by N. M. Brown
“What’s there to know, Sydney?” Act stupid, she thought, make Sydney out to be crazy.
“Oh, don’t act coy darling.” Sydney scoffed, barking a laugh, “You didn’t tell him? Did you think he would peg you as crazy? I did. When I first discovered the truth, I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. But then I saw the mastery in it.” Sydney was shaking her head as if she was still in awe of it all.
“What’s she talking about Echo?” McQueen asked, very, very weary.
“He doesn’t know, does he?” Sydney let out another laugh. She was becoming more deranged by the second. “Ha, the pretty detective who is so devout in his beliefs doesn’t even know his booty call’s dirty little secret. Some Detective you are.” She mocked, “Oh this is so precious! So, so precious.” Eyes sparkling, she looked to McQueen. “You know when I saw you pursue Echo here, I thought you’d flash and burn like all those before and become smitten. I could have hoped you’d drag her into the real world somehow, make her repent from her old ways, but miracles only happen to the worthy. No, instead she dragged you down. Pretty, broken Echo in such need of a helping hand. You know she enjoys playing in the mud Detective? She likes the low life’s and the Sinners.”
Echo felt her teeth grid, but she put on a sinister smile instead. “Is that what you want Sydney? To be down and dirty in the mud? Because I’d be happy to put you six feet under.”
But Sydney only laughed, “Oh don’t try and rail me up sweetie. I know your games. I’ve watched you play them for over a year. You’re an old dog now. No new tricks. It’s fun watching you walk around like your one of them though. Paying dress up with Twi, fucking like Sam and of course dipping your toes in with the others. But that’s your problem, isn’t it?” She shrugged, “We both know there are, and can only be seven of them.”
“Seven?” McQueen asked like he was trying to keep up with the riddle, but he was very, very lost.
“The Seven Deadly Sins darling.” Sydney cooed. “Did you think Archer was really that good with money? Or that Nic the lazy shit he is, enjoys looking like a bummed-out teenager.” She paced to him, counting off on her fingers. “Each one of them is a deadly sin: Archer is Greed, Samantha is Lust, Nic is Sloth, and Twilight is Envy. Then you have Gala as Gluttony, Mara as Wrath and last but not least, of course B-,” Sydney slammed into the ground as Echo tackled her. Sydney had been so distracted Echo just decided to jump. The revelation of who her family was hadn’t been lost on McQueen, but Echo didn’t have time to coddle him. If he believed, he believed; but at the moment they had bigger worries.
As the two of them fell to the ground, the force of Echo's tackle sent the gun off its target, allowing her to plant a solid punch to the crazy woman’s face, but as she went for a second hit, Sydney kneed Echo in the kidney. They angle wasn’t great, but it made Echo flinch and gave Sydney the opportunity to slam the butt of the gun into her already bruised temple. Echo slumped to the floor.
She felt like her face was on fire while swelling to the size of a balloon. The world spun around her, and Echo struggled to get her arms beneath her. As she tried to sit up, her hands slipped in something warm and sticky. Blinking, she looked at her palm and groaned internally. Of course, she’d fallen in Pari’s blood. It cooled on her skin and the copper tang flared in Echo’s nose. She suddenly felt a boot connect with her ribs, but it wasn’t until she had rolled over with the force of the kick did, she register the pain. Her hearing was fuzzy, but she thought she could hear McQueen. If he wasn’t coming to her aid, Sydney must have had the gun trained on him.
Slowly, her ringing ears returned to normal and she could hear Sydney ranting in a fit of rage. “…you stupid bitch.” Sydney was spitting from her mouth and yelling so loud Echo knew anyone upstairs could hear. Where was Archer or Sam? Hell, where was Jacob? He had a fabulous knack for turning up when she needed him. This wasn’t the best time for him to take a piss break.
“Sydney, stop. You don’t have to do this.” McQueen pleaded, but the raging bartender was no longer paying attention.
“You never questioned anything did you? So, fucking placid, like a dog wanting a pat on the head. I mean, think about it: raised by the seven sins, didn’t you ever wonder why they kept you around? The most feared and notoriety demons of Hell and they kept you and your pathetic brother around? At least when Adin went on his killing spree he was contributing to the household, but you? With your herbs and flowers? Pathetic!” Sydney scorned. “I could do so much better. I could be better. Better than you! I gave you every opportunity to leave.”
“I would never leave.” Echo declared defiantly.
“Of course, you wouldn’t, which is why things had to escalate. Any normal person would at least act cautiously after a murder had taken place so close to home. I shouldn’t have been surprised when you continued to act as normal, death was practically your bed-time activity. So, I had to get creative.” Sydney explained. Echo struggled to stand. Her breathing was laboured, and her clothes were soaked with blood. She was just thankful it wasn’t hers. “I tried to make it look like an accident. I placed the crates in front, so some stupid delivery guy would take the fall.”
Echo stilled while her blood raced. “You locked me in the fucking freezer?” She asked, eyes glancing to the steel trap in the corner.
“I thought it would be somewhat painless. You would fall asleep cold and not wake up. But, no, no, no you had to escape. So, I tried again. But even the rumours about your special knife were wrong.”
“My knife…” Echo trailed off, remembering how Sydney had stabbed her with her herb knife and Echo had felt off for a time after. She’d put it down to any traces left on the blade, but now Echo thought not. Madam Ozar had given her the knife. It had been a gift. If Echo cuts herbs with an effect in mind, the knife would not just cut the herb, but cut out all other side effects. She didn’t want to guess what would happen to a person if murder was all the wielder thought of. But she was alive, so it clearly didn’t work.
“I even presented your ass on a silver platter to the god damn police; with evidence too boot and you still came back! Like a cockroach you always came back! And now, now I have to get dirty.” Sydney finished.
Echo’s lungs protested with every breath and her vision waved and blurred. “Why would you want me gone?” Echo found herself asking even as she looked down the barrel of the gun. “Yes, I’m a pretty awesome person to idolise, but what makes you think you could be me?” Echo laughed at the idea.
“Everything!!Because you have everything!” Sydney screamed, firing the gun. It went wide, hitting the plaster behind Echo, but everyone stilled. Sydney sucked in a ragged breath, her eyes wide and teeth bared in the silence. “You have everything! That apartment, the family, the job, let alone the attention - men and women following you around. God knows why ‘they’ keep you around, but they always bailed you out, saved your ass or asked for you throughout the night. ‘Get Echo to make that drink… send Echo up I need her… Echo knows what to do’…I was never good enough! Not for you, not for Archer, not for Sam! You were always first choice.”
Echo could feel the jealousy pulsating against her skin and churning her stomach. It was so rich, yet so bitter; Echo thought she might throw up. Many a time she’d hurled while hanging out with Gala, but this was worse.
“You know what you are?” Sydney scoffed. “You are their Queen. Queen of Stockholm Syndrome!” Sydney bent over laughing, finding herself hilarious. “You can’t leave them. As much as they create the sinners of the world, dragging them into the House too feed, you feed off them just as much. You want their praise and their love even though you’ll never have it. You are just a pathetic outsider like the rest of us. The only difference is they tolerate you more than any regular mortal, but you’re not one of them.”
Echo knew Sydney’s words were meant to hurt, and she was desperately trying to convince herself they weren’t, but there is a point when you realise you’re just fooling yourself. So, Ech
o did what she did best when she hurt; she lashed back with twice the force. “And? What do you think you can do better? You think you can best me?” Echo snarled, finally finding her feet beneath her. “I ‘am’ them. I was raised by them, taught by them. I know every dirty play there is in the book because I wrote the book after they told me the stories. What could you do better?”
“Because I know I’m not one of them.” Sydney explained. “Because I know that. I will follow them, praise them, and never think I was above them. I will be the best, the fairest, the greatest pupil off them all. I will best you and your dearly departed brother.”
Echo's lips scarcely moved, and she growled ferociously. “I know them better than you. I may not be ‘one of them’ but I will always be a part of this family. No one could replace me or my brother. I know how they feed and manipulate and I know what makes them tick. I’ve had a life time to learn, which means I can feel them all.” Echo smiled, looking Sydney up and down. “I can feel every one of their fingers pushing and prodding you even as we speak. They are making you dance like a puppet.”
“I am not their puppet.” Sydney tried to protest but Echo just kept going.
“Yes, you are, but I’m not, which is why they keep me around. So, let me do you a favour and tell you a secret.” Voice softening, a sadistic smile curling her lip, and Echo shot her final blow. “You’d never be welcome here. Just another parasite begging for scraps at their door. You were fooled. They took your heart and played on your desires, making you dance for them. You are but one source of entertainment amongst many.”
Sydney breathed heavily through her teeth, her eyes darting back and forth as she absorbed what Echo was telling her. It was exciting to watch; too see the realisation dawn on her. Echo had never felt so alive than in that moment. Never felt so… as one with the family.
XXXIII
Sydney’s eye brimmed with tears and McQueen watched in stunned silence as his own world crashed around him. Sins? The deadly seven? They both had to be mad, right? He believed in the Lord above and if the Lord above was real to him, so was Hell, right? But demons belonged in Hell. Demons above on Earth, walking around, owning a business’s? McQueen couldn’t quite believe it.
“Liar.” Sydney hissed. “You are replaceable!”
“Would I lie to you?” Echo laughed. No longer poised for the defensive, she stood tall, overpowering and in control. She looked deadly covered in blood, and the bruise across her face just made her look dangerous. “Alone and loveless; pathetic really.” McQueen watched Sydney’s face crumple. “You couldn’t handle my life. You’re just too damn soft.” Echo sneered.
Sydney was about to cry, McQueen was sure of it; things were not going her way and whether she was being influenced or not, her manic grip on controlling the situation was slipping slowly into Echo’s palm. Sydney was bending, and she was about to snap…
But, then it was like someone had run a finger up her spine, because Sydney straightened and the wrinkles of pain on her face flattened, while a dead looked clouded her eyes.
He saw the events unfold before Sydney even raised the gun.
Was Echo stupid? Did she forget what her barmaid held, the deadly cold steel? “Echo!” McQueen yelled, forcing his feet to move.
During their verbal spit, McQueen had tried to move towards the door and therefore the exit, but that was hard when he was on the opposite side of the room. Then, his entire world had been flipped and he’d been a little distracted. If he hadn’t, he might have been able to move a little faster, react faster, process faster… but even foreseeing the gun raising and the muzzle flashing McQueen couldn’t move faster than a bullet.
“Stupid bitch!!” Sydney screamed. She was still screaming when McQueen tackled her, snatching the gun before she could use it on him and pinned her to the floor.
“Sydney Summers you are under arrest for-…” He grunted as she kicked his back, “Damn it- you are under arrest for the attempted murk-… fuck.” Sydney didn’t want to go down without a fight. Fists were twisting, and heeled shoes struck him over and over. “Echo! A little help?” McQueen snapped, wrestling with the woman underneath him. “Echo I could use a hand! Grab your cuffs and pass them over!” Sydney twisted her arms trying to break his hold, her high heels flicking back, catching him in the back. “Echo!” he snarled
“Qu…Queenie.” A trembling voice spoke softly.
Looking up from the tangled mess of his blonde hair, McQueen felt his gut go cold. Echo had fallen onto her back, propping herself up on one elbow while her hands grasped at her stomach. The bullet had slammed through her abdomen making blood pool between her fingers and slowly spread across the floor. McQueen thought it had missed but he hadn’t known for sure. As he saw another gush slip between Echo’s fingers he knew it very much hadn’t missed.
“Echo?” He asked, Sydney having gone completely still under the Detective, almost as shocked as he was. But then she began to laugh. It was a manic laugh that put McQueen teeth on edge. He slammed her down on the floor again knocking the air and the laughter from her lungs. “Shut up.” He snarled.
“Make your choice Detective.” Sydney wheezed from beneath him, looking to the cooling body of Pari on the floor, “Catch not only the serial killer of your current nightmares but also save your budding whore. Or let her die, have two bodies on your hands and a murderer, who may I remind you, has a serious chance at an insanity plea bargain. Really, I would suggest you should let little old me go.” McQueen pushed down hard on her arms that he held clasped behind her back. He growled again for her to be quiet, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. Echo’s head lolled back, and her arms grew slack on her front. “Tic Toc Detective.” Sydney purred in a sing-song voice.
McQueen felt sick. He knew his duty was to catch those who had broken the law and Sydney was clearly a danger to civilians. There was no way he should let her go, it was unethical, unprofessional. He needed to keep a handle on this situation.…
Echo whimpered, and McQueen knew in that moment he’d made his decision. Never, in all of humanity would Echo ‘damn’ Headly allow herself to whimper.
McQueen fingers squeezed, “I will find you.” He hissed in her ear. “You are not going to get away with this! I have no doubt that when I find you; you will be a broken, shattered mess. If Echo got one thing right, it’s your inability to be second best.” With one last shove, McQueen scrambled across the floor, stripping off his shirt and pushed it to Echo’s wound. She was completely unconscious now and McQueen feared for her breathing.
Sydney stood, brushing off the dust taking her sweet time. “Typical.” Not making any move towards the door she stood over them, looking down like an oppressive god. “Even in death she pulls on the leash she’s coiled around people. Mark my words Detective McQueen; you will never see the end of her. She will crawl and scrape her way under your skin and settle there. She will drain you of your good heart and implant her demons there.”
“Run.” McQueen snapped, not looking over his shoulder, instead watching the pale sheen that coated Echo’s skin. She was cold to the touch, but her steady blood flow seemed to be slowing. “Run and pray she doesn’t die!” He snarled.
“In love with her already?” Sydney sneered, taking a step back towards the exit.
“No. No I don’t care for her like that.” McQueen admitted, “But if your delusions are as true as you make them out to be, there would be seven demons’ upstairs that care a lot about her. What might they do to you if she dies?” McQueen couldn’t believe what he was saying but it worked. Sydney took another step towards the door.
“They don’t love her. They won’t hurt me for killing her.” Sydney said, but even McQueen could hear the tremor in her voice. “They… they wouldn’t care, it’s what they wanted.” But then like a rabbit from a warren, Sydney bolted.
✽ ✽ ✽
McQueen checked Echo’s pulse; there but faint. A mobile gleamed from Pari’s pocket and McQueen didn’t question his luck, only th
anked the fates. Pulling on the smart phone he dialled nine-nine-nine.
“Hello Operator, how may I be of-,”
“This is Detective McQueen of the Rippling Police, badge number 2:1114. I’ve got a woman down, shot to the stomach and suspect on the run from Cardinal House. We are located in the basement of said House. We also have a body; a suspected serial killer. Send all units to this address.”
“Yes Sir. Units have been dispatched and will be there shortly. Do you have a description of the suspect on the run?”
“Latino female, five-foot-five wearing black clothing. She has short brown hair and small features.”
“Thank you, sir. The paramedics are fifteen minutes away.” But as McQueen looked down at Echo he wondered if it would be soon enough. Minutes passed, and he watched as the soft bleat of Echo’s pulse faded underneath her skin.
Removing is hands from her stomach; he began to compress her chest, counting the beats in his head. Leaning over her and tilting her head back, McQueen drew a deep breath, pressed their lips together and forced air into her lungs. After two breaths, he went back to compressing her chest, counting as he went. He prayed to God and to the Angels that she wouldn’t die. He had questions. Lots of questions.
