With my left hand, I trace the outside circle of the strange mark on Wade’s chest signifying his expulsion from his family’s angel lineage. Besides, if my days are numbered, I want to be awake for as much of them as humanly possible. I’m almost afraid to linger too long there. Sleep hasn’t been an easy endeavor for the longest time. I hope they’re more peaceful than my own. His dark eyelashes dance across his cheeks as he dreams, and I find myself smiling as I wonder what fills his dreams. Instead, I prop myself up on my right arm, watching Wade as he sleeps. We may as well spend the last few moments of our lives trying to make things right.Īnd at the very least, neither of us will die alone.Īmbient morning light streams into my bedroom window and I can no longer settle into sleep.

Our lines will die out with us and the Moirai can walk away, wiping their hands clean of our unfortunate existence Should they get what they want, there will be one less Blackwood and Hoffman in the world. The perpetual evolution of taking what life throws at you so you can become more of who you already are.Įither way, if the Moirai catch up to us, no amount of schooling will keep us safe. If this curse catches up with us, I’ll never finish my schooling… Never become what I was meant to be. I guess the Windhaven Academy can scratch intuitive off the list of powers I have. It’s been two months since I found out my dad was dead, even though I’d been interacting with him for over a year and didn’t even know he was a ghost.

Now, if you had added that I was a necromancer who would ultimately fall in love with an Angel of Death-in-waiting, but we’d both be cursed by the Moirai, better known as frickin’ Fates, for that love, I would have told you it was time for your meds because you’d clearly gone off the deep end. Besides, I was just an ordinary girl, saving money for college so I could become a forensic scientist. Second of all, because I didn’t even believe in ghosts. First of all, because I didn’t know what any of that meant. If you had told me two years ago that I was a necromancer with postmortem-medium tendencies, I would have laughed in your face.

Cursed Legacy by Carissa Andrews