Echo (Bound to the Fae Book 2)

by J. Kearston

  A twig snaps and I whirl around, dropping the stone and pulling my weapon, but I’m smart enough not to start firing at shadows. With only two shots, I have to make them count.

  Head back to the cave, or away from it? We’d be cornered, and I’d be leading him right to her. Though I can’t just leave her defenseless.

  Shit.

  Taking a few hesitant steps, I wait for something, anything to happen. But nothing does, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m simply jumpy and delirious. I’m just starting to lower my gun when I hear a scuff of rocks and whip my head to the right, seeing a brief, shimmering outline.

  Without giving myself the chance to talk myself out of it, I fire both shots in rapid succession until the gun clicks empty. I’ve played enough juggernaut modes in my favorite games to recognize the subtle signs of cloaking, and any fae lurking in the forest invisible isn’t up to anything good. One could argue they were hiding, but if so, they’d have been moving farther away, not creeping closer.

  One of the shots hit her in the chest, and she starts shimmering as she comes into view. Pale hair falls halfway down her back and her golden eyes widen in shock.

  Oh fuck, what have I done?

  My guilt shrivels up as she bares her teeth, whipping a knife to embed in my shoulder as she falls. Gasping, she clutches at her chest, clawing at the wound like if she can just pull out the bullet, she’ll be alright. The blood coats her chest quickly, staining the blonde strands of hair beneath her. And all the while, as her chest rattles, trying to suck air into her lungs, and her nails tear grooves into her flesh as she attempts to dig the bullet out, she glares at me with enough disdain to make me freeze.

  “Filthy heathen,” she hisses, golden eyes embodying the sun’s wrath. “You don’t belong here.” Her breath comes out in a rattle. “Deserve to die with the traitor.”

  Her fury fuels her to hang on longer than I imagine as I’m stuck rooted to the spot, hands trembling. I watch her die, a far slower process than I ever imagined, as she scoots back, leaving a path in the dirt we both know is futile, and hate myself more than I can say for not regretting it, would do it again without hesitation despite the way the image burns into my retinas.

  This place corrupts everything it touches. How can I barely blink at murdering someone? Escaping that hellhole was one thing, but any fae that looks at me twice? Aren’t I better than this?

  I promised myself I’d be better for her, but look at me. I’m no different than the people trying to kill us anymore.

  Waiting until the light’s completely left her eyes, I rip the knife from my shoulder, white knuckling the hilt as I creep closer to check for a pulse, expecting her eyes to fly open like something out of a horror film. Not so much as a flutter against her skin, so I step back, gazing down and waiting to feel...something. Anything that makes me feel like less of a monster.

  When it’s clear I’ll just be standing here until the end of time, I head back to check on Cambria. I keep the gun gripped tightly in one hand, figuring I can use it as a threat or at least a blunt object, and the dagger in the other. Might not do much against someone with magical abilities, but could at least leave me a little less defenseless, give me an extra second to try and come up with a plan.

  “Holy hell,” I whisper on a breath, breaking into a jog and then a run.

  Cambria’s leaning against the entrance to the cave, shaky and pale, but conscious. “And here I thought you left me for dead,” she jokes half-heartedly, but it doesn’t reach the muted silver of her eyes.

  I wrap my arms around her enthusiastically, but promptly release my death grip as she yelps and hisses in pain. “Shit, sorry, I just,” I trail off, nothing I can think of coming even close to encompassing my relief.

  As the days dragged on, though I knew she’d wake up eventually, I was afraid to put a time table on my hopes. She was just, is, a mess of ravaged flesh straining to stay together. Every slash across her skin is either a polished groove of scar tissue from the ring’s abuse, or scabbed over. Her clothes are in filthy tatters, her skin practically translucent. And her eyes...

  No mischief alights their usual swirling silver. They’re as dull as the rest of her, even her hair a muted tone, matted with dirt since I didn’t want to risk moving her more than necessary after that first day.

  She leans into me and I wrap my arm around her for support, but follow her lead so I don’t hurt her again. “We need to run?” she asks, her breathing labored.

  Grimacing, I nod, filling her in. “The shots might draw someone else this way, so we should get moving.” Nodding, she takes a sharp intake of breath before pushing herself into motion, limping. “I can carry you,” I hastily offer, but she shakes her head. “Save that for when I keel over or we need to make a hasty exit. But better off saving your energy to fight if it comes down to it.”

  Reluctantly, I agree that she’s thinking clearly and I’m letting my concern overshadow logic, but that doesn’t make me hate it any less. We follow the forest lined path down from the cave towards the river, because if I can get us there, it’ll be easier for Cambria to move and help push us along. No matter how gentle the current, it will take the weight off her leg. Swimming sounds like a smarter move in our present condition.

  My stomach flips and I stop dead in my tracks, jerking Cambria to a halt with my grip on her. She takes a sharp intake of breath as I apologize, but my heart isn’t in it. My focus is solely on the smeared blood on the grass and the indent of where the fae’s body just was, now missing.

  “We need to go, now!”

  I half drag her through the woods, the river just a few dozen feet away. She bites down her questions, trying to keep her pained gasps as muted as possible as we force ourselves faster.

  My free hand slams out to brace against a tree trunk, halting our momentum as something darts into our path with preternatural speed. Or more appropriately, someone.

  “We’re fucked.” My heart starts hammering even more rapidly than it already was, until I’m praying for a heart attack so that I don’t have to face the woman before me.

  The fae’s face is a mask of calm, cold fury. One arm is crossed over her stomach, and the other is on her opposite cheek as she tilts her head to the side, sizing us up. Tongue darting out to swipe over her lips, she appears every bit the vampire of legend that Cambria swore didn’t exist.

  But when she blinks, golden eyes don’t pin me with condemnation and the promise of revenge. Now?

  They’re pitch black.

  ***

  To be continued in Rhapsody- mybook.to/Rhapsodyfae3

  P.S. Please don’t hurt me.

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