Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I balked. “You want me to obey you?”

  “I see.” Dom’s chest rose as he inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nose. “It would seem you are not ready.” Without another word, he turned and headed back toward the door. He lifted his right foot and pulled on his discarded sock, then lifted his left foot to do the same.

  “Wait, Dom. Please, just … I’m sorry.” I climbed to my feet using the wooden wall behind me for leverage. Unsure what to do with my hands once I was standing, I folded my arms behind my back, gripping my elbows. “I’ll do it. Whatever you want. I just—” I stared hard at the head of the snake on the mat. “I need this.” My eyes felt glassy, and I wanted to punch myself for my body’s go-to reaction of tearing up whenever I was frustrated or angry. “I need help. I—” I swallowed, choking on the words. “I need your help. Please …”

  In my periphery, I saw him set his sock back down on his shoe, remove his other, then straighten. “Very well. Let us begin.”

  24

  Fault & Blame

  I sat in the center of the training room, my elbow on my knee and my chin resting on my palm. My hair was crusty with dried sweat, and only a small damp spot chilled my lower back where my T-shirt had yet to dry. I blew a chunk of hair away from my eye.

  My stomach yawned audibly, begging for food. I had water aplenty, thanks to the bathroom tucked behind an inconspicuous door in the back corner of the room, but food was nowhere to be found. Trust me, I looked everywhere. There were only two other doors in the training room besides the one to the bathroom, each leading to a storage closet. Neither stored food.

  I wondered if I would reach the hungry-enough-to-pass-out point by the time Dom returned in the morning. Because I sure as hell wasn’t leaving until then, not even to keep my stomach from eating itself. I would pass his stupid test, damn it, even if I starved to death in the process.

  The door behind me opened, and I sighed. “There’s no way it’s morning already …”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Marcus.” I spun around on my butt and climbed first to one knee, then up onto shaky legs. I started smoothing down my hair but, realizing it was pointless, tucked what I could behind my ears. “I thought you were Dom.”

  The ghost of a smile touched Marcus’s mouth. “Mind if I join you?”

  I took a step backwards, arms extended as much as my fatigued muscles could manage. “You own the place …”

  That ghostly smile made another appearance. Marcus turned away from me, toed off his sneakers, pulled off his socks, and stepped onto the mat barefoot. He wore silver and white basketball shorts and a plain white T-shirt, the lump from the tiny At vial containing Lex’s bonding pheromones visible over his heart, as always. “I hear that Dom is training you?” He crossed the serpent and made his way to the centermost ring of the mat.

  I withdrew back to the wall and slid down to the floor. “I guess.”

  Marcus nodded to himself. “That’s good. He’s an excellent teacher.”

  I shrugged. It was only my first day training with Dom, so I had no clue how this whole thing would go. “I can’t leave,” I told Marcus. “Just so you know. Sorry.”

  He stood in the center of the mat, feet shoulder-width apart. “What has he tasked you with?”

  “Something impossible.” At Marcus’s quirked eyebrow, I explained, “Dom wants me to count all of the individual objects in the room. I can’t leave until I have the right answer, and he made it more than clear that there’s only one right answer, and that if I get it wrong, we’re done—no more training.” I huffed a breath. “It’s a test, obviously.”

  “It is. And there is only one right answer.”

  That earned an eye roll. “Yeah, I figured that out about five minutes after he left me in here, oh”—I held my arm up in front of me and squinted at my bare wrist—“about two hours ago. And I know the answer has nothing to do with how many ‘things’ are in this room. Because, like, what counts? Do the nails in the wall count? Does each board under the mat count? Does everything in the bathroom count? There are a gazillion possible answers, but only one way for me to not fail.” I crossed my arms over my chest and extended my legs straight out in front of me, crossing my ankles as well. “I have to stay in here until Dom returns in about twelve hours. It’s a riddle, and that’s the damn answer.”

  “How cruel,” Marcus said, chuckling. “And what is the point of such a test?”

  “Besides torturing me?” I frowned. “I don’t know … I guess it tests how committed I am?” I bit my bottom lip, my brow scrunched. “Or determined?” I snorted, laughing under my breath. “Or stupid.”

  “I have watched Dom train many young Nejerets, and more often than not, his would-be pupils fail this first test.”

  I stared at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Really?”

  Marcus nodded. “Not with a wrong answer, but by arguing that the test itself is unfair. In doing so, they prove that their pride outweighs their willingness to learn.”

  “Oh.”

  “It is the first sign of a poor pupil.”

  I stared at my toes. “But it doesn’t say anything about how good they’ll be at actually fighting …” Or how bad they’ll be …

  “Ah, but for those who pass, well—determination can turn even the slowest learner or clumsiest pupil into the most adept martial artist.”

  “You think so?” Maybe there was hope for me, then.

  “I know so. Now, if you don’t mind, I need quiet so I can focus while I run through the kata.”

  “Oh, right.” My cheeks heated. “Sorry.”

  Marcus turned so he was facing the door to the outside—to literally all the food in the world—and held his fists extended before him, just a few inches from his body. I watched as he started to move, filled with both awe and trepidation. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to make my body do what his could. Some of his motions were jerky, like an intended strike with his hands or feet, while others resembled the smooth, flowing motions of a ballet dancer. And his breathing seemed as much a part of the routine as the placement of his arms and legs. He moved around the mat for what felt like an eternity but what I figured must have been an hour and a half or so, never stopping for more than a few seconds and seeming to never tire.

  Finally, he stood exactly as he’d begun and bowed to the door, then turned around and bowed to me.

  I clapped halfheartedly. “Good job?”

  Marcus’s lips twitched. Relaxing, he crossed the mat and sat beside me, his breathing impossibly even. This close, though, I could see that he’d worked up a pretty solid sweat. “So what did you think?” He rested his elbows on his upraised knees and clasped his hands together lazily. “Ready to give the kata a try?”

  I scoffed. “Sure. And then I’ll cure cancer.”

  “You never know. You might surprise yourself.” He threw me a sidelong glance. “I’ve been teaching Lex—I was, before—and she’s no fighter, but she’s been picking up the forms fairly quickly.”

  “Yeah, but Lex was a dancer for most of her life. It’s practically the same thing.”

  “Perhaps it has helped, but as I said, she is no fighter—not in practice, and not in spirit. She doesn’t have the heart for it. She is, at her core, almost stubbornly passive. Live and let live.” His words weren’t filled with judgment but rather hummed with reverie. “It pains me to watch her be drawn deeper and deeper into this war.”

  I turned my head to look at his strong profile full on. His fingers pinched the lump under his shirt and his eyes stared ahead, no doubt seeing things not of this place or time.

  “She’s strong, Marcus. She’ll survive this.” I hesitated before adding, “She’ll make it back to us.”

  He grunted faintly and placed his hands on the floor, leaning forward to get up.

  “Can I, um … ask you something?”

  He paused and looked at me. “I believe you just did.”

  I let the words tumble out of my mouth befor
e I could chicken out. “Have you guys had any luck in tracking down the Kin?” I itched for knowledge of those responsible for dragging my mom down the path that had led to her eventual death. I wanted nothing more than for Marcus to tell me we’d found them all. To tell me we’d wiped them out.

  “I know it’s hard with the At being pretty much inaccessible,” I said, “but hasn’t anything my mom told you helped?” Dom had been interrogating her for hours each morning and afternoon during the days leading up to her death. He’d spent the most time with her while she was here, and it was Dom who’d relayed her messages to me every day—her pleas to see me. Pleas I’d ignored. Why hadn’t I just sucked it up and visited her? They say time heals all wounds, but this one—this regret and guilt—it festered, worsening every day.

  “In a sense,” Marcus said, “yes, your mother’s information has helped. We know the names of the Kin she interacted with, as well as some of what they can do using their sheuts. We know much about their structure and motives and have even managed to track down where they were when Gen and Carson—Apep—fled, but the Kin have long since moved on.”

  “Oh.” I stared down at my hands.

  Marcus was quiet for a moment, frozen in that half-tensed position. “I assure you, Kat, they will pay for what happened to Gen. Unfortunately, progress has been slow because the Council is divided about—”

  “When aren’t they,” I said under my breath.

  Much to my surprise, I earned a bark of laughter from Marcus. “Quite true. But this time, half of us believe the Kin have gone ‘underground’ to re-amass their efforts against the Council of Seven, while the other half believe they’ve scattered to the wind, leaderless and without purpose.”

  “So does that half want to give up?” Even asking the question left a bitter taste in my mouth. I blamed myself for what happened to my mom, but I also blamed the Kin. As I sat there, I felt some of that blame shift away from me and toward them. There was no doubt in my mind that if it weren’t for the Kin, she’d still be alive. I suddenly wanted nothing more than the strength, skill, and ability to find them. To hurt them. To make them pay for stealing my mom’s life. I didn’t want the Council to avenge my mom. I wanted to avenge her myself.

  “Not a chance,” Marcus said, his voice hard. “But it changes the way we would hunt them—and hunt them we will. Make no mistake of that.” He pushed up off the floor and stood over me. “Is there anything else?”

  I ventured a glance up at him, then returned to staring at my hands, picking at imaginary hangnails. “I just—” I coughed to conceal a convulsive pre-sob. “I was so mad at my mom. I wish I’d visited her while she was here. I wish I’d had a chance to tell her I forgave her, but I was so mad at her …” I’d never said it aloud before. It felt good to admit, like a confession that would bring me one step closer to absolution. I laugh-cried and shook my head angrily. “If I’d known …”

  Marcus placed his hand on my shoulder. “I know, Kat. And I understand. Gen would forgive you, I have no doubt in my heart.”

  My chin trembled, and I turned my face away from him. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

  “Perhaps, in time, you’ll be able to forgive yourself.”

  As the tears broke free and my shoulders shook, Marcus removed his hand and made his way across the mat. Moments later, he was gone, and I was alone with only my anger and despair for company.

  And a whole damn lot of determination. I would pass Dom’s test. I would learn to fight. And I would avenge my mom. The Kin would pay.

  25

  Hunger & Drive

  I locked my bedroom door and sat on my bed, closed laptop before me on the comforter. My heart beat rapidly as I stared at the small black thumb drive resting atop the computer. Dom had considered the thumb drive a gift. I wasn’t so sure.

  “I’m impressed with your progress, little sister.”

  “Oh, um …” I met his eyes for the briefest moment, then stared down at the spot where the serpent’s tail disappeared into its mouth on the training room floor. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, and I was still a little out of breath from our latest training session. “Thanks.”

  Dom lifted my chin with cool fingertips. “Humility balances pride. Shame does not. Don’t feel ashamed to take pride in all you have accomplished so far.” He smiled, the rare, fond expression softening his severe features. “I am proud of you.”

  I looked up at him, shocked by his words. I kid you not, my heart swelled so big I literally thought it might explode. I felt all warm and fuzzy and chock-full of a crap-ton of joy.

  Because Dom was proud of me.

  What was happening to me?

  “You deserve a reward for your hard work and discipline these last four weeks,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his loose-fitting workout pants. He pulled out a slim, black thumb drive and offered it to me on his palm. “This drive contains the video files from my interrogations of your mother.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, apparently unconcerned with the sweat-soaked state of my T-shirt. “I know what it is to have the driving force behind all of one’s actions stem from the loss of one’s mother. And moreover, I know what it is like to have vengeance become one’s central purpose.”

  My eyes widened. Though a desire for revenge against the Kin had slowly overshadowed my self-loathing over the long weeks of training, I’d never admitted it to anyone. “So …” I wiped my palms on my yoga pants. “What happened to your mom?”

  “Apep happened.” Dom must’ve read the disappointment on my face, because he added, “Perhaps one day I will tell you my story, but today is not that day. Just know that I understand your reasons for training so hard … and I approve.” His dark eyes bore into me. “I will continue to help you in any way I can. I only ask one thing of you—plan your vengeance all you like, but do nothing until I deem you ready.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Good.” His stare became more intense, if that was even possible. “The path of vengeance is dark and lonesome, and it often stretches on and on without end. At times, it will seem to you as though you walk this path alone, because none feel the loss of your mother as deeply as you do and none are driven onward by it as resolutely as you are. But you are not alone. I will be with you, if not by your side, then here”—he touched the tips of his first two fingers to my temple—“and here,” he finished, placing the palm of his other hand to the left of my sternum, directly over my heart. A moment later, he withdrew his hands.

  Tears welled in my eyes. Not because I was sad or pissed or frustrated, but because he cared. My big brother cared about me, and the revelation made me almost giddy. “Thank—” I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Dom.” It was impossible for him not to notice the effect his words were having on me, and for once, I didn’t care one bit. “Really, I—just, thank you.”

  I glanced at the bedroom door, double-checking that it was locked, then returned to staring at the thumb drive. I’d missed out on my mom’s final days because I’d been too stupid or stubborn or resentful—maybe all three. I doubted I would ever forgive myself for that, whatever Marcus said, but I felt like I owed it to my mom to do what little I could to make up for it.

  I blew out my breath and, with shaking fingers, picked up the thumb drive and plugged it into the laptop. I raised the computer screen and turned it on. Within seconds, the desktop appeared, the wallpaper a photo of Lex and me standing in front of the pseudo-Gothic Suzzallo Library at the University of Washington. The icon for the thumb drive hovered directly over the bun atop my head in the photo.

  I forced my hesitant finger to direct the mouse to the icon and double-click.

  I’d expected a half dozen video files, maybe a little more. I scrolled the folder’s view bar downward. “Holy shit …” There were a lot more than a half dozen.

  A quick skim through the file names revealed two types: some with just a date and time, and some with a parenthetical amendment that included my name and a time marker. I clicked
on one of the latter at random. The video player opened, and my mom appeared on the screen, sitting at a small, square metal table in what appeared to be some sort of a jail cell. A moment later, Dom came into view and sat opposite her.

  She was there, on the screen. Alive.

  I held my breath, my finger hovering over the mouse pad.

  My mom glanced at the camera, and it was like she was looking at me. Like she could see me. All of the guilt and shame I’d been working so hard on bottling up broke free, crashing over me.

  I snapped the laptop shut. A horrific sob tore its way up my throat, and I buried my face in my hands.

  Not thirty seconds later, someone knocked on my bedroom door. “Kat, dear?” It was Aset. “Are you alright?”

  I groaned into my hands. If there was one thing I’d learned from living in a house with a bunch of Nejerets, it was that privacy was essentially nonexistent. At least the house’s other, human occupants—Lex’s parents and sister, Jenny—hadn’t heard my stupid, ugly sob.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m fine!” I scanned the bedroom furniture like it would magically give me somewhere to hide. Hopefully for the rest of my life. “Just stubbed my toe on the dresser,” I lied.

  “Alright, well …” In those two words, Aset made it abundantly clear that my ruse had failed. “Tarsi and I are heading down to do some bloodwork. A hand would be most welcome, if you’re not too busy. You know how much she loves drawing with you …”

  I stared longingly at my laptop but knew I wouldn’t be attempting that again within the long earshot of Nejerets. Which meant I wouldn’t be watching the videos in this house, or even on the compound. But that led to the question—where to go? I didn’t want to watch the videos somewhere public. The possibility that tons of people might witness my weakness and misery firsthand was out of the question. Too many people had seen me break down already.

  A park, maybe? Or I could just borrow one of Heru’s gazillion cars and pull into a parking lot—any parking lot.