The Songs of Fate Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Information

  Also By K. W. Hall

  Table Of Contents:

  About The Songs Of Fate

  Chapter One Lies and Light

  Chapter Two Dust and Blood

  Chapter Three Strangers

  Chapter Four A Sun and the Night

  Chapter Five Nightmares and Truth

  Chapter Six Emeralds and Canyons

  Chapter Seven Whiskey and Secrets

  Chapter Eight Strange Waters

  Chapter Nine Believe

  Chapter Ten Creatures and Men

  Chapter Eleven Ice and Loss

  Chapter Twelve Guilt and Grief

  Chapter Thirteen Logan

  Chapter Fourteen Sand and Sword

  Chapter Fifteen The One You Seek

  Chapter Sixteen Where the Road Ends

  Chapter Seventeen Drowning

  Chapter Eighteen Worse Than Death

  Chapter Nineteen Mercy

  Chapter Twenty Life

  Chapter Twenty-One Pain and Pleasure

  Chapter Twenty-Two Ales

  Chapter Twenty-Three Both

  Chapter Twenty-Four Stay

  Chapter Twenty-Five Fate

  Chapter Twenty-Six Passion

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Targets

  Chapter Twenty-Eight For Eir

  Chapter Twenty-Nine How We Choose

  Chapter Thirty The Last Mark

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Copyright © 2022 by K.W. Hall

  All rights reserved.

  Editor: Liz Long, Blue Fire Media

  Cover Designer: Rachel Bostwick

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval systems without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at

  www.kwhallnovels.com

  ALSO BY K.W. HALL

  SINFUL SECRETS SERIES:

  Satisfying Secrets

  Sanctuary of Secrets (August 2022)

  Saving Secrets (November 2022)

  THE WAR OF FATE SAGA:

  The Sisters of Fate (2023)

  Table Of Contents:

  Chapter One Lies and Light

  Chapter Two Dust and Blood

  Chapter Three Strangers here

  Chapter Four A Sun and the Night

  Chapter Five Nightmares and Truth

  Chapter Six Emeralds and Canyons

  Chapter Seven Whiskey and Secrets

  Chapter Eight Strange Waters

  Chapter Nine Believe

  Chapter Ten Creatures and Men

  Chapter Eleven Ice and Loss

  Chapter Twelve Guilt and Grief

  Chapter Thirteen Logan

  Chapter Fourteen Sand and Sword

  Chapter Fifteen The One You Seek

  Chapter Sixteen Where the Road Ends

  Chapter Seventeen Drowning

  Chapter Eighteen Worse Than Death

  Chapter Nineteen Mercy

  Chapter Twenty Life

  Chapter Twenty-One Pain and Pleasure

  Chapter Twenty-Two Ales

  Chapter Twenty-Three Both

  Chapter Twenty-Four Stay

  Chapter Twenty-Five Fate

  Chapter Twenty-Six Passion

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Targets

  Chapter Twenty-Eight For Eir

  Chapter Twenty-Nine How We Choose

  Chapter Thirty The Last Mark

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  About The Songs Of Fate

  The Fates have chosen their warrior.

  For the past three years, Charlie has fought against the power growing inside her—the strange sparks of light are painful but brutally intoxicating. Just like her dreams of a gray-eyed warrior.

  After fighting an unknown creature while hiking, Charlie is aided by a friendly stranger, Logan. But Logan is not who he pretends to be…

  When Charlie discovers her dark dreams are not just fantasies but linked to missing men in San Diego, she delves into a world beyond her own—a world of darkness, love, and war… The War of Fate.

  This book is dedicated to my grandmother,

  Lucille, a woman of fire and spirit.

  Chapter One

  Lies and Light

  Dad’s gruff voice oozed concern. “Another man was reported missing today.”

  “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?” I murmured into the phone, attempting to start the conversation like a normal person.

  “Did you know two more men went missing this month?”

  “No. I stopped watching the news.” It was just too damn depressing.

  “Oh, honey, you should definitely watch the news. I feel like you’re not even in touch with reality anymore.”

  Shots fired, in typical Dad fashion.

  “That’s a little hypocritical coming from the man who moved to the middle of nowhere, Texas, whose closest friends are three goats and a pig.”

  “Better than three sheep and a donkey,” he said.

  “Not by much. Why don’t you have something normal, like a dog?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you have a dog? I’d feel better if you had a dog, for protection.”

  I don’t need a guardian, or worse, something to take care of.

  “Eh, it’s a lot of commitment keeping a living thing alive. Maybe I could make a goldfish work.”

  “A goldfish won’t wake you up when someone is breaking into your apartment,” he snapped.

  “Who is breaking into my apartment? I have nothing to steal! You really need to stop watching Dateline. It’s perfectly safe here, despite everything you’ve heard.”

  “You go hiking by yourself all the time, and I think it’s too much of a risk.”

  “Dad, if I didn’t leave the house alone, I’d never leave the house. Besides, I’m always cautious when I go out.”

  “Really, how?”

  “I have a stun gun thing.” I think, somewhere, in a drawer that I store the batteries in, maybe. “And I also only go to well-populated areas.” Sort of. Most of the time. If I didn’t go at odd hours when I couldn’t sleep.

  With the amount of lies that had spewed from my mouth over the past few years, you’d think I would be able to make it sound a little more believable.

  “Well, that makes me feel better. I guess. Do you still hang out with those girls you used to surf with?” His optimism was occasional and brief. I couldn’t take it from him.

  “Yeah, I see them now and then. They aren’t in my doctoral program, but we go to lunch together sometimes,” I wheezed out and took another sip of water.

  I didn’t even know which girls my dad referred to. I hadn’t been out to lunch with another soul in two years. The last time was because it felt like an obligation to my overly-generous landlord. She let me rent this garage apartment for half the price it should have gone for, and she promised it was mine for as long as I wanted it.

  “Are you eating enough? Last time I was there, I barely recognized you.”

  “I know, Dad, but really, I’m fine,” I said with a little too much gusto to be my normal tone of voice. Crap. “Listen, I gotta go finish the rest of these readings.”

  “Okay, please be careful, and, for the love of God, Charlie, pick
up your phone once in a while,” he pleaded, with enough force that I started unconsciously nodding.

  “I’ll start being better about that,” I promised. “I don’t want you to worry about me anymore. I can handle it. Bye, Dad.”

  I hit the disconnect button and dusted the breadcrumbs off my shirt, scouring my plate for remnants of lunch meat. Nothing. I wiped my hands and returned to my oversized chair.

  The keys of my laptop tapped underneath my fingers without pause to note an interesting passage I needed to investigate further. I had missed a few on the last read-through of the chapter. The light from the afternoon sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of my cozy room, alerting me it was already well into the afternoon. Once the entire passage analysis was documented, the pinpricks and tingling of my crossed legs forced me to stand, stiffly.

  Just a few more hours of reading, I silently begged my aching brain. Then we will all go for a nice sunset run on the trail near the beach no one knows about.

  Diving into the next chapter with the delight of a well-stocked squirrel, I spread a cracker with peanut butter and lightly munched until crumbs filled the page. I proceeded to sweep the page clean and move onto the next. This long chapter focused on the origins of an 11th Century runestone from Sweden. Most people would’ve been bored to tears, but this shit I just couldn’t put down. My soul craved it in a way I couldn’t explain.

  I swiped my phone and hit my favorited playlist of acoustic country tunes to help drown out my crunching sounds. Licking peanut butter from my fingertips, I started the next chapter nodding along, popping crackers into my mouth two at a time.

  A violent, white-hot sensation streaked across my skin.

  Veins of lightning flickered over my arms, then penetrated into my chest.

  No, not again. Please not again.

  Gasping, I clawed into the arms of my chair, spitting crumbs from my tongue. I choked on the air being ripped from my chest. Bursting out of my chair, the electric burn raced through my body and began flowing through my mind. The edges of my vision swam with murky images of the room. I stumbled to reach for something, for someone. My fingertips brushed the edge of my desk, fluttering over the back of my phone.

  A harsh, piercing scream poured out of my raw throat at the scalding sensation that corroded my mind. It scorched through every muscle, every pore of my body. I fell to my knees, kneading my hands into the carpet. I let myself crumble under the blaze. Tears dripped from my nose as I bent my head to the ground, howling at the intensity of the unending bolts of energy coursing into me.

  Fight it. Focus. Breathe. It will go away.

  The electric agony ebbed into an unusual tingling of discomfort. Slumping to my side, I crawled into a small ball on the floor and focused on breathing air back into my lungs. The tears that had poured down my cheeks left a wet stain on the ground where I laid my head.

  Cool waves of air finally entered my mouth and flowed into my chest. Each exhale became a moan of relief. The tinges of discomfort receded into tiny sparks of numbness, and I closed my eyes.

  The frigid waters cooled my fevered skin and soothed the aching burn deep in my mind. Gentle currents tugged me deeper into the darkness, blanketing me in its icy depths.

  My body stilled as I waited. My raven locks ebbed freely through the water, blending with the current until they were one and the same.

  I recognized him before I saw him.

  He lurked behind the cobalt blue veil of ocean. His perilous warmth reached my body before he extended his hand to me. His palm was embedded with an onyx black symbol. It pulsed with power—a strength that called to me. I paused and looked into his eyes.

  His eyes were not just gray. They illuminated the darkness, glowing like liquid silver, twisting and raging in a deadly storm.

  I could almost taste the intoxicating notes of citrus and nectar that lingered on his tongue. My hand twitched with the anticipation of touching him again, but with his kiss came so much more.

  I swallowed quickly. My throat constricted at the memory.

  The water tugged at my clothes. My shirt clung to my shoulders and swayed around my abdomen. The water weighed me down.

  Every time we met he seemed closer, more familiar, more dangerous.

  I reached for him, craving the sight of his eyes as much as his treacherous kiss.

  His bronzed arms were streaked with white scars up to his neck. He came closer, not yet within reach, but I could view a thick brand cut into his bare chest. His torso was lean. His arms appeared to have been sculpted from black obsidian.

  I licked my lips. Fear coated my tongue. I couldn’t be here again… I had to escape. I struggled, my hands slicing through the water, kicking away from him.

  I knew what he would do.

  Gray Eyes continued to grasp for me as the water pulsed around him.

  I couldn’t look away from the strange marking on his palm. The lines were sharp and intricate, melding and swirling together. They looked ancient and threatening, like the man that was before me.

  I thrashed in the ocean.

  He was now only a whisper away from gripping my arm. His opposite hand held a dagger, slightly eclipsed in the murky waters. The knife was long and wicked, forged with a golden-tipped handle and strange markings etched down the blade.

  I couldn’t control my movements. My body was not mine anymore.

  His hand wrapped around my forearm, and I felt like I was being ripped apart. White lightning struck behind my eyes. My body went still. The pain was ecstasy. I was drawn to him without my consent by a force I couldn’t fight.

  He dropped his chin, and his lips brushed mine. A slight kiss. Barely a caress.

  Oh yes… this was what I wanted.

  His temptingly warm lips whispered foreign words before returning to mine. The sweet taste of his mouth fought for supremacy against the burning in my mind.

  I could feel myself lean into his kiss. My hands went to touch him, to sweep the black hair away from his face. I wanted to see the face of the man who had haunted me for years. I had tried so many times, but the darkness always veiled his face.

  His arm snaked around my back. His blazing palm pressed me closer to his bare chest, and I kept reaching for him. I needed more. I wanted more.

  The cold edge of the blade glided up my arm. The dagger’s edge brushed over my delicate skin. He stroked the tip over my shoulder, teasing me with the blade.

  His lips hovered over mine as the silver edge continued its path up my body. My tongue swept out to his lips on its own volition. He withdrew his mouth from mine and firmly held the tip of the blade over my heart…

  Cracking my eyes, one tiny fragment at a time, the room appeared dim. Only the small streetlight sent a tiny glow into the room.

  I squinted into the darkness of my apartment and ran my hands down my arms, over my face, and then onto my chest. Searching my body for damage, for blood, or, worse, burn marks. I pulled off my loose shirt and peered down at my chest, my bare stomach, my pale feet.

  Nothing.

  My skin seemed as it had before, not a mark or a speck of blood to be found. As always, the violence and the man were just in my head.

  My hands came to rest over my chest, and I drew in deep, long, breaths.

  It’s getting worse. Damn it. I was doing everything right. How can it be getting worse?

  Gingerly, grabbing onto the edge of my desk, I pulled myself to my feet. My head buzzed with tiny black dots. I stood as a wave of bile began moving up my throat from the pit of my stomach.

  Firmly shutting my mouth, I darted to the bathroom and slid to my knees on the cold tile floor. My body rejected every piece of food from my stomach. I retched and gagged on the taste of saltwater. It burned down the back of my nose and throat.

  Shaking, I flushed the contents and fought to take deep breaths. I clutched the edge of the sink and wiped my mouth.

  Small licks of excitement tickled down my neck. Despite the purge, I was exhil
arated.

  You’re psychotic, that’s why.

  Three years, four therapists later, and I was mentally deteriorating. They say it’s normal to have nightmares after a tragedy, but this didn’t feel like post-traumatic stress. Not when I wanted the dreams because they were the closest thing to pleasure I’d had in three years. But that wasn’t the only reason I wanted the dreams. I felt so freaking good afterwards. I never told that part to the therapists. They would officially lock me in an institution if I told them they made me feel oddly powerful despite the fact I kept dying in them.

  Pull yourself together.

  I reached for my toothbrush, squeezed out heaping layers of paste, and scrubbed the essence of ocean and vomit from my mouth. When I met him in the sea, I always tasted the salt water afterwards.

  I turned my head, checking for soreness from passing out on the floor.

  Little pulses erupted from my temples with the movement. The headache would subside, eventually. It always took time for the nightmares to ease from my mind. The saltwater wasn’t so bad. Even the ache from the burning light would fade quickly, but the tingle of anticipation, that always took the longest to leave.

  I stared back into the mirror.

  What is wrong with me?

  I spit into the sink and bent my head to the faucet. The fresh water was a relief on the back of my burning throat. Cupping the water in my hands, I soaked my face and neck. I yanked the towel off the rack and roughly dried my face, before heading to the tiny, overfilled closet. I grabbed my worn shoes and slipped them on, convincing myself that sleep wouldn’t be possible for at least a few more hours. Turning Eric Church up loud on my headphones, I locked the door behind me and stepped out into the cool night air.

  I headed toward the ocean to run my favorite path to the pier and prayed the music would soothe away my incessant thoughts once again. It was too late for any other neighborhood joggers to be out, but there would probably still be a few souls left wandering by the water.

  I didn’t belong in this particular neighborhood of multimillion-dollar homes. Despite everything that happened, I couldn’t resist the smell of the ocean breeze. I should hate it for everything it took from me. It took Jason, the one man I’d ever loved. Yet, it seemed wrong to be far away from the water. The water was my first love, until Jason. A part of me would never be whole without either. It was why the neighborhood of Ocean Beach remained home. I needed to be close to the memories of him, and where we fell in love.