Just as I was drifting off to sleep once more, a familiar need took hold, and I sat up, panicked. I reached for my throat, urging the song to stay inside of me, but it was no use. A lament spilled from my lips at the same time searing pain sliced through my body.
And it didn’t stop. I tried to smash my lips together and swallow the sound, but this was beyond my control. My body refused to obey me.
I was moving toward an open flame, sticking in a toe and then diving in. The pain got worse and worse, until every cell in my body was fried and turned to ash. I was engulfed in flames.
Falling back onto my bed, I curled into a ball, silently begging for the death I was lamenting. Anything would be better than this torture.
When the song was finally done, I croaked out a sob before the blackness overtook me.
Ronan
I loved you, you know.
Imogen’s scrawled words were a punch straight to my gut. There was a time I’d believed I loved her too. I’d never told her, of course. Why would she want me when she could have Killian or Flynn? Either would make a better match for her than a rough and surly warrior.
Not that it mattered anymore. I’d held a sword to her throat today. If we confirmed her innocence, there was no coming back from my actions. She would probably always hate me, and I wouldn’t even blame her.
I want to help. I just don’t know how.
I practically groaned aloud at this newest message. Well, message wasn’t the correct term. She had no idea we were watching.
We were the worst kind of stalkers, using our magic like this. Under normal circumstances, I never would have allowed it. I didn’t believe in invading another being’s privacy. Not even a prisoner’s.
But we didn’t know how else to ensure that what little Imogen had told us was the truth. Right now, she was our only lead on Killian’s condition, and we had to know for certain, one way or the other.
“This is ridiculous,” Flynn said from the chair next to me in our hotel suite. “We’ve suspected for days that Gen wasn’t actually behind Father’s death. What do we think continuing to spy on her will reveal?”
“The truth.”
He glared at me. “What truth? That we’re responsible for putting an innocent woman in prison? That truth?”
“Perhaps.” I might be coming around to his way of thinking, but that didn’t mean I was ready to give in completely. There were too many unanswered questions.
He shook his head at me. “You confound me, brother. I know you care about her as much as Killian and I do. Yet, you won’t accept that we were wrong.”
Heat flared in my chest, and I turned my own glare on my irritating little brother. “Don’t you get it? If we were wrong, then we’ve made the gravest mistake of our lives.” I gripped the arms of the chair so hard, wood splintered beneath my hands. “I will never forgive myself.”
Before he had a chance to respond, soft, lilting notes traveled through the magical portal we were using to spy on Imogen. The song was like nothing I’d ever heard. It seeped into my soul, making me experience a strange kind of euphoria mixed with sorrow.
It was so mesmerizing that it took me several seconds to recover and focus on the scene playing out on the other side of the portal.
Imogen was sitting straight up, her hands cupping her throat while her mouth moved without her consent. The collar shimmered with engaged magic, like it had that day in the warden’s office.
Except, this was nothing like when she’d dropped to the floor and writhed in pain after a single word. The collar kept on punishing her for every sound that escaped from her mouth. It didn’t stop.
My stomach churned as I watched her fall back onto the bed, her body convulsing with what had to be unimaginable pain.
“Fuck.”
Flynn’s muttered expletive snapped me out of my shocked stupor. As the realization of what Imogen might be doing hit me, I tore my gaze away from her and sprinted to Killian’s room. Part of me was in that room with her, and it killed me to leave it.
But my brother had to come first.
Though I wanted to burst through the door, I forced myself to open it quietly and peek in.
He was sound asleep, looking almost peaceful. I released a sigh of relief. There were no signs that a banshee was currently tormenting him.
Knowing he needed all the restful sleep he could get, I forced myself to turn around and shut the door behind me.
As I returned to Flynn’s side, the last few notes of Imogen’s mournful song rang out before the room fell silent. He looked at me, his face ashen. “She passed out.”
Staring at her still form, I ignored the way my chest tightened at the sight. I felt helpless, and there was nothing I despised more. She was trapped inside that cell while we were stuck out here with no way in. At least, no incognito way in. The connection spell we’d placed on her assured that we could get to her anytime we were in the same realm. But that didn’t mean we should just pop inside the prison anytime we liked.
The cell door opened a few minutes later, and two guards strolled in. One of them moved forward and poked Imogen in the face a few times, as though to confirm she was unconscious. Then, without any care, one took her arms, the other took her legs, and they carried her out of the room.
“There’s something fishy going on,” Flynn said in the quiet that had fallen between us.
“No kidding.”
He turned on me, his hands balled into fists. “I’m serious, Ronan. After all this time, she laments now? That can’t be a coincidence.”
His point was valid. After Killian and I spoke to Imogen in her cell, we’d called the warden to verify her claims. He’d assured us that there was no way she’d sang since arriving at the prison. The doctor received a report every time the collar was activated, and the most she’d spoken was a word or two at a time. And none that were recent, until she’d seen us in the warden’s office.
“There’s no way she did that intentionally,” Flynn added. “No one is stupid enough to cause themselves that much pain. Certainly not Genny.”
“You’re right.”
He stared at me, slack-jawed. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, you’re right.”
“I heard you. I just don’t believe it.”
Ignoring him, I crossed the room to pour a drink. A shot of whiskey wouldn’t make this clusterfuck go away, but it might keep me from punching my brother.
I relished the burn of the alcohol as it slid down my throat, and I immediately poured and threw back a second shot. When my nerves had calmed, assuring me the whiskey was doing its job, I turned back around to face Flynn.
He was watching me, waiting. “What now?”
I wish I fucking knew.
Imogen
I walked along the shore of the loch, admiring how the sunlight reflected off the crystal water.
These days, my daily strolls were responsible for most, if not all, of my pleasure. Life as a banshee was lonely. It wasn’t as though I’d been a particularly social creature to begin with, but I’d had friends. I’d been admired for my lovely singing voice instead of shunned for it.
Now, all of that was gone. On the rare occasion I was invited to a party, people stared like they expected me to break out in song at any moment. And, in a way, they weren’t wrong. I never knew when the compulsion would strike, and I had no control over it. I’d been known to succumb to a lament mid-conversation.