Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I focused on the doorway to the back room. The heavy strands of beads were drawn to one side and held back by a decorative hook in the wall. Nik was sitting at the table back there, staring straight ahead, eyes unseeing. It wasn’t the expression that he usually wore when his consciousness was turned inward, communing with Re. This was different. This was new … and really damn unsettling.

  Mari was here, too, strange as it seemed, considering she was target numero uno just a few hours earlier. At the moment, she was in the bathroom tucked around the corner, cleaning off her tent city grime. She’d brought a duffel bag with her—clean clothes, she’d explained, plus a few odds and ends.

  None of us were sure what was going to happen next with Mari, or with me, or with anything, really. The “rogues”—what she called the sheut-toting members of the Kin who’d gone AWOL after Carson broke Apep out of his original At prison—knew where she’d been hiding out, and that reality was enough to keep her away from the tent city and the rest of her people for now. Possibly indefinitely.

  My eyes returned to Nik of their own volition. In my mind, I weighed the words he’d spoken earlier, the claims he’d made. He’d had my trust, and he’d shit it. But then he’d gone and saved my life. I wasn’t sure if that evened the score or not. I wanted to believe him, but I didn’t know if I could anymore.

  “You have to understand,” he said, eyes wild and desperate as they switched from looking down at me to up at Dom in the rearview mirror and back. “I didn’t know this would happen. I never thought Re’s interest in you revolved around you dying.”

  We were in the Lexus, Dom driving back to Capitol Hill and Mari sitting in the front passenger seat. I was in the backseat with Nik, my head on his lap and his wadded-up T-shirt pressed against my stab wound, just trying to move as little as possible. I stared up at Nik as he spoke, studying the changes in his expression, measuring the truth in his words.

  “I swear, Kat, I didn’t know he wanted you to die.”

  “But I didn’t die.” At least, not yet.

  Nik looked down at me and brushed a few stray strands of hair from my face, his hands coming to rest on either side of my head, almost cradling me there in his lap. I’d never seen so much pain in his pale blue eyes, so much anger. So much anything. Indifference was his usual modus operandi, that and being a dick.

  “He won’t shut up,” Nik said. “He just keeps shouting that you should be dead.” He swallowed roughly, then turned his head to look out the window. “I’ve felt him slipping—becoming more erratic … taking bigger risks. He used to share everything he learned in the At with me, but he rarely shares anything these days. I’ve been keeping him subdued with pain—he hates pain—but now …” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s screaming for me to fix it. To finish it …”

  I stiffened. “To do what?”

  Dom brought the car to a stop. He pushed open his door, got out, then yanked Nik’s door open. “Out. Switch seats with Mari.”

  “I won’t do it,” Nik said. “I won’t hurt her.”

  “But he might.” Dom’s voice brokered no arguing. And then there was his face …

  “I’m in control.”

  “Good,” Dom said. “Stay that way. And switch seats with Mari.”

  Nik had been zoned out ever since.

  “This is the last one,” Dom said, guiding the curved needle through my skin one last time.

  “Bummer,” I said, voice strained. “I was just starting to enjoy it.”

  Dom breathed out a laugh and paused, the needle having just passed all the way through me. He bowed his head, quiet for a long moment. When he finally looked up at me, raising his eyes to meet mine, my chest tightened. “I was so afraid—”

  “Don’t,” I said, cutting him off. “Please, Dom. If you—you’ll make me cry, and I think that’ll hurt like a bitch.”

  Dom smiled, softening his sharp features. “So … no more visits to the At for you.” Mari’s knife might not have killed me, and Nik may have saved me from certain nonexistence by binding all of the anti-At particles with regular At, but there would still be lasting side effects. The initial contact had severed my ba from the At—I would never again be able to ascend to that higher plane to watch time play out around me in the echoes. “How are you handling it?” Dom asked, tying off the final suture.

  “Oh, you know …” I started to shrug, but cringed when the movement tugged on the stitches. “I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

  “I would imagine not.” Dom cleaned the wound one last time and bandaged me up. “Let me know when it begins to itch,” he said. “I’ll need to remove the stitches.”

  I nodded, gingerly slipping off the counter.

  The bathroom door opened just a few seconds after my feet touched the hardwood floor, and Mari came around the corner. She looked like an entirely different person—long, sleek black hair pulled back into a high ponytail, navy slacks, lilac blouse, and high-heeled pumps. This was a successful young businesswoman, not someone you’d find in a tent city inhabited by Seattle’s transient population.

  She dumped her duffel bag by the wall behind the checkout counter and headed for the table in the back room. “I can’t possibly explain to you how good it feels to be clean.” She started scooting my mom’s violet armchair away from the table.

  “Not that one,” I said, knowing it was rude and not caring. That was my mom’s chair. If anyone was going to sit there, it was me.

  Mari glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “Oh, um …”

  “The corner,” I said, pointing to a small padded chair tucked away there under a stack of books, twin to the one Nik occupied. Slowly, I made my way into the back room, Dom following behind me. I could practically feel him hovering. “Just move everything to the floor. It’s fine,” I told Mari. Clenching my teeth, I eased down into the violet armchair. I was surprised by how right I felt, sitting there.

  Mari dragged the smaller chair to the table, then sat. “So … what next?” I didn’t know how old she was—that factoid hadn’t been in the videos with my mom. Based on the way she spoke, I’d have guessed she was on the younger side, but I couldn’t say for sure. After all, just look at Nik—he sounded as young and modern as me, most of the time, but he was old as dirt.

  “I believe a free exchange of information might be the best way to proceed,” Dom suggested. He stood behind me, his hands resting on the top of the armchair.

  I glanced up at him. “There’s another chair in the—”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine standing.”

  After Mari nodded, Dom and I started sharing all that had happened after my mom and Carson came to us on Bainbridge. So much talking—so many deep breaths—quickly became painful for me, and Dom took over completely.

  “My God,” Mari whispered when Dom finished telling her about the day my mom was killed. “That’s insane …”

  Eyebrows raised, I nodded my agreement.

  Mari leaned forward in her chair, her forearms resting on the edge of the table and her hands clasped together. “I’m so sorry, Kat,” she said, eyes on me. “I really thought Genevieve …” She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “Perhaps it’s best if I start at the beginning.” She took a deep breath. “You see, Carson and I were involved.” She paused, looking back and forth between Dom and me like she was waiting for judgmental gasps and pointed fingers.

  “We know,” Dom assured her. “Gen told us.”

  I snorted softly. “And trust me, I understand.” A twisted sneer curled my lips. “I—Carson and I had a thing, once.”

  Mari’s gaze locked with mine, and in that moment, something clicked between us. “I thought I loved him.” She made a choking noise. “I did love him, which is so much worse because it just proves how much of a fool I was.”

  “Love makes fools of us all,” Dom said.

  “Maybe …” Mari let out a disparaging laugh. “Thinking about it—about him—makes me sick to my stomach.”


  “Yep … totally understand,” I said.

  Mari smiled at me. “Carson was Kin by birth, his true nature hidden in the At by several of our people, as is the way with all of us. He recruited Genevieve, suggested poisoning the Meswett’s sister as a way to prove her loyalty and worthiness to us—which we didn’t approve, by the way, but accepted as adequate proof after the fact. And because Carson knew you all, he became an integral part of our rushed mission to retrieve the Apep sphere.” Again, her focus switched back and forth between Dom and me. “Which I swear we never intended to open.”

  Dom and I exchanged a glance. “Why go to all the trouble of stealing it, then?” he asked.

  “Leverage—we were going to use it as a threat to get the Council to listen to us, but …” She sighed. “Our biggest mistake was putting Carson on duty guarding the Apep sphere. At shift change, some of the other guards reported seeing him talking to the sphere, but when questioned on the matter, he claimed he was dictating notes for a research project into a voice recorder.”

  “He was talking to Apep,” I said, staring at Nik. He still wore that far-off, lost expression. “His sheut power made it so he could hear through the At.”

  “As I suspected,” Mari said. “I don’t know whether it was his intention all along or if his conversations with Apep poisoned his mind, but Carson slowly built a circle of close ‘friends’ who, over time, withdrew from the mainstream Kin teachings. They … I’m not proud to admit it, but they really worked me over. They convinced me that my mom’s ways were too lax and inclusive—too passive—and that the tyranny of the Council of Seven could only be fought with violence. Unlike my mother, I didn’t want to work with the Council anymore. I had no interest in reforming them. I wanted to overthrow the Council completely.”

  “Which is why my mom thought you killed Mei,” I said.

  “I know, and I doubt the shame will ever leave me.” Mari hung her head. “She must’ve been so disappointed …”

  I almost couldn’t believe how easy it was to relate to this woman—this Kin Nejerette—who I’d been dead set on destroying just a few hours earlier. I felt the urge to reach out to her, to pat her on the shoulder or even hug her. I suppressed it, leaning back in my chair. “Trust me, Mari, I can relate.”

  A humorless laugh escaped from her, and slowly she raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, making the jade irises stand out that much more, but her jaw was tensed. She wasn’t about to blubber about all of her troubles. I admired her for that.

  Mari took a deep breath, then continued her story. “We found the shards of the At sphere on the floor near where it had been stored.” Mari shook her head. “He must’ve wanted us to find them, or he would’ve returned them to the other side. He wanted us to know that not only was our leverage gone, but Apep was once again free to terrorize the world, and because of us, he had a damn powerful host.”

  “And afterwards?” Dom asked. “You mentioned ‘rogues’—the ones who’ve since abandoned you, your people, and your cause. Were you referring to Carson’s trusted comrades?”

  My focus shifted to Dom. He was slipping into interrogator mode. It was impossible to miss the transition after watching so many hours of recordings of him interviewing and questioning my mom. But when his eyes flicked my way, meeting mine for a moment, I blinked back to Mari.

  She laughed under her breath. “As it turned out, Carson had a lot more friends than I’d known about. Nearly a fifth of my people vanished overnight, and I’ve been bleeding people steadily ever since.” She looked at me, her reddened eyes filled with hopelessness. “The Kin are down to about two-thirds of our original numbers, and it’s been sheer desperation and a whole lot of promises and compromise that’s kept even that number intact.” Her gaze slipped off me, unfocusing. “They don’t trust me anymore, not completely. And the rogues want me dead, because they think I betrayed Carson by not following him. There’s no way to win.”

  “So they’re the ones who told us where to find you?” I asked, thinking back to that afternoon in Garrett’s studio—his lair. Had it really only been yesterday? It felt like years had passed between then and now. Like years, and like no time at all.

  Mari nodded. “Had to be them.”

  “They killed my friend. Made him jump through a window.”

  Mari’s gaze snapped to my face. “That would be Nikolaj—he’s always been able to bend another to his will with his voice. It doesn’t work on Nejerets, but … it’s dangerous nonetheless. He and Carson were very close.”

  “So you really didn’t have anything to do with that?” I asked.

  She laughed that increasingly familiar dry, sarcastic laugh. “What, and sic a crazy chick with a death wish and a big-ass sword of At on myself? Do you have any idea how terrified I was sitting there with you behind me, knowing you were seconds from trying to kill me?”

  “I—” I shook my head, her confession shocking me into silence. She’d seemed so calm and collected, so sure of herself. I’d been the one bumbling into the encounter, practically throwing myself onto her anti-At dagger.

  I laughed under my breath. Maybe I should thank her for stabbing me, because it woke me up when nothing else could. I’d had a death wish, but Mari’s blade had cured me of that, for good.

  “The pocket watch,” Nik said, his voice strained. All eyes snapped to him. It was the first time he’d spoken since switching seats with Mari in the car, the first time his eyes held any kind of focus. He stared at Dom, just above my head. “Ask about the pocket watch.”

  I craned my neck to look up at Dom. His expression darkened, his sharp features hardening and his hawkish gaze locked on Mari. “You made the pocket watch that was sent to the Meswett, obviously … the one made of anti-At.” His voice was quiet, pointed, and far from gentle. “Unless there is another like you?”

  “No, there’s only me. Mine seems to be a talent one must be born with; it cannot be learned.”

  “Why did you want to unmake the Meswett?”

  “I didn’t—” Mari shook her head vehemently, eyes wide and filled with confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t recall creating such a watch?”

  “No, no, I do—I just never sent it to anyone.” Mari looked at me, then returned her focus to Dom. “It was a practice piece. I’d been working on making more and more complicated things, honing my skill. I was bored. Then, one day, a few of the things I’d made were just … gone.”

  “And that was the end of it? You didn’t try to find them, these things that can unmake a Nejeret from the ba out?”

  “Of course I did,” Mari snapped. “But when my mother found out about it, she told me not to worry about it because those missing pieces of ‘anti-At,’ as you call it, play a part in the future.”

  “Which Mei knew because she could travel through time,” Dom clarified.

  Mari nodded. “Mother had this thing she called the ‘one true path’—it was the way to a specific future she’d visited, one where Kin and Council found a way to work together, where we weren’t outcasts relegated to hiding in the shadows any longer. She said—”

  “The Council,” Nik said. His fingers were curled into such tight fists that his nails gouged his skin and blood seeped from his palms. I had no doubt that we were witnessing his attempt to keep Re subdued—through pain. “Take her to the Council.”

  He slammed his fist on the table, and his eyes flashed from pale blue to opalescent white. “No! They should be wiped off the face of this earth!”

  His irises switched back and forth between shades, over and over and over, until his gaze grew distant once more. He muttered under his breath in a language I didn’t understand. It had an almost alien sound, like the syllables hadn’t been meant for human tongue, lips, teeth, or vocal chords.

  Really freaking disturbed, I stood and backed away from the table, throwing furtive glances Dom’s way. His face displayed the same horror I felt.

  If Nik was losing i
t—if Re was losing it—then I feared for all of our futures. Re had been the showrunner for so long, calling the shots and guiding our way when nobody else would or could. But this—this person looked like he belonged in a padded cell, somewhere he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself or others. I was more worried about the others. I was more worried about me.

  “What’s going on?” Mari asked, her expression more confused than horrified. I figured the horror would set in once she learned who, or, rather, what Nik was—the host to one of the cocreators of our universe. Who was apparently losing it, big-time.

  “I have no idea.” I looked at Dom while I said it, but he offered me no reassurances, only shaking his head. “Do we take her to the Council, or …?” I was having a hard time determining which was Re’s desire and which was Nik’s.

  “Do it,” Nik or Re or whoever was in charge whispered between clenched teeth. It was the single most terrifying deliverance of two words, of four letters, I’d ever heard in my entire life. He dragged his eyes upward, meeting mine. They were blue, for the moment. “The Council. Take her—”

  The color flashed to that inhuman white again. “No!” His irises flickered between the two colors, between the two personalities—the two souls—in a never-ending, dizzying pattern. He closed his eyes and dropped his head to the table, resting his forehead on the backs of his hands.

  Dom and I stared at each other, the breaths and heartbeats stretching out uncounted. He nodded first, and I answered the same way.

  “Okay …” I shifted my gaze to Mari. “Looks like you’re coming with us. Any objection?”

  Wide-eyed, Mari shook her head. “I don’t really have a choice. It’s go with you guys or start running. Nikolaj and Bree and the others—they’re so much more powerful together than I am alone, and staying with my people just puts them in danger …” She looked utterly defeated and absolutely desperate.

  Nik’s choice—bringing her to the Council—had to be our best option. If we brought her to Bainbridge, she and the Council could come to some sort of an agreement, maybe even figure out a way to work together rather than against each other. Then the Kin and Council Nejerets could join forces against these “rogues.” It seemed like the best plan; I couldn’t imagine why Re was fighting against it so hard.