My harsh tone freezes her in my grip. Her eyes flutter and I think she’s going to pass out, but her body tenses and she forces her eyes open. “It hurts,” she whimpers. “So much.”
“I know, but you can do this. Morton’s don’t give up, ever, and you said you’d take what family you could get, right? That makes you one of us. An honorary sister. I’m tough on them, for good reason. To keep them safe and alive. Same goes for you, right? Safe. Alive. Strong.”
Shock slows her reaction more than the assault already has. Slowly, she nods. Will alone will only go so far, though, so I step on the gas and race back toward the field office, toward the only method that will keep her from checking out and jeopardizing our chances of saving Timothy’s life.
12: Coward
(Echo)
I am so tired. And sore. And grouchy. And on the verge of being really pissed off at Griffin.
“Can we please stop?” I whine half a second before his fist comes flying at my face.
I duck, barely fast enough to avoid getting knocked out. Then I trip and land on my backside, which leads to him clobbering me. He has an arm around my neck, a leg pinning my hips against his, and his other hand squeezing my wrist until I yelp in pain.
“Ow, ow, ow!” I shriek.
“Ow?” he laughs. “Ow? Bad guys and ghosts are going to be scared off by ow?” He tightens his grip on pretty much everything and I grit my teeth to keep from squealing again.
“Ghosts aren’t scared off by anything,” I growl, “and I don’t get in fights with bad guys!”
Griffin pulls my hand even further behind my back. Pain zips up my forearm and I bite the inside of my cheek. Of course, when he also tightens his grip on my neck, that does a pretty good job of holding back my pathetic cries of pain as well.
“You know how to get out of this,” Griffin hisses in my ear. “Think. Focus. Act under pressure.”
“Maybe one of these holds,” I complain, “but not all of them at once!”
“Well, then you shouldn’t have let me get all three holds on you at once.” His laugh irritates me instantly.
There’s no way I can get my hand out from behind my back without dislocating something, and I definitely don’t have the leverage to get free of his leg. The half Nelson he has me in is two seconds away from making black spots appear in front of my eyes. That pretty much leaves me with only one option. I bite down on Griffin’s hand and—yeah—I feel some satisfaction when he yanks his hand away from my mouth with a grunt of pain. I scramble free of his grip and don’t stop moving until I’m out of reach.
To my surprise, Griffin laughs when he looks over at me. “See, told you there was a way out.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I doubt that was what you meant.” I freeze when he moves toward me, but he waves off my concern and I let him settle against me on the mat.
“You do what you have to in order to survive,” Griffin says. Then he shakes his head. “No, surviving is what you’ve been doing. Shutting down, closing off. It’s not enough, Echo. You need to do more than survive. You need to conquer.”
A sharp, bitter laugh slips past my lips. “It’s taken me eighteen years just to figure out how to survive. Conquer? I think you’re setting your expectations for me a little too high.”
“I think you’re setting them too low.”
My earlier anger returns, doubled. “You don’t know me, Griffin,” I snap. “You’ve been in my life a few days and you think you know what I need? Screw you! My expectations are exactly what they should be, because I’m the one who has lived through attack after attack, endless months of nightmares, crippling guilt, vicious name calling and torment from everyone I knew—including my own family, and never knowing for sure if I was insane!”
Shoving up from the mat, I level a finger at him, not caring in the least that everyone in the gym is staring at me. “You have no right to tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing to keep myself from falling apart.”
Griffin stands slowly. His gaze stays locked with mine as he moves. “I do have the right,” he says. “No, I haven’t lived your life, but I know you’re about ten seconds away from shattering, that getting involved with Timothy has forced you to face your own childhood fears and memories—few of which are good or happy. Losing Archer almost broke you. Malachi was your life raft, but now you’re losing him too, and feel too guilty about your feelings for Kyran to turn to him for comfort.
“Zara is enjoying being young and single, something you can’t even begin to contemplate, and you’re terrified it will take her away from you. Holden’s already on the verge, right? You like Cerise, but part of you despises her, just a little bit, for pulling him further from you. Your parents are distant, your sisters too far away to be the shield they once were. Add in school, working here, the threat of Kurt Francis coming back for vengeance…it’s a miracle you haven’t already lost it.”
Griffin takes a step closer. “Except it isn’t a miracle, because I also know how strong you are, Echo, how determined to fight you are. The last thing you want is to let those bastard Devourers win, but you don’t have the tools to fight them. Not yet. Not without my help.”
I’m shaking, trembling so hard my muscles feel like jelly. It’s scary how right he is. I don’t understand how he knows all of that, how he’s seen so much just in a few days. I’m terrified he knows even more. Spinning away from him, I bolt from the gym, running past the confused agents staring after me, and through the double doors, but I don’t stop.
I’m not even sure where I’m going. All I care about is getting away from Griffin before he strips me completely bare. He’ll see me, then, for real. He’ll see past what he thinks is strength to realize I’m a scared little girl with no hope of doing any of the things I’m supposed to do. He’ll see me for the fraud I am and walk away in disgust. I get as far as the elevator bank before my head starts throbbing and I stumble.
My knees hit the tile hard, but I barely feel it. I don’t understand. Panic wells and I want to keep running but my legs aren’t working right. Or, my head. I don’t know anymore. Pain spreads from my head to my shoulders, arms, chest, knees, toes…everywhere it can possibly go. Voices whisper, harsh and insistent, begging me to recognize, to help, to fix something I don’t even understand.
The book. The souls it’s touched. It was only a second, but I still feel them and that terrifies me so badly the only response I can manage is to curl into a ball and sob.
***
I wake up in my own bed feeling groggy and weird and…heavy. The feeling is suffocating and I try to get up, shove the blankets off, something, but a grunt from behind me makes me go still in an instant. Peeling open only one eyelid, I stare at my shoulder, first, and almost cry in relief at the sight of t-shirt fabric covering it. Feeling brave, I let my gaze drift lower to the weight pinning me to the mattress, and my breath catches.
An arm. It’s an arm. Please, please, please…
It takes every bit of self-control I have to force my head into a rotation that will bring me into view of the owner of said arm. My one open eye threatens to flutter closed before I get there, but I have to know. Inch by inch, I force myself to face…whatever landed me in this situation. Just a little further…
“Griffin?” I yelp, though I’m not sure if it’s in shock or relief.
He pulls back as though a snake bit him and is reaching for a gun sitting on the nightstand before his eyes are even open. Panicked that he’ll accidentally shoot me or something, I dive on his arm and end up laid out across his chest. That’s when he decides to open his eyes, you know, when my butt is right in front of his face.
“Uh…”
“Don’t shoot me,” I say, breathless from embarrassment and the quick movement.
Griffin lays back against the pillow. “I’m not going to shoot you. Now get off me.”
I don’t have to be asked twice. Scrambling off him, I pull myself up against the headboard and cinch my knees to my chest. I can’t help staring at him.
The confusion on my face must be blatant, because he answers the questions running through my head without me having to ask.
“No,” he says, “we didn’t have sex.” He crinkles his nose at the idea, and I might have been offended if I didn’t have pretty much the same reaction. Griffin is a hottie, but…gross.
“On a less disturbing note,” he continues, “no you can’t command me like Malachi, and none of your friends know what happened, though pretty much everyone saw me carry you in here unconscious and certain people aren’t overly thrilled with that. Especially since I wasn’t about to leave you in order to explain anything. Oh yeah, and you talk in your sleep. Did you know that?”
Dropping my head into my hands, the relief at knowing I didn’t do something horrible or incredibly stupid is quickly outweighed by everything else. “Are they still out there?”
Griffin snorts. “Do you really have to ask?”
I drop back on the pillows and contemplate putting one over my face so I can scream. Griffin is still lying beside me, unbothered by sharing a bed. I don’t understand our relationship even a little. Expecting Malachi or Kyran to get it is asking way too much. Kyran’s dealing with it better than Malachi, but I suppose he’s kind of used to it. Very little makes sense lately, but there are a few things I know for certain. Griffin’s loyalty is one of them.
He doesn’t pull away when I curl up against his side. Instead of thinking I’m a weirdo or trying to start something, he drops his arm over my shoulder and relaxes. “Scared me pretty good last night.”
“Sorry. I tend to do that to people on occasion.”
He huffs. “Look, I’m sorry if I pushed you too much yesterday, but…”
“No,” I say, interrupting him. “You were right to do it. After touching Robert’s book…” I shiver at the memory of it, and of the sensation I felt after running from the gym. “I would have shut down without you pushing me, and I don’t think I would have come back from that easily. Even with the sparring, the second I was alone again it all just came rushing back and I…that feeling…”
Griffin tucks me under his arm more tightly. “Have you been able to understand any more of their messages? I don’t think they’ll calm down until you do.”
Frowning, I consider his question. My dreams are fuzzy memories. That’s a little surprising given that my nightmares are always vivid, but the voices aren’t the same thing. Sifting through my lingering thoughts, a few connections seem to fit themselves together.
“The light…it’s growing brighter because…” The connections muddle and I have a difficult time holding onto them. Images flit through my mind and I grasp at them for clarity and meaning. “A beacon. For souls. All of them. Whatever Robert gave Timothy, it’s meant to protect them.”
Propping myself up on my elbow, I stare at Griffin in shock. “The first soul Robert gave Timothy, it was…attached to something, something physical. Only the ferryman can hold it…I think. It’s pulling all the souls the Devourers haven’t yet eaten to Timothy. The more he collects, the more he saves but…”
“The easier it is for the Devourers to find him.”
I sink back down to the bed. “They’ll get all the souls. They’ll get Timothy if someone’s not there to help him.” Panic blossoms in my chest. Timothy has no heir. He’s just a kid. What will happen if there’s no ferryman to keep the souls safe? How long will it take the Devourers to consume enough souls to become unstoppable?
“Echo, breathe,” Griffin whispers.
It’s only then I realize I’m plastered against his side, sucking in short breaths that are bound to make me lose consciousness again. Griffin rubs my back patiently, urging me to breathe. It takes longer than it should to get myself under control. Griffin doesn’t say a word until I’m breathing normally and my head isn’t fuzzy anymore.
“It’s an actual token, something physical? Or something you’d only be able to the see if Timothy pulls you back into the Dreamside?”
I try as hard as I can to find another understandable image or message inside my head, but nothing comes to me. “We need to go talk to him.” I pull away and am jumping out of bed a second later. “Hurry up, we need to see him now. He has to take me back to the Dreamside with him. Maybe all the stuff in my head will make more sense there.”
“Slow down,” Griffin says calmly. “Timothy’s not going anywhere, and you need a shower. So do I, actually, but feel free to go first. You stink.”
I throw him a scowl before turning away to gather clothes. He smells, too. So there. Jerk. Why Malachi or Kyran think there’s anything sexual between Griffin and I is beyond me. Of course, they never see any of this stuff, so yeah, I guess their frustration is understandable. Regardless, it’s not something I have time to deal with, so as soon as I open my bedroom door I sprint to the bathroom, Griffin laughing at me from my room.
Gripping the doorknob, I’m not prepared for it to open unexpectedly and get yanked forward to knock my forehead on someone’s chin. An arm circles around my waist at the same time Kyran says, “Ow, dammit. What the hell?”
“Sorry,” I mumble as I try to pull back. His grip tightens reflexively and red spreads through my cheeks.
“Echo?” he brushes my hair back, probably more to get it out of his mouth than anything even remotely suggestive. He seems to really see me then and his eyes widen. “Are you okay? What happened yesterday?”
“I’m fine.” I try wiggling out of his hold again, but he’s not interested in letting me go.
“What happened?” he repeats.
I shrug, really wanting to get away from him right now. “Touched a book I shouldn’t have. The usual.”
Kyran’s brows pull together. “What book?”
“The ferryman’s book of souls?” Honestly I have no clue what the book might be called, or its actual purpose. Right now it’s just a bunch of screamy souls invading my head and driving me bonkers, literally.
“Ferryman,” Kyran muses. Distracted, I don’t think he means for his hand to slip a little below my waist, but I go still with panic anyway. It’s enough to catch his attention. Worry flashes across his face, then uncertainty. He seems to realize our close, intimate, position a moment later. Instead of pulling back, the corner of his mouth tugs up.
“I need to shower,” I blurt out. Smooth. Real smooth, Echo.
If Kyran was amused before, now he’s clearly enjoying himself. “Really?” Thoughts are going through his head. Thoughts I don’t want to consider.
“Yes,” I say, pressing a hand against his chest to shove him back, or me away. Whatever works. I slip when he cinches me in a little tighter and end up with my hand on his shoulder and the full length of my body pressed up against his. His smile widens and I say the first stupid thing that comes into my head. “Griffin is in my bedroom.” I even point, like he doesn’t know where my bedroom is. I’m such an idiot.
Kyran chuckles. “Yeah, I know. So?”
“So…” I’m not really sure how to follow that up.
“He watched over you. That’s it. Am I supposed to be upset by that?” Kyran asks.
I stutter through something not even remotely intelligent. “I, well, um…no, I mean, aren’t…you…it doesn’t…”
“Make me jealous?” Kyran asks, full-on grinning now. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”
“What? No! Of course not. Why would I do that?” I should just stick with that denial, but I just keep talking. “It doesn’t, though? I mean, really?”
He shrugs. “Why would it? Griffin’s not into you. You’re not into him. He kept you safe and sane last night. He was what you needed. I mean, sure,” he says, “if you’d have let me be the one to stay with you, I would have been more than happy.”
Am I still suffering effects from yesterday? Kyran has never been this honest before. Except once, I guess. I don’t know what to think of this, so I don’t. I take the chicken way out and change the subject. Kind of. “Let you? I was out of it. I doubt I had much say in anyt
hing.”
Kyran’s grin falters. “You were out of it, but when Malachi tried to take over you started crying and clung to Griffin. Pissed Malachi off, but it scared him more than anything and he backed off. I…don’t understand it, but I get that there’s something about Griffin you need right now.”
“Is Malachi still here?” I whisper, my gaze drifting toward the living room.
“Yes,” Kyran mock-whispers back. “Dead asleep, so don’t flip out.”
“About what?” I ask.
His palm flattens against my back, gently sliding upward. “About being this close to me.” The pressure of his hand pulls me closer as his free hand slides back into my hair. My breathing stalls. Brushing his thumb back and forth across my salt headband, he frowns. “Is it not working?”
“It’s…yeah, it…works.”
He stops touching the headband and his fingers slide farther back into my hair in a gentle caress. “How did they get into your dreams then?”
“The book, it…” Movement of his fingers through my hair distracts me for a second. I stiffen at the realization and try to finish my thought. “Touching it gave them access. My fault.”
Kyran frowns. “Maybe there’s something else I can find that will help.”
Yeah, that sounds like a fabulous plan. Now. Right now, he should go research that. Please? But he doesn’t. He starts rubbing my back absently and I jerk back in surprise. Kyran startles, unsure for a moment before his smile begins to slip back into place.
“Don’t,” I beg. My racing heart and lingering hand on his chest says otherwise. Getting them to agree with logic isn’t easy. His lips part, just barely, and I can’t not look at them. A selfish, terrible part of me wonders what they would feel like on my skin.
As if the thought slaps him in the face, Kyran’s hands pull back and he’s a mile away from me. Well, really a few inches because the door jamb is behind him, but it feels much farther for being so abrupt. Confusion lasts only a second before I feel body heat close in behind me. I don’t know what just happened with Kyran, but I know what it looks like.
The Ghost Host: Episode 2 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 11