Sing Me to Sleep (The Lost Shards Book 3)

by Anna Argent

  She grinned at him. “You’re even better than cookies.”

  He frowned in confusion. “Cookies?”

  She nodded, tangling her pale mane even more. “I thought the best thing about this hotel was going to be the cookies, but I was wrong. Sex with you was way better.”

  He chuckled. “Good to know. I’d hate to be jealous of cookies for the rest of my life.”

  She yawned. “I’d like to smear melted chocolate all over you and lick it off. It’s the only way to make a fair comparison.”

  The idea of her pink tongue sweeping across his cock bloomed in his mind, bright and potent. His spent cock twitched in interest, hardening more than he would have thought possible so soon after coming.

  He adjusted the covers and pulled them over her. As much as he loved looking at her naked body, he didn’t want her to get cold.

  Because then he’d need to warm her with his own body heat, and he knew that if he got that close, he’d fuck her again. If he did that, she might see him as a rutting beast only interested in her for sex.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  “We definitely want to be fair,” he told her. “But first you should get some sleep.”

  She yawned again and shifted positions under the blankets. “Aren’t you tired?”

  “I am. I’ll join you soon.”

  Echo gave him a sleepy smile. “I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I think I’m going to like cuddling with you.”

  He didn’t mind her saying that at all. What worried him was that even though he’d never cuddled with anyone in his entire life, he knew he would like it too. Perhaps too much.

  Stygian stroked her hair, reveling in the silky feel of it. “Sleep. We have to leave at first light.”

  She fell asleep fast, displaying a level of trust in him that was humbling.

  She was used to living on her own and watching her own back. That she would hand that responsibility over to him was better than any gift she could have given him.

  She is ours now, said Hazel, To do with as we please.

  Leave her alone, Stygian warned.

  You should not have defied me.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Yes, you do. The condom.

  My sex life is none of your business.

  I know her mind. I am inside her thoughts, guiding them. She would have accepted whatever you wanted to give her, including your seed. The fragment of me inside of her would have made sure of it.

  He couldn’t stop the little spike of desire that sailed through him at the thought of sliding inside of Echo completely naked. But he knew better than to let Hazel see it.

  We’re done talking, he told her. Shut the fuck up.

  I have waited for centuries to be whole again. I can wait a while longer for our child.

  Not going to happen. We’re going to find the vessel and shove your greedy ass in it, locking you away forever.

  You cannot unless you possess all of my pieces.

  That got his attention. There are more than just what’s in me and Echo?

  Sheathe yourself within her and fill her womb with your seed and I will tell you.

  Nice try. But I know what a lying bitch you are, so I’m not falling for it.

  Hazel was quiet for a while, making Stygian think she’d finally decided to leave him alone. He was about to secure the rooms so he could sleep when her voice filled his head again.

  There is another piece of me. Harmony—Echo—knows where it is.

  Stygian stilled. That name, Harmony, rang a bell, but he couldn’t remember why. He was too busy searching for Hazel’s angle. You’re lying. If Echo knew that, she would have told us.

  She is not aware that she knows, but she does.

  If you want us to find all of your pieces, then why not just tell us where they are?

  It is not yet time. The dead must stay buried for a while longer.

  Dead? You’re not making any sense.

  All will become clear in time. Dream well, Stygian. Dream of our child.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, as the sky lightened in the east, Echo had no trouble finding the spot where they’d had the funeral for the only pet she’d ever owned. The trees were bigger and everything else seemed smaller, but she remembered the view Solo had of the school playground across the street.

  It was still too early for kids to be out playing, but they would be soon. Even though Solo’s remains weren’t here, she’d always imagined that whatever part of his spirit didn’t go to heaven was resting here, singing into the plastic trash can they’d buried and dreaming of dragging her behind him on endless walks.

  She’d told herself that she wasn’t going to let herself be sad over a pet she’d lost years ago, but being here, in this quiet spot in the corner of the park, brought it all back to her. The terror of that night, the grief of losing her furry friend, going on the run again…it was all too much to remember without feeling something.

  Something deep and painful.

  Stygian’s hand settled around her shoulders as she stood next to the lopsided puddle of dried cement that served as a headstone. She recognized her clumsy script where she’d written Solo’s name before the concrete had dried. Dirt now filled the sunken letters, giving them more contrast.

  She leaned into the comfort Stygian offered, soaking in the warmth of his big body.

  He’d been quiet as they’d dressed this morning, making her wonder if he was regretting sleeping with her. She hadn’t had many sexual partners, and never one who made her feel the way he did—like she was the sexiest woman alive.

  His silence made her worry that she’d done or said something wrong last night, but couldn’t bring herself to ask. There were already too many emotions roiling inside of her right now for her to invite more in to play.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone quiet, reverent.

  She wasn’t okay now, but she would be. Once this task was over and the buried treasure was found, she could shove down old memories back where they belonged.

  She used that optimism to bolster her tone. “Yeah. Let’s just do what we came to do. I don’t want any early joggers to think we’re up to nefarious deeds and call the cops.”

  “Where do you want me to dig?”

  She pried up the homemade headstone and pointed right under it. “Here.”

  The shovel he carried in his trunk—for reasons she couldn’t bring herself to ask—took the first bite of dirt.

  Even though she knew there was no body buried here, she still couldn’t watch. She turned around and surveyed the area, looking for something to distract her from the sadness, from all the losses she’d been forced to bear and the things she’d never let herself have for fear of losing them too.

  In the distance, standing in the pre-dawn shadows next to a thick tree, Echo saw a girl who looked just like her adopted sister Hedy. She had the same warm brown hair, the same big, blue eyes, the same sweet, cherubic cheeks that dimpled when she smiled. Her clothes were stained with dark, rusty, matte splotches. There was something all over her hands and face.

  She was covered in dried blood.

  Blood? Was that right? Or was Echo simply imagining things in the face of her childhood grief?

  This couldn’t be Hedy. She was dead, killed the same night as Mom and Melody.

  The woman moved slightly and stared right at Echo. Their gazes locked. Shock zapped her like an electric current, winging along her limbs.

  The woman looked so much like Hedy. It was surreal. But who would walk around covered in blood? This sight couldn’t be real. She had to be imagining things.

  Echo blinked twice to clear her vision, and when she looked again, no one was there.

  Her nerves vibrated beneath her skin. Her breath caught in her chest, refusing to leave. Disbelief and confusion tangled in her thoughts until there was no room left to make sense of what she’d seen.

  “Did you see her?”
she asked Stygian, her voice a mere breathless whisper.

  He looked up from his digging, instantly alert. His big body tensed and his hand strayed to the back of his jeans where he kept his gun. “Who?”

  “That woman in the bloody clothes.” She pointed to the tree. “Right over there.”

  His gaze hardened. “I didn’t see anyone, but I’ll go check it out. Stay here.”

  Was she really going to ask him to stop what he was doing so he could chase a ghost, or a figment of Echo’s dark childhood memories? “No. I’m sure it was just my mind playing tricks on me. This place is dredging up old memories, that’s all.”

  He touched her chin gently. Concern lined his dark eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  “Let’s just get out of here. The sooner, the better.”

  He went back to digging. Echo kept scanning the park, looking for the bloody girl who looked like Hedy, but saw nothing.

  “I hit something,” Stygian said, drawing her attention away from her search.

  “What is it?”

  He knelt on the ground and dug in the earth with his bare hands. After a minute, he was able to pry out a purple trash can filled with dirt. He upended the can and tapped on it to release the clump of damp earth. As the clod broke apart, it was clear that what was inside was more than just Solo’s leash.

  A small metal box had been buried there, too—one that hadn’t been there the day they’d laid him to rest.

  Stygian opened it, then turned the dirty box so that Echo could see what was inside.

  She lifted the rusty lid. Inside were several items, all wrapped up in layers of plastic. She pulled out the first one, which was long, skinny and heavier than she expected. As the layers of grocery bags fell away, she was left holding a short prybar about the length of her forearm. On it, written in permanent marker, were the words, “Use me.”

  “Use it on what?” she asked Stygian.

  “No idea. What else is in the box?”

  The next item she unwrapped was a cheap, ceramic paperweight shaped like a house. It had been repainted, badly. The body of the house was dark blue with sloppy white trim. On the bottom, also in permanent marker, was a partial address. 248 Park.

  “Do you know where that is?” Stygian asked.

  Something about the little house was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. “No idea.”

  She set the house next to the prybar and picked up the last bundle of plastic bags. She could tell by the weight of it that it was probably paper. After unrolling the bags, she found a rolled-up page tied with a short length of red and white polka dotted ribbon.

  Her hands started to shake. “Mom wore this in her hair all the time, tied around her ponytail. Melody gave it to her for Christmas one year, and Mom never went a week without wearing it.”

  “Do you remember when she stopped wearing it? That’s the time she would have buried these things for you to find.”

  Echo couldn’t remember, but it had to have been after Solo was killed. Her family had run for two more years before they’d been found and killed. She couldn’t remember coming back to this town, but maybe they had. Her life had been such a chaotic string of running. There were so many towns they all merged together in her memory.

  “Mom didn’t know it would be me who found these things. I think she always expected it would be Melody who inherited her shards. My sister was the one Mom said the map was for all those years ago.”

  “Maybe that’s why she chose that ribbon—so that Melody would know that this note was from your mom—that it was genuine.”

  “Maybe.” There was no way to be sure now. Her whole family was dead, and there was no one left to ask. Even the ghost of Hedy was gone now.

  Echo untied the ribbon and unrolled the paper. What was on it made absolutely no sense.

  It was a line drawing, like the one Mom did of the brick wall. But in this one there were rows and rows of long rectangles stacked like the bricks. On some of the bars were creepy drawings of eyes without eyelashes. Some were big, others little. Some were crooked and misshapen, but none of them were in pairs. One of the eyes was crossed out with a red X.

  “What is that?” Stygian asked.

  “No idea. What do you see?”

  “Spaghetti.”

  She shook her head. “I see a drawing, but I have no clue what it is.”

  “Is there a note?”

  She checked the back of the page, but it was blank. “Nope.”

  “Anything else in the box to explain what the drawing is?”

  Echo checked, being careful to search the box itself for markings of any kind. “Nothing.”

  The heavy weight of disappointment fell over her. She’d been so sure the locket would be in here, but all she got was another pile of questions.

  Stygian took her hands in his. They were dirty, but she didn’t care. His touch still felt good.

  His tone was one of patient encouragement. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe if we go to that address, we’ll figure out what she was trying to tell you.”

  “Why did she make this so difficult?”

  “She must have thought that other people might search for the locket, too. I’m sure she was simply being careful that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. It’s likely that she didn’t even know what she was doing or why. Her shards could have been driving her to leave these clues without explanation as to what they meant.”

  Echo let out a hard breath to ward off frustration and despair. “If this keeps up, we’ll never find the locket before the new moon. We only have a couple more days. And then what will happen to you?”

  The prophecy was vague, but saving a man’s soul was kind of a big deal. In her gut she believed that if they didn’t hurry, Stygian wasn’t going to survive—at least not as the man she now knew. Even the idea of that was too horrible to think about, especially standing over Solo’s grave.

  As a child, she’d believed that the people she loved would always be safe. She couldn’t imagine a world without Mom, Melody and Hedy. As an adult, she knew just how naïve she’d been, how cruel and unfair life really was. Even a man as strong and competent as Stygian could die. Or worse.

  She didn’t want to stick around long enough to see that happen, and yet she was compelled to follow this quest through to the end, no matter what.

  He tipped up her chin so that she was forced to look into his eyes. “We still have time, Echo. And prophecy is a squirrely thing. Who knows what it really means?”

  “Harold seemed certain.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s right. He’s a true believer, which means he’ll find a way to be certain even if others can’t. Our job is to stay focused and find that locket as soon as we can. Our next move should be to go to that address.”

  “It didn’t give the name of the town, just a number and a street.”

  “We’ll call Marvel. She can search the post office database and help us narrow down the number of places it could be. Maybe there’s only one house with that number on that street.”

  Echo hadn’t thought about that, and it brightened her mood considerably. “It’s nice having people you can call for help.”

  “Especially people as smart and well-connected as Marvel.” He started to reach for his phone, but realized how dirty his hands were from digging for the treasure. “I need to wash up.”

  “There was a bathroom near where we parked.”

  He refilled the grave, patted down the dirt with the back of the shovel and reverently put the headstone back where it had been. “Are you ready to go?”

  Echo stared at a little piece of her past. She wanted to remember all of the fun times she had playing with Solo, howling with him until her throat ached. But all she could see in her mind was the night of his death, hear his frantic barks and his screams of pain as he died. “I think I’m going to stay here for a minute. I’ll catch up with you.”

  He hesitated, but after a moment, nodded. “I’ll wait for yo
u by the car. Take this, just in case.” He pulled his gun from the back of his waistband and handed it to her. “It’s ready to fire. No safety. Just point and shoot.”

  Echo didn’t want to think about all the reasons she might need a weapon, but she appreciated the offer of protection for what it was. “Thank you.”

  She tucked the small pistol in the pocket of her hoodie as Stygian left. As soon as he was gone, she felt the absence of his warmth, like the sun going behind a cloud on a cold day. She’d been alone for so long, she’d gotten used to the constant loneliness, the constant gray. It wasn’t until she’d walked into his life and his bright world that she realized just how lonely she’d really been since her family’s death.

  Still, loneliness was far better than grief. Loneliness was a low, annoying ache, but grief was a searing pain that couldn’t be ignored. It was consuming, debilitating. Devastating. It made worlds crumble and lifelong dreams pop like soap bubbles.

  Even with the rat man, the Vires and all of the other murderous assholes in the world, the real enemy was grief and its slow, insidious stalking of its prey. It never slept, never took a day off, never made a mistake. It always caught its victims and made them suffer.

  And there was only one way to defeat it.

  In that moment, Echo nearly walked away from Stygian. She’d already grown too close to him. She could already feel the warmth of friendship and something deeper forming between them—something she had to kill before it became too big to stop, before it took its first breath.

  Find the locket, save his life, go your separate ways. That was what she told herself, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

  All she had to do was focus on the problem at hand and keep him at arm’s length until they were finished. After last night, that task seemed impossible, but she was going to find a way. Because if she didn’t, she was going to lose more than she could stand. Again.

  Only this time, there was so little left of herself, she knew she wouldn’t survive the loss.

  Echo pulled in a deep breath and focused on the job. She looked down at the grave, wondering when Mom had come here. Had she always known to leave this trail of breadcrumbs and planted it along the way? Or had she gone back later?