Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) (30 page)

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 it—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.

“I would have you understand one thing,” Dom said. “There is no way for us to guarantee that the Council will not imprison you or use you to draw out the remainder of the Kin.”

She slid her fist down the length of her sleek black ponytail. “You know, we haven’t just been twiddling our thumbs in that shithole, my people and I. We’ve been collecting data and documentation. If my people don’t hear from me by the end of the day today, they’ll release a file containing irrefutable evidence proving the existence of Nejerets.” Her gaze was steady on Dom. “The whole world will know about us, for better or for worse, and the fallout will be chaos—for us, for you,
and
for the rogues.” She pressed her lips together in a grim smile. “I’ll give you one guess as to which side is more likely to survive in that scenario.”

“You wouldn’t,” said on my exhale.

Mari’s gaze shifted to me, her green eyes diamond hard. “People depend on me—their lives are my responsibility. I will do what has to be done.”

I held my hands up, like that motion of surrender alone might appease her. Tread carefully, I reminded myself. It might’ve seemed like we had a lot in common, but clearly we were very different people.

“Warning noted,” Dom said, not sounding the least bit surprised.

I stared at him, frowning.

“I shall make sure the Council of Seven is aware of your conditions before we arrive. Before we leave here, you may use the landline to alert your people that you are all right. I only ask that you keep us aware of any changes to your contingency plan so we don’t accidentally trigger your people into doing something they will regret.”

I realized my mouth was hanging open, and closed it.

“Do we have an agreement?” Dom asked.

Mari nodded.

Slowly, Nik raised his head off the table. I checked his eyes first—pale blue—then scanned the rest of his face. Not too strained, too tensed . . . almost peaceful. Until his jaw twitched. He was barely holding it together.

Reading the question in my eyes, he forced a razor-thin smile. “I’m fine, Kitty Kat.” He shivered, the jerky motion making the table shake. “For the moment.”

36

Susie & Syris

“Are you even listening?” Why, oh why, couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head infinitesimally.

A quick sweep of the other Council members, especially the ones on the video screens, told me that Marcus was the least offended by my outburst—at least, besides my “dad,” Set.
He
seemed to be trying to hide a smile.

I exchanged a look with Mari, who didn’t seem surprised by the Council’s reaction to her conditions. I, however, was flabbergasted.

After another quick scan of the Council members, I settled my stare on cold, hard Ivan. How he was related to Alexander—or Lex, Alice, or Jenny—was beyond me, but he was. “You’re kidding, right? This is a joke. You’re not seriously willing to gamble that Mari’s people don’t actually have the documentation to back up their threat, are you?” I made an ugly, guttural noise deep in my throat. “How are you even still talking about this?” Oh my God, why was
I
still talking? “You should be
doing
something. Just listen to her and stop being so damn closed-minded!”

Ivan’s gaze slid past me, landing on Marcus. “I do not understand the reason for this one’s continued presence.”
This one
being me.

Honestly, neither did I. It had been one of Mari’s initial conditions that I remain with her when she visited the Council. She’d said she trusted me, that we shared a bond none of them would understand. She’d claimed she wanted me as her Council liaison and that she would only work with them, talk to them, if I was with her. That was almost a month ago, thus my exasperation. The Council are a bunch of slugs.

“Katarina tracked down the leader of the Kin before we found even a single member,” Marcus said. “As General of our people, I say she has earned a position at our wartime council. If you disagree, speak now.”
Or shut up
was left unsaid.

There was silence all around. Hell, I was tempted to “speak now” because it was so obvious to me that I didn’t belong there, but . . . I
wanted
to be there. You know, watch history happen and all that. So I kept my stupid mouth shut.

“Wonderful,” Marcus said. “Now, perhaps if Mari were willing to produce the documents she claims to have, the Council could move past this matter and onto actual negotiations.”

I looked at Mari, eyebrows raised. I honestly didn’t know if she had the stuff to back up her claims. I figured she did, because that would be one hell of a bluff—hard, documented evidence of our kind compiled into a neat, transmittable,
broadcastable
file.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” Mari said. She reached into her pocket and produced a small, neon green thumb drive, which she set on the table. “I keep a copy of the folder and files with me at all times—all of my people do. We also keep backups on various clouds . . . secured, of course,” she said with a small smile. With the tip of her pointer finger, she slid the thumb drive across the table to Marcus. “Go ahead, check the files. Take as long as you need. For the sake of my people’s safety and livelihood, I’m eager to move forward with negotiations when you’re ready.”

“I move that we close Council chamber doors during review to all but active Council members,” Ivan said.

Marcus nodded. “Very well, we’ll—”

Chaos erupted on the conference room table in the form of multicolored smoke that cleared to reveal two plump, pink, naked newborn babies.

Everybody sitting around the table—me, Mari, Nik, Set, Heru, Dom—stood to some degree or another at the sudden arrival of the two infants. Eyes were opened wide, jaws had dropped, and shock had stolen our voices.

One of the babies—the girl—hiccupped and started fussing quietly. The boy just kept on sleeping.

I gulped a breath of air, heart still racing. “Is that—”

“The twins,” Nik said, cutting my question off. It was the first time he’d spoken to me in nearly a month. “Yes.”

After a few more seconds of stunned silence and staring, Mari, of all people, leaned forward and gathered the little girl in her arms, cradling her against her chest and cooing softly. She gave me a pointed look, her eyes shifting between me and the baby boy.

I held up my hands defensively. “I wouldn’t even know where to start,” I told her. I looked to Marcus for help—he’d raised lots of kids. Surely he knew what to do . . . or at least how to hold it—the baby. After all, the kid
was
his.

But Marcus wasn’t looking at the lonely little boy snoring softly on the table. He was staring at Nik.

Dominic took care of the neglected baby situation by carefully slipping his hands under the boy’s head and bottom and sliding him closer until he was cradling the little guy close, almost an exact mimic of Mari.

“Where’s Lex?” Marcus’s voice was quiet, his words precise.

I turned my head, looking from him to Nik. It was a damn good question, because her babies were here, but Lex was nowhere in sight.

Nik blinked, his eyes fading from pale blue to shimmering white. “I cannot say, because I do not know.” Suddenly, he was glaring at me. “Because the At is now permanently misaligned . . . because Katarina refused to die.”