Read Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) Online
Authors: Lindsey Fairleigh
“But Re does,” Nik continued, “and I want to know why. He’s not talking, so that leaves me with one option—playing sidekick.” He strode along, hands in the pockets of his long, black leather coat, not a care in the world.
I jogged a few yards, falling into step beside him as he started across the next crosswalk. “So you’re serious. You’ll help me?”
He shrugged. “Don’t really have a choice.”
Ears freezing, I pulled up my fur-lined hood and stuffed my hands into my coat pockets. We walked the length of the block in silence. When we reached the next crosswalk, I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Alright. You can be my sidekick.”
I sat beside Nik on the bench at the bus stop while we waited for the bus back to the ferry, hugging myself through my coat and listening to the rain beat down on the glass overhead. I glanced at Nik, then hunched my shoulders and shivered, leaning a smidgen closer to him. He was bigger than me—it was only fair that he share his body heat.
“All that stuff my mom told Dom about the Kin and their sheuts,” I said, “were you surprised at all?”
Nik gave the original non-answer—a shrug. He did that a lot.
I shivered against the damp cold. “Did you know all of those things people can do with their sheuts were possible? I mean, it really is like magic—teleporting, freezing time, blocking memories, creating things out of At and anti-At . . . freaking
mind control
. And did you know you could, like, train yourself to be able to do other things with your sheut?” According to my mom, Nejerets born with a sheut had an innate “power”—like Nik and his ability to manipulate At—but they could gain some level of proficiency in other areas through an ass-load of hard work and dedication.
Still, he said nothing.
So, watching his face, I barreled onward. “Could Lex do all of that when she was, you know, trying not to die from sheut overload? And the twins: will they be able to do everything—like will they be the ultimate sheut-wielders, putting all of the Kin to shame?”
“The things Lex could do,” he said, “the things the Kin can do—that’s only the tip of the iceberg. The twins’ power will scare the shit out of everyone, and we’ll all be helpless against them. They’ll be all-powerful, and the knowledge of the universe will be theirs for the taking, a pseudo-omniscience that will make them all the more powerful. They will be Netjer.” His voice took on a hollow, distant sound. “The gods will walk amongst us once more, and the universe will tremble.”
I shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold.
***
The bus was far from full when Nik and I first boarded, but it wasn’t so late that we’d completely missed the evening surge of people heading toward the waterfront to catch their return ferry across the Puget Sound. After two stops, seats were limited, and after three, a few people were standing in the aisle.
Ours was one of the long, accordion buses with the rotating middle section. We were sitting on the sideways seats just before the joint. Some people hated those seats—motion sickness, I guess—but I’d always found a secret pleasure in pretending to stare out the opposite window while really watching the people sitting right across the aisle from me.
When the bus’s brakes screeched and we came to a halt at the fourth stop, I grabbed onto the metal pole separating my leg from Nik’s. The edge of my pinky brushed against his jeans. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
He grunted softly in response.
A woman boarded the bus through the door at the front, haggard-looking and toting a small girl of three or four years with a fluffy ponytail almost directly atop her head. Despite the mother’s obvious exhaustion, she smiled down at her little girl, her hand gripping the child’s protectively, and guided the child ahead of her down the aisle.
Nik didn’t even hesitate, though it took me a moment to realize what was going on. He stood, reaching up to take hold of the pole running horizontally overhead when the bus lurched forward. He nodded to the woman, offering his seat to her and her daughter.
I watched him curiously, searching for the telltale signs that it wasn’t Nik in control, but Re. Except the eyes that met mine for the briefest moment were that disturbingly familiar pale blue. The more time I spent with Nik, the more I realized I didn’t know him at all.
I watched the little girl, now seated beside me, happily distracted by her mom’s cell phone. She was playing some game with cats chasing birds and, if I wasn’t mistaken from my cursory glance, donuts.
Nik shifted his hand from the pole overhead to the one by my leg and hunched down, leaning closer to me. “Stop staring at the kid,” he said, quiet enough that only I could hear.
My eyes flashed up to his. I hadn’t been staring. I’d been looking, that’s all.
Nik’s hand scooted down a few inches until it was really close to mine. Too damn close. And yet it was still that same hand I’d drawn, the same one that looks like it belongs to a craftsman, to someone who uses his hands to make his way through the world. To someone who relies on his own abilities.
It was exactly the kind of person I wanted to be. The kind of person I was trying to be, with Dom’s help.
Dom . . .
My stomach knotted when I thought of my half-brother. I didn’t think he’d approve of how quickly I’d gone from lusting after revenge to actually going for it. But he’d said I could plan all I wanted so long as I didn’t actually
do
anything until he deemed me ready. But what if I couldn’t wait that long?
“Are you going to tell Dom what I’m doing?” I asked. “Or Marcus?”
“You said Dom already knew.” Nik looked away, staring through the broad windshield at the front of the bus.
“I mean . . . he knows I’ll
eventually
go after them . . .”
Nik laughed under his breath and shook his head.
“The Council probably won’t like that I’m looking into the Kin on my own,” I persisted quietly.
Nik continued to stare out the windshield. “So?”
“But the Council—”
“—doesn’t tell me what to do.” Nik’s eyes were blue ice when they met mine.
“Does that mean you’re not going to tell them what I’m doing?” The thought of actually admitting I was hunting the Kin out loud just felt ridiculous, so I didn’t.
“Don’t worry, Kitty Kat. Your secret’s safe with me.”
I glanced up just in time to see that familiar, haughty sneer twist his mouth.
“For now.”
“Again.” Dom’s voice was harsh, demanding. He wasn’t asking; he was telling.
“Seriously?” It was late, and I was beat. My T-shirt was soaked through with sweat, and pieces of my hair were matted to my forehead and cheeks. I was the quintessential hot mess, and I was really missing my long hair right now, because I would’ve killed to be able to put it up into a ponytail. An elastic headband just wasn’t enough.
Dom crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the wall of the training room. “You have not been practicing enough. Therefore, you must practice more, here. Now. Run through the sets again.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.” I, too, crossed my arms. “I spend every free second of my day training.” In fact, training was one of the few things keeping me going right now—Dom knew that better than anyone else. Sure, my clandestine vengeance-plotting sessions with Nik at the shop were the other major highlights of my days—we’d been at it for nearly a month—but any plans we came up with were useless without Dom’s training.
I
was useless without his training.
“And the other seconds?”
I inhaled deeply, blowing out the breath in an irritated huff. “What is it, Dom? You think I’m up to something? Wasting my life?” Even as I spoke, I did as he’d requested, starting Dom’s “sets” from the beginning.
The sets were loosely based on the karate katas I’d watched Marcus move through all those weeks ago, though the forms and routines Dom taught me were more comprehensive, drawing on a multitude of disciplines. They were Dom’s own personal brand of martial arts, and they mixed things like karate and aikido with boxing and gymnastics. Even a little tai chi was thrown into the mix. It was kind of like Krav Maga, or so I could tell from the research I’d done, but harder. More intense.
Worse.
I’d painfully graduated up to sixteen memorized routines, each a series of poses, strikes, and forms that served to strengthen me—offensively and defensively—inside and out. It took me about an hour, maybe an hour and a half to work through all sixteen sets. When I was more proficient, I would be much faster. But then, there would also be additional sets to perform.
I finished the first set with a whoosh of breath and sweep of my arms overhead, resulting in me posing like a Bollywood dancer. I craned my neck to look at Dom. “This is about the fact that I’ve been going to the shop every day, isn’t it?”
I glided through the first few poses of the second set, moving from one position to the next, pushing out my breath in grunts when necessary, but otherwise having a hard time regulating my breathing. I had the feeling I was going to feel this, regeneration-wise, tomorrow. I hadn’t eaten enough today, not for this kind of exertion. Whether my regenerative abilities kicking into high gear would result in me looking older or ridiculously skinny, there was no way to tell. But kick in, they would. I had no doubt of that.
Cool. Hopefully I’d look older. After all, a regeneration-based hangover was the only way I’d move beyond my eighteen-year-old body. Ever.
I glanced at Dom over my shoulder. He still hadn’t answered my question. He just stared at me with his dark, assessing eyes, his dark hair slicked back and his sharp features carefully guarded against some dark emotion. He was a bundle of darkness, that Dom.
“Watch your posture,” he snapped.
I turned my head so I was staring at the wall of staffs and other non-bladed weapons. “Are you mad that I’ve been going to the shop?”
Still, he didn’t respond.
“You’re the one who helped my mom set me up as the inheritor of the shop in the first place. I really don’t understand why you’re pissed that I’m spending time there.”
Infuriatingly, Dom just continued to watch me, essentially nonresponsive, as I moved on to the third set.
I was breathing harder now. Again. “What’s . . . the problem . . . Dom?”
“Do you not trust me?”
“What . . . are you talking . . . about?” I twisted around, lowering myself into the next form, which always reminded me of the warrior pose in yoga. After a deep inhale and exhale, I dragged my back leg around my other foot, toe pointed, and slid it forward to stand in martial art’s equivalent of ballet’s fourth position.
“Of course . . . I trust you.” I laughed breathily. It sounded forced, even to my ears. “Jesus, Dom . . . I think . . . I’ve proven that . . . by now.” I’d shared more of my inner ugliness with him than I’d ever shared with anybody else, ever—even Jenny, and that girl goes after information like a bloodhound.
“You know that I will be there for you if you need me,” Dom said. “Whatever you need from me, little sister, anything, you need only ask.”
I let my arms fall to my sides, defeated and exhausted. “I
know
, Dom.” I turned to face him. “I do.” I inhaled and exhaled heavily and swiped my hair and a fair amount of sweat out of my face. “I just—I feel closer to my mom when I’m there.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It just wasn’t the whole truth. “It’s painful being there, but it’s also like a part of her is still there. And I know it sounds stupid, but that’s really what it’s all about—her.” And hunting down the people responsible for her death.
Dom took a single breath, letting it out in a slow, quiet sigh. It was the sound of disappointment, of resignation. “I never doubted that for a second, little sister. But just know, should you decide to tell me the full truth, I am here, ready and willing to listen.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again, unable to make myself tell him. I hated lying to him, but I wasn’t willing to risk him trying to stop me.
My shoulders hunched, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. I’d never before felt like such a complete and utter asshole.
***
For the first time in weeks, I woke from a nightmare of
that day
. Soaked in cold sweat, I pulled out my old friend, the deck of playing cards, and played through several hours of Solitaire until, finally, it was late enough for me to get ready and head out to the ferry.
I parked the car in the ferry terminal lot, getting a great spot thanks to being earlier than usual for the nine o’clock boat. I boarded and found my way to the booth Nik and I usually shared on the upper deck. When the ferry started to move away from the dock with Nik’s side of the booth still empty, I assumed it meant he wouldn’t be joining me, at least not for this leg of the commute.
Sometimes he didn’t meet up with me until the bus, sometimes not until the shop, but he always showed up eventually. I had no clue what he did when we weren’t together. He often stayed in Seattle when we left the shop, sometimes rode the ferry back to Bainbridge with me, and rarely actually came
home. Part of me wondered about what he did during all those nights away. And part of me never wanted to find out.
The only certainty was that on the nights he didn’t come home, he always showed up with bruises and minor injuries, some barely visible through all the ink in his skin. The marks would fade after an hour or two, from his body, if not from my mind.
If he didn’t show up for the ferry ride today, fine with me. After Dom’s guilt trip and the sleepless night, well . . . I felt like being alone anyway.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
“Hey,” Nik said, and my eyelids snapped open. He set a large paper coffee cup on the table and slid into the bench opposite mine. He wrapped his hands around the cup, warming his fingers.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” There was accusation in my voice, even I couldn’t ignore it.
“I was getting a coffee.” Nik’s lips curled into that annoying smirk. “What—are you mad I didn’t get you anything?”
I glared at him for another second or two, then returned to staring out the window. The ferry was heavy with commuters heading into the city to join the daily grind, but there were a few families, too—parents with their young kids and too-cool teenagers braving the chill to enjoy the rare winter sun on the deck.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nik asked, no hint of concern in his voice.
I didn’t look at him this time. “Nothing.”
For long minutes, Nik and I sat in silence. Finally, he broke it. “Is it Dom? Unrequited love can be a bitch . . .”
My eyes locked on Nik’s, fury heating my blood and disgust churning in my stomach. “He’s my
brother
, asshat.” I flashed him an undoubtedly ugly sneer. “I don’t really know how to say this nicely, so I’m just going to go for it—shut the fuck up.”
Nik leaned back in his seat and raised his arms, placing his hands on the back of his head. “Hit a nerve there, didn’t I?”
Now that I was looking at him—well, glaring at him—I was able to see what appeared to be fingernail or claw marks running down the length of his neck, from just below his ear to his collarbone, where they disappeared beneath the collar of his T-shirt.
Normally I was so much better about keeping my mouth shut. Okay, normally I was a
little
bit
better about keeping my mouth shut. But so far, I’d done a really good job of not asking Nik where he went, what he did, or how he got his ever-changing scratches and bruises. But today, all bets were off.
The only two options I could come up with were that he spent his evenings at some sort of a fight club, where he let people beat the crap out of him, or that he procured the services of a dominatrix, whom he also let beat the crap out of him. Or a dominat
or
? I’d never really considered Nik’s sexuality—I hadn’t!—but suddenly it seemed like the most fascinating thing in the world. It was immensely more intriguing and less painful to think about than my rotten training session with Dom the previous night.
“What happened to your neck?” I asked, verbal diarrhea pouring out of my mouth.
Nik leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table and, once again, curling his hands around the paper coffee cup. The corners of his mouth pulled up in a slow, purposeful grin, and his eyes locked with mine. “I have to say, Kitty Kat, I’m surprised it took you so long to ask.”
I waited for seconds, but it was clear that he wasn’t planning on saying more. “That’s it? That’s your non-answer?” I felt irrationally irritated that he hadn’t explained himself, despite knowing full well that he didn’t owe me any kind of an explanation. Despite knowing, full well, that I didn’t want an explanation. Not really. Whatever weird shit he was into, it was none of my business. My business was weird and shitty enough on its own.
Apparently, Nik agreed. “MYOB,” he said lazily.
I narrowed my eyes. “Just don’t let your ‘business’ screw up mine.”
Nik chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”