She heaves in another breath, trying and failing to gain control of her breathing. “This is…wrong,” she gasps. “Wrong...something, it’s…I’m not sure…what.”
“Does she need a doctor?” the officer asks.
I warn him off, but speak to Echo. “Something with Timothy isn’t right. Something you felt.” She nods, and sucks in a slower breath. “The cold, even though we were alone. Where was the cold coming from?” Echo’s shoulders bob helplessly. Her breathing is still erratic, but beginning to calm.
Dad steps out of the room looking pensive, his eyes already searching for Echo, which kind of pisses me off that he would doubt my ability to protect her. “How is she?” he asks.
I don’t answer him because he already knows. He watches my hand rub gently up and down the length of her back and I dare him to say something. After a few seconds, he backs off and decides to be patient. It takes several more minutes before Echo is calm enough to straighten and face us. When she does, her already pale skin is colorless and she looks ready to drop.
Leaning against me heavily, she gestures at her backpack in my dad’s hand. “Thanks for grabbing that. I can take it now.”
Dad scoffs. “You’ll tip over. That took a lot out of you. Time to rest.”
“But, I’m supposed to go watch Malachi later tonight. He’s playing piano for a jazz band at a club near campus. Everyone’s going,” she whines. The yawn she follows that up with steals what the whine in her voice didn’t.
“You’re not,” Dad barks. “I’m taking you home.”
The pout she attempts is lackluster, her will to argue fading fast, though I know she hasn’t actually given up. Her relationship with Malachi is too tenuous to bail without a fight, but the emotional stress of her encounter with Timothy was enough to sap her strength. There’s something else, though, something I don’t understand. She needs time to process it before she’ll be ready to talk. I can give her that time.
“How about we crash on your couch and watch a movie instead? See how you’re feeling in a few hours,” I ask. The look Dad gives me is the same one that once threatened a grounding. I respect the hell out of my dad, but I’m not budging on this. He realizes that and spins around with a frustrated grunt. I take Echo under my arm and all but carry her along after him.
She’s practically asleep on her feet by the time the elevator makes it to the ground floor. For once, Dad doesn’t give me a nonverbal lecture when I sweep her into my arms. She’s out completely a few seconds later. Concern outweighs everything else. “I know that was hard on her, especially after the threat from Kurt Francis,” he says, “but her reaction isn’t right. Something’s wrong.”
“That’s pretty much what she said about Timothy, too.”
Scrubbing his free hand through is hair, Dad is forced to relent. “Keep an eye on her, but so help me God, if you end up in bed with her I will get you reassigned to desk duty for the next six months.”
“A little overdramatic, don’t you think?” I ask as I push past him. “You’re the one who called me, remember? You asked for my help with her. Have a little faith.” Dad’s eyes darken, and I flinch, regretting my word choice. Rephrasing, I say, “Trust me, Dad. I’ll watch over her. I promise.”
He sighs and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Faith is blind, but trust I can do. You’ve earned it many times over. Forgive me for snapping at you.” Burying his emotions as best he can, he moves ahead of me, knowing I’ll follow.
Faith is blind. I didn’t mean to dig up past hurts, but my thoughtless words got to him. This case has him on edge, and not just because of how meeting Timothy affected Echo. It promises to dredge back to the surface memories no one wants to face. Even for him, whose worst years are nearly forty years behind him, some reminders make them feel as fresh as the day they were gouged into his psyche.
6: Patient
(Griffin)
Echo lasts twenty minutes into the movie before passing out. I let her sleep, her head in my lap as she snores softly. I chuckle at her and think of how pissed one of my sisters would be if they saw me laughing at her. Our stint in Georgia the first time Dad was assigned here only lasted a few years, but Cas and Brit latched onto the ideal of what a lady was, and how one should be treated, like piranhas to a scrap of fish. I was punched more than once for insulting their decorum. Echo doesn’t seem like she cares all that much, but it’s a risk I don’t plan on taking.
The movie is actually pretty funny, but Echo sleeps through me laughing. She also sleeps through a key being shoved into the lock of her front door and the knob twisting. I reach for the holstered gun hidden under the pillow behind my back, though I doubt it’s any real threat. The door swings open and Kyran freezes at the sight of Echo and I on the couch.
I expect anger, jealousy, a demand for answers as to what I’m doing here, but he surprises me. “What’d she go up against today? That Francis prick again?”
“No,” I say slowly, “a case.”
Kyran’s brows raise. “Like, an actual case?”
I nod.
He tosses his keys on the end table and flops onto a loveseat wedged into the small living room to the left of the TV. “Didn’t expect Morton to put her on an actual case yet. What was it?” he asks. “Not the details. Guessing you can’t tell me that kind of stuff, but what type of being was it?”
His interest is equal parts curiosity and concern for his friend. From what Dad told me, Kyran is smart, knowledgeable about the supernatural, and dedicated to protecting Echo despite not being her designated protector, her Keeper. I decide giving him a few details can only help us.
“Ghosts, most likely, but that’s the easy part,” I say. Kyran leans forward, interested, but wanting more. “Something else we can’t identify yet. Cold with no ghosts present, and there seems to be something about this boy that’s not right, but nothing he’s doing or causing.”
Kyran frowns. “That’s not a lot to go off.”
I shrug, debating whether to ask Dad for permission to share more with Kyran.
“So this kid sees ghosts, but—”
I shake my head, interrupting him. “He doesn’t see them, not outside his dreams, anyway.” It’s probably more than I should say right now, but I think Kyran is an asset I’d be an idiot not to use. Of all the background info I got on Echo’s friends, his was the most interesting. I skimmed the others. Not his.
“Could he be a shadow traveler?” Kyran asks.
Hesitating as I scan my paranormal knowledge for some recollection of the term, I’m forced to shrug in ignorance. “You’re going to have to explain what that is before I can make a guess.”
Instead of gloating, Kyran gets serious. “Various cultures believe in some sort of shadow world. They believe people can cross out of reality and into the shadow world—basically a parallel reality where beliefs and memories still exist. Sometimes it’s called a ghost or spirit world, and it’s generally entered through your dreams.”
“Beliefs and memories,” I muse. “So, ghosts would be part of that?”
“Ghosts, sure, but the possibilities are limitless,” Kyran says. “Myths, magic, nightmares, if someone believed in it enough, it could technically exist in a shadow world.”
I frown as I consider what he’s saying. “Is the shadow world actually a parallel reality, or something created by the individual shadow traveler? Is it his beliefs, or everyone’s beliefs?” If we were talking about all of humanity’s mythos accumulated over the millennia, all the dead still remembered, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what Echo might be up against.
Kyran shook his head. “I don’t know, man. There’s not a ton of literature on the topic, and a lot of the stories conflict with each other.”
We fall back into silence, the movie playing in the background. Kyran’s gaze is directed toward the screen, but his concern for Echo has him too busy thinking to really pay attention. He’s different than I expected, purely based on the background information I read through on
the flight here. Malachi I understood. He cares about Echo deeply, and not just because he’s her Keeper. Part of him is angry with her, though, for a variety of reasons, mostly all of them justified.
What seems to be keeping his temper on high alert lately is her refusal to deal with what happened between them. I understand that on a general level, and now that I’ve gotten to know her better, I recognize that’s a pattern for her. She can’t avoid the topic forever. Even though she knows that, she’s holding out as long as she can out of fear. She wonders if Malachi only likes her because of their bond, and if they can survive a relationship where she might have the ultimate control over him. And, of course, she’s got a thing for Kyran.
“How’d you know?” I ask him, gesturing at Echo lying in my lap. His lack of reaction still has me curious.
He doesn’t need any further explanation. Gesturing at Echo’s position, he says, “Been in that exact same spot before. After she found out about Archer.”
“Ah.” That explains quite a bit.
“Didn’t go over well with Malachi, but…” He shrugs.
I understand that, too.
“So,” Kyran says, “you into her or what?”
I laugh, appreciating his directness. “No. I’m not competition to you. She reminds me too much of my sisters for that. I’m just here to help her.” I freeze, worried I’ve said too much. Kyran considers my words, but doesn’t level any accusations.
“I’m not that obvious, am I?” Kyran asks.
For a moment, I’m not sure what he’s talking about. Then I realize my slip. I said I wasn’t competition to him, not Malachi. Picking my words is tough. I don’t want to say anything I shouldn’t. Not yet. Settling for something close to the truth, I say, “No, you aren’t. I’m just really good at reading people.”
Kyran scoffs. “Yeah, I guess you’d have to be, right? Sorry, I just…”
“Hey, I get it,” I say.
Relaxing back into the couch, he sighs. “I just came by to see if she needed a ride to the club tonight, not to grill you. Guess she’s probably not going to be up for that.” He glances over at her, disappointed.
Malachi’s set is still an hour away, so I’m not counting her out just yet. Actually, I think it might be good for her. Get out. Relax. Forget about all the things stressing her out right now. That’s what I should tell Kyran, but instead I say, “She knows. You know that, right?”
Kyran’s brows pull together. “What?”
“Echo knows you’re into her.”
Scowling, he sinks farther into the couch. “So?”
“So…be patient.”
He glances over at me, not facing me directly, but enough so that I can see the wary hope in his eyes. “Patient?”
I nod. He nods. We go back to watching the movie.
I know I shouldn’t get involved but, damn, I like this kid.
7: Commanded
(Echo)
I still can’t believe Griffin agreed to this, but I’m not about to complain. Not that Griffin is in charge of me, or anything, but he is bigger than me and physically capable of keeping me from leaving my apartment if he really wanted to. That isn’t really his style, though. He keeps his arm around my shoulders as we approach the club. It’s more restaurant than serious club, so I don’t need the fake ID Kyran somehow got for me, which is kind of a relief. He swears it will pass the test, but I’m too scared of getting caught to try.
“Anywhere particular we’re supposed to sit?” Griffin asks.
Kyran shrugs. “Zara and the others are here somewhere. They should have a table.” They scan the crowd, but don’t seem to catch sight of Malachi on stage. I start to wave, but the look on his face says he’s not super happy to see me. Not walking in with Kyran and Griffin, anyway. Unsure of what to do, I stare at him like a moron.
“You’re going to have to come to a decision and actually talk to him about it at some point,” Griffin says.
The closeness of his face to my face right now is definitely not helping improve Malachi’s mood. “I know,” I hiss.
Griffin shrugs, then says something to Kyran. I freeze when Griffin grabs my hand, but it’s not sexual, just him trying to wake me up and get me to move. Red flushes through my body as Malachi glowers. He has it all wrong, but…. Suddenly, I can’t help wonder if Griffin is doing this on purpose, to piss Malachi off and force me into a confrontation. I smack into the back of him when he stops, but still level an accusing finger at him when he turns to face me.
Before I can manage a single word, he says, “You have limits, Echo. You’re close enough to reaching them without a damn love triangle to screw with your head.”
He is doing it on purpose! “You have no right…”
“I’ll kiss you right now if you don’t promise to talk to him. Tonight.”
I screw up my face in equals parts disgust and anger. “What?”
“Listen,” he says, “you’re not my type, but I’ll kiss you, right here, in front of Malachi, unless you promise you’re going to handle things with him. It’s too big of a distraction.”
I want to argue that he doesn’t know me, that he has no clue how far I can be pushed before I’ll break, that I can handle everything being throw at me right now, but…somehow, I think he does know. Better than I do maybe. “Fine,” I snap.
Storming away from him like I’m one of my little sisters, I yank a chair away from the table and sit between Kyran and Zara. Then, I stick my tongue out at him. Griffin laughs.
“What was that about?” Kyran asks.
I turn my glare on him. “Did you put him up to that?”
“Up to what?”
“Forcing me to talk to Malachi after the show?”
“What? No. Why would I? He told me to be…” Kyran looks away.
“Be what?” I demand. When he doesn’t answer me, I dig my elbow into his ribs. “Be what?”
Kyran sighs and sinks down in his chair. “Patient,” he mumbles under his breath.
My eyes widen, then snap over to Griffin. He’s grinning when I jab a finger in his direction. “You and I, we are not friends anymore. Got it?”
He laughs and says something to Cerise beside him. Jerk. Jerk who’s my ride home. Gritting my teeth, I sink down in my chair and regret the decision to leave my comfy couch. Zara will give me a ride home. I almost ask her, then remember she has plans after the show to meet the guy from our apartment complex that she’s been flirting with for months. Maybe Kyran…which will only piss Malachi off more. Or Malachi, except asking either of them might seem like a choice of some kind, which it wouldn’t be. I don’t want either of them. Not now. Not when the ghost of a murdered man and an entire shadow world are conspiring against me. I was not thrilled to learn about that theory after waking up and having Kyran fill me in on his ideas.
All my friends are chatting and enjoying themselves while I sit here stewing, but I can’t help it. Why does everyone and everything have to gang up on me like this? The only person who seems moderately happy about all this, I notice as I glance at the stage, is Malachi. Because he saw me get angry at Griffin and am now ignoring Kyran? I don’t even know what to think about that.
The set starts, but I struggle to pay attention to the music. The night we fought the Devourers and saved Archer’s soul, Malachi and I talked. Well, I broke down and started apologizing for every part of my psychotic life that had spilled over into his and irreparably screwed things up. He tried to tell me it was okay, that he chose to get involved, that he didn’t regret helping me. He made me feel like, for once in my life, I wasn’t the biggest problem in someone else’s life. He told me how sorry he was about Archer, for me losing him the first time and again that night. When I told him I wanted to tell him about the memories of Archer I’d recovered during hypnosis, he’d been willing to listen.
That’s when things got complicated.
He saw the same parallels I had, the way Archer had been instantly drawn to me, fallen for me, been ready to give
up everything for me. All based off nothing more than a connection neither one of us understood. No, it wasn’t just some connection. It was a compulsion, silent and subtle, but there all the same. Neither one of us knew whether we could trust our feelings anymore.
I care about Malachi, so much it hurts thinking about how strained things are between us. I don’t think of him as just my protector. He’s my friend, a friend I was willing to move across the country for…or was that the compulsion, too? I don’t know anymore, and it kills me to think I might being lying to him about the depth of my feelings.
Malachi feels the same things, has the same concerns, but I’m almost positive he also thinks that on some level it doesn’t matter. If we’re meant to be together in a supernatural battle, why not be together as lovers too? It makes sense, right? We can be happy together. I know we can. Maybe. At least until…until I’m forced to command him again, and not by accident. I’ve been curious, so curious, about what happened between us, but I can’t ask him to let me try it again. That has been the biggest barrier between us the last few months.
If I’m right, he could lose his freewill. As laidback as Malachi is about most normal things, the idea of having to obey my commands in a war that might kill me infuriates him. He is well aware of my willingness to sacrifice myself to avoid hurting more people than I already have. It doesn’t matter how many times people tell me it isn’t my fault, or my abilities are too important to risk. I won’t be the reason people die or lose their souls or sink into incorporeal insanity. Like Archer did.
Malachi took the talisman his grandmother left him. He accepted the charge to protect me. I have no doubt he’ll live up to the promises he made. He has no doubt I’ll do the same for him or any of my friends. I can make him break his promises. At least, I think I can. I will, too, if I have to in order to spare their lives. That lack of control is making him crazy, even without knowing for sure what it might entail.
Letting him love me, loving him in return…how could I do that to him?
The Ghost Host: Episode 2 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 5
