Through the wooden panel, Fintan’s cries sounded as if they were ripping his insides out, and Brenna wasted no time charging to the rescue.
Taryn’s ability to concentrate on anything but the searing pain was nil, and she sagged against the wall.
Creed and Narissa’s bickering heralded their arrival, but the instant she saw Fintan, Narissa left off arguing and rushed to his side.
“What the hell? This has never happened to him before,” she said, her brow knitted with confusion.
Taryn’s stomach sank. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Had she caused this? Was she truly to be his downfall?
CHAPTER7
“I’m not positive, but I think it happened when he took off Bloodstone’s necklace,” Taryn told them. “We were downstairs, discussing its origins. He lifted it from his pocket, and when I tried to touch it, I got electrocuted.”
“Holy fuck,” Creed swore. “Is that what happened to him, too?”
“I don’t think so. When Damian and Jordan woke me, I spotted the amulet across the room, like Fintan had thrown it away,” she said.
Narissa watched her narrowly, then glanced at Fintan before nodding. “It seems like the sort of impulsive gesture he’d do. Don’t stress it, sugar.”
Her voice was heavily accented, as if she’d lived in the Deep South for her entire life, making the endearment sound like “shoog-ah.” Hers was the type of slow-rolling speech that transformed guys into insta-gentlemen, who opened doors, tipped their imaginary hats, and believed she was a helpless “little lady,” needing their manly assistance.
But they’d be wrong.
No more powerful female existed except a goddess or an Aether. Taryn had learned that, when in full form, Siren magic rivaled a Guardian’s. As the perfect mimics, they adapted to fit in—speech included—wherever they settled. Narissa was no different.
“A chameleon-like safety measure,” Brenna had once told Taryn. “It has kept my kind safe for hundreds of years. Most aren’t aware they do it, and the accent adaptation comes naturally.”
Taryn had assumed it was a pitch-perfect thing. Talented singers possessed a discerning ear, but many ordinary humans couldn’t carry a tune in a plastic shopping bag.
“He’s still as salty as ever,” Brenna said after double-checking Fintan’s pulse and ducking his flailing arm. “Where’s the necklace now?”
They all gave her the standardAre you loony?look, but then sought the answer from Taryn.
“I wasn’t about to touch it again, so I assume it’s still on the floor. Damian seemed to forget about it before he left.” She shrugged. “I?—”
Her brain felt as if some sadist was digging around with a hot poker, and she screamed as she dropped to her knees.
“Shit!” Creed sat and drew her close, stroking her temple and rocking her like a small child. “Concentrate on my voice, sweetheart. Can you do that?”
Taryn whimpered, unable to stem the excruciating onslaught.
“Focus and do as I tell you, okay?” He gave her a light squeeze when she nodded. “Excellent. Now, you’re about to become a virtual bricklayer. In your mind’s eye, picture an endless stack of masonry bricks. Got it?”
“Yes,” she whispered through her agony. “But what about Fintan? I can’t leave him alone in there.”
“You don’t have a choice, sugar. You’re likely to go full-on bonkers if you don’t.” Narissa squatted beside them. Humming in a low, sultry voice, she stroked Taryn’s cheek repeatedly. The Siren’s divine-smelling perfume was citrusy, layered with subtle notes of vanilla and gardenia. It rose like an invisible mist, blending with the haunting melody and wrapping around Taryn to soothe her worry.
“I know my cousin, and he wouldn’t want you to suffer,” Narissa assured her.
“But—”
“No buts,” Brenna said before adding her voice to Narissa’s song.
Creed gave her another light squeeze. “Taryn, in front of the bricks is a bucket of mortar and a trough. As quickly as you can, begin building a wall as tall as you can imagine.” He positioned her hands as if she were doing the physical act. “Slap, smooth, block. Slap, smooth, block. Slap, smooth, block.”
He continued the hypnotic rhythm with gestures and verbal guidance.