Page 90 of Hunted in the Shadows
A dulcet voice filled my mind.
“You don’t want to fight anymore.”
She was right. I didn’t. I hadn’t wanted to for a long time.
My grip slackened. I didn’t even hear my gun hit the boards below. My hand trembled, itching to pick it back up. But why? For so many years, I had been heavy with weapons and grief.
Something pushed through the peace—a frantic voice millions of miles away. I turned my head, but the melody ensnared my attention back. I lost interest in seeking the other voice when the woman before me whispered again.
“You’re so tired. You deserve to rest, my darling.”
An observation, not a command. And once again, she was right. A tear leaked down my cheek. I wanted to move forward, but my legs stayed locked in place.
“Come to me. I’ll keep you safe—from everything, from yourself. Come.”
Her pity was wrapped in love. She saw me as I was and still stared at me with such adoration. Finally, someone understood the exhaustion in my bones. She was going to take all the pain away. She was going to keep me from hurting anyone else.
The swamp water no longer seemed fetid—how could I ever think it was? The depths were a waiting, warm embrace.Her. My salvation.
I took a step forward.
The distant, pestering voice made its return.
Sylvia.
Faintly, I could feel her shoving at my neck, pulling at a lock of my hair. A bite of ice made me flinch in anger.
She didn’t understand. She was holding me back from the love and peace I deserved. I brushed her away, my eyes never leaving the heavenly woman at the end of the dock.
All I had to do was slide into the cool water and bring an end to the pain that had shadowed me for nearly a decade.
17
Sylvia
“Jon, stop it!” I flitted between the boys, fighting to steal their attention. “Cliff!” But they wouldn’t listen, even when my shards of ice nicked the skin of their hands and necks enough to draw blood.
My injured shoulder throbbed from Jon’s shove, dismissive as it had been. If I dared draw within arm’s reach again, I could inspire more pointed violence. I turned, raising my hands toward the siren directly.
“You can’t have them!” I snarled. Ice swirled in threatening gusts beside me, making the arching branches overhead shiver in the conjured breeze. “Let them go!”
To my surprise, the siren snapped her gaze away from the hunters and focused on me as though she’d only just noticed I was there. The boys’ footsteps paused. Perhaps a siren’s song took concentration, like any other spell.
The rotting face of the woman was hard to read, but the vicious annoyance was clear—until those milky eyes lit up with recognition. The thinness of the creature was painfully familiar, and I realized with a start that this was the siren I’d freed from the outpost’s tank.
“You,” I breathed. “You made it home.”
“Are these men yours, Mistress?” the siren asked.
Hope surged through me, but I didn’t dare lower my hands. “Yes, they’re mine, so release them!”
Pouting, the siren narrowed her eyes to the fallen weapons on the dock, her tail slapping the water in agitation. “They are hunters, back to cage me, to strip the flesh from my bones and wear my teeth as trinkets. They deserve to be my first taste of mortal meat.” Her lips curled, revealing a gruesome smile that set my stomach churning.
“They won’t hurt you,” I said.
She giggled in disbelief.
“I saved you,” I reminded her. “So you’ll listen when I say they arenotto be eaten. They answer to me—just watch. I won’t let them attack you.”
