Cursed Superheroes (Books 1-3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Epilogue

  Cursed Superheroes: Cursed

  (Volumes 1-3)

  Jessica Sorensen

  Cursed Superheroes: Cursed

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover Design by Najla Qamber Designs

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Cursed

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Maddening

  Prologue

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Undead

  Prologue

  16. Remi

  17. Ava

  18. Ava

  19. Ava

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Sorensen

  Cursed

  (Cursed Superheroes, #1)

  Cursed

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Created with Vellum

  Prologue

  Leader

  “There’s a war coming.” My colleague stands in front of me with a worried expression.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I take a drag off my cigarette as I lean back in the chair.

  He huffs in aggravation and begins to pace in front of my desk. “How can you be so calm right now when evil is everywhere?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Smoke circles my face as I raise the cigarette to my lips. “Not yet.”

  He stops pacing and faces me. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t coming. The portal to the paranormal dimension has already started to open. Soon, every paranormal creature will be invading our city.”

  “Not every paranormal creature is evil.”

  “I know, but the ones that are”—he shudders—“they’re going to tear the city apart.”

  “No, they won’t,” I assure him, reaching forward to put out my cigarette.

  He raises his brows. “How can you be so calm after everything you’ve been through? Considering your history with the paranormal, I thought you’d be more concerned about this.”

  “I understand my history, and I understand the danger in our future.” My tone is clipped, but I don’t care. He shouldn’t have brought up my past. “But, like I said, they’re not going to tear the town apart.” I rise from my chair. “Because we’re going to be ready for them.”

  His brows furrow. “How can you possibly be ready for something like this?”

  “I’m building my own army.” I pick up a folder and round the front of the desk. “I’ve found five candidates that, with the right training, should be able to protect our city.”

  He takes the folder from me with a frown. “Look, I know our facility has been experimenting with creating the perfect superheroes, but so far, none of our experiments are strong enough to take on the paranormal.”

  “I know that.” I tap the folder with my finger. “This is a different experiment. One that should create creatures strong and powerful enough to fight the most powerful evils of all.”

  He opens the folder and reads the top page inside. “Wait. Are you thinking …?” He glances up at me in astonishment. “You want to create our own paranormals?”

  “What better way to fight the paranormal than with the paranormal?”

  “But, how will we control them?”

  “By getting them to trust us. And by leaving a bit of their humanity in them.”

  His shock skyrockets, which I expected. While my ideas are always a little out there, this is by far my most insanely brilliant idea yet.

  “Wait. You want to turn humans into paranormals?”

  “Part paranormals,” I clarify as I walk up to the window and stare out at the opened roof stretching across the warehouse. In each room, doctors are performing procedures to enhance abilities in humans, making them quicker, stronger, faster, super inhuman—superheroes. “They’ll still be half-human, which will help them fight against the evil urges the paranormal blood will manifest.”

  He remains quiet for a while. “Isn’t it a little cruel to do that to someone who’s innocent?”

  I tuck my hands behind my back. “That won’t be a problem with any of the candidates I’ve chosen.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because my candidates are cursed with darkness already. And when we bring them here, they’ll already be dead.”

  Chapter 1

  Sometimes, my life feels like a movie—unreal, plastic. Plastic houses, plastic furniture, plastic town, and me, a plastic doll living in the midst of the fakeness. My best friends are the same way. We’ve always been popular, gotten whatever we want. Everyone loves us, even if they don’t know us. Everything seems to work out perfectly for us.

  It’s not like I hate my life or anything. I don’t, and I’m completely grateful for what I have. But sometimes, I wish everything wasn’t so … easy.

  I live with my two parents in a three-story mansion on the highest hill in Willow Crest Falls, and the entire town looks like a field of fireflies at nighttime. My dad is a well-known lawyer who works high-end cases and makes more money than we know what to do with. My mom has spent her life raising me while becoming a respected socialite. She oversees every town charity event and was even given the key to the city, which basic
ally means she was given a large, shiny key that’s too big to fit into any door. It’s perched on the mantle where everyone can see it.

  Life hasn’t always been perfect for us, at least from what I’ve been told. I’ve only heard one story about my family’s dreary past from my mom around the holidays after she drank too much wine and my dad had passed out in the lounge chair. The story wasn’t even a real story, more like a warning that my family’s life used to be far from perfect.

  “We’re so lucky, Remi. We really are,” my mom said to me. “I wish you could understand that—how lucky we are.”

  I was twelve and had spent the day begging to open my presents early, to no avail.

  “We’re not lucky all the time,” I replied, unwrapping a candy cane. “We got snowed in today, didn’t we? That’s not very lucky.”

  The truth was, the previous night, I’d wished for a snowstorm so my dad would have to stay home with us instead of going to the office, like he did every Christmas Eve. I didn’t believe my wish had come true—I mean, it’s not like people can control the weather—but a part of me pretended I’d somehow made the snow storm happen. But I wasn’t about to declared that to my mom.

  “Oh, honey.” She patted my leg then took a sip of her wine. Her lips were stained red from the countless glasses she’d drank already, her hair down, and she’d kicked her heels off a long time ago. “If only you knew how terrible our lives used to be.”

  I relaxed back in the chair. “What’d you mean?”

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head once, something she did whenever she was about to lie.

  “Mom, please tell me,” I urged. “I want to know.”

  She clasped the necklace she wore every day. A small glass vial filled with purple sand dangled from the chain. In certain lighting, it appeared to glow. I often pretended tiny faeries, who granted wishes, lived on the inside, and that’s was why my wishes came true sometimes. My mom crushed that dream when she informed me it was dyed sand and nothing magical.

  “Remi, please don’t ask me to talk about this,” she begged, clutching the vial. “I never meant to bring it up.” She glared at the empty wine glass. “I drank way too much tonight.”

  “Why don’t you want to talk about it?” I pressed. “What’s the big deal?”

  Regret flickered in her eyes. “Because I hate remembering what we were, what we did to get here … and what lies ahead in the future.”

  For the briefest instant, I could swear the vial shimmered, but it had happened so quickly I blamed it on my imagination.

  After that, my mom rose to her feet and hastily left the room. My family’s past was never brought up again. Even though I desperately wanted to understand what my parents had given up for our luxurious life, the fear in my mom’s eyes made me fear the answer.

  Chapter 2

  “Are you sure you want to go?” my mom asks me as I slip on my favorite pair of velvet platforms. “I thought maybe we could stay up and watch a movie together.”

  “Sorry, but I promised my friends I’d go with them to this party.” I put on a dab of lip-gloss and some eyeliner, getting ready to hit the road.

  “But I want to give you your birthday present at midnight,” she tries to entice me to stay.

  I comb my fingers through my long brown hair then grab my purse off my dresser. “You can give it to me anytime tomorrow. It’ll be my birthday all day.”

  “I know that, but …” She trails off, chewing on her bottom lip.

  I pause. “Is everything okay? You seem, I don’t know, worried.”

  Her frown deepens. “I’ve just been thinking about how you’re going to be turning eighteen tomorrow. You’re growing up so fast. It seems like just yesterday you could barely tie your shoes.” She blows out a breath. “Now look at you. All dressed up in heels.”

  My stomach ravels with guilt. “If you really want me to stay home, I will.”

  She clutches her vial of sand dangling around her neck. “Okay.” She swallows hard, then frees a trapped breath. “If you want to go, then go.” It takes her a ton of effort to get the words out.

  I study her closely. My mom looks a lot like me, only older, with the same brown hair, warm brown eyes, and above average height. I also know her well enough to know that she clutches her necklace whenever she’s anxious. Right now, she’s holding the damn thing as if her life depends on it. She’s never been much of a nervous person, except for that one Christmas Eve when she briefly mentioned my family’s past. Her ability to remain composed in any circumstance is why she does such a fantastic job at putting events together.

  “Maybe I could come home around eleven,” I suggest, hoping to alleviate some of her worry. “That way I’ll be back in time to open a present at midnight.”

  She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay. I’ll wait up for you. And call me if you need anything—a ride home or whatever.”

  “Thanks. I will. And thanks for letting me go.”

  As I hug her goodbye, she clasps on to me for dear life.

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “Of course.” Her arms tighten around me. “Do me a favor, though. If anything weird happens tonight, promise you’ll call me.”

  “Weird how?”

  “I don’t know. You get a flat tire, feel a little … odd, or if a stranger tries to talk to you. Promise me, okay?”

  I nod, starting to get a bit worried. “Okay. I promise.”

  She hugs me a little bit longer before reluctantly pulling away. “Now go have fun.”

  The guilt in my stomach consumes me again, but I shove it down, knowing my friends would never let me live it down if I blew off the party tonight.

  After I say goodbye to my mom, I hop into my BMW and drive down the street to pick up my friends. As I hug the corners, winding around the hills, my thoughts drift back to my mom. She seemed so upset and was acting strange this morning, too.

  “Maybe you should just skip school,” she said as I grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. “I could blow off getting my hair done, and we could drive to town and do some shopping.”

  “Midterms are today, so I can’t skip.” I peeled the wrapper off the granola bar and took a bite. “Raincheck, though. Maybe tomorrow or Sunday?”

  “Tomorrow?” She dazed off, her skin paling. “Tomorrow’s your birthday.”

  “I know, but going shopping with you would be a pretty awesome present. For you and for me.” When I smiled at her, she wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Maybe.” Then she muttered something about needing to talk to my dad before hurrying out of the room.

  I hadn’t thought too much about it, but after her acting so strange tonight … something is wrong. Maybe me getting another year older is hard on her?

  I make a promise to myself to spend tomorrow morning with her before my party.

  I tear myself out of my thoughts as I pull into the driveway of Kara’s two-story mansion with giant ivory columns lining the oversized, double front doors.

  I honk the horn a few times then send her a text to get her ass out here. In Kara style, she comes waltzing out fifteen minutes later, huffing an aggravated breath as she hops in the passenger seat.

  “You’re late,” she says as she flips down the visor to check her makeup. “Steph just texted me, wondering where the hell we are. Now she’s going to be bitchy all night.”

  “I’ve been out here for fifteen minutes.” I shift the car into reverse and back out onto the road. “It’s your fault we’re late, dude.”

  She flips the visor back up and sits back. “Remi, I love you to death, but you need to stop calling everyone dude.”

  “Okay,” I say, then smile as I add, “Dude.”

  She sighs as she whips out her phone from her jacket pocket. “I need to text Jay about something.” She punches a few buttons, and moments later, she giggles.

  I crank up the radio. Texting Jay about something means the two of them will message bac
k and forth for the rest of the drive. It’s not a big deal. In about five minutes or so, Steph will climb into the car and talk my ear off.

  Kara, Steph, Jane, and I formed a friendship the first day of kindergarten during arts and crafts time, after we were assigned to the same table. The three of them had already been friends since the day they were born, mainly because their parents were all friends. For some reason, they decided to bring me into their group. And in turn, my parents became friends with all their parents, which helped my mom shoot up her social status and got my father more connections for his business.

  It’s strange, but I can’t even remember the time before I made friends with the three of them. It’s like those six years prior were just a dream I’ve long forgotten. And when I try to force my mind to go back further, all I see is darkness. Empty, cold, depressing darkness.

  Chapter 3

  After I pick up Steph and Jane, I drive us to the party, which is in full-swing when we pull up. After everyone does a makeup check, we head inside, walking side by side as we make our way through the crowd.

  Okay, so I don’t want to sound cliché or anything, but you know those scenes in the movies where the popular girls walk into a room and everyone turns to stare at them, as if they’ve cast a spell over everyone. The girls seem oblivious to the attention, completely clueless to the power they hold over people. Or maybe they do know and they just don’t give a crap. They just keep on walking with their chins held high and their arms linked, creating a perfect, unbreakable friendship chain. Okay, friendship chain sounds kind of lame, but you get the picture.