Especially if I can’t even figure out what I feel for him after learning everything I have.
Kyran shifts behind me, reaching for a drink someone must have brought to the table while I wasn’t paying attention. He hands me a glass of water, though everyone else’s drinks look to be more of the alcoholic variety, and his fingers linger next to mine for half a second before pulling away casually. My heart falls, straight down to my sandals. I’m doing it to Kyran, too. No matter what I do or how hard I try to keep the crazy inside my personal bubble, I can’t stop hurting people.
Griffin is right that it’s not about choosing between Malachi and Kyran. If anything is to happen with Kyran, it won’t be any time soon. Malachi means too much to me to do that to him. Even if that’s based more on his being my Keeper and our friendship than anything romantic, I will do everything I can to limit the pain I cause him.
What makes it all so much suckier than it needs to be is that I know Kyran’s feelings are genuine. The letter from Malachi’s grandmother said Kyran was part of this mess and he should help Malachi protect me, but there’s no link with him, no force, no reason for him to have contacted Holden more than a year ago to learn about the show and the weird things we encounter. He has a healthy respect and fear toward what most people pass off as superstition, and has no problem believing in what I can do. He accepts it all, with barely more than a shrug. That is a very rare thing indeed.
The set ends, faster than should be possible. All my friends are clapping. I join in on only the assumption that Malachi did awesome. He always does. Hopefully he doesn’t ask me to name a specific song they played. Griffin gives me a pointed look as the applause die down. He mouths, I’ll wait for you, from across the table. A clear signal to get up off the chair and go talk to Malachi. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll do a convincing act of seducing me in front of Malachi if I don’t get off my ass right now. That is both gross and maddening at the same time, but what choice do I have?
Zero.
He’s going to pay for this later.
Shoving my chair back, I glare at him as I stand. Kyran backs out of my way without a word. It isn’t enough that I had to face off with whatever weird thing is hiding inside Timothy today? I have to lay my heart on the tracks to Malachi as well? How much emotional abuse does Griffin expect me to survive in one day? Whatever. I push my way through the tables toward a door that looks like it might lead to the stage area.
Malachi appears without warning. He seems to know I didn’t come to congratulate him on the set. “Can we talk?” I ask.
He nods and gestures toward the back of the club. I feel his hand brush against my lower back, but it’s a hesitant touch and he quickly moves in front of me. My stomach tightens. I’ve been avoiding this conversation until I can figure out what to say. I still haven’t, but I’m out of time.
Following him unquestioningly, I’m only slightly surprised when we step out into an alley behind the club. The warm, sticky air clings to me as soon as it slithers over my skin. There are times when the humidity is comforting. There are times it isn’t. I try to block out the creepy sensation. Malachi turning to face me helps. His words do even more.
“Why did you bring him?”
I flinch at his tone. “He wouldn’t let me come without him, for one. Two, he’s a friend.”
“He’s a stranger,” Malachi argues.
As hard as it is not to roll my eyes, I don’t want to fight with him about this. I understand his jealousy. I do. “Do you remember what happened after Morton told me about Archer?”
Unsure about my abrupt change in topic, Malachi doesn’t answer right away. He frowns, considering what my question might mean. “Yes,” he finally says.
“Morton pulled Griffin and I in on a case this afternoon. What I had to face…”
The burning frustration in his eyes mellows, not completely disappearing but overtaken by worry. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Even with what Kyran was able to supply, I have no clue what it was I felt inside Timothy. “It was bad, though, for several reasons. Something that doesn’t belong here. Afterward, Griffin watched over me.”
Malachi’s expression shifts between regret for not being the one to keep me safe and irritation that Griffin was there instead. “That doesn’t mean he had to come here tonight. I wanted you here, not him.”
“Malachi,” I say, “it’s not like that with Griffin. He’s just a friend. I—”
“Just a friend,” he says, “like Kyran?”
I hate seeing this side of him, and it takes everything I have not to snap at him, but I get it. “No,” I say slowly. “Griffin is…there’s something…he’s like Holden. There’s nothing romantic there, at all. He treats me like one of his sisters.”
Malachi’s expression twists angrily. “I’ve seen guys do that before. It’s not real, Echo. You’re—”
“It is real,” I argue, my voice rising in pitch as my frustration begins to slip through my control. “There’s a feeling, something…I can’t explain it yet, but I felt it the second we met. He’s not interested in me romantically. I’m not interested in him. He needs to be here, though, for…maybe for this case…maybe to keep me from exploding. I don’t know. I need him here, though. I’m sorry, but—”
“How many more people are you going to add to your collection?” he snaps, throwing his hands up.
I stutter over a response. “My…my collection? Is that…what you think?”
Malachi sighs, though the breath is forceful, rushed. “No, I mean, I don’t know. That’s what it seems like sometimes.” He shakes his head, his long, sun-bleached hair falling across his forehead. “You seem to have a knack for finding people you need, keeping them close, then…”
“Then what?” I demand.
“Then…” He trails off, and I think he’s not going to finish. Then his shoulders tense and he doesn’t hold back. “Then you move on to the next person.”
I stare at him, too shocked to immediately respond. “Is…that what you think this is about? I don’t need you…want you anymore?”
“Do you?” he demands angrily.
“It’s not that simple!” I shout.
“It is, Echo. Do you love me, or not?”
I choke on my response. “Love?” I gasp. I shake myself, trying to unscramble the mess of thoughts and emotions twisted up inside me. “Do you? Do you love me, Malachi? Can you really say that, even with the Keeper thing and what I can do to you?”
His jaw clenches. “You don’t even know if you really can command me.”
“What about being my Keeper? I told you how Archer reacted the same way you did, how he fell for me. Can you really say with absolute certainty that isn’t what happened between us?”
“No!” he exploded, “but I don’t know if this is about that or Kyran, or now…” He waves his hand back toward the club. “…or Griffin, or something else entirely! I don’t know what’s going on inside your head, Echo! You won’t talk to me anymore!”
“You won’t talk to me, either!” I shout. “After telling you about how I met Archer, you closed off. You got angry. The few times I tried to talk to you after that, you just threw Kyran in my face! He has nothing to do with this!”
Malachi points a finger at me, pulling back then stabbing it forward more fervently. “Don’t say he has nothing to do with it. Don’t lie, Echo. Don’t do that to me.”
“I’m not lying!” I say. When Malachi’s fingers pull into fists, I tamp down my anger and say, “Yes, I have feelings for him, ones that are confusing as hell. Is that what you want to hear? Are you expecting me to confess some undying love? I won’t, because that’s not how it is. I feel something, I barely even know what. There are too many other things vying for my attention and life and soul right now to worry about it! Regardless of that, Kyran has nothing to do with the reason we’re fighting with each other in an alley!”
“Then what does it have to do with?” he yells.
/> “It has to do with being scared, okay?” I throw my hands up. “I’m terrified. Of everything! Of hurting you. Of turning you into some kind of slave. Of breaking your heart! Of breaking mine. Of screwing up every relationship I have and all the progress I’ve made. Of losing control. Of getting my friends killed! Of failing and destroying everything.” Tears pool in my eyes and I fight to keep them from falling. “I refuse to take anything else from you, Malachi. I’ve already stolen so much.”
He loses it. Completely. “You haven’t taken anything!” Spinning away from me, he takes a few hard-hitting steps toward the street, away from the black mass of twitching darkness slithering along the walls. “I gave it! I offered myself. I made the choice to protect you! Don’t play martyr and blame me if you’re too scared…”
“Malachi!” I whisper, though it’s more of a frantic rasp than anything else.
“…to face the possibility of things not working out between us! They’re all just excuses, damn it!”
“Malachi!” I beg as I back away from the coalescing horror.
Panic hits me as I realize I left my purse inside. It’s not as well equipped as my backpack, but it has the basics, the essentials. I have nothing without it. Malachi says something else, his voice loud, but dull in the face of the hollowed out, tortured soul forcing its way into the mortal plane. He should be feeling it, a warning of some kind. He’s too amped up, too focused on fighting with me to realize there’s a bigger enemy. One congealing and expanding at the same time to hover over me.
It’s not a Devourer. I know that, but that doesn’t mean I know what it is. I glance back and realize Malachi has moved much faster than me. He’s almost to the street. As soon as he’s out of sight, I know the creature will attack. Terror at the thought tears the words from my mouth without thought.
“Malachi, stop!”
I see him freeze from the corner of my eye, as I try to keep the monster in sight, but it’s not a natural movement. Instead of being startled into halting, he’s frozen in place, mid stride, like an abandoned marionette. Realization dawns after a precious second of confusion and I scream again, desperate to correct my mistake.
“Malachi, help me!”
He’s by my side in an instant, his Keeper mark blazing a brilliant red where the talisman burned itself into his flesh. That alone is enough. The creature’s indistinct mouth slits open in soundless fury a split second before it simply bursts apart and is gone. Malachi’s chest is heaving, his hand slow to drop and his eyes scouring the alley for a second attack.
“It’s gone,” I gasp, stumbling over to the wall for support. Ignoring the grime I’m sure is there, I lean my head back and take in a shaky breath. “I’m so stupid.” Closing my eyes, I berate myself for not paying attention to the weird feeling I had when we first came out. It was a warning.
“I didn’t even feel it,” Malachi says. “I’m sorry, I should have…”
I shake my head to cut him off. “It’s my fault. The alley, it felt weird when we walked out, but I ignored it.”
Malachi runs a hand through his hair. Frustration bunches his shoulders, tightens his muscles. The lingering adrenaline might be solely responsible for the slight quiver in his fingers, but the terror of what might have happened likely has something to do with it, too. I expect him to argue with me again, try to take the blame. He doesn’t.
“You did it again,” he says. The flat, dull tone of his voice stills me, wary of what he’ll say next. “You were right. You did it. You commanded me, and I…obeyed. I didn’t even have a choice.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t know what else to do. You were leaving and it was coming at me, and I left my…”
Malachi’s gaze snaps up to me. “You did it on purpose? Consciously?”
“I had to,” I plead.
That seems to startle him. He steps back. His brows bunch in confusion. “Can you do that with anyone?” Another step back.
My head drops. I can’t look at him any longer. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
I hear the shuffle of Malachi’s feet as he moves away from me. “I need to…this…”
“It’s okay,” I say as tears fill my eyes. “Griffin will drive me home.”
He flinches, though whether from mentioning Griffin or from me knowing that he doesn’t want to be near me right now, I don’t know. He’s already backing away, but he asks, “You’re sure it’s gone?”
The air is cooler now, the humidity a gentle caress rather than a stifling mask. Even with as freaked out as I am right now, the alley is peaceful in its own way. Malachi scared the creature away well enough that it won’t be coming back for a while. “I’m sure,” I say without meeting his gaze.
“Go inside,” Malachi orders. “I’ll…call, come by…tomorrow. That thing, it looked like Archer, but…not.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to come out as anything but a squeak. Before he can say anything else, I yank the door open and slip inside, back to the cloying heat of too many bodies and not enough answers.
8: Turning Off
(Griffin)
The look on her face says something is wrong. Something more than breaking both hers and Malachi’s hearts. I shove my chair back and move toward her. Holden and Cerise are too busy making out to notice, but Kyran stands barely a moment after I do. He trails me as I make my way to Echo. Her arms were cinched around her slender body from the moment she came into view, but I don’t see how much she’s shaking until I’m within ten feet of her. I pick up my pace.
“What happened?” I ask.
“It, uh, didn’t go well,” she says, avoiding a real answer.
“No shit,” I say, “but why?”
Hope struggles with concern and Kyran steps closer. “Did you and Malachi break up?”
Echo looks away. “I don’t know. Probably. It’s…”
“What else happened?” I give Kyran a suffering look and his gaze drops.
Sighing, Echo steps closer to me, though I don’t know if she even realizes she does it. Searching for security, I give it to her. Her trembling quiets as my arm falls around her shoulders. “We were attacked.”
“By who?” Kyran demands. “Or…what?”
Echo shakes her head. “I’m not sure. A tortured soul, I think, but it looked different than Archer, more wild, less contained.”
“Francis?” I ask.
Worry flits through Echo, followed closely by shame and guilt. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I don’t know what his spirit feels like. Something about it, though…”
Kyran and I wait for her to continue, but she only shrugs.
“Can you take me home?” Echo asks, her gaze turned up to meet mine.
“I can take you,” Kyran offers.
I don’t think Echo means to flinch, or for Kyran to see it, but neither one is avoided. “I’m sorry, Kyran,” she whispers, “I just…”
Reaching out, I set my hand on his shoulder. He relaxes and I don’t have to repeat my advice to be patient. Nodding, Kyran steps back. “If you need anything…”
Echo darts away from me and throws her arms around him. “It’s not you,” she says. “It’s been too long of a day. I’m fried. I can’t handle anything else tonight, okay?”
Kyran’s stiff posture softens and Echo doesn’t see the way his fingers curl into a fist to keep from running down the length of her back in comfort. “I get that,” he says. “Get some rest.” His gaze rises to meet mine, and a silent request that I protect her gets an equally quiet promise. He releases Echo and she curls back under my arm, leaning on me more heavily than before. With a nod to Kyran, I guide her out of the club and back to her car, glad I insisted we drive separate from Kyran.
After helping her into the passenger seat, I take up position in the driver’s seat. I’m barely seated before she says, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop screwing things up.”
“You’re not screwing anything up,” I say. She’s quiet for a few minutes as I back out of t
he space and pull onto the street.
“I did it again.”
“Did what?”
“Commanded Malachi.” She turns to look out the window. “It freaked him out. That’s why he left.”
I figured as much. It does nothing to improve my opinion of Malachi that he walked away after the two of them being attacked. Dad can’t stand him, and I’m trying not to let that color my view of him, but it’s not easy. I understand why the guy’s upset. Echo stirs nothing even close to romantic feelings in me, but I can sympathize with him falling for her and then having that ripped away in such a confusing, bizarre way. I try to remind myself of that now, and what he’s given up in order to be her Keeper.
“He’ll get over it,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “We didn’t actually get to breaking up,” Echo says, “but I’m almost positive we’re over now.”
A strange dullness surrounds her. I knew her emotional state was tenuous from her file, but her habit of shutting down is beginning to concern me. Dad explained the reasons behind her refusal to take advantage of the psychiatrist available to FBI employees. While I understand her resistance, she can’t keep going like this. She has to talk, whether she wants to or not.
“Is that what you want?” I ask. “Do you want things to be over with Malachi?”
Resting her head against the window, she stares at the buildings we pass. “It’s probably for the best.”
“That’s not what I asked.” When Echo doesn’t answer or look at me, I push a little harder. “Do you want to be with Malachi?”
“I don’t trust myself to be with him like that. He doesn’t trust me either.” I think that’s all she’s going to say, another not quite real answer. She surprises me by continuing. “I started to doubt after what happened with, uh, the sex thing. Not just about whether it was good for us to be together, but what had brought us together. I don’t think it was love or whatever, not really. I think we can be friends, but not…more. It won’t end well. He’ll hate me.”
Her honesty gives me pause. My official title with the FBI is a linguist. That’s a small part of my day to day job, at least in the normal sense. The types of cases I’m usually assigned to have required I learn a fairly substantial amount of psychology as well. It’s helped me many times, but I know Echo’s feelings on the subject and try to avoid sounding like a shrink when I phrase my next question.
The Ghost Host: Episode 2 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 6