The Emperor

by N. M. Brown

  “A friend? Which friend?” Echo asked, sitting at the breakfast bar, pulling apart Reese’s leftover pizza.

  “Someone you don’t know.” Anna snapped, not enjoying this round of question time.

  “But it would be someone Queenie would know? So, who was it?”

  “It’s not… someone Canice knows. This doesn’t involve you anyway!” Ana spat and turned her back on Echo like that would solve everything. Little did Anna know.

  McQueen saw Echo’s smile and she gave him a delicate wink, but there was a mocking twist and Anna didn’t miss it. “So, when your friend referred you to this shop, they didn’t mention it’s illegal backstory? Didn’t tell you to be careful at all, or ‘don’t take the guys medical record seriously?”

  “I wasn’t-… why are you questioning me? What does this have to do with you?” Anna’s desperate eyes turned to McQueen. “Canice-… Canice baby, please. She’s lying. She’s twisting my words, making me out to be the bad guy. Please, baby… please…” Anna’s voice was soft, begging.

  McQueen felt he was having an out-of-body experience. He could hear Anna, hear Echo; he could see what was going on around him, but it was as if it wasn’t happening to him. It was happening to some other poor shmuck.

  “When did this friend tell you about this shop?” Echo’s cold voice asked, saving McQueen from answering. “I mean, was it that night; a spur of the momentidea? Was it during the start of your party weekend or was it weeks, and weeks, and weeks before that?”

  If there had been fear in Anna’s eyes before, it was nothing compared to now. “What- I-… of course, it was a-… I don’t know. I- it wasn’t spur of the moment.” Anna said, and McQueen desperately tried to get his feet to touch the ground.

  “So, you planed it, weeks in advanced? You planned taking these illegal, poetically dangerous drugs to get rid of your baby?”

  “No!” Anna cried, panic lacing her voice, “No, I didn’t plan anything, I didn’t plan to take the drugs?”

  “But you planned to get rid of your baby?” And the air around McQueen chilled. Was this the truth he wanted to know? He’d said it before; he knew Anna had caused the death of his child so was it a large leap that she wanted it…? Planned it?

  “N-… no, I didn’t plan it!” Anna answered, “I would have loved that baby.”

  “Would have?”

  “W- wh… I mean I did; I did love that baby. Of course, I did.” Anna’s breathing had started to hitch, and Echo wasn’t slowing down. She threw question and after question, accusation after accusation and Anna was becoming slowly off-tilted.

  “You did love it? So, you don’t love the baby any longer? Your own flesh and blood means nothing to you anymore?”

  “Stop-…. Stop putting words in my mouth.”

  “I’m not. I’m just asking questions.” Echo shrugged and tore apart the next slice of pizza. “So… this baby you don’t love anymore, and we suspect you never did, was it a happy accident or was it just a really, really bad accident that got a ring on your finger that much quicker?” Echo asked through mussed pepperoni and crust. “Because honestly, I'm thinking option two.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous.” Anna answered. “Enough, just enough of this. I love my husband, and what happened in the past, stays in the past. What happened then has nothing to do with now. This is about our future. Just ours.”

  “Just ours?” McQueen spoke for the first time, feeling his dry tongue unstick from the roof of his mouth. “You want me to go home with you Anna, to be a family again, but how can if you if its just our future you’re thinking of? No children in our future then?”

  Anna realised her misstep and quickly covered. “Our future includes each other, and whoever else might come along.” And she smiled, drawing him in with memories of what that smile could lead too. “We could always have a family Canice, you just left before we could try. When you come back to Ireland, we can try again. And again. And again.” Anna whispered as she reached up to kiss him once more.

  “Yer….” Echo sang, snapping the mood, “but really, what’s stopping you from doing what you did before again?” She asked and suddenly hopped off her stool and slunk over.

  In Anna’s personal space, Echo made it so all three of them were uncomfortably close. “What’s stopping you from keeping Queenie on a leash; the promise of a child around every corner and another bottle of Dong Quai behind your back?”

  “You can’t base a marriage on what might be.” Anna argued, the anger within rising again. “I wasn’t ready, before, I wasn’t ready to be a mum. But I am now.” Anna turned to McQueen and he saw the promise on her face; the wide, openness that pleaded him to believe her. “I want this Canice. I want this with you.”

  “No, you really don’t.” Echo snorted, and surprisingly McQueen found himself defending Anna this time.

  “You don’t know what she wants Echo.” He argued. In the back of his mind, the rational part of him screamed that if Anna could do this once, why not again. But the bigger part of him, the part controlled by love and romance, fought back. “All I ever wanted was a family and Anna… Anna is my wife. She’s right, you don’t know what she wants. What we want.”

  Echo paused, looking at McQueen like he’d grown a third head and rolled those perfect emerald eyes. “Oh please. I know you wife better than she knows herself.”

  "I doubt it , bitch." Anna sneered, MCQueen's defence going straight to her head.

  Eyes narrowed and suddenly Echo was dangerous. It wasn’t the sharp nails at the ends of her fingers, nor the strength behind her fists that were worrisome. It would be the wicked words on her barbed tongue that would strike, ready to lash out and draw blood.

  “You wanted to be with Queenie. Even as a teenager you knew you wanted him, wanted to love him, hold him, own him.” she asked Anna, creating an image no one would forget. “You’d do anything to keep him; even if it meant getting pregnant if that’s what it took. But then the doubts would fly in, the repercussions you couldn’t handle.

  “There are no repercussions. I would have my Canice; we would be together.” Anna answered, pressing herself against him, her back to his front as they both listened. McQueen should have known better by now though; you never listened to the devil.

  “No repercussions? So you weren't worried about getting fat, losing that perfectly trim, slim frame of yours. Your boobs weren't going to sink, thighs wouldn't stretch, feet wouldn't swell?"

  A wicked, crul smile broke out across Echo's face and McQueen could feel Anna's body shaking against his. He prayed it was becuase she was angry, but he knew fear was just as likely.

  "You were scared of becoming haggard and old, just like your mother, used up and flabby. But poor, vein little Anna couldn’t have that; you were too young and free, ready for the world’s delights. You didn’t want to be organising playdates and ball-pool parties; changing nappies and doing school runs every day. You wanted wild nights, one-night stands and a hard-working husband to come home to each night. Being pregnant wasn’t your plan, was it Anna?”

  “Stop,” Anna ordered but Echo was on a roll and with every word, she painted and clearer and clearer picture for McQueen to see.

  “You wanted one life and you were about to get another; one that was inescapable. So,” Echo shrugged, “What was one life sacrificed for your own happiness? A pill here, a lie there and no one would be the wiser. Not only would you lose your current problem, you’d escape that future for a better one. Of course, you didn’t expect your husband to go running for the hills now, did you?”

  “How could you say such horrid things?” Anan asked stiffly. “How dare you. It’s all lies, all of it!” Turning, Anna buried he face in McQueen’s chest and began to sob, her shoulder heaving. “Make her leave Canice. I can’t-… I won’t listen to such lies anymore.”

  McQueen pulled Anna close, his fingers gracing down her dress, feeling her warmth against his cold skin. He wished he could say his hearted warmed for his wife, tha
t her need for him strengthened his resolve to fight for her, and sweep her off her feet… But his frozen heart remained cold, and his out-of-body self just looked down on him in pity. “I think it’s time you left.” His words were dead and flat, just like how he felt inside.

  Silence filled them room and only the sound of Anna sniffing could be heard. Turning her head, she narrowed her eyes at Echo and pulled McQueen closer. “Well, you heard him. Leave.” She ordered. But Echo didn’t listen. She didn’t move, only stood and watched. “Well, why aren’t you leaving?” Anna snapped.

  “Because I didn’t ask her.” McQueen answered in the same dead, flat tone. Head snapping up, Anna gaped as she understood McQueen implication. “Leave now Anna. Go back to Dublin.”

  “Canice…?” Anna said, confusion sweeping in. “You-… you believe her? How-… she’s lying, I would never-,”

  “But you might.” McQueen interrupted, finally looking down at his wife. “You might have thought that, once upon a time and the problem is… I can believe her.”

  Sighing out a breath he felt he’d been holding for eight long years, McQueen stepped away from Anna for what he hoped was the last time.

  “The problem is Anna I could believe her. I can see that vein, self-indulgent side of you which means I can’t tell what to believe. You might not have known what the pill was, but you also might have been fully aware.” McQueen felt dead inside. “I don’t know you anymore Anna.”

  “Canice?” She implored. “Tell me, please, tell me what I can do to make this better? Please I love you, don’t leave me.” But there was nothing.

  Stepping around her, he made for the front door and held it open expectantly.

  “Please,” He nodded at the door, “Please leave Anna.”

  SEVEN OF SWORDS

  Betrayal and deception

  XXI

  McQueen was shaken and Echo couldn’t blame him. Anna was a dirty, murdering bitch. Being a bitch and being a murderer were two separate entities, but they weren’t mutually exclusive. After he’d kicked her out, it had taken the heartbroken husband about ten minutes before he’d grabbed his coat and rushed out the door. Begging for another fight with Anna, Echo had followed only to be sorely disappointed.

  The saint had gone to Church.

  He hadn’t paused as he’d stormed through the doors and Echo had outright refused to follow him in. No imaginary man was going to fix Queenie’s problems and He sure as Hell wasn’t going to fix Echo’s. Stood in front of the towering complex of lies, exaggerated truths and home of righteous child molesters, Echo huffed in annoyance and sat, but quickly became agitated.

  Being left her alone with her thoughts, with the last few days haven been horrid, Echo couldn't stop herself as she mulled it all over . Too many strange occurrences she couldn’t explain. She needed facts, practical solutions and proof. “So, go over it all.” She whispered to herself. “Go over the facts, everything is easy to explain, just-… just go over it…”

  Echo swallowed a shiver as she smelt the acidic stench of bile, blood and sweat as her memories slammed back to the forefront of her mind. “You are better than this,” She snapped, “Pull yourself together.”

  Closing her eyes, allowing the memories of panic, nausea and fear to wash over her again, she walked through it like an objected observer. She didn’t feel the panic, she watched it. She didn’t smell the blood, she studied it. She would not be phased by anything.

  “The first time… it was last Sunday, after I’d left the hospital and started work. Archer and the others welcomed me; wished me a happy return.” Echo smiled, remembered how empowered she’d felt among them even in those ugly scrubs.

  “Gala, he’d been happy to see asking me to get that bottle of wine.” Echo remembered. The bottle, which was contaminated, almost killing her. “A high concentration of Mandrake could have caused those symptoms.” She realised, "But how the fuck did mandrake tainted the bottle?" She filled through idea, of the how and why, before talking it out to herself.

  “Maybe it was the glass?” She asked out loud. “A mistake with a dirty glass. Completely possible.” Echo breathed, but already her lips were forming around an objection that her mind couldn’t push away. “But to make such a sudden attack of mandrake poisoning, it would have to be a high concentration. Something you wouldnt get on the lip of a dirty glass… Or could only be made with my knife…”

  Echo began running all the plants she used daily through her head. Mandrake was a good plant: could be used to induce vomiting, drowsiness and inflame the libito… but so could Mistletoe which was her drug of choice.

  “So, where did the Mandrake come from, who would cut it and put it in the bottle?” Echo asked herself. She’d been good at keeping her knife hidden since Sydney had stabbed her, and that crazy bargirl had been gone for months. “If it wasn’t….” Echo wanted to bite her tongue but didn’t. Gutless thoughts wouldn’t get her anywhere. “If it wasn’t a mistake, if it was meant to kill me…”

  Gala. Demon of Gluttony; Sin of over eating, of addiction and cravings. He fed of those who wasted food, ate too much and enjoyed luxury cuisine, like a hundred years old bottle of wine. A bottle that if he saw fit could use to kill.

  “No. I’m being paranoid.” Echo snipped and quickly moved on, forgetting all about wines and poisons. “The beating on the street, that was completely random. I was just an easy target. A-… a street gang initiation or- or drunk friends…” Echo nodded to herself, feeling it in her bruises and her cuts throb with that answer…

  Until she thought otherwise.

  “Yet- There was so much rage.” She had felt it in her bones; the hot fizzy of power that burned brighter the more they fanned it. “A pure rage, pure wrath…” Echo felt sick. Her body wanted to reject it all, every traitorous thought she was thinking; burry it all and leave it as the coincidence it was… But she couldn’t. She was running down a hill, unable to stop, moving too fast and there was only the open abyss at the bottom to await her.

  “Mara,” Echo whispered. “Sin of Wrath; of hate, of madness and vengeance.” But Mara hadn’t been there in the ally and hadn’t spoken to her much at all while in the House. These random men were just that, random... And then Echo remembered; Mara had asked for drinks, double shot whiskeys for a group of bland, generic looking men. Men you wouldn’t remember. Men you wouldn’t look twice at crossing the street. Men you couldn’t describe if they beat you up…

  By now Echo’s eyes were open and despite the burning sun as she looked directly at it, she couldn’t stop. It was all coming into a final fruition.

  “Camila didn’t lie.” Echo whispered to herself, horror filling her veins and muscles clamping them down. She could hear the crack of Vadim nose when it collided with Echo’s palm. She remembered the crunch of Camila’s teeth as they’d connected with her fist over and over. With shaking hands, she raised her fingers up to her neck and softly traced the bruises.

  “Sam… they said they owed Samantha a favour.” Echo chuckled madly at herself as the murder plot fell into place. If Samantha had paired Vadim and Camila together forming their perfect harmony, they would have done anything to stay together. Anything.

  Suddenly, without warning there was a loud bang from down the street and Echo almost jumped to her feet, blinking in shock as she saw the bin man give her a funny look. Steadying her hands, Echo sliced her teeth trough the inside of her cheek in anger. She didn’t hide like this, she screamed at herself, forcing her spine to straighten. So, what…? So, what if Sam had tried to kill her? She wouldn’t have meant it; it was a test of sorts. Had to be. Just like the beating, and the poison.

  Just a test.

  “But this is all crazy talk.” Echo stiffened her upper lip. “They’re family, they wouldn’t do that to me.” But even as she said it out loud, she could feel the tremor in her hands trying to leech out.

  Test or not, it didn’t matter to Echo. She had a plan. Anna was gone. That step had been easy. With a little help from
Clay and the Fae at Elphyne, Anna had spilt all; her scheme for prom, her fear over being pregnant, all of it. Now, all Echo needed to do was keep McQueen focused and before she, or he, knew it, she’d have the recipe for Dixie in the palm of her hand.