Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame E.C. Farrell (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📖

off geysers, then booking it so she doesn’t have to deal with the fall out.”

“Your mom just left you down here?” I ask. “All by yourself?”

Nic uncorks a bottle of wine and fills a glass with the rich, red liquid. “As I said, it was ultimately safer for us to part ways. Once a siren turns fifteen, their powers amplify. The two of us together were bound to need to separate eventually. As long as we don’t sing, things don’t get too bad, but it’s still dangerous. Thankfully, there aren’t many of us running around, at least not in this realm.”

“That sounds lonely,” I say.

“I get by.” Nic smiles and I almost buy it.

Tracing the tattoo on my wrist, I sigh and look at Max. “I know it would’ve been great to find a witness who met Joel, but—”

“I know, I know.” Max heaves a sigh, and his shoulders deflate. “We’ll try and talk to her. Though I doubt this will go any better than trying to find a body in the ocean.”

Panic swells in my chest as our options burn to ash, leaving us with the worst possible choice. There’s no time to sort through it all. This alone exacerbates my mounting worry. I need something to shut it all down so I can function for Max’s sake.

Tugging my wallet out of a pocket of my bag, I slap it on the counter. “Since we’re about to face an impossible task, drinks are on me. Do you take visa?”

The corner of Nic’s mouth curls up like a wave into a half smile. “It’s on the house. So long as you promise to take care of Aline Avila. Make sure she can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

15.

EXHAUSTED AND BOTH a little tipsy, Max and I decide not to attempt traveling tonight. Even only slightly compromised might make either water bamfing or phoenix flight iffy at best and dangerous at worst. No need to accidentally run into a mountain while trying to get back to the states.

Nic recommends a good motel for us to crash at, then gives us her number. “I can’t do that nifty water travel thing,” she says, wiggling a finger at Max. “But if you need help, hit me up and I’ll get to you as fast as I can. To be very clear, I have no fighting skills, but siren magic can be pretty powerful and I’m happy to use it for a good cause.”

“Thanks, little mama. For everything. Look us up if you’re ever in the states.” Max kisses her cheeks, triggering completely unreasonable jealousy in my gut, then gently touches my back.

A typhoon of emotions rages inside me as we follow Nic’s directions to the motel. Even the heavy numb of tequila can’t calm the anxiety of a dead end. I don’t know what I expected considering every bounty hunter before me failed. Surely others came down here to try and find Joel. They probably even spoke with him using something Iris gave them.

This is what I get for my arrogance: wasted time and a nice blow to my ego.

There is one thing I have that the others didn’t though, logic reminds me, and that’s Max. This might be enough to smoke Aline out of hiding. Though it’s clear she’s never been maternal, it’s possible we could appeal to her sense of pride. That is, if I can figure out how to get in contact with her.

In the motel, I grumble my way to the bathroom for another night in the tub. Max follows, again yanking sheets off the bed, and making himself a spot on the tile floor. When we’ve settled, he lets out a quiet sigh.

“Thanks for trying, and just for helping me in general,” he says. “I know it cost you a lot.”

My nose stings as the build of emotions reaches a tipping point. I swallow them back before answering. “Don’t make me think about it too much. I might change my mind.” I laugh, but it comes out weak and recedes back into my chest quickly. “Thanks for staying with me ... in here.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Max’s hand appears on the edge of the tub and, without considering the consequences, I slide my fingers through his. For the next few nights of travel, we hold to this pattern. Every evening we camp out in motel bathrooms, waiting for my midnight death, dreading it and what might happen if this last resort fails.

By the time we make it back to the states, we’re both quiet, strung out. I collapse unceremoniously onto the bed of our latest motel room in Crowley, Louisiana. It’s early yet, and the thought of curling up in another bathtub makes my whole body ache. Max sinks onto the mattress beside me with a glass of water.

“Do you think you should try to scry again?” he asks, eyes unfocused and surrounded by shadows. “Just to make sure?”

I stifle a yawn. “Probably. Maybe after food.”

“What’s the plan if we actually manage to find her?”

Flinging an arm over my face, I groan dramatically. “I’m still figuring that out. If you have any suggestions or warnings, I’m more than open to them.”

The bed shifts as Max stands. I watch him pace through the slit between my wrist and nose. His expression twists as he wrings the bounty cuff between his fingers. A few times he opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again like he’s dismissing every potential idea before verbalizing it.

This nervous energy floods into my muscles and I stand as well. “We have to think of something.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Max asks.

Frustration swarms my head and I grip the back of one of the hotel chairs for balance. “Well, you know her better than I do. What strategy could we use to try and trap her? Or convince her to turn herself in so you don’t take the fall for something she did?”

Linking his fingers at the back of his neck, Max shakes his head. “It’s