“Melody, let’s show him what we can really do.”
My guitar is strapped to my back, and I reach for it, swinging it around as my hands find the chords with ease, muscle memory taking over as I channel my rage into music.
“Round two, asshole,” I spit, striking a powerful chord that sends vibrations rippling through the air. I try to hit the asshole with sound waves made of my necromantic energy instead of relying on my hound, but she still helps. Melody lunges forward, becoming solid, her jaws snapping at Rowan’s leg.
Rowan dives sideways, rolling behind his sofa as Melody’s teeth miss him by inches. I advance, playing a series of aggressive notes that make the windows rattle, building up my energy. He’s not getting away that easily. We can still catch him.
As we try to trap him between us, he springs up, flipping his coffee table and making me duck out of the way.
Melody’s hot on his heels, but Rowan reaches a desk deeper in the room first, yanking open a drawer. He hurls the vial he finds inside directly at her.
“Melody, dodge!” I scream, but it’s too late.
The vial shatters around her, releasing a mist that swirls around her like a miniature storm. Melody yelps, a sound that cuts me to the core as the mist solidifies into what looks like a glowing cage. She throws herself against the bars, but bounces back, trapped. Even her spirit form can’t penetrate the cage.
“No!” I watch her howl uselessly, the sound contained within her prison.
Fury floods my system. My fingers fly across the strings of my guitar as I play the strongest tune I can muster. The notes areviolent, discordant, filled with my desperation. The sound waves batter the bars, but they don’t break.
Rowan laughs, drawing my attention, and I see him reach for something on his desk—a small remote.
“Another precaution,” he says calmly, and presses a few buttons.
The silence that follows is absolute.
The sound—my music and energy—suddenly vanishes. My fingers still move across the strings, but no tune comes out. It’s like someone hit mute on the entire world. I can see Melody’s jaws opening, but I hear nothing. Not even the sound of my own frantic breathing reaches my ears.
Without sound, my music is useless.
I stare at Rowan in horror as he mouths something I can’t hear, his smile widening. That’s one small mercy, not being able to hear him gloat. It’s around this time I conclude that Rowan was indeed expecting me. He didn’t leave his door unlocked accidentally or carelessly. He wanted this. He got Harper out of the way and provoked me into coming after him.
And I walked right into his trap. Shit.
I may be an idiot, but I’m not giving up that easily. Fuck it. If I can’t use my powers, I’ll do this the old-fashioned way.
I swing my guitar onto my back and charge at him, aiming straight for Rowan’s smug face. If I can’t use magic, I’ll use my fists. Harper would be proud—or call me an idiot. Probably both.
Rowan doesn’t seem concerned by my physical attack. As I get within striking distance, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out that ostentatious pocket watch of his. It dangles from his fingers, catching the light as it begins to swing back and forth.
I try to look away, knowing what’s coming, but it’s too late. The watch captures my attention, its motion hypnotic. The room starts to tilt and spin around me. My limbs feel heavy,uncoordinated. I stumble, my forward momentum carrying me straight into Rowan’s fist.
The blow connects with my jaw, sending pain shooting through my face. I crumple to my knees, the world spinning wildly around me. Blood trickles from my split lip. I try to get up, but my limbs won’t cooperate. The room keeps tilting, the disorientation charm from his watch still gripping my senses.
Rowan stands over me, clicking the remote again. Sound rushes back into the world—the hum of the air conditioning, Melody’s frantic barking from her cage, and Rowan’s smug voice, dripping with satisfaction. “I win,” he says.
The Mute Button
Dodger
This sucks.
Rowan throws me into a cramped laundry room, my shoulder slamming against the dryer. The impact sends a jolt of pain down my arm, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me wince.
“This will have to hold you for now,” he says, standing in the doorway with that smug, self-satisfied look I want to punch off his face. “Cozy enough for you?”
