Sing Me to Sleep (The Lost Shards Book 3) Page 6

  No, it was more than that.

  She liked the way he confronted things head-on. She liked the way he refused to give up, even if that meant him keeping her here to listen to some ridiculous prophecy. She liked the way he looked at her as if she belonged somewhere, like she wasn’t just a street rat looking for a safe hole to hide in.

  And she loved the way he touched her, like he couldn’t keep his hands off her. And the feel of his fingers grazing her skin was too good to be real. She could feel his physical strength, his warmth, his power.

  All she could think about was how she could get more of his hands on her, like some kind of addict desperate for a fix.

  The librarian dismissed Stygian’s comment with a wave of his arthritic hand. “Of course, you don’t need saving right this instant. Prophecy is all about what will happen, and I’m telling you, this girl is here to save you.”

  “How?” both she and Stygian asked at the same time, both sounding equally confused.

  “Well, that part will take me a bit longer to translate. But the saving part is perfectly clear.” He pointed to a few lines of squiggles that bore no meaning in Echo’s world.

  “What does it say?”

  Harold beamed with excitement that they were interested. He held the page close to his face. “It says, ‘The bearer of prophecy will find the hunter and deliver salvation unto his soul.’”

  Echo waited for the rest—the part that made sense—and when it didn’t come, she said, “In what world is that perfectly clear? It doesn’t even use names? How do you know who the hunter is? And I’m sure that more than one person has found some old page filled with squiggles.”

  The old man’s face fell with disappointment. “You don’t believe me?”

  Stygian gave Echo a disapproving frown, as if she’d just told Harold he was stupid and ugly.

  He took the librarian’s arm and gently guided him to sit in the nearest chair. “I believe you. What else does it say?”

  With Stygian’s interest, some of Harold’s excitement sparked in his eyes again. “There’s a mention of the Witch of the Pageant. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that reference, so I’ll have to check my notes, but I’m certain that’s Hazel.”

  “What does it say about her?”

  Harold scanned the yellowed page again. He pointed to a specific spot in the faded scribbles. “There’s talk of binding her.”

  “What does that mean?” Echo asked.

  The old man frowned. “Binding is little more than a rumor, but if it did work, then one could theoretically gather up all the shards of one of the originals and cage them, rendering them powerless.”

  “The originals?”

  “That’s what we call the first souls that shattered—the ones that have been working for centuries to be made whole again. If we could find the right cage to hold Hazel, then we might be able to funnel her shards into that cage permanently.”

  Stygian went still. “You mean there’s a way to get that bitch to shut up and let me live in peace?”

  “It’s theoretically possible. Shards cage other shards all the time. Perhaps there’s a way we can perform the same trick.”

  Stygian shook his dark head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If this is true—if we can lock up dark shards—it’s huge news. We could save Starry and so many others. Are you sure about this?”

  “Heavens, no. I’m not going to be sure about anything until I have more time to study. It could take some time to decipher all the details.” His wizened face beamed. “But how extraordinary is it that after all these generations of searching, we might finally be on the brink of trapping one of the originals?”

  “Tell us how,” Echo demanded.

  “If you would give me some more time with the text, then I might be able to decipher how. I’ve had only a few moments to translate it, and reading prophecy is not like reading the newspaper. It takes effort, time.”

  “Of course, we’ll give you time,” Stygian said, then he sent Echo a pointed stare. “Won’t we?”

  With Harold giving her a hopeful look like a hungry child begging for a meal, and Stygian’s indigo eyes all dark with silent threats not to hurt the sweet, old man’s feelings, how could she refuse?

  She could practically feel the rat man getting closer, but she could spare a few more minutes. She hoped.

  She let out a long breath. “Fine. How much time do you need?”

  Harold’s sagging skin seemed to brighten. “Put on a pot of coffee and I’ll work all night.”

  All night? No way Echo could stay here that long.

  “We don’t want you pushing yourself,” Stygian said. “You need to keep up your strength. If there’s any truth to trapping Hazel, then this is big. Life-altering. It could mean salvation for more people than just me.”

  “I’ll be fine. My work gives me strength.” He rose to his feet slowly. “New prophecy is always so exciting, don’t you think?”

  Echo didn’t agree, but she kept her mouth shut about it. “How do you take your coffee?”

  “Lots of sugar, please. I need hummingbird fuel if I’m to fly through these passages.”

  “One pot of caffeinated sugar coming right up.”

  “You’ll find everything you need in the kitchen,” Stygian told her. “I’m going to help Harold back to the library. Can you bring the coffee there? Last room at the end of the long hall. You can’t miss it.”

  “Be right there.”

  The men walked behind the boxing ring and disappeared down a hallway, out of sight. Echo began searching the kitchen for supplies when she suddenly went still.

  She was alone. No one was around to stop her from leaving. She could sneak out the way she came in and be on her way.

  Trust him.

  The voices in her head were issuing their singsong commands, driving her crazy with their insistence.

  She didn’t know these people. Trusting them was the height of stupidity. For all she knew, they were gathering right now, making plans for how best to torture her before they killed her and ate her corpse.

  Mom always said it was hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys when they all walked around wearing the same skin.

  And the rat man was still out there. He had been on her trail for years. He’d almost caught her once and she’d slipped away. Barely. He wasn’t just going to stop now because it would be convenient for him to.

  She didn’t know why the fucker never gave up his hunt for her, but she was starting to guess that she had something he wanted—shards. And the only way to get them out of her was to kill her.

  Echo was curious about the prophecy, but not curious enough to risk her life to learn what it said. The future would reveal itself when it was good and ready, and no amount of convoluted, antiquated language was going to change that.

  Before she spent what might be her only opportunity for escape debating on whether or not to take it, she set the can of coffee on the counter and darted toward Stygian’s room. His window was still open, and she was going to use it.

  Maybe in a few days she’d check back in with these people and see how it all turned out.

  Then again, maybe it was best to keep her distance and not get sucked in by a pair of big, warm hands and a sexy body that felt far too good on top of hers.

  She could smell Stygian as she passed through his room, like rainwater falling through a moonlit forest.

  Echo breathed in that yummy scent for the last time before climbing out the window.

  The night air was humid and warm. Her flesh was cool from the building’s air conditioning, causing moisture to dampen her skin with condensation. There was a stiff breeze out of the south, bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the sound of insects.

  She stuck to the shadows, gliding silently between buildings to where she’d parked her car. It was about three blocks away—just far enough so as not to raise any suspicion if someone saw it sitting empty, but close enough she could spr
int to it and make her getaway.

  Sally Ann, the trusty Volvo that was just like the one Mom had years ago, waited for her. It was not much to look at, but it ran like a champ, rarely giving her any trouble at all. The faded red paint had begun to bubble with rust in a few places, but even the most beautiful of women showed their age eventually. And as Echo laid eyes on her only prized possession, a feeling of safety and homecoming came over her.

  This car was as close to a home as she’d probably ever have, and she was grateful for the security and shelter it offered in a world filled with danger.

  As long as she had Sally Ann and a few gallons of fuel, Echo could always run when the bad guys got too close.

  She reached into her pocket for the key, but it was missing.

  A sense of panic chilled her skin and froze her feet to the ground. Her lungs refused to work. Her heart gave a heavy lurch beneath her breast.

  Frantic, she patted her clothes, desperate to feel the hard lump of her car key.

  It was gone.

  Her panic deepened.

  She turned to begin retracing her steps when out of the shadows came Stygian’s deep voice. “Looking for this?” he asked. He stepped into a pool of dim light and held up the key to Sally Ann.

  Echo was so relieved to see that the key wasn’t gone forever that it took her a second to register what his presence meant.

  He’d caught her sneaking away. And he was pissed about it.

  ***

  Bernard Harney loved animals more than people because they were both more interesting and far more obedient.

  He sat in his van outside Asgard Industries, the isolated industrial building that housed at least a dozen Riven. He’d followed the voices in his head here, but Echo had slipped inside before he could reach her. Now he was stuck waiting for her to come out.

  His boss, Phoenix, had a bounty on the girl’s shards, but she was going to have to wait her turn. Echo was his. Her shards were his. He’d already killed the rest of her family to get to them, and she’d been leading him on a merry chase ever since.

  He couldn’t stand to let her get away. He needed what was inside of her.

  He sat in his van, watching, waiting for Echo. Again. She’d slipped through his fingers more than once, likely a gift from the bounty of shards she carried—shards that he would soon scoop out and devour.

  One of his rats scurried up his arm, seeking attention. He gave it a kiss on its whiskery nose, then sent it scampering off to play with its siblings in the back of the van.

  He’d lost too many of his little furry soldiers in his quest to gather Echo’s shards, but that was one of the nice things about rats: no matter how many he lost, there were always more of them.

  A flicker of motion caught his eye. He looked up and saw someone sneaking through the shadows.

  A woman. Blond, thin enough to be breakable. No curves at all.

  Normally he preferred women with a little meat on them—gave him something to sink his teeth into—but Echo was pretty enough that he could let her small tits slide. His rats wouldn’t mind if there wasn’t much meat on her bones.

  As he watched, another form appeared from the darkness. This one was a man.

  He was big. His movements were fluid with the kind of grace that came from both strength and skill. Of the two of them, this man was the real threat.

  Bernard summoned one of his rats with a mental command. It rushed up his leg and perched on the steering wheel, awaiting orders.

  “Good boy,” he crooned, petting the rodent with gentle care. “Got a job for you.”

  The rat perked up its furry ears.

  “Ready for some fun?” he asked the rat.

  The tiny mind inside the creature was incapable of understanding words, but that didn’t stop Bernard from being able to communicate with it.

  He issued a set of commands, cracked the window open and watched as the rat crawled onto the hood of the van and waited as it had been told to do.

  Such obedient creatures.

  Bernard closed his eyes and poked his shards awake.

  They were a nasty lot of souls, each with their own agendas, but they gave him the kind of power most men could only dream about. In return, he roamed around the country seeking the playmates they wanted.

  For the past decade, the shards they’d been interested in above all others were those now residing in Echo’s skinny body.

  Once all his shards were all paying attention, he opened himself up and let them take the reins.

  Instantly, energy flowed through his body. Not quite heat, not quite electricity, it was a feeling all its own. It raged inside of him like a storm, gathering momentum until there was no way mere human flesh could contain it all.

  As soon as he reached the breaking point, he opened his eyes and stared at the rat that was still waiting patiently for him on the hood of the van.

  Power roared out of him, streaking from his eyes in a silent, invisible stream. It hit the rat hard enough to make it scream and arch its back.

  An instant later, the rodent began to writhe as it swelled and grew until it was as big as a goat. Its fur lengthened. Its skin split open, leaving streaks of blood on the van’s white paint. Those wounds closed under a layer of tough scar tissue that served as armor. A set of wicked claws extended from its paws, and the whiskers hardened into sharp, lethal spikes.

  As soon as the conversion was done, the rat looked at him with dark, blood-red eyes.

  There was a keen intelligence lurking inside of the creature now—one that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  Bernard gave it one final command before sending it out to find Echo.

  “Kill.”

  ***

  Echo was snared in place, unsure what Stygian’s reaction to her running away would be. Would he see it as a betrayal? Would he be angry that she’d tricked him? Or would he show his true colors as one of the bad guys and come after her?

  He did nothing but stand there, waiting for her to answer his question.

  “Where did you find my key?” she finally managed to ask.

  “In your pocket. I pulled it out when I had you pinned in my bed, after you tried to knee me in the balls. I see now that my instincts were right. You did try to run.” He sounded disappointed. Maybe even a little hurt.

  “You have no right to keep me here. Give me the key.”

  He slid it deep into his jeans pocket. “Come get it.”

  “I’m not interested in playing your games.”

  “It’s not a game. According to Harold, my life—my soul—is at stake, and you’re the only one who has the power to save me. And yet you still ran away. I’m taking that very seriously.”

  Now she felt like an ass. “It’s not that I want something to happen to you. It’s just that I don’t believe in prophecy.”

  “Harold has never been a liar.”

  “I’m sure he believes it. But I don’t.”

  “You haven’t even heard him out. You gave him ten minutes to do a task that would take a skilled reader days.”

  “I don’t have days.”

  “Oh?” Stygian asked, his brows raised. “That’s right. Running from this mysterious rat man is much more important than saving a man’s life.”

  When he put it like that, she felt like even more of an ass. “I’m not a bad person.”

  “Your actions say otherwise. Good people don’t sneak off when there’s someone in need.”

  “Ouch. Way to play hardball.”

  “I’m not playing at all. I happen to believe in prophecy. I’ve seen it come true too many times not to. And with my life at stake, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you come back inside.”

  She lifted her chin in defiance. “Or what?”

  “Or I’m going to make you. Personally, I think I’d enjoy tossing you over my shoulder like a caveman and dragging you back into my lair. But if you’d rather walk, I’ll understand.”

  “I’d fight you every step of the wa
y,” she promised.

  He smiled at her, a dark smile shaped like sin itself. “I’m counting on it.”

  His words made her melt. They should have pissed her off, but her traitorous insides went all gooey and soft at the idea of him covering her with this strength again, of being able to hide behind the massive wall of his shoulders and know the rat man was going to have a hell of a challenge getting through Stygian to reach her.

  “So, what’s it going to be?” he asked, his voice too deep and casual for her peace of mind. “Are you coming back inside, or are you going to see how far I’ll go to gain your cooperation?”

  Part of her wanted to test him, but the voices in her head were singing his praises, shouting at her to trust him.

  “Even if you hold me against my will, you can’t make me help you.”

  His dark gaze slid over her body from top to bottom and back again. When he was done, she felt like she’d been touched…everywhere. There was something potent in his expression. Possessive, even.

  She shivered in response, but even she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or excitement. Maybe a little of both.

  “You will,” he said. “But go ahead and try to run if you like. I’m more than ready to have my hands on you again.”

  Another thrill streaked through her veins, and she knew in that instant she wanted that, too. She had no idea why she was so drawn to this man, but she was.

  Trust him, whispered the voices in her head.

  No. She wouldn’t go that far. But she would at least listen to the ramblings of an old man. If, after that, she believed she could really save someone’s life, she had no choice but to try. It’s what Mom would have wanted her to do.

  She held out her hand. “My key. I won’t have you trapping me here again.”

  He stepped closer, putting himself into her personal space. With any other man she would have backed up, but with Stygian, she stood her ground.

  She liked having him close, towering over her, blocking out the world with his big body. And his scent…she couldn’t get enough of it. She had to fight the urge to bury her nose in his chest and just breathe. It was only when she felt the warmth of his body against her forehead that she knew she’d failed to resist.