The Architect of Song (Haunted Hearts Legacy Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    I glanced down at the flower. My chin trembled. I must indeed have lost my mind. For instead of fearing the implications of the apparition I’d imagined, I was desperate to conjure him again.
    Wrapping the woolen throw around me, I touched the petals. On cue, my translucent guest materialized in front of the windows beside my nightingale’s cage, his form aglow with that otherworldly light.
    Upon his appearance, Aria bustled behind the wires as if flames lit her tail feathers. The man kept his back to me, distracted by her. I stood with one hand on the flower, the other cradling the pot to help hold the throw where I had knotted it at my chest.
    If the bird could see him, and he could see the bird, he wasn’t a hallucination.
    He must be real.
    Clasping his gloved hands behind him, my visitor turned around. His eyes were soft like grey clouds of winter, though alive with light, as if the sun lingered behind them.
    There was a shift as I saw him as an irrefutable entity, connected to me on some level defying all logic.
    “Thank you.” His voice curled through the air, warm like a vapor of coffee on a chill morn.
    For? The query formed in my mind. I didn’t even bother moving my lips.
    “For showing me the way out of the darkness. I’ve been there since …” He reached into the lapel of his jacket and pulled out a gold pocket watch of unusual shape, square instead of round. Upon gazing at it, my guest’s jaw twitched. “What time is it? My watch is cracked.” He held it up. Behind a crinkled glass face, the hands pointed to half-past twelve.
    I appraised the clock on my mantle, and this time I answered aloud. “It’s ten of the clock.” Feeling exposed beneath his unfaltering stare, I averted my eyes to the floor. “Sir Hawk.”
    He tucked his watch away. “Hawk?”
    I inched backward until I stood in a puddle of tepid bath water, a result of my swift withdrawal from the tub. “Yes. That’s your name, is it not?”
    “It does seem familiar.” He ran a gloved palm through glossy, shoulder length waves—either black or a brown as rich as burnt chocolate. With his glowing translucence, it was hard to be sure. “I feel as if I’m expected somewhere. Do you know anything of that?”
    I shook my head.
    “I’m dressed for an occasion.” His arms stretched out and he studied his clothes. Then he offered a roguish smile—an arresting flash of straight, white teeth. “Perchance I’ve just arrived, and we were to share a bath.”
    No! I tightened the throw around me, disconcerted yet titillated by the implication.
    The smile slipped from his face. “Wait. Say something.”
    What should I say? I struggled to think over my heart’s raucous pounding. Surely he could hear it.
    “How are you doing that?” He discarded his gloves, revealing long, fine fingers. “Your lips—they don’t move. Yet I still hear you.” His gloves dispersed to dust upon hitting the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, too intent on me. “Is that how you drew me out of the darkness? You are a witch?”
    “I assure you. I am human.” I moved my lips with the words this time, though my vocal cords and tongue played no part in this conversation.
    His shoulders eased, as if relieved by my efforts. He backed up and glanced again at Aria. She preened her feathers while eyeing him suspiciously.
    I dragged the flower’s pot between my breasts to pull the woolen throw higher. My locket wedged beneath it, pinching me.
    Such a tragedy, to have no idea the state he was in.
    He straightened his posture. “What state? Have I been in an accident? Is that why I’m imagining such queer things? Are you my nurse?” Then his attention dropped to my covering. “What kind of hospital is this?”
    Inching toward the windows, the throw trailing behind me through the puddles, I stepped onto the dry rug. Still pinching a flower petal, I sat on the window seat, keeping Aria’s cage between me and my guest. My arm tightened around the flower