there
for a moment, trying to talk herself out of what would no doubt prove to be a
really stupid decision. It wasn’t working. She sighed and shuffled back into
her room to get ready.

The
question was, ready for what?

She
dressed quickly, sneaking through the darkened school and out into the chill
night air. The moon hung low in the sky, cresting over the treetops and
illuminating the slumbering world. A cool breeze ghosted between the cars,
pushing dead leaves across the ground.

Christian
was lounging on a stone bench pressed up against the brick building, waiting
for Ariahna, and not for a second wondering if she was going to come. He did
this sometimes – snuck out at night to clear his head. It was a habit he’d
picked up while living with a particularly difficult foster
family. It was one of the things that had helped
him keep his sanity for as
long as he had. He’d never asked someone else
to come with him, though. She hadn’t seen him, he realized, and he leaned back,
taking a moment to admire her denim-clad ass with a smile. Those stiff school
skirts did not do her justice. His eyes ran greedily up her body, eyeing a
flash of skin where her tank top ended just above her jeans. He stood and
sidled up behind her, slipping his arms around her sides as she startled.
“You’re so easy to sneak up on,” he said, molding himself to her back and
laughing softly in her ear.

She shivered, stepping away from his touch and turning to
face him. “Maybe you just have too much practice sneaking up on people.”

Christian shrugged, stepping off the curb and crossing
the asphalt. She lagged after him as he weaved through the cars, twirling a set
of keys around his index finger.

“You have a car?” she asked skeptically, focusing on the
sound of the
jingling
metal. Her stomach clenched with
apprehension. “Are you even old
enough to drive?”

“Dallas
has a car, and he taught me everything I know.”

“Why
is that not very reassuring?” she mumbled.

“You worry too much.” He pressed the button, unlocking
the
doors to
Dallas’s Beamer. He stepped over to the passenger side door, opening it for her
with a grin as she slipped inside.

“So,
where are we going exactly?”

“It’s
a secret,” he whispered, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“I
can’t believe Dallas lets you drive his car. He’s usually so…”

“Yeah,
I know. His car is like his baby. I don’t know why he lets me, but I don’t
question it,” he said, holding his hands up in the air. He wasn’t sure how
Dallas saw him, but to Christian, he was the closest thing to family that he
had. Not that he’d ever admit it. “Where do you think we’re going?” he teased,
smiling over at her as he pulled out onto the road.

Aria twisted in her seat, looking back at him
thoughtfully.
“Nothing’s
really open this late, so it has to be somewhere you can go anytime,” she said
logically. “Somewhere public… A park, or a house maybe?” she guessed. “Are you
a local?”

“Close,
and no,” Christian answered. “I’m not a local.” He let his eyes drift away from
the road, looking her over again. “You look good out of your uniform,” he
smirked.

“Thanks,”
she said shyly.

Christian
chuckled. “Don’t act so modest.”

“One
of us has to.”

“Fair
enough,” he said. “But in my defense, you haven’t seen me naked. I have good
reason to be confident.”

“…I’ll take your word for it.”

The rest of the drive was taken
listening
to loud
music, and when they finally arrived at their destination, Ariahna paled.

Redwood
Elementary sat on the very far side of town. At night, it looked like the
perfect place for a murder. Other than a few green-tinted security lights, the
complex was bathed in darkness. The quiet sounds of swings swaying in the wind
and tetherball chains clinking around their poles permeated the air. Sprinklers
sputtered off in the distance over a large field, giving the illusion of
whispering voices.

Ariahna
closed the passenger door hesitantly, gazing over the roof of the car at
Christian. “This is where you wanted to go?” she asked.

“Yeah,
I come down here all the time. It’s quiet.” He grabbed the basketball out of
the trunk and dashed towards the covered courts. “Come on,” he yelled, hopping
over the small fence.

 Aria
was still standing beside the car, gripping the handle like it was a lifeline.
To her, this looked like the beginning of a bad horror movie.
The sound of Christian’s footfall echoed across
the blacktop. She was
counting her heartbeats, listening for a scream or
some other telltale sign of a lurking predator jumping out of the bushes. A
breeze whistled by at her back and she spun in a circle, staring off into the
night. She took a few quick steps backwards before turning and running after
him.

“How
about a little one on one?” he said.

He
tossed the ball at her and she fumbled to catch it.

“I
don’t really know how to play,” she admitted.

“I’ll
show you what to do.”

He
guided her over to the free throw line and made her take a few steps in. He
squared her shoulders with the basket, pivoting her hips and pulling her back
against him. His arms slid around her, showing her how to hold the ball and
giving her a few tips on how to shoot.

“Okay,”
he said, “now aim for the backboard, and let the ball roll off your fingers
when you throw it.” Christian shook with laughter as the ball hit the bottom of
the chain net. He swooped around her and grabbed it, throwing up a quick shot
from under the hoop. “That wasn’t bad,” he smiled.

“
You’re laughing,” she said, crossing her arms
loosely over her
chest.

“
No,” he chuckled. He wasn’t sure if he was amused
by her
attempt at shooting, or just her. “Try again.”

“Why,
so you can laugh at me some more?”

“No,” he said evenly. “You did pretty good. You had the
aim,
just not the
power. What you need to do is jump. Just watch.” He backed himself up to the
three point line, smiling as he let the ball roll off of his fingertips.

Aria
watched the ball sink through the hoop. She was kind of embarrassed over how
impressed she was watching him throw a ball through a metal ring. He made it
look like the easiest thing in the world.

Christian
jogged around the court taking a few more shots and warming up.
He did a reverse layup and a couple fadeaways.
“You ready to surprise yourself?” he grinned, handing her the ball. She looked
apprehensive, but determined. He let his hand curl around her hip as he circled
her. His fingers slipped between the fabric of her shirt and her jeans, feeling
just that little bit of skin. She was soft, and something about that excited
him. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized he’d never taken a girl out
here before. Stranger still, he had no interest in doing so with anyone else.

Ariahna
shifted as the tips of Christian’s fingers tickled along her skin, dipping
dangerously close to the top of her low-rise jeans. The way he was touching her
was making it hard for her to concentrate. She swallowed quietly, bending her
knees and springing up as she took her shot. The ball hit the backboard and
spun around the rim before tumbling through the net. It wasn’t a perfect shot,
but she’d made it.

She
beamed back at him happily.

“Watch out WNBA,” he laughed. He slapped hands with
her and then ran after the ball.
“So how about that one on one now?”

Aria
shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “I still know you’re going to cream me though.” She
shot him a puzzled look as he clamped a hand over his mouth and twisted away
from her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,”
he chuckled. “Here, you can have the ball first.” He bounced it towards her
before pointing out where she needed to stand. “Okay, so it’s simple. Just
check the ball, and then keep it away from me and score.” He watched as she
stayed facing him, bouncing the ball out in front of her.

“Turn
around,” he instructed.

“What?
Why?”

Christian
swiped the ball away from her.

“That’s
why. Here, try again.”

She
pouted for just a moment before taking the ball and doing as he said. She
startled as his hands smoothed over the back of her legs.

“Keep
your knees bent, and use your body to protect the ball.”

“O-Okay,”
she said, feeling him at her back. She was starting to wonder why grown men
played this game together. Christian was reaching around to swipe at the ball,
but she knew he was going easy on her. Not that she was complaining. She backed
him towards the hoop, picking up the ball as she turned around to try and
shoot. He stepped in close with his hand in the air, but what was most
intimidating was the way he was looking into her eyes. After a moment of being
caught in his gaze, she finally jumped up to shoot. The ball hit the rim and
she cringed, whimpering when she realized it was flying back at her. His hand
shot out and blocked it, but she was still holding her arms over her head
defensively.

She
wasn’t sure she wanted to play this game anymore.

“Are you alright?” he asked, setting the ball down.
Christian
couldn’t
help the smile
curling
over the corners of
his mouth. He walked up and
slipped
his arms around her waist, effectively
shocking her into lowering her arms.