The Last Lullaby (The Spellsinger Book 1) Page 9

  I was a what now?

  “This won't help you.” He slipped Finbar's ring off my finger, and tossed it into a corner. It clanked on the stone floor like rattled chains. “As soon as you tried to harm me, the magic of the diplomatic charm was negated.”

  I swallowed past the nervous lump in my throat.

  “Now, I'm going to do something that may seem stupid, but I assure you, you can't kill me before I restrain you.” Torin smiled, and it was, of course, breathtaking. “I think I've proved that already. Should you attack me, I will simply deflect your magic into the onyx, just as I did earlier. You can't sing the stones into your control, Elaria. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. Was this dumb motherfucker about to remove my gag? Couldn't sing the stones into my control, my ass. I was going to teach this Shining One a lesson about spellsingers.

  “All right then.” He reached forward and undid the leather straps.

  I worked my jaw, and moistened my lips as he leaned into me farther, as if he were embracing me. But he was only untying the leather around my wrists. Still, my heartbeat sped up. Torin's cheek brushed against mine, and I felt a zing of desire shoot through me. Wow, I needed therapy. This guy had just murdered nearly all of the men I'd traveled to Onyx with, had taken me prisoner, and was intending to use me to destroy King Galen somehow. And I still wanted to jump him.

  Then again, we did crash his party with the sole purpose of assassinating him, so I suppose all's fair. And from the sound of it, this wasn't the first time Galen had tried to kill Torin. But Torin had killed Galen's sister. Of course Galen would try to get some revenge. The Onyx King was a murderer, and I needed to remember that. Not like I had any right to point fingers. I'd done my fair share of murdering, and I did it for money. But I chose my clients carefully, and I never killed innocents.

  Something wiggled in the back of my mind with that last thought. Normally I'd have Cerberus check out the claims of my potential clients, or I would investigate them myself. Especially in an assassination contract. I liked to be certain of exactly what I was walking into. And exactly what kind of an asshole I was about to kill. But Cerberus had been blinded by the money, and I had been distracted by Banning. Neither of us had verified Finbar's story.

  Sloppy, Spellsinger, very sloppy.

  Torin leaned back slowly, as if giving me the opportunity to attack him. I wasn't stupid enough to take it. Oh no, I would wait, lure him into believing that I was complacent, and then I would pounce. I would kill this son of a bitch, despite his unearthly hotness level, and then I would get the fuck out of Tír na nÓg. At this point, his guilt didn't matter. He'd taken me hostage and now it was personal.

  “Torin.” He held his hand out to me, like we were two humans meeting at a cocktail party.

  “Elaria.” I shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” He smiled brilliantly, as if he were tickled pink to use such a common human mode of greeting.

  Something quivered inside me. Down, girl, down.

  “Likewise, I'm sure,” I said snidely.

  “Why did you try to kill me?” King Torin asked casually. “Was it just about the money?”

  “Just?” I laughed. “They paid me two hundred million dollars to kill you. That's a massive fortune in the human world, in case you're not aware. But actually, it had more to do with you murdering King Galen's sister.”

  “Nila?” Torin's brows rose. “Galen told you I killed her?”

  “Yes” I narrowed my eyes on him. I had just realized that Galen had never told me his sister's name. How odd. “Do you deny it?”

  “Of course I deny it.” He laughed, “Nila isn't dead.”

  “What?” I blinked as all of my bravado fled. My shoulders fell, and I gaped at him momentarily. “What do you mean she isn't dead?”

  “Nila attacked me.” Torin grimaced. “We had a bit of a squabble when I ended our relationship. It got vicious, and I'm afraid I pulled too much of her magic away from her. I was merely trying to calm her, ground her, but in all the violence of it, I couldn't judge how much she had left. I took too much. All of it, in fact. I completely grounded her.”

  “You grounded her?” I asked flatly.

  “Not like a human adolescent.” He chuckled. “In a”

  “I know what you meant,” I snarled. “But you didn't kill her?”

  “No. I care about Nila; I would never hurt her purposefully. But I suppose I can understand why Galen would say that I did.” He shrugged. “Magic is everything here. Without it, Nila's status dropped down to that of a commoner. She tried to go home to Sapphire, but they turned her away. It was the same in the Diamond Kingdom with her parents. She had become an embarrassment to them, and was forced to return to me. I would have given her a place in my court, but she didn't want to stay in Tír na nÓg. She was humiliated, and wanted a fresh start in the human world. So I set her up in Santa Monica. She's modeling now, doing pretty well actually.”

  “She's a model?” I blinked at him.

  “Yeah, she's a . . . ,” he frowned as if he were trying to remember the word. “Supermodel? Is that the right term?”

  “That fucking bastard!” I was livid.

  That idiot Galen had sent me out to kill a guy over a lover's spat. I couldn't help it; I normally don't agree with breaking things, but I needed to hurt something. And at that point, Torin was out of the question. So I stood, picked up a nearby vase, and chucked it against a wall.

  Torin laughed, “My, you are feisty.”

  “I'm feisty?” I snarled at him. “Are you fucking insane? Do you know what I could do to you?”

  “I know precisely what you're capable of.” He smiled sensually. “And as I told you, I can handle your magic.”

  “Yeah, about that.” I dropped back into my seat, leaned forward on my knees, and regarded him intently. “Who betrayed me?”

  “What?”

  “Who warned you that I was coming tonight? I was told it would take you time to reach for onyx. That you wouldn't be able to ground my spell so quickly.”

  “That's true.” His lids lowered.

  “Then who warned you?”

  “The stones did,” he said in complete seriousness.

  “The stones?” I frowned. “Somehow I don't think you mean Mick Jagger and the rest of the boys.”

  “No, but good music reference. Though I suppose that's your area of expertise.” Torin grinned. “I meant the stones I'm bonded with. Onyx has the power of prophecy.”

  “Shut up, it does not,” I huffed.

  “It does, I assure you.” He chuckled, his cobalt eyes sparkling. “The stones whisper to me sometimes, and they told me about you. In fact, I was given a full prophecy. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Oh, I would love to,” I said sarcastically.

  “Excellent.” He launched right into it. “Child of the sky and sea. Daughter of earth and fire. Rare bird of sunlight and darkness. Sent to sing death to Onyx, she brings life instead. Hope for all the realms.”

  “Poetic.” I gave him a scathing look, though part of me shivered.

  His words resounded within me. Sky and sea, earth and fire, bird of light and dark. They all referred to pieces of my ancestry. My siren mother flying through the sky as she drowned men in the sea with her song. My father's people thought of themselves as keepers of the Earth, but his magic leaned toward fire, and I had inherited a little of it. Calling fire through my songs was easier than trying to work with other elements. The bird thing was obvious- all sirens took the names of birds for their surnames- and I was definitely rare. And, of course, there was the singing.

  “There's more.” Torin held up his hand, not at all irritated that I had interrupted him. “A king will fall to her song, but she will raise him up, stronger than before. The Jewels will sing under her sway, and Tír na nÓg will tremble in joy and fear.”

  “Uh-huh.” I cracked my neck. “And you got what from that?”

  “I shall be that king, and together we shall m
ake Tír na nÓg tremble,” he said confidently.

  “Tremble. Great. And where's the part where you knew I was coming tonight?”

  “Oh, that was something else.” He waved his hand. “Something far less romantic.”

  “Oh?”

  “Onyx said, 'The sixth spellsinger comes to slay you this night.'” He shrugged.

  “Are you messing with me right now?” I narrowed my eyes on him.

  “No, I swear to you.” He held his hand up like a boy scout taking an oath. “Onyx told me those exact words.”

  “And you knew to look for me in a bunch of traveling musicians?” I scoffed.

  “I assumed you would sneak yourself in by some devious means.” He shrugged. “I warned the guards at the gate to look for you, and they spotted you easily enough. We readied the entire court while you and the minstrels waited.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I gaped at him. “Why didn't you just kill us?”

  “Did you not hear the prophecy?” Torin frowned. “You will raise me up.”

  “Yeah”-I frowned-“and how exactly am I supposed to do that? You got like a hundred pounds on me. I swear, you're the biggest fucking fairy I've ever seen.”

  Torin laughed, and it was even deeper than his voice. Hot. Oh so hot.

  “Not literally raise me up.” He sat back in his chair and studied me. “I think we shall be lovers.”

  “Oh, is that what you think?” It was my turn to laugh. Though a part of me did kind of sit up, and pant like a dog for a . . . bone . . . yeah, that was a bad choice of analogy.

  “Yes, I do.” He leaned forward and licked his lips. “And you're thinking it too.”

  “You're really arrogant, you know that?”

  “And you're not?” Torin lifted a brow.

  “Well, you have me there.” I chuckled. “But I'm arrogant about my magic, you're arrogant about”-I waved a hand at him-“everything.”

  “Nothing wrong with knowing your own worth.” He smirked.

  “Except I don't like cocky guys,” I smirked back. “And I don't feel like sticking around your Disney Villain's Castle. I'm going back to Kansas, and possibly looking up a blooder who I may or may not have shared a past life with. He's got some hot tattoos, and isn't nearly as arrogant as you are.”

  I stood, and Torin followed suit. It brought us within inches of each other. I was left staring at the solid muscle revealed in the gaping V of his tunic. And he smelled good too, damn him. Something woodsy, spicy, and pure fairy male. I didn't know if I wanted to inhale him or lick him. Possibly both. At the same time. The man was like a pot brownie- delicious, with the potential of delivering a high that made you hungry.

  “You're not leaving, Elaria.” His hands slipped around my biceps. “I don't like the thought of holding you prisoner, but I will. You're too precious to let walk away.”

  “Precious again.” I tried to pull back, but he held me firm. “I won't be your weapon or your prisoner. You can't cage a spellsinger.”

  “I'm sorry, Elaria, but I can.” Torin released me, his hands sliding down my arms and leaving a trail of sensitized skin in their wake. He came to the end of my forearms, and slipped his hands around mine. “I hope that you'll come to understand my actions, and that the cage becomes unnecessary, but you are precious. Far too important for me to allow you to leave. And not just to me, but to all life, in all worlds. We need you.” He lifted my hands, and kissed the back of first one, then the other. “Sleep well, Spellsinger. We'll talk again in the morning.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I waited till late in the night to make my escape. No, I wasn't going to stick around. I don't care what kind of cryptic shit Torin spouted about all life in all worlds needing me. That was ridiculous. Please. All of the worlds depended upon me? Yeah okay, me and Obi Wan Kenobi. I'll just go grab my lightsaber. And by the way, I was speaking the absolute truth when I told Torin he couldn't cage a spellsinger. You could kill us, yes. Gag us and make us powerless, absolutely. But when we could literally sing things into being, it was rather hard to trap us.

  I bent near the keyhole in the door, and began to sing one of my favorite Madonna songs. An old stand by that had opened many a lock for me. The words were perfect, even though Madonna was obviously referring to love when she sang them. I mean, it was in the title, wasn't it? “Open Your Heart,” not open the door. Still, I sang the upbeat tune into the keyhole. Then I tried the handle. The door remained locked. I scowled and tried again, to lyrically sway it into setting me free.

  Nothing. I stood up with dawning horror. No. No way. I went to the wall like a man on the way to the gallows, and pushed back the hanging silk with a trembling hand. Solid onyx. Torin had put me in an onyx cell. I rushed back to the door, which, to all appearances, was wood, and looked closer. There was a black border running around the edges. I peered at the lock. It was gilded. A few scratches at the gold revealed the polished surface of onyx below. Charged onyx, if I was guessing correctly. Grounding onyx.

  Dear gods, the man had thought of everything.

  No problem. I took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself. I would simply change the stone into something else with a song. Nothing was impossible for me. Altering an onyx lock into a traditional metal one should be a breeze. But getting past all of the grounding within the walls might require the use of some backup. I fished my iPod out of my pocket, and stuck the earbuds in my ears with determined shoves. I found my selection quickly, smiling down at the image of a blonde woman with her hand held to her forehead in lament. Lacey Sturm. Her song, “Impossible,” was perfect for fighting the onyx drain. I just had to get ahead of the magic, fight the grounding until I pushed past it, and change that little piece of stone to metal.

  The jolting music began and I let it take me, let the magic rise inside me. The energy was immediately yanked away, but I kept pushing. The happy melody screeched up into a pounding punishment. It became a lamentation. A cry of emptiness. Of giving until I had nothing left, and then giving more. I could do this, go beyond my limits. I would shove magic at this prison until the enchantment broke. Until that lock turned to metal and busted open. Nothing was impossible for me.

  I shrieked out the words, bringing more and more of my magic to the surface. Nothing happened except for a shaking exhaustion that crept over me. My legs trembled, my hands shivered, and my lips quivered. The song slammed out its anger between bouts of coercive, rolling arias. It soon felt as if it were punching into my gut. Still, I pushed onward. I had to get out. I wouldn't let a few rocks stand in my way.

  The lyrics began to shift into hope, urging me to keep going. Failing is only an opportunity to try harder. I reached for the stone with my words, trying to force a sliver of my magic into it. A crack would give me an in, enough to wedge into, and then break, the rock. I tried to feel the strength of the victorious music, tried to make its power mine. But it all just seeped through my grasp like wine poured into my palm. All that was left was the stain.

  On and on I fought, until the song wound down to its screaming end. I fell to my knees, choking out the last of the lyrics. My fists pounded against the lock, and my words took on a new meaning. Hope changed to despair. The inspiring declaration of surmounting odds became a statement of oppression. This was . . . impossible. I bent over and laid my forehead to the floor.

  I really was caged. My heart started to race. I should never have come to Tír na nÓg. I should have taken the thirty mil I'd earned and gone home. I whimpered, thinking about the sweet ocean breeze that I could be feeling on my cheek even now, had I not been swayed by greed and misplaced righteousness. By lies. Oh, and had I not wanted to put an entire realm between me and Banning Dalca.

  Banning. I curled up into a ball on the floor. Was there really history between us? Could there be a future? Did I want one? He was gorgeous, but also a bloodsucker. His leech-like nature kind of grossed me out. The possibility that I had once been a blooder too was really ironic. I had seen strange things when he spoke to m
e, and there had been some kind of feeling that rose inside me. Emotions for him. About us. But I also thought it would be stupid to repeat my mistakes, especially those made in a past life. If there was such a thing as reincarnation, I would think its whole purpose would be for a soul to experience new things. For it to move on, and not go right back to someone it had loved before.

  New life. New love.

  And what of Torin? Could his prophecy be true? Would I make Tír na nÓg tremble? How could I? I couldn't even handle a fairy lock. The thought of me making the Fairy Realm tremble in fear was absurd. And raise him up? Make him stronger than before? What could I possibly do for a king of the Shining Ones? Torin was obviously powerful enough as he was. And then there was that pesky premonition bit. He didn't need my help. The Onyx King would be warned of danger before it stepped one foot in his direction. Hell, I was surprised Tír na nÓg wasn't already trembling for him. I know I was.

  In so many ways. Damn the man and his Shining One hotness.

  I was scared, and it was becoming a habit. Banning had given me the courtesy of removing my fear quickly, but it looked as if Torin wouldn't be so obliging. The Onyx King wouldn't kill me, but remaining in Tír na nÓg against my will sounded nearly as bad. At least death might bring me another go at this.

  No, that was stupid; I didn't want to die. And I wasn't sure I believed in reincarnation, despite those weird visions I'd had of Banning. But I didn't want to stay locked in an onyx cell either. So that meant I had to escape. There would be a way. Torin would slip up. Maybe I could use this attraction between us, make him think he had won me over, and then he'd drop his guard. As soon as that happened, I was outta there.

  I looked around at all the luxury, and a chill went over me. The room suddenly seemed much smaller, and I had the strangest desire to curl up beneath the bed-covers and have myself a good cry. I didn't approve of crying. It was pointless. But at the moment, it seemed like it might feel really good. I compromised with my inclinations and just got back into bed. Under the covers, I felt warmer and stronger. The urge to bawl abandoned me, and the determination to escape burned brighter.