Page 6 of The Song of the Void

I pressed my hand against the cool glass and swallowed thickly.

Another heavy thud behind me. Nameless Asshole had taken down another of the hooded figures, but the last one standing seemed to have struck back by chopping his club into pieces with the ax. The stranger cursed and flung himself at his assailant, landing blow after blow that knocked the mask away from the Druinn’s face. The Druinn struggled for a moment, reaching for his weapon, but it only flew halfway towards Nameless Asshole before the metal-wielder lost consciousness.

I coughed on the smoke that had filled the corridor outside and now slithered into the bedroom, but the Human didn’t seem fazed. He stalked towards me, clucking his tongue. “Couldn’t even get the damn window open?” He shoved me aside and tried to open it, but he had just as much luck as I did with the stuck lock.

For a moment, I considered trying to run into the hallway, but the furious rage of flames crept towards the threshold. With each passing second the air grew thicker with curls of bone-dry smoke. My eyes burned. “Who even are you?” I gasped.

With only a quiet curse, he rammed his elbow into the glass, shattering it into fragments on the floor. He peered out into the darkness lit by the flames eating away at the manor and set his boot squarely on the windowsill.

It crunched on the broken glass as he turned to me. “Do you want to do this the easy way, or the ‘I’m going to make life as difficult as possible for my handsome savior’ way?”

It took every ounce of my restraint to bite my tongue and not tell him I found him in no way handsome. Fuck his pretty face and stupid soft-looking hair. And those dimples I might have liked if he didn't hold so much arrogance in his eyes.

“You are not my savior.” I bit out the word in the same manner he bit out Siren.

Still, he brightened and chuckled. “I had a feeling you were going to be a pain in my ass.” Before I could get away, he hauled me over his shoulder like a dead animal.

I tried to kick at him, but he dodged out of the way just in time. “Let me go or I’ll scream!”

“While I'd love to hear that, be good and stay quiet for me.”

He launched himself out the window with me on his shoulder, into the darkness. I wasn't about to listen to his order to be quiet, but his landing punched his shoulder right into my gut, cutting off my scream. While I coughed and wheezed and tried to recover, he moved like a shadow, melding with the darkened spaces between the trees and shrubs in the manor garden, out into the nearby street. No one even threw us a second glance. The city folk around were too busy either running towards the smoking manor—curious busy bodies with too much time on their hands—or running away from it.

“Pirates in the capital!” an older man shouted above the cacophony of people and gunshots, earning cries from the enraged mob gathered outside the manor gates.

Just the word “pirate” sent a shiver down my spine. But it was odd. We had definitely been attacked by Druinns, yet that band of Humans with flintlock pistols facing off with the guards must have been pirates. Strange for them to be so far inland; the eastern coastline was several days away across the desert. Was it possible the pirates were working with the Druinns?

From what I’d heard, the Druinns of the Queendom of Terrakor in the forests to the west had always been kind. Until Arvensis declared war on them five years ago, claiming that they had stolen the god of the Humans—the god of time. Most Humans probably didn't even know if it was possible for their god to be stolen by another country, but they hated the Druinns anyway. Humans were still afraid of them, even if they had beaten them in war and had a tenuous treaty in place with Terrakor. The Druinns had agreed probably only because the Humans had him on their side: the Timebreaker.

Nameless Asshole shoved me into a nearby alleyway almost too tiny for two people to fit. He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were locked on the small squad of guards hurrying past on the main street. He practically crushed me against the wall, trying to keep me quiet and out of sight. His expression remained carefully controlled, even as his hot, panting breaths brushed against my skin.

“Let go, you motherf⁠—”

He clamped his hand over my mouth to muffle my cry. The moment the guards disappeared from view and the clink of their armor faded, he relaxed and touched his golden earring. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get caught.” His eyes didn’t meet mine, just like back in the bedroom. And while I didn’t hear any kind of response, he chuckled. “I’ll be there soon, Siren in hand.” After another brief pause, he continued his one-sided conversation. “Well, if I don’t make it, you know who killed me.”

That smirk twisted his beguiling features. He clearly wasn't going to let me talk, but I was going to choke to death on his smoky scent. I sank my teeth into the leather of his glove until I found warm skin. He stifled a yelp into a quiet hiss of pain, yanking his hand away from me.

I aimed my knee straight between his legs, but he blocked it and pushed me harder against the wall to keep me still. Unlike him, I had one hand free. While he was distracted by protecting himself from another swing of my knee, I poured every ounce of fury crackling in my veins into a slap across his face. The resounding smack of skin on skin echoed throughout the tiny alley.

His cheek bloomed red with the imprint of my hand. He stiffened and gawked at me—affronted and taken completely by surprise that I actually struck him. Good. Unfortunately, he was vigilant enough that when I tried again, he caught my wrist before I could land another slap. Nameless Asshole glowered. “Stop fighting. If you run now, you know you’ll be caught. I’m sure they’d be glad to have their pretty prize back behind glass walls.”

I cocked my head. “What a roundabout way to say you think I’m pretty.”

The corner of his lips tilted upward, but it wasn’t a concession. Just a hint of amusement, buried beneath a cold distaste in his eyes. “You’re a Siren.” He said it as though being what I was simultaneously gave me an excuse to be beautiful and meant he had reason to dislike me.

Well, he was a Human, and that was plenty of reason for me to hate him, too. That made us even, I supposed.

He watched me with eyes like a starless midnight sky. “My employer received your message, and he wants to help. Trust me.”

The ice-cold rage that saturated my skin melted at the genuine honesty burning in his gaze. That, and the warmth of his body against mine. Something was wrong with the air. It sweltered despite the late hour, and the commotion in the distance faded into silence.

That thing he said—“trust me.” The last time I trusted a handsome Human, it ended with me in the dark hold of a ship, alone and sobbing at my foolishness. Never again.

It took me a moment to regain control of my body and find the words I clung to the way sailors hold onto their ships in a storm. “I don’t trust anyone.” I strained against his grip to brush my fingers against his cheek, and the moment I touched his skin, I dove into his sensations.

Many surface dwellers believed a Siren could manipulate emotions through her voice. That was where the pirate tales of being sung to their watery graves came from, anyway. There was some truth to it; our songs were bewitching to the ears of men, used as a lure in the old times, but there was no true emotional exploitation. Our magic was simple. We controlled water like the Druinns controlled metal. I could even slow down the blood flow from a wound by influencing the water inside the bloodstream.

But the reason Sirens had the reputation we did stemmed from our ability to tamper with physical sensations. I had to touch them to do so, but I could draw out someone's chronic pain so that they wouldn't have to deal with it for a period of time, or send someone spiraling into ecstasy with a brush of my fingers. Truly minor manipulations, but when I searched this Human’s body for sensations to amplify or draw out, I nearly recoiled.