Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) (28 page)

I brushed my hair out of my face with the back of my wrist as I relaxed. My muscles trembled with fatigue from running through the sets for a third time in a row, but I felt calm, focused.

It had been barely a day since Garrett’s death . . . since Nik and the kiss and Re . . .

I’d spent the long hours in the empty apartment above the shop, pacing in the dark, lying on the floor while I stared up at the ceiling, and finally, when I was on the verge of losing my mind, running through Dom’s sets. Each time I worked through the poses, I decluttered my mind a little more until clarity and purpose were all that remained. My mom. Garrett. The Kin. Vengeance.

Today was the day. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I wouldn’t survive another day of inaction. The Kin owed me a debt; it was time for them to pay in full.

There was no way to know if Mari was still in the tent city where Garrett’s psychic killer had claimed she would be. Who knew if she’d ever even been there. Hell, maybe it was a trap. It didn’t matter. I was consumed by a single desire, and if I didn’t act on it soon . . . well, that simply wasn’t an option. I would act on it. Today.

Even if it killed me.

Once the sun was up, I headed down to the shop to arm myself from the small stash of weapons I’d collected in a chest in the back room in preparation for this day. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. I fastened two sheathed combat knives to my belt, one on either side. The left knife was longer, with a seven-inch blade, while the right was a more standard five inches. I was already wearing a leather bracelet that wrapped around my wrist four times, the sturdy cord moonlighting as a garrote. I tucked a squat T-handled knife into my front right pocket and an expandable baton into the side of my black combat boots.

Sure, a gun might’ve been easier and more effective than everything else combined, but I neither had one nor had any practice with one. It would be more of a liability than anything else. Besides, I was going for stealth. For maximum damage with minimum outcry. I planned to fly under the radar for as long as I could to take out as many of the Kin until either the job was done or I was dead.

I shrugged into my long down coat, double-checked that the napkin with the instructions for finding Mari was in the right pocket, and set my phone on the backroom table. I didn’t know if anyone could use its GPS hardware to track me. I didn’t want to find out.

After taking a deep breath, I pulled up my hood and I passed through the beaded curtain, heading for the door. And stopped mid-step in the middle of the shop.

“What the—” A sword was resting on the checkout counter, scabbard, sword belt, and all. My heart rate doubled.

I took two steps toward it, then stopped to glance around the dark shop. “Hello?” I focused on listening for a heartbeat, breathing, anything. “Nik?” I quickly checked all of the little nooks and crannies, anywhere someone might hide.

There was no one. Not Nik. Not anyone.

Warily, I made my way back to the checkout counter. To the sword. A katana, from the size and shape of the scabbard housing the blade.

Nik must’ve come back at some point last night while I’d been upstairs. I might—
might
—not have heard him. The thought that he’d returned spurred a flutter in my chest.

The sword’s long, slender scabbard was antique-looking—antique, but not old, its silver embellishments only slightly tarnished. The hilt was tightly wrapped in leather stripping, the pommel silver with the silhouette of a bird emblazoned into the metal. A yellow sticky note had been stuck to the hilt:
Thought you might need this.
The writing was clean, nondescript. It could’ve been Nik’s. It had to be.

I shook my head, not understanding. Had he really come back? I hoped the answer was yes, though I didn’t understand why it meant so much to me if he had.

With one hand on the scabbard, the other on the hilt, I cautiously pulled the sword free. The blade slid out of the scabbard with zero resistance. It gleamed, nearly transparent and shimmering with an iridescence that made it almost seem to glow.

“Holy shit,” I said under my breath.

The entire blade was made of At, which meant it would be absolutely indestructible.

It had to be from Nik. According to my mom in the videos, nobody else could do what he could do with his sheut—except for Carson, but that douchebag was dead. Nobody else could’ve made this sword.

Nik was still helping me, even after the explosion between us the previous afternoon.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I felt like doing both.

***

After a quick Google search on my phone, I figured out that the sword belt with all of its extra leather straps was really a shoulder harness. I found a nice little three-part graphic that walked me through how to put it on, then once again donned my coat. A mirror-check in the bathroom assured me the hilt wasn’t visible if my hood was up. Good enough.

I’d already unlocked the shop door when, against my better judgment, I turned around and headed into the back room. I snatched my phone off the table and sent a text to Nik:
Thanks for the sword.
See, I can have manners. Sometimes.

The bell over the door jingled, and I froze, listening to the crunch of glass and geode debris under shoes. Unexpectedly, I smiled. He’d come back, again. He’d said I could depend on him, and he’d meant it. I hadn’t truly believed him until now.

I passed through the beaded curtain. “I just sent you a—”

But it wasn’t Nik who stood just inside the shop door. It was Dom.

I froze. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you.” Dom took a step toward me. “Kat—”

“No.” I crossed my arms. I couldn’t handle this right now, not from him. I was so close to actually
doing
something. Dom was the only person who might—just maybe—be able to talk me out of it. I couldn’t let that happen. “Just stop, Dom. You’re not my father. I’m not your responsibility, so please, just leave me alone.”

“I—” I wasn’t sure if it was anger that paralyzed his tongue or something else. Whatever it was, he was shaking with it. Because of the words I’d hurtled at him.

I’d never felt so ashamed before, and I hated myself for wanting to turn around, run away, and go find some dark, dank corner to hide in. I set my jaw and squared my shoulders. It would all be worth it soon. Either that, or it would all be over. And then it wouldn’t matter anymore.

“I may not be your father,” Dom said, “but we’re still family.”

My chin trembled, but I clenched my teeth to still it.

“I could stop you from doing whatever it is you have planned.”

I met his eyes. “But you won’t.” I knew it in my bones.

He shook his head, disappointment in his dark eyes. “This is your battle. I will not interfere. But I will warn you, little sister—all is not what it seems.”

My eyes narrowed. Reluctantly, I took the bait. “What do you mean?”

“In all the time you’ve spent with Nik, has he shared with you the fact that Re has access to the At?”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Nobody can use the At right now. It’s broken.”

“Not true,” Dom said. “Re can access it whenever he wishes. The instability does not impact him. The echoes are, as always, his for the viewing.”

“What—but he said—” I shook my head. Nik had said using the At to find Mari and the other members of the Kin wasn’t an option. “You’re lying,” I told Dom. “I’d have heard about it by now.”

Dom shook his head again. “It’s something the Council has been keeping under wraps.”

My eyes became glassy. Nik lied to me? Why? I held my head high, betrayal burning right alongside defiance in my gut. “Then why are you telling me this now? Won’t the Council be pissed that you’re sharing their precious secrets?”

“Because I don’t want you to die,” Dom said, his words a whiplash across my soul.

I flinched, but didn’t respond.

“Little sister . . . Nik is powerful, I know, and that makes him a tempting ally. But Re is unpredictable. He shares only bits and pieces of what he’s seen in the At, even with the Council. It is essential that you keep that in mind every time either he or Nik tells you anything. Their motivations are unclear. As powerful as the pair are, they are equally dangerous.”

There was a long stretch of silence between us. I worked to regulate my breathing, waited until I felt confident that my voice wouldn’t tremble. I cleared my throat. “It doesn’t even matter. We’re not working together anymore.”

“But you still walk the same path—the one he and Re helped guide you down—with or without them by your side.”

I stared at Dom, struggling with the truth in his words. I wrestled it into submission, then locked it away.

“You are acting on emotion, not reason. I fear that if you continue down this path, you
will
die.”

“I don’t care,” I said, brushing past him. I yanked the door open and strode down the sidewalk. I wanted nothing more than to be away—from Dom. From that place. From my life.

From the realization that part of me hoped he was right. Part of me wished for the quiet of death.

Sword strapped to my back and mostly hidden under my coat, I stepped onto the curb of the final block and slowed. The slightly run-down neighborhood was a combination of tiny homes, several-story brick apartment buildings, and small commercial spaces. At the end of the dead-end road, a tall chain-link fence blocked the way to a steep downward slope covered in overgrown grass and the corpses of last year’s blackberry boom.

I supposed the fence had been put up as an attempt to keep the riffraff living in the tent city at the bottom of the hill away from the people living and working up here. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that there might be a better way to access the mobile city of the homeless; it was simply the only access point I knew about.

Eyes scanning the length of the fence, I stopped at the cement dividers blocking the end of the road. My feet seemed to be fighting against my brain, against my desire to go on, to see this through. To finish it.

A moment later, my traitorous mind threw in its lot with my stubborn feet.
There’s no way to get past the fence . . . might as well turn back now . . .

“No,” I said, teeth gritted. I shook my head and balled my hands into tense, shaking fists. I needed to do this—needed it far more than I’d ever needed anything else. If I turned back because a dumb little fence was in my way, I might as well just lie down and die.

But it’s not just the fence holding you back . . . it’s Dom . . . it’s Nik’s lies . . .

“Just cut through the damn thing,” I said, hoping voicing my intentions would silence any internal doubts. I stepped over the divider and drew the At sword. After all, what was the point of having what was essentially a magic sword if I didn’t put it to good use?

The At blade cut through the chain links with surprising ease, and I was on the other side in a matter of minutes. I leaned back, looking first to the left, then to the right, searching for a passable way down the steep hill. And, what do you know, there was a trail snaking down the right side of the slope—well-traveled, by the looks of it.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one bypassing this fence these days.

Holding onto the cold chain links, I sidestepped until I reached the path. There was a drop-off of a couple feet but a landing of a yard or so that was as level as I could hope for. I maintained my grip on the fence, walking my hands down while I reached past the drop-off with my right boot. When my toe touched solid—if a little soggy—ground, I blew out a breath and finally let my hands release their death grip on the fence.

I turned around, flexing and releasing my fingers. The trail was a little muddy from the previous night’s rain, but not so bad that it was unpassable. I started down it and, after two skids, decided sidestepping would give me better purchase on the ground. It took me a while to reach the bottom of the hill, but I managed to do so without falling, thanks to my slow pace.

“Okay,” I said, straightening my coat and feeling behind myself to make sure the sword was still concealed. Satisfied, I pulled up my hood and surveyed the sea of tents spreading out before me.

So far as I could tell, only one person had noticed my stumbling and bumbling arrival—a young-ish man wearing jeans and a navy-blue raincoat, hood pulled up over his Mariner’s hat, a short beard concealing the bottom third of his boyish face. He sat in a folding chair by a small campfire, watching me quietly. He wasn’t at all what I’d expected to find in a place like this. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but he wasn’t it.

I raised a hand in greeting.

He nodded, which I took as consent to enter his territory.

I picked my way through the overgrown grass, weeds, and dead blackberry vines creeping in on the edge of the clearing. I passed between two tents—one gray and green, the other a faded, once-vibrant golden orange—and stopped a few feet away from the watcher.

“Hi,” I said, tucking my hands into my pockets.

Again, he nodded. “Quite the entrance . . .” His voice was soft, restrained, and he had a gentle Southern drawl. “You ain’t Kin, so what’s a Council Nejerette like you doin’ in these parts?”

“I—” I stared at him, mouth hanging open but no words spilling out. He was Nejeret? A member of the Kin? This scruffy-looking homeless guy? Now that I knew what he was, it seemed obvious, and I didn’t know how I’d missed it. I closed my mouth and stood a little straighter, a little taller, fingers itching to reach over my shoulder for the sword hilt. “I’m looking for Mari. We have business.”

“I see, well . . .” The Nejeret stood and took a step toward me.

I stepped backward.

He held up his hands in placation, then returned them to his coat pockets. He was shorter than I’d expected and looked utterly harmless with the way he was standing there all
loo-di-doo
. “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you; just tryin’ to show you the way.”

I eyed his pocketed hands. “You aren’t worried I’m here to hurt her?”

“Are you?”

“No.” We both knew it was a lie.

He laughed, then shrugged. “Mari can take care of herself.” His focus shifted slightly to my right, almost like he was looking at the sword hilt hidden in my hood. “Might serve you well to keep that in mind.”

I licked my lips, shaken but not swayed. “Thanks.”

“She’s just two fires that way,” he said, raising an arm and pointing to the south. He flipped out his thumb. “And one east. Purple tent. Can’t miss it.”

I nodded. The directions Garrett had written on the napkin in my pocket mentioned a purple tent. “Thanks,” I said again, nodding to him as I moved past him.

“Remember what I said,” he called after me.

I gave him a thumbs-up.

So Mari could take care of herself? Well, so could I.

I only passed a few more people as I made my way through the tent city. Some were clearly Nejeret—Kin—while others were markedly human. I could see why Mari and her people had chosen to hide out here, in plain sight; it really was one of the last places I’d have considered looking. For Nejerets, a people capable of amassing insane amounts of wealth due to our ability to see the future—usually—it seemed almost incomprehensible that they would allow themselves to sink to this level. Smart.

When Mari’s purple tent came into view, just on the far side of that eastbound campfire, my heart rate picked up. This was it—the moment of truth. The beginning of the reckoning.

Only one person sat at the fire, back to me and hood pulled up.

“Mari.” I stood between two of the tents encircling the fire. “I’m looking for Mari.”

“Then look no more,” the fire-tender said, not pushing the hood of her raincoat back, not turning around on her upturned stump, not seeming the least bit interested in me at all. “You’ve found her.”

I drew my sword, the shimmering blade emitting a crystalline ring as it came free from the steel-lined scabbard, and licked my lips. I could do this. I could
do
this. I took a deep breath, willing my hands to stop shaking.

“So, for curiosity’s sake, how did you find me?”

I stood there, sword brandished before me. “Someone tipped me off.”

“I see.”

“I don’t think you do. My name is Kat—Kat Dubois. Genevieve Dubois was my mom.”

Mari laughed, a hard, cold sound. “So you’re working with them, then?”

I took a step toward her. “I’m working with
me
.”

“Oooh . . . scary. The lone warrior,” she said, mocking me. “Well, let’s get on with it, then. Go ahead, do your mommy proud. Kill me.”

“You’re insane,” I said. And despite warning bells ringing in my head, I raised the sword and lunged at her.

She moved incredibly fast, spinning on the upturned stump and springing to the left. A sharp, searing pain stabbed into my side, stealing my breath. My momentum vanished, my strength evaporating. The sword tilted downward until the tip pointed to the campfire, then slipped free of my fingers entirely.

“Now you can join her in nonexistence,” Mari hissed, her eyes mirroring the blind anger, hatred, and determination that must have shown in mine only a moment ago.

This is what you wanted,
my mind whispered. I rejected the thought.

“Consider this payback for what your mom did to mine.”

“Wha—” I gasped. “What . . . are you . . . talking . . . about?”

“She killed my mother,” Mari snarled, her face so close to mine that her spittle landed on my cheek.

“No—no she . . . didn’t.” I gritted my teeth, pushing through the pain. “My mom thought . . .
you
did.”

Mari’s jade-green eyes opened wide, the corners of her dainty mouth tilting down in a frown. She released the hilt of the dagger she’d stabbed into my side, just under my ribcage, and I stumbled backward. I sank down to the mucky ground, a hand planted in the mud to keep me upright.

“But—” Mari fell back onto the log. “But Bree said . . .” Mari shook her head. “Said she saw Genevieve leaving my mother’s room. She was the last one, right before Bree found my mom . . .”

“And what . . . about . . . Bree?”

Mari’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again. She did a pretty good impression of a fish out of water.

“Could . . . Bree . . . have . . . done it?” It seemed so obvious to me. “Where . . . is Bree . . . now?”

Mari covered her mouth with her hand. “She’s gone. She went with the others—the rogues.”

I fell backward into the mud.

“Oh, God!” I heard the squelch of Mari’s knees sinking into the earth beside me. A moment later, her tensed face came into view, hovering over me.

I could hear the splat-splat-splat of boots running in the mud. Her people coming to aid her, I assumed. So close, Mari’s eyes were the most startling shade of green I’d ever seen on a living person. It’s funny, the things you notice when you’re dying.

“I’m sorry,” Mari said, those jade eyes filled with conviction. “I’m so sorry!”

“It . . . hurts.” Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and my eyelashes fluttered.

“I’m sorry,” Mari repeated. “I don’t know what to—”

“Kat!” It was Dom.

I let out a sob, groaning when the action jostled the thing sticking out of my side. I turned my head toward the sound of his approaching footfalls. At first, I thought I was seeing double, because I could’ve sworn there were two of him running between the tents.

But then one of him thrust his hands out and strands of At, living, liquid quicksilver, shot out of his palms. The vines extended over me, reaching. Searching.

With incredible, excruciating pain, I turned my head once more, this time to watch the vines’ progression. They wrapped around Mari, over and over, lifting her up into the air. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, her pointed toes reaching, nearly skimming the mud, but not quite. Around us all, a dome of solidified At sprang into being.

“What—who are you?” Mari gasped a breath. “You’re not Kin.”

Nik ignored her. “Make her tell us if there’s a way to reverse it,” he said to Dom. “I’ll do what I can for Kat.”

I watched Dom approach Mari, his eyes locked on me, not her. There was so much pain etched into the sharp lines of his face. And so much rage.

Nik dropped to his knees on the other side of me, but I no longer had the strength to turn my head. I glanced down as far as I could, watching his hands—those beautiful, strong, sturdy hands—hover around the hilt of the black, obsidian-like dagger sticking out of me.

Anti-At. Mari had stabbed me with a knife made entirely of anti-At. Which meant I wouldn’t just die. I would be erased, absolutely and completely.

“No,” Nik said. “Kat, I—he didn’t tell me . . . I didn’t know . . .” Hands shaking, he moved his fingers within a hairsbreadth of the dagger.

I blinked rapidly and took a shallow, halting breath. I didn’t understand what he was talking about. But then, that was probably because I was dying.

“She says there’s a way, Nik,” Dom called, and I focused back on him. He was blocking my view of Mari, until he turned to the side to look at Nik. At me. “You have to isolate every remaining particle of that black poison and bind it with At. The damage that’s done is done, but it should prevent any further unraveling.” He turned back to Mari. “Anything else?”

She shook her head, her face ashen. “I’m sorry. I thought she was working with the rogues. I didn’t know . . .”

Dom abandoned her, leaving her hovering in a tangle of At vines, and stumbled toward us. “Can you do it?” he asked Nik, sinking to his knees beside me.

“I don’t know,” Nik said. “Maybe. Now shut up. I have to concentrate.”

“Dom?” I sucked in a halting breath. Look at me, being rebellious even as I lay dying.

Dom took my hand in both of his and leaned in close. “I am here, little sister.”

I closed my eyes and smiled, just a little. My mind had never been so clear. I didn’t want to die; I could see that now. But if I had to, at least Dom was there with me. When I spoke, my voice was the barest whisper. “I’m sorry.”