Free Cursed (Demon Kissed #2) by Holly Ward

deceased or a religious symbol on
the grave. The painting was a form of ancient headstone. It allowed
the mourners to visit her grave, and be reminded of her
life.
    I flipped the page. It showed several
different Roman catacombs. The frescos were bright as they had once
been long ago. The colors were more saturated and nothing was
cracked or faded, as they were now. I leaned my head in my hand as
I looked at another painting. This one was a simple depiction of
Mary. It was one of the oldest surviving paintings in Christian
history, and it was in one of the oldest known Roman catacombs—the
Catacomb of Pricilla.
    The Martis protected the tombs, and
they were particularly fond of this old catacomb. I flipped in the
book looking for it. There were few words, and fewer paintings at
this early grave. The Catacomb of Pricilla wasn’t the largest, and
it didn’t house as many saints and popes. With its location so far
out of the way, it wasn’t a major tourist attraction like the
larger catacombs either. But the Catacomb of Pricilla was on the
outskirts of Rome and one of the oldest tombs in the vast
underground city of graves. My finger tapped the page. I looked at
the crude paintings. They were much less elaborate than the
others.
    That was when I saw it.
    My heart hammered in my chest, as my
finger lingered on the piece of information I was looking for. A
weird mixture of joy and disbelief flooded my body. This was it. It
had to be, but it wasn’t what I’d expected. That was the reason I
hadn’t seen it before. The entrance to Hell was indicated with a
simple red mark. It was arched over an ancient tomb. Angels flanked
the red symbol holding flaming swords in their hands. The two
angels faced one another, with their billowy white sleeves
extending toward the other. Their swords crossed and formed an X
made of orange flames.
    I stared at it, hardly believing that
I had finally found it. This had to be it. It had to be. The early
Martis marked the tomb with the red Valefar scar. It was a symbol
that every Martis knew. This message was a depiction, a painting.
It was a warning to keep the Martis away. Shortly after the time
this catacomb was used as a burial ground, people had hidden in
there to avoid persecution. Martis may have used it for similar
purposes.
    It made sense that there would be a
warning, a reminder to stay away. The consequences of stumbling
into the Underworld weren’t good. Over time the Martis forgot about
this portal, and the Valefar never knew it was even there. When the
Martis left the area of the Underworld that they’d won, they posted
a guard inside this entrance to ensure that our two worlds remained
separate. The Underworld housed the demons, Valefar, the dead, and
other creatures of the night. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I
knew there was one person trapped down there who didn’t
belong—Collin.
    Relief flooded my body as a satisfied
smile crept across my face. I couldn’t help it. The smile lit me
from within. The anger and hostility that had been building inside
of me for weeks was wiped out. I wanted to dance and sing at the
top of my lungs that I’d found it. I’d found it. And what that
meant. There was a way to get to Collin. There was a way for me to
travel into the Underworld and save him. And when I found him…the
memory of his arms around me flooded me. I couldn’t wait. Not
another second. When I stood and swirled suddenly, I bumped into
Casey who was standing over my shoulder.
    I sucked in a shocked gasp and scolded
her without thinking. “Oww! Crap Casey! You really shouldn’t do
that!” My hand clutched my heart as I tried to steady
myself.
    She smiled at me, “I’m sorry. I
thought you heard me.” She looked down at the open book. “Are you
finished with these?”
    I nodded, and closed the books hoping
she didn’t see exactly what I’d been looking at. She didn’t act
like she had. I thought about asking her because she would have to
answer with the truth,