by N. M. Brown
“That my job!” He screamed back.
“No. Your job it to catch killers, murders and thieves and bring them to justice. At any point down there, we could have gone. We were to go in, scope the tunnels out and then get out again. But you,” Echo pointed a strong, accusing finger at him. “But you had to get sentimental. You had to save them all.”
“Because I’m a good person!” He stressed. “I am a good person who cares about other people. How do you not understand that? How can you not comprehend what it means to care about another human being!”
“I don’t know.” Echo cooled, her eyes sharp are daggers and her voice icy cold. “Maybe I’ll leave that as another mystery the Great Detective McQueen can solve.”
The sun had started to peak over the warehouses, bathing the two of them in the light, but McQueen had never felt so lost in the dark. His body wasn’t warmed in the new light of day, it didn’t lighten his soul and he didn't feel any better, despite venting his frustration.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" A furious voice asked, and to McQueen’s demise, Hale stomped over. "I know you two have been through the shit today but show some decency. Whatever you two are bickering about, get over it!” He ordered.
“I think that might be quite difficult on both our parts.” Echo snapped. “I'm a cold hearted, uncaring bitch. Never one to think of others. I never stop to think what might really break a man.” McQueen stilled as Echo’s words struck him and he knew in his gut that the worst was yet to come.
“Detective,” She was suddenly smiling, but it was too wide, showed too much teeth. It didn’t crinkle her eyes or relax her shoulders. “Be sure to give the good Doctor lots of holiday hours in the days to come. I'm sure her delicate sensibilities will find the next few days trying. Between the hundreds of dead children; their brains bashed in, the throats cut and detached limbs, she’ll need it.”
“Doctor Cassidy has a stronger stomach than you think.” Hale answered but Echo's smile didn’t slip. She wasn’t done.
“Of course, of course. I’m sure she see has seen malnourished children all the time. Though I suppose they weren’t that deprived, Shade did feed them that warm, rich meat stew that smelt divine. There was always something so special about it.” McQueen’s stomach dropped and he was sure his face paled. Even Hale gave him a glance before looking about to Echo, hesitation in his voice.
“What about the stew?”
Echo blinked all innocent, as if she couldn’t understand why they were asking about something so trivial. “The stew. Oh, well what did I tell you Detective; it was a small, trival request?”
McQueen breathed, coincious of the air that entered and exited his lungs. “You told me not to eat it.”
“Yes.” Echo cheered, “Yes I did. And now we’ve come across a lovely deep pit, full of nice, meatless bodies.” Echo paused in the silence, the sneer on her lips victorious. "Aren’t you glad I never let you eat any of that stew?"
Hale's breath was barely above a whisper; the taboo of humanity sending shivers down the hardened Detectives spine. “There are a lot of atrocities that have taken place here, but I cannot believe that cannibalism-,”
“Belief is subjective, Detective.” Echo replied narrowing her eyes at McQueen. "You both might want to keep the world in a rose-gold glow, but some of us know and have to live in the real world.”
“Ms. Heady-,” Hale began, but she just held up a single hand, cutting him off before he could begin.
“It’s quiet all right Detective. I can show myself out.” And like that, she left.
Retching to one side, McQueen tried to empty the contence of his stomach again. His thorat burned at the effort, but nothing came out. Nothing coudl fix what he knew, so he prayed to God.
He begged for a sense of understanding, a light to burn at teh end of this harrowing tunnel of despair. But even as McQueen preyed, he felt that it was all far, far too late.
XXXV
Echo walked with her head held high. Officers watched her go, a few of the Rescue team looked at her through suspicious eyes, but no one stopped her. Why would they, she was a civilian and this was the Big-Boys park.
Detective Dick was getting his time in the spotlight Johnny and Mitch tucked under his arms as the cameras flashed and questions were yelled his way. Hale was getting his rocks off ordering around everyone and poor, poor little McQueen was feeling so sorry for himself his head was stuck up his ass.
He’d barely made it through a day and a half down in that Hell, and he had seen but the tip of the iceberg when it came to the world of the Under-ert. He'd never had to lie awake at night listening to the dying screams of a child as they fended off infection and dehydration for days. He'd never had to wish for their death, just for some quiet, only to hear that another child had granted that wish for you. McQueen didn’t know the truth.
Snapping the police tape up, Echo kept walking, her back warmed by the rising sun. She wished now she’d never been a part of that stupid case. It was a stupid idea to try and find the source of Dixie again. She hadn’t evenseen that damn Masked Man. It had been a stupid idea. Her family had more than enough influence; they didn’t need such a small-time tool. Instead of focusing on her job: on collecting and damning souls, she’d been stuck in a dirty, cramp hole.
Swinging her arms back, Echo tried to crack her neck, working out all the muscles that had tightened over the hours. She felt crispy like she moved with dirt in every joint. Fuming, she glanced back only once to see that everyone was still working and it’s like she’d never even been there.
"Busy, busy, bees. Coggs in the grind work." Echo whispered to herself, ready for a ride home in. She needed a shower, food, sleep and a hard fuck and nothing said it had to be in that order.
Walking a few streets over, Echo found a quiet street, with only the distant hum of background noise and she could even hear the gentle lull of the Rippling river. Her mind drifted as she watched people pass until one unlikely lass caught her eyes.
She was curvy in a stunning hourglass shape, with her bleached blonde hair twisted up into a beautiful vintage style. Echo’s eyes trailed down her body, admiring the snug fit of the pinstriped pencil skirt and white frill shirt. She was the opposite of Echo’s muddy, hobo style, but together, she was sure they could make each other dirty. Maybe they could enjoy each other’s company in the shower, with a soothing backrub that lead to other things that the doctor had ordered.
Biting her lip, Echo's footsteps slowed, and she felt her hands drift along the waist band of her jeans. Their eyes met and the woman might have said something, but Echo’s wasn’t paying attention. Instead she lowered her gaze, imagining taking off that pristine white shirt, allowing it to drop to the floor and pool alongside her skirt. Cascading water would dribble down over them both… hot soapy bubbles would lather…
"It's so nice to see you still crave what you can’t have my sweet." A soft, chilling voice whispered in Echo's ear as perfect nails clawed across the back of her neck and swept her hair to one side. Instantly the spell was broken and Echo's stumbled forward and away from Samantha.
“Sa-… Sam.” Echo stuttered, glancing down the street and suddenly she felt completely exposed.
“You were always so fun to play with.” Sam stated as she examined Echo up and down.
Stood in front of Sam, Echo felt disgusting. Dress in all black: a tight leather corset synched around her chest, fishnet tights ran up her legs and a gauze material draped around her hips. Samantha was sex of legs. You could see through to her thigh high boots, and Echo wasn't at all surprised to see a black leather riding crop sporting the outfit on her wrist. Red lips smiled at her and Echo took another hesitant step back.
Every cell in her body told her to run or to fight so do something, but as much as her body begged her, she couldn’t. This was family. You didn’t run from family.
"Sam..?" She said, trying to stop her voice from quivering. “What are you doing here?” Memories of the two lovers - Camila and Vadim -
their hands wrapped around her neck and Echo’s throat tighten all over again.
But Sam just blinked, like she had to process Echo's words. "Why, to take you home of course." Her slim, manicured fingers flicked over her shoulder and Echo finally noticed the limousine parked on the other side of the road; the only mode of transportation happily parked ono a double yellow line. "Come along now sweety. You know how short-tempered Archer gets when he spends money he doesn't have to. The limo hire isn't cheap."
Not that Sam would travel in anything else, Echo thought as she stepped across the road, following Samantha. The back door was open and foreboding darkness awaiting inside, but suddenly her feet slowed, so much so, Sam raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her.
“Why?” Echo dared breath, feeling pins and needles prick every inch of her skin.
“Why what darling?”
“Why-…” But Echo couldn’t say it. Even after so much time had passed, she still couldn’t admit the truth that haunted her mind.
“Why were we trying to kill you?” Sam’s head tilted back, and a beautiful laugh filled the space around them. A lightness filled her eyes as she beamed at Echo with a dazzling smile befoore humming a happy sigh. "Oh, oh deary, deary me."
“You-… You don’t want to kill me?” Echo hedged, "It was all a teast?" But Sam didn't answer, and instead slipped into the limo, leaving Echo nothing to do but the same. She felt herself relax on the comfortable upholstery, and enjoyed the sounds of popping champagne as Samantha helped herself.
Sipping from the glass, Sam sighed before taking a swing from the bottle for good measure. “Oh, course we were trying to kill you.” she laughed, and Echo froze ridged in her seat. "I can't believe you'r stupid enough to need to ask that question."
Sam downed the glass of bubbles, pooring another as Echo focused on taking a breath, the limo already in motion. “Why do you want me dead?” The world flew by outside the window, But Echo, everything had stopped; froze in horror just as she was. Nothing made sense, nothing registered and it was like the ground had dropped out from underneath her.
“We have our reasons?” Sam answered with a shrug, sipping her champagne. “But we really did go about it all the wrong way.” Echo blinked and squished herself against the door as the driver flung them around a roundabout. “We –I mean some my siblings – were a little too eager for your demise and went against expressed wishes of others.”
“What are you going to do with me?” It saddened Echo that her voice wasn't even above a whsiper and even Sam shot her an ugly sneer.
“Bah! So many questions. You were never this inquisitive before.” Sam spat, with a gleam on annoyance in her eye. “You are returning tonight as part of a family meeting. We have lots to discuss, business to attend to and we can hardly start without you."
Echo's heart skipped a beat, because: this was it. A family meeting. She’d never been invited to a meeting before and after all that she’d been through…
“Okay.” Echo smiled and nodded to herself, masking the lie. “I can’t wait.”
◆◆◆
The House was dark when the limo pulled up, but the front doors were wide open. No fancy cars lined the turn circle and not a sign of life, as if the House didn't even exist to the public anymore.
Climbing out, Echo looked up at her home. Even after all she'd been through, after the close calls and near-death experiences, it was still home. She and Adin had grown up here, played here and truthfully, it was all she knew. Perhaps it had been a test, she if she could survive such an onslaught... maybe...
Echo took an apprehensive breath. The moon hadn't come out tonight, hidden behind the normal English overcast, with snow threatening to fall, and it made the House looked dull. The pristine white walls looked grey and the bushes; normally a lush green, were black. Taking a step at a time, Echo’s fingers graced along the sweeping banister, the imported marble freezing under her touch. She recoiled when her fingers went numb. Winter was a bitch.
"Come along." Sam chastised in a cheery voice, before walking up the steps swaying her hips as she went.
Stepping inside, everyone had gathered in the Library and it seemed they were prepared. All the furniture had moved around while some pieces had disappeared completely. Directly in front facing the bay windows were seven high back, green velvet seats with only the fireplace casting an eerie glow across the seven faces that now watched her. Opposite them all sat a single, solitary chair for Echo.
"You’re here. Good." Archer said with no warmth to his voice. “Sit. We shall begin.”
Back straight and face void of all emotion, Echo reclined into the seat and looked to each of her family members in turn. Twilight was sipping some champagne from an old, nineteen-twenties style glass, while Gala held a large goblet of wine. Sam had sat between them, bouncing the riding crop in her grip while crossing her legs slowly and seductively. Mara, who had hoisted one leg up onto the arm of her chair ran her finger through her hair.
Nic on the other hand, didn't look like himself at all. Gone where the holey jeans and baggy tops, replaced with a clean, crispy suit made from a navy material, open at the neck. His long scraggy hair had been swept back with wax and he could have passed for a socialite, playboy. Echo had to do a double take, but what really struck her heart was Bris, the tiny child with soft gold hair was sat quietly in the last chair. Her bright purple eyes never left Echo's and held no warmth; her soft, hands were folded neatly in her lap and her lilac dress shone in the firelight. As Echo sat down amongst her family, she suddenly didn't feel at home anymore.
"Well, now that we've all gathered it’s time to begin." Archer said, walking a few short steps, cane in hand, before facing Echo. "Of course, you must be excited to be a part of our family gathering."
"We know you've been dying to join for a while now." Twilight interjected, toasting to her through the air.
Sat with her legs together, hands by her sides, Echo tried not to fidget. She was a turmoil of emotions and she didn't think it was all in her own head. She could feel tiny threads from each of the Sins caressing her skin like lovers, pushing and pulling her feelings like fishing lines. "It’s been something I’ve aspired too." She said, trying not to let her voice tremble.
"Aspired." Mara hummed with glee, "Isn't that a choice word Bris?" She asked, but the oldest Sin, the Sin of Pride said nothing.
"Well, with Adin gone, it really did help our decision." Nic dawdled.
"Yes, we do owe his death some thanks.” Sam laughed, as if her brother’s death was highly amusing. “He may have been the better choice to keep around, but we made do with you.”
"What is this all about?" Echo asked, her hands clenched against her thighs and she forcefully stopped herself from flying out her seat. They had to ‘make do’ with her. Their words felt like a knife in his chest but trying to hide her feelings was a fruitless effort.
Mara perched forward on her chair; eyes wide with excitement. "Ooh, say that again Sam. That coated my tongue like sweet blood." She cracked a cool smile.
"Enough Mara." Archer brushed over his siblings, calling them to order and business. "We mustn't dawdle." Slowly walking forward, Archer stopped in front of Echo, but a few feet away. "It's time to begin."
"Yes Archer, lets. I’m peckish." Gala said with a frown, draining the last of his wine. "This whole charade has gone on long enough. If you'd let me do it my way, the girl would have been dead long ago."
Echo stiffened.
"Hush, Gala." Sam soothed, running a single finger down his scalp and behind his ear, but Gala flicked her away like an annoying fly. Sam just giggled. "You'll scare the poor lamb. Just like Mara’s goons did, or didn't you notice she didn't return that night?"
Gala hmphed, adjusting his rotund waist. "Well, she should have been dead by then. It's hardly my fault Mara's goons could complete the job."
"Well it’s not like I was alone. You spiked that wine – which didn’t work, and Sam took her shot too. Don't tell me Archer didn
't drain her accounts as well." Mara spat.
