Page 38 of Fractured Souls
I let out a long exhale and looked around the bright garden-like graveyard featuring hundreds of headstones. Far at the back I could see larger buildings, mausoleums of a sort, and of course the crypts.
“Wait…” I narrowed my gaze, trying to get a better visual. “Aren’t crypts above ground? They’re just stone chambers to hold the coffins in, right? How can one fit an entire family?”
“Yes,” Zander said, “but the one for the pureblood siren families is a bit different. They didn’t want it to be super showy like the mausoleums, but they still needed a lot of space.”
“I’m sort of excited to see this,” Adriel mumbled, sounding confused by his own reaction. I didn’t blame him—now that I felt shielded from the chaos outside, I was very much looking forward to exploring and seeing if I could get into the crypt. I just hoped it wasn’t a failed mission…I seriously couldn’t get over how similar the Darklace family portrait bore a resemblance to my brother and me.
“How do we know which one it is?” Rhett asked.
“It’s one of the oldest.”
That made sense. As we made our way towards the back of the cemetery, my siren seemed to shimmer under my skin, having relaxed under Zander’s power but feeling awakened and alerted by…something. My gaze tracked ahead where a dark stone crypt sat surrounded by tall grasses and nothing else. It was absolutely not impressive, but my attention was riveted by it. Without telling them what I was doing, I went ahead until I stood right in front of it.
My lips pressed up, feeling victorious, because it was unmarked—because this was the one.
“This is it,” I called out, hearing music in the back of my head, faint but very much there. Like a warning bell…but not exactly a warning, more like a doorbell, like a greeting or announcement. I couldn’t fully explain the surge rolling over me, but something important was happening here.
“Looks old enough,” Draven said, his brows dipping in concentration as if trying to get a read on it.
“I don’t feel any magic coming off of it,” Desmond said.
“You wouldn’t,” Zander admitted.
“But if your theory is right, Lorcan would,” Adriel added.
“Do you, bunny?” Rhett appeared behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“I feel something,” I murmured before tilting my head, tuning into my other senses to see if I could sense anything.
“I don’t hear or smell anything,” Dean said, sounding frustrated.
“Which is odd because I can smell nearly every corpse here.” Cash shook his head as if grossed out by the concept. I didn’t blame him—that sounded far from pleasant.
“I hear music, very faint though. But I can also hear something else now,” I said, listening closer. “Sort of. It sounds more like an echo than anything.” Like small pebbles falling or hitting against stone…and maybe rushing water. It was coming from underground, that much I could recognize.
“What would she need to do to make this work?” Rhett asked.
“Better not be cutting open her fucking hand,” Dean growled, narrowing his eyes on Zander’s palm, which of course had stopped bleeding—but even I could admit the wound looked painful and irritated.
“I don’t know,” Zander admitted, looking annoyed by that. “This isn’t something that’s recorded—on purpose. It would have been passed down by the family….so Lorcan sort of needs to feel it out with her magic.”
“If anything seems off or you feel like your magic is getting tangled, I want you to immediately pull back,” Draven instructed softly, his voice edged in concern. “Promise me, little lamb.”
“I promise.” I looked at all of them. “I know this is dangerous, but it’s worth it.”
For so many reasons.
Turning towards the crypt, I hesitated for only a moment before I ran my fingers along the cold stone. My eyes shut in concentration as I surged my magic into the tomb, inhaling sharply at the magic that met mine.
Like a sentinel guarding what lay in the crypt, it froze me under its force, my body suddenly transported into a tundra of power. I shivered as it circulated around me, trying to feel out my own magic, a not-so-metaphorical sword poised at my neck. An angry, feral noise vibrated in my ears, and my heart started to beat double time, wondering if this would result in…my death? Was that possible? I couldn’t help but tremble under the threat.
Then, in a snap, it was gone.
A loud groan, stone against stone, had my eyes slowly opening to find the crypt in front of us sliding open on its own, to reveal…a staircase underground.
“Damn,” Cash mumbled. I nodded mutely, feeling sort of stunned by its appearance. The scent of damp earth and mold hit me right in the face, and the sound of running water below trickled loudly in my ears.
Before I could even get a leg over the side of the crypt, Draven was in front of me and squeezing my hip in passing, taking the front with Cash. I nearly grumbled at that but was relieved when magic fueled flames lit up the torches on the wall, showing its winding descent. Without a word I followed, and our footsteps echoed loudly as we made our way downstairs.
