Daryn jumped to his feet, his face pale. He rushed toward the stairs to check on his daughter.
Alice didn't move. She sat down gracefully on the leather sofa, picked up a cup of black tea the maid had just brought, and took a slow sip. "Relax," she said to Daryn. "She won't die."
Upstairs in the hallway, Felicity stared at the puddle of liquid on the floor. Her limited-edition perfume bottle had just slid off her vanity table for absolutely no reason.
"Damn it," she cursed, crouching down to pick up the largest shard of glass.
As her manicured fingers reached for the shard, the black wooden pendant on her chest pulsed with a faint, sickly red light.
A wave of intense vertigo hit Felicity's brain. The room spun. She pitched forward, her knee slamming violently into the jagged glass.
The sharp edge sliced right through her expensive pantyhose and deep into her flesh. Blood instantly welled up, dripping onto the floor.
Felicity let out a piercing scream.
Panicking, she scrambled up and limped into her en-suite bathroom, desperate to wash the blood away.
She blindly slapped the faucet handle upward.
She didn't notice that the hot and cold indicators had somehow been reversed.
Boiling, scalding water blasted out of the tap, pouring directly over her hands.
Felicity shrieked, violently yanking her hands back. The skin on her knuckles instantly turned furious red, blisters bubbling up in seconds.
The compounding pain broke her. Sobbing hysterically, she ran out of the bedroom, desperate to find her father.
She reached the top of the grand staircase. She was moving too fast. The heel of her stiletto, weakened by her frantic running, gave way.
Snap.
The heel broke clean off. Felicity's ankle twisted brutally. She lost her balance entirely.
She tumbled down the carpeted stairs like a broken ragdoll, bouncing off the steps until she crashed onto the marble floor of the foyer.
Daryn and Byron sprinted to her. Daryn fell to his knees, pulling his battered, sobbing daughter into his arms.
Felicity's hair was a mess. Her makeup was smeared with tears. She pointed a shaking, blistered finger at Alice, who was still sitting on the sofa.
"She cursed me!" Felicity wailed. "She used voodoo on me!"
Alice set her teacup down. She walked over slowly, standing over Felicity, looking down with zero sympathy.
"The perfume fell because your aura is chaotic," Alice stated clinically. "You burned yourself because bad luck blinded you. You fell because the curse is heavy."
Alice pointed at the necklace. "That 'amulet' absorbed enough negative energy and is now feeding it back to you."
"Liar!" Felicity screamed, clutching the pendant. "The psychic is famous!"
As she yelled, a hairline crack appeared on the surface of the black wood.
A thin tendril of visible black smoke hissed out of the crack and shot straight up Felicity's nostrils.
Felicity's eyes rolled back. She started convulsing, coughing violently, her face turning the exact same shade of purple Horatio's had.
Daryn panicked. He finally believed Alice. He reached out, his fingers hooking around the necklace's cord, ready to rip it off.
Alice's hand shot out like a viper, clamping onto Daryn's wrist with iron strength.
"Stop," Alice commanded, her voice echoing with arcane authority. "The death aura is inside her. If you rip it off now, you'll tear her soul in half."
Felicity choked, unable to breathe. The arrogance was gone. Pure, unadulterated terror filled her eyes. She reached a trembling, blistered hand out toward Alice, letting out a pathetic whimper for help.
