Cursed (Enchanted Gods #1) - K.K. Allen Page 0,5

that?

“Katrina, are you okay?”

I turn to face Charlotte, knowing that the rapid rise and fall of my chest is a dead giveaway to my nerves. At least she doesn’t know what caused my reaction. That would be humiliating. I just got caught ogling some grumpy-looking dude who was out for an innocent run. “Yeah. I-I’m fine.” I shake my head and bite down on my bottom lip, knowing my words are a lie. I’m not fine at all. “You said we’re almost there?”

Her smile reaches her eyes, calming me some, then she looks forward and nods, gesturing to something. I look out the front windshield to find a large wrought-iron gate with a gold S ornament at its center and a security booth between two lanes of traffic. Charlotte stops to activate the gate. A sign just in front of the guard booth that reads Summer Estates.

I furrow my brows at the irony. “Summer Estates? As in Rose Summer, my grandmother, or is that a coincidence?”

Charlotte’s brightening smile answers my question before she speaks. “It’s no coincidence, Katrina. Your grandparents funded the development of this neighborhood nearly forty years ago.” She does a double take, her smile slipping some. “How much has your mom told you about Apollo Beach and your grandmother?”

I wonder if my expression is as blank as my knowledge. “Nothing, really. Just that Rose lives here and that things were complicated between the two of them.”

Charlotte nods and rests her shoulders back against the seat. “Well, then I suppose there is a lot of catching up to do.”

I cringe at the thought of catching up with a family member who hasn’t tried at all to get to know me. I’m dreading every bit of my new situation, but I know better than to act on my thoughts. My mother’s death shocked us all. I should be grateful that my grandmother offered to take me in, but that feeling is lost beneath the grief that still rocks my soul.

We enter the subdivision, if one can even call it that. Houses the size of museums sit on either side of the winding street, complete with marble drives, intricate stone carvings, and large columns. The three-decades-old community appears to be in immaculate condition. My stomach turns as discomfort snakes through me. I do not belong here.

We pull into the rounded drive at the back corner of the street, where the biggest house of them all looms before us. My jaw drops, and I look at Charlotte, waiting for her to start laughing and tell me that this is all one big joke. This cannot be my grandmother’s home. Amusement is not what I find on her face.

“Welcome to Summer Manor, Katrina.” Charlotte beams. “You’re home.”

I register that word again with a shudder. It rattles me now more than when she said it earlier. Home. This is not my home.

I vaguely remember my mom mentioning something of my grandmother’s wealth, but this is not what I pictured.

“I didn’t realize…” The sight of the towering Greek-structured villa before me silences me.

“Katrina?”

The formality of Charlotte enunciating my name snaps me out of my trance, and I examine her for the first time since meeting her. She is beautiful—around my mother’s age, I think—with a nice figure, flawless skin, perfect hair, and shining light-blue eyes.

I pinch out the best smile I can muster under the circumstances. She really has been kind to me. “You can call me Kat, you know. No one really calls me by my full name.”

Charlotte nods, showing she is all too willing to oblige. “Of course. Kat, it is.” She smiles and turns off the car. “Leave your things. I’ll have them brought up shortly.”

I step out of the car. The peaceful sound of a water fountain comes from the base of the steps, where a rock marble statue of Apollo and Daphne stands at its center. My breath catches in my throat at the beautifully depicted moment in time when Apollo catches up to the river god’s daughter and she transforms into a laurel tree.

Greek mythology was the only part of English class that intrigued me, and I remember their story vividly. A revengeful Eros fired one gold-tipped arrow at Apollo, making him fall helplessly in love with Daphne. Eros then fired a lead-tipped arrow at Daphne, making her impervious to Apollo’s love and indifferent to his advances. When Apollo pursued her, Daphne ran to her father, Peneus, and begged for his help. He obliged, using metamorphosis to transform