Siren Song (The Fated #1)

07 | The Soul

Sleep came slow, and sudden. One moment, Iliana had her face buried in one of the two, downy pillows she'd been provided as tears silently disappeared into the fabric, and in the next, she was out. How long she slept was impossible to track. Her next flash of awareness came in the form of a muffled scream into her still-damp pillow.

She jerked near upright, body taut as a wire. Her heart raced, eyes burning. She must have thrashed and twisted while dreaming, because her actions had left her tangled in the thin sheets. Her eyes searched the room, looking for the bodies that'd haunted her nightmares. What she found froze her gasps to a shocked nothing.

The disorientation that came with waking suddenly was the only thing that kept her from shouting at the sight of a man standing in the center of the cabin.

His dusty brown hair was cut short, and he had dark gray irises that seemed to bore past her eyes and into her mind. His gaze sent a shiver down her spine, as did the fact that she soon realized she could almost see right through him. There was a strange, translucent-like appearance to his body. She saw him, square jaw, toned body, rugged clothing and all, but she had the distinct, strange feeling that she could also just barely see the door behind him.

Was he a soul?

It was said that those who died in remote areas sometimes wondered for months before they were collected by a reaper. Humans, like her, were normally ignorant to the presence of souls, beyond the occasional shiver or feeling of being watched. Cold fear brushed her mind at the thought. Had something happened while she slept? Has the sirens lied about her injury being nothing more than a bump?

Iliana shook her head, casting off the idea. Sleep was making her mind slow, she decided. After all, she had also heard of those who'd come close to death being able to see the truly dead. Perhaps nearly drowning counted? Just because she could see what was potentially a dead person in the middle of her room didn't give her a reason to panic.

She was fine. This was... fine.

"Who--what are you?"

The man's eyes widened. Was it the tremble in her voice, she wondered, or her ability to see him that he hadn't expected? Iliana might have asked, but his eyes suddenly narrowed into that intense, bone chilling stare he'd originally worn. The temperature in the room plunged as he suddenly closed the distance between them.

She couldn't move.

Her heart raced, nervousness flooding her system. Some instinct told her that this soul had no intention of harming her--if he even could--but that didn't stop her thoughts from spinning, nor ease the fear freezing her in place. There was something other to the air. Was he causing this unease?

He stopped next to her, his fingers raised as if to catch her chin. Those steely eyes slowly skimmed her from head to toe, searching for something. His lips moved, but no words met her ears. Iliana forced herself past her fear and frowned. She could see, but not hear him? Did it have something to do with his being a soul? Or was it this village?

Either way, the ability to read lips wasn't one she possessed.

"I can't understand you," she said. "Could you spell it out? On the bed, or in the air perhaps?"

Iliana would've searched for parchment, but doubted it would do them any good. The way his fingers ghosted through her chin gave Iliana the impression he wouldn't have been able to grasp the quil to write with.

As all of this drifted through her mind, Iliana realized she'd become eerily calm. Part of her knew that the feeling was unnatural. She should've been terrified. Did the sudden change in emotions have something to do with him? Or had it simply been muffled by her distaste for anything that might draw attention to her cabin?