2. Ecco

2

ECCO

A few hours later, I'm curled up on my couch, nervously fiddling with the tassels on a throw pillow as a police officer jots notes in a small black notebook.

Natalie hovers nearby in silk pajamas so fancy they probably cost more than my couch, her makeup slightly smudged and her hair sticking up at strange angles. She's typically unflappable, poised at all times, and her minor state of mess shows how quickly she came when I called.

The officer, a middle-aged human man with a receding hairline and slight paunch, looks up at me with tired skepticism.

"And you're sure this… person… just vanished? Into thin air?" It's clear from his tone that he doesn't believe a word of this.

"Yes, I'm telling you," I insist, my voice trembling. "One second they were there, right by my bed, and the next they were just gone. Like they melted into the shadows."

I feel cold at the memory. I've never seen anything like it, not even back in the magical realms.

The officer heaves a sigh and snaps his notebook shut.

"Look, Miss Waverly, I understand you're shaken up, but without any physical evidence, there's not much we can do. If this… intruder shows up again, give us a call. In the meantime, consider upgrading your security system."

Tears prickle at my eyes, and I blink them back, refusing to cry in front of this dismissive jerk. Of course he's not taking me seriously; the human police have no idea how to handle supernatural threats, and he doesn't seem like the type to admit his own ignorance.

And then there's also the chance that he's just being prejudiced. That he doesn't really care about what happens to me because he knows I'm magical.

Thankfully, before I can say anything I'll regret, Natalie steps forward, arms crossed.

"I assure you, officer, we'll be taking every precaution to ensure Ms. Waverly's safety. Thank you for your time," she finishes coolly.

The officer nods, clearly eager to be done with this bizarre late-night call, and hands me a card before showing himself out.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Natalie turns to me, her sharp edges softening.

"Honey, I'm so sorry this happened. It must have been terrifying. I'm here now, and I'll stay as long as you want me to." She sits beside me and pulls me into a hug. Natalie's a human, too, but at least she takes this seriously.

I melt into her familiar warmth, letting out a shaky breath.

Suddenly, I feel very small and vulnerable, a far cry from the confident pop star I'm supposed to be. I glance towards my bedroom, half expecting to see that chilling figure materialize from the shadows again. My heart pounds at the thought.

What do they want from me? And how am I supposed to protect myself when the human authorities are so woefully unprepared?

I nestle closer to Natalie, trying to anchor myself in her steady presence as my mind spins.

Natalie gives me a final squeeze before pushing to her feet, a take-charge look in her eye that I know all too well.

"Right, you're definitely not staying here alone tonight," she says. "I'll crash in your guest room."

I open my mouth to protest, and Natalie cuts me off with a stern look. "Ecco, this is non-negotiable. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Her no-nonsense tone leaves no room for argument, and my shoulders slump. It's a familiar dance between us—my stubborn independence clashing with her fierce protectiveness.

Suddenly, her cautious approach seems a lot less crazy.

"And in the morning," Natalie continues, "we're going to have a serious discussion about your security situation. I know you don't think you need a security detail, but you need to trust me to do my job here, Ecco. You need protection, especially with your rising profile."

I feel a flicker of annoyance, remembering our previous conversations on this topic. I've always insisted that I'm not famous enough to warrant a bodyguard, that it would be a waste of money and an unnecessary intrusion on my privacy.

But as I meet Natalie's unwavering gaze, I know she won't be backing down this time.

With a sigh, I nod, too tired to argue. "Fine. We'll talk about it in the morning."

The words are bitter on my tongue, but Natalie's shoulders relax slightly, appeased for now. She gives my hand a final squeeze before heading to the guest room.

I retreat back to my room, comforted by her presence just one room away, and curl up with Minx on the bed. Nothing helps me fall asleep. Every creak and groan of the building sets my nerves on edge, and I toss and turn until the first light of dawn creeps through the windows.

Finally giving up on rest, I slip out of bed and pad to the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. The ritual of making tea soothes me, the fragrant steam of lavender Earl Grey rising from my favorite mug.

I inhale deeply, letting the aroma calm my nerves as I move to the window. The city slowly comes to life, the streets still quiet in the early hour. There's a certain magic to this time of day, a sense of possibility humming in the air.

For a moment, I let myself savor it, pushing away the lingering unease from the night before.

Still, I can't quite shake the feeling that everything has changed. That the carefree girl who moved to the city with stars in her eyes might be gone forever, replaced by someone altogether more complicated.

With a glance at Natalie's closed door, I head back into my room and quickly pull on my running gear, determined to get outside and clear my head.

A few minutes later, I push through the rotating door of the lobby. The crisp morning air fills my lungs as I set off at a brisk pace, my feet pounding the pavement in a steady rhythm. I try to lose myself in the familiar cadence, to let the physical exertion quiet my racing thoughts.

As I wind my way through the city, there's a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. The once-familiar streets now seem alien, like every shadowed alley and darkened doorway might be hiding unknown threats.

I flinch as a car backfires in the distance, my pulse racing at the sudden noise.

Get a grip, Ecco , I chide myself, trying to push the paranoid thoughts away. You're a powerful siren, not some helpless damsel .

Despite repeating those words to myself like a mantra, I can't quite make myself believe them. The memory of that figure in my bedroom, the way they simply vanished into the shadows—I'm really shaken up.

I won't let this break me, I vow, pushing myself harder, faster.

I refuse to let one creepy encounter strip away my confidence.

I run for almost two hours, hoping that the rhythm of the run will replace the anxious staccato of my heart. It doesn't work. When I return to my building, the lingering sense of dread remains, a chill that seems to have seeped into my bones despite the pleasant burn of my exertion. And any peace I found on my run shatters as I get to the front.

Natalie's waiting for me outside my building, her arms crossed, mouth pinched in irritation.

"There you are!" she exclaims, equally relieved and exasperated. "I woke up, and you were gone. No note, no text. Do you have any idea how worried I was after what happened last night?"

A pang of guilt twists in me as I realize how my impromptu run must have looked to my manager.

"Natalie, I'm sorry," I say, knowing the words are inadequate. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just needed to get some fresh air."

Natalie's expression softens, but there's still steel in her gaze.

"I understand that, Ecco. From now on, though, you need to be more careful. Which brings me to..."

She takes a step closer. I feel a flicker of unease, sensing that whatever she's about to say will change everything.

Just then, a sleek black SUV pulls up to the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the morning sun. I watch as the driver's side door opens, and a figure emerges.

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the man before me.

He's tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw that looks like it was carved from marble. But what really sets him apart is his skin—a rich, granite gray, marking him as wholly unhuman.

And then there are his wings, huge and leathery, tucked behind his back. He unfurls them, as if trying to intimidate us with them.

He's a gargoyle, I realize, my pulse quickening as I drink in his rugged, stony features.

His light blue eyes meet mine, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. He's quite possibly the most handsome man I've ever seen.

Natalie clears her throat, and I tear my gaze away from the gargoyle to see a knowing smirk playing at her mouth. She's taking in my dazed expression, and a flush creeps up my neck. She turns her attention back to the gargoyle.

"Mr. Grigori, I presume? I'm Natalie Russo, Ecco's manager. I spoke with your uncle last night."

"Pleasure," he says, business-like. His eyes immediately turn back to land on me. "And you must be Ms. Waverly."

"Ecco, say hello to Graeme, your new bodyguard," Natalie prompts, flat-out amused by my silence.

I blink, trying to process her words, rage starting to build from deep inside.

My what ?!