Sing Me to Sleep (The Lost Shards Book 3)

by Anna Argent

Garrick laid a hand on Holt’s shoulder to steady the man. “Easy.”

  Starry was saying something about having a job for Viggo.

  “Consider this your get out of jail free card,” she said. “One job, then you’re on your own.”

  “What keeps me from walking out of here and doing whatever the hell I want?”

  She smiled, showing her even, white teeth. Her full lips were glossy red, her bright eyes showed no sign of worry. “The certain knowledge that I’d find you. And that I would be…displeased.”

  Viggo held her gaze, something few men were strong enough to do. “What’s the job?”

  “Does it matter?” She tapped a manicured nail on her cut crystal glass. “If you’re not ready to be out in the real world, you could always go back down below. We have plenty of room.”

  Viggo shifted in his seat, appearing uncomfortable for the first time. “What’s the job?” he repeated, harder.

  Starry crossed her long, curvy legs beneath her emerald green skirt. “Just a little thing. There’s a boy not far from here. I want you to bring him to me.”

  “Dead or alive?” Viggo asked, as if they weren’t talking about a child.

  “Alive. Unharmed.”

  “Can’t promise anything,” Viggo said. “Kid could fight back.”

  She gave him a cool smile. “You’ll do the job my way or I’ll put you in the ground. Whether that’s in a cell or a coffin, I really don’t much care.” She sipped her drink as if she hadn’t just threatened to kill the man. “Would you like to go back to your cage?”

  Garrick shuddered at the chill running though her words. She didn’t sound at all like the Starry he knew and loved. She was someone else now. Someone he didn’t recognize.

  Someone who would torture and kill a man over and over to get what she wanted.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Viggo said. “I’ll find the kid. I’ll even work very hard not to rough him up. Then we’re square, right?”

  “I’ll even give you some cash to get you back on your feet.”

  Viggo’s eyes narrowed with mistrust. “I’ve got my own, thanks. I don’t like debt.”

  She grinned. “Smart. Shall we go to my office to discuss the details?”

  He slugged back the rest of his drink and then stood. “Lead the way.”

  Holt got up from his bar stool and started throwing things into a duffel bag.

  “What are you doing?” Garrick asked.

  “Stopping him.”

  “You can’t leave.”

  Holt didn’t even look up. “There’s no camera in Starry’s office. I have no way of knowing where he’s going if I don’t follow him now.”

  “What about Starry?”

  “What about her?” Holt said, his voice raised in an uncharacteristic burst of anger. “She’s gone. We can’t get through all her guards to reach her. She hasn’t come out in the open without backup. We can’t turn back time and convince her not to kill the last Vires that tipped her over the edge. All we’re doing here is wasting time.”

  “We could learn something valuable. She could come out at any time. We could capture her and—”

  “And what?” Holt demanded? “You seem to have this idea that this is all going to work out, that Starry will miraculously turn back into one of the good guys, repent her sins and beg us to forgive her. That’s not going to happen.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” Holt shut one of the laptops and unplugged the cables. “Do you know that she’s gone? That she’s no longer the woman who saved you? Who saved me?”

  His brain knew that, but his heart…. “We owe her every chance.”

  “She’s already had that. More than a year of chances. Stay if you want, but I have to go. I can’t let Viggo walk free.”

  “You can’t go after him. You’ll either kill him or he’ll kill you.”

  “I stopped him once. I can do it again.”

  “You nearly died! If Eliana hadn’t saved your ass, you would have. Do you have any idea what that cost her? The pain, the weeks of recovery?”

  “I didn’t ask her to save me.”

  No, he hadn’t, but with Eliana, no one ever had to ask.

  Garrick got in front of Holt, desperate to stop him from making a mistake. There were so few good men left to fight, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing another.

  “Please, just stop and think this through,” Garrick said.

  Rage vibrated through Holt’s bones. “He killed my little sister. He gutted her like an animal. The little girl I raised. It took her a long time to die, Garrick. A long fucking time.” He swallowed and blinked away a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I won’t let the man who did that go free.”

  Holt was loyal to a fault, and this was that fault. His family came first. Always. Dead or alive. There was no way Garrick was going to change the man’s mind.

  There was only one thing left to do.

  He turned off the stove and started helping Holt pack. If he couldn’t stop the man, he could at least go with him and make sure he didn’t do something stupid.

  ***

  Starry sent Viggo out the door like the good dog he was.

  He’d leave, do his dirty business, then come back with her prize.

  She didn’t really care if he came back at all. That would be a bonus, but the real prize was going to be getting rid of the unwanted eyes and ears keeping tabs on her.

  She knew Holt had been watching her. She knew what made him tick. He had, after all, been one of her most loyal men for a long time.

  She’d used her insider knowledge to her advantage. But now that advantage was at an end, and it was time for her to be free of the nuisance so she could make her next move.

  If Viggo Glasson couldn’t get rid of Holt, then nothing could.

  ***

  Stygian had never been happier for an interruption than he was right now.

  Not only had he had sex with Echo again, against every good intention he possessed, he was already thinking about taking her again, while they were both still hot and naked.

  It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to rip the condom off his cock and give into Hazel’s demands.

  You will regret your defiance, she whispered, her tone one of pure menace.

  He ignored the witch and focused on what Echo was saying.

  “It’s a map of the floor,” she said, excited. “The prybar said use me. I’m supposed to pry up one of the boards.”

  She raced to her discarded jeans and rifled through the pocket. The folded paper came out, still covered in indecipherable squiggles as far as he could tell.

  While she studied the map and the floor, searching for the right board, he got dressed.

  Maybe if he kept his dick in his pants, he’d have a chance of resisting the urge to take Echo again, this time with her on top, riding him.

  He had to strain to zip the fly of his jeans over his returning erection.

  Damn thing wouldn’t stay down when she was around.

  “Here’s a long eye. Here’s a fat one. This is two next to each other. Which means…this is the one,” she said, grinning in triumph.

  Stygian found the prybar and carefully slid the edge in the gap between boards. Now that he was looking, he could tell that it wasn’t nailed down the way the others were. There were small, visible nails in the face this board, rather than hidden in the tongue and groove like in all the others.

  The wood came up with a groaning screech. Beneath it was a shallow opening. In that opening was a folded sheet of paper. No locket.

  He tried not to let his hope sink as they were handed yet another clue, rather than the object they sought.

  The new moon was tomorrow. They were running out of time.

  Echo wrapped a quilt around her bare shoulders, then lifted the paper out and carefully unfolded it. He caught only a glimpse of what was written, but at least this time he could read it. No more scribbles. Just words.

  “D
ear Melody,” Echo read aloud, clutching the note in one hand and the quilt in the other. “I’m sorry to have sent you on this crazy chase, but I couldn’t let this treasure fall into enemy hands. It’s been in our family for generations, handed down from one heir to the next. If you’re reading this, then you weren’t yet old enough to be entrusted with this burden before I died. With no one else left alive to guide you, this was the only way.”

  Echo lifted her head, tears brimmed in her eyes. “She thought it would be Melody who found that note, not me.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her against his body for support. The fact that she was still naked under that quilt made his lust stir, but he shoved it back down and gave her the comfort she needed.

  “Go on,” he said. “Finish the letter.”

  She continued reading, “This may sound crazy, but the voices in my head told me what to do. They told me that one day my daughter would find the map and that it was important that I leave behind clues only you would understand.

  “I know that carrying these voices is a burden, but I also know that you’re strong. You can do anything you set your mind to. That’s why I have one last task for you.

  “Go outside. Use your gift to find the treasure. Use your brains to stay safe. Use your heart to guide you, and take care of your little sisters. My girls were never meant to sing alone. Love, Mom.”

  Stygian went still.

  My girls were never meant to sing alone.

  He’d heard that phrase before, on the worst night of his life. He’d heard it the night a sweet, loving mother had begged him to kill her to save her daughters.

  To save Harmony.

  “What’s your real name?” he asked, terrified that he already knew the answer, that he’d already heard Hazel use the name.

  “What?” Echo clutched the note in a trembling hand. Tears slid down her cheeks, making her pale teal eyes luminous in the shadows.

  “You said Echo was a nickname. What’s your real name.”

  Please, don’t say Harmony. Please.

  Before she opened her mouth, he already knew what she would say.

  Hazel was laughing, mocking him.

  “It’s Harmony,” she said.

  His heart seized up. His lungs shut down. His vision tunneled to a tiny pinpoint.

  In that moment, he realized three things. First, that somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with the sweet, brave, fearless woman Echo—Harmony—was. Second, it was her mother he’d killed eight years ago on that cold, winter night. And third, because of that, Echo would never be able to love him back.

  It didn’t matter what happened now. It didn’t matter how close they became, how well they worked together, or how great the sex was. It didn’t matter that she stayed in his life, joined the Riven and lived at Asgard. All that mattered was a decision he’d made—one he could never explain in a way that wouldn’t make Echo hate him.

  He’d killed her mother. He’d been the reason she’d inherited her shards, rather than them living on inside someone else. Sure, her mother might have never been able to walk again, but at least she could have saved Echo the burden of carrying around those splintered souls for a few more years. Her mother would have been alive to give advice, to love her.

  Stygian had taken all of that away.

  Echo’s head was down. She was still wrapped up in her mother’s letter. She hadn’t seen his face—hadn’t read the guilt he knew had to be written there, outing him as her mother’s killer.

  You should have bred her, Hazel said, her tone smug. You should have tied her to you with a child.

  Stygian let out a hard, humorless laugh. Not even a baby would have changed how much Echo hated her mother’s killer. He was glad he hadn’t given into Hazel’s will and betrayed Echo like that.

  She looked up at the broken sound of his laugh and studied his face.

  A frown formed between her brows. “Are you okay?”

  He wasn’t. He was never going to be okay again. His actions were catching up with him in a way he never could have anticipated.

  He’d killed. Not in self-defense, not out of honor or duty. He’d killed because a woman had asked him to, because she’d thought it would save her daughter.

  Echo wasn’t going to see it that way. She was only going to see the man who’d taken away any chance she’d had to have her mother in her life.

  She was going to hate him the way his grandfather had.

  She straddled the hole in the floor to kneel in front of him. “What is it? What’s going on, Stygian? You look devastated.”

  He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. He couldn’t stand to see the look of betrayal on her face when she learned the truth.

  His voice was rough, shoved out through a throat tight with guilt. “I was hoping our search was over.”

  She took his hands in hers, comforting him.

  It was all he could do to keep from ripping them away from her and telling her what he’d done. He didn’t deserve her comfort.

  But it felt too damn good—too warm and soft—to stop her.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re close now. Mom told me what to do. And we still have time.”

  Not enough. He was never going to have enough time with her.

  She offered him a reassuring smile. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Mom knew what she was doing all along. I’m sure this time will be no different. We’ll find the locket. You’ll see.”

  Stygian wasn’t so sure. Echo’s mother might have been able to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to follow, but she hadn’t known what she was doing eight years ago when she’d asked a stranger to kill her. She hadn’t known what she was doing when she’d left her daughter behind to live a life on the run from the rat man.

  She hadn’t known what she was doing when she turned the man who loved her daughter into a murderer.

  You should have listened to me, Hazel said. You should have obeyed. Now you must pay.

  He had no idea what the bitch was going to do to him, but it hardly mattered. He’d already done the worst to himself.

  He’d lost Echo.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Garrick followed Viggo at a safe distance. The bland rental car blended into the steady evening traffic throbbing through St. Louis. Viggo was in a white Lexus—one of Starry’s cast-offs, no doubt. In this rundown part of town, the shiny luxury vehicle stuck out like a diamond in a sea of turds.

  Holt was tense, nearly thrumming with energy. Garrick had no idea if the man was excited to be on the hunt again, or nervous about how it would turn out. Whatever he felt, he was keeping to himself, barely uttering a word the whole way.

  A boy’s life was at stake. That was the main thought running through Garrick’s mind. Whatever Starry wanted with the child couldn’t be good.

  Holt’s need for vengeance was going to have to take a back seat, even if that meant Garrick had to knock him out and stuff him in the trunk.

  Viggo came to a stop outside a small, rundown apartment building so shitty it probably should have been condemned. There were perhaps twenty units on two floors. The warped siding was tagged with colorful, artistic displays that made him think of Marvel’s art collection.

  The whole building seemed to sag to one side, as if too worn out to hold itself upright. Windows were covered with dirty sheets or broken, plastic blinds. Some were plastered with foil. Two were boarded up from the inside.

  Most of the units were dark, though Garrick had no way of knowing if they were vacant or not. A few windows showed the flickering blue light of a TV.

  Weeds grew up thick and lush at the base of the building. The concrete stairs leading to the main door were cracked along one side so that an entire chunk of stairway was separated from the rest by several inches. The metal railing was hanging by a single bolt, so loose it swayed in the light spring breeze.

  A faded sign reading NOW RENTING had once been hung proudly over the door. Now the ropes holding it in place had rotted away, leaving
the vinyl suspended awkwardly to one side. The words were wrinkled and obscured, their plastic surface cracked from exposure.

  It was full dark. The moon was a thin sliver overhead. The air was heavy with the stale scent of old fast food, discarded tires and oil leaks.

  The security lights over the apartment building were either burned out or shot out, likely to cover the deeds that went down here at night.

  This wasn’t a wholesome place. This wasn’t the kind of place someone would choose to live if they had any other options. And it sure as hell wasn’t the kind of place you’d want to raise a kid.

  Desperation and weariness. That was the feeling this building gave off, as if it had been soaked in those emotions for so long, they’d permeated every board, every nail, every shingle.

  Garrick passed Viggo’s bright white ride, then looped around a few blocks, shut off his headlights and parked a block and a half down the street. From here, they had a good view of the building.

  “You’ve got to be smart,” Garrick told Holt. “No rushing in. No taking chances.”

  Holt gave him a hard stare. “No promises.”

  “I’ll back you up, but we need to do this the right way. For the boy’s sake.”

  Holt’s eyes shut. He pulled in a long, slow breath and let it out. When he was done, he seemed calmer. Solid, like the Holt Garrick knew and trusted.

  “For the boy’s sake,” Holt agreed.

  Viggo got out of the Lexus and walked right up to the apartment building as if he lived there. He didn’t seem nervous, didn’t look around to give away that he didn’t belong here.

  Not that anyone with half a brain would believe the lie if they’d seen him get out of that ride.

  “What’s your play?” Garrick asked.

  Holt reached for his door handle. “I can’t wait for him to drag that kid out. No telling what Viggo will do to the boy’s parents.”

  The man had a point. If they were going to save the kid, then he’d need living parents to look out for him.

  “Okay, but we’re going to be smart about this. I need to know you’re in control.”

  Holt’s voice was even, confident. “One-hundred percent.”

  They hurried through the dark street, past a mechanic’s shop locked behind eight-foot chain link topped with looping barbed wire. The inside of the apartment building was no more inviting than the outside.