Echo

  Echo

  Copyright © 2015 E.K. Blair

  Editor: Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

  Photographer: Erik Schottstaedt

  Cover Designer: E.K. Blair

  Interior Designer: Champagne Formats

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,) without the prior written permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemlance to any actual persons, living or dead, evetns, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:978-0-9963970-0-1

  dedication

  quote

  echo

  prologue

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  chapter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  chapter twenty-nine

  chapter thirty

  chapter thirty-one

  chapter thirty-two

  chapter thirty-three

  chapter thirty-four

  chapter thirty-five

  chapter thirty-six

  chapter thirty-seven

  chapter thirty-eight

  from the author

  acknowledgements

  Marrow by Tarryn Fisher

  For My Fans

  “You would have to be half mad to dream me up.”

  -Lewis Carroll

  I DIDN’T EVEN take another second after I found out about Nina. Elizabeth. My wife. Jesus, what the hell is going on? The only thoughts in my head since hearing the truth an hour ago are confusion and fear and getting my ass to my attorney’s office. I don’t know what Nina is up to. Shit, I don’t know anything right now. I haven’t even had a chance to look at the dossier because I had to make sure that the only other person I care about, aside from Nina, would be taken care of no matter what. My mind is spinning and thoughts are beginning to swarm now that I’ve made it back to The Legacy.

  Pulling into the garage, I park in my spot, grab the file, and rush inside. It’s like a thousand hammers beating inside of my chest as I push through the doors, raking my hand through my hair.

  “Mr. Vanderwal!”

  I stumble in my step when I hear Manuel call my name from across the lobby.

  “Mr. Vanderwal,” he repeats as he stands up from behind the desk. “I have something for you.”

  Ice swims through my veins when he picks up a small manila envelope and begins walking over to me.

  “Who delivered this?”

  “Said her name was Mrs. Brooks and that it was urgent. She was extremely persistent that you open it right away,” he says with an outstretched hand, and I take the envelope.

  “Thanks.” Giving a quick nod, I make my way to the elevators. I recognize Jacqueline’s handwriting on the envelope and wonder why she didn’t just call me. When the doors open and I step into the penthouse I’ve been sharing with my wife, the panic manifests into an insurgent need to understand what’s going on.

  Tossing my coat aside, I head straight to my office and close the door behind me. I take a seat and immediately open the dossier to find a few photos taken of Nina walking out of what looks to be a residential building, most likely McKinnon’s. The thought turns my stomach to think about what she’s been doing with him all this time I’ve been away on business in Dubai.

  My suspicions started at the masquerade ball. Something was off with her. I could sense it. Her emotions were all over the place—it was evident in her eyes, yet she played it off well and I never really questioned. When travel picked up and I was away for longer spans of time, I grew lonely and thought she might be feeling the same. There was an instance I arranged to have her favorite meal from Cité delivered to her only to find out from the restaurant manager that it was undeliverable because she wasn’t home. After I called Richard, I found out that Jacqueline had mentioned Nina not being around as often as she used to. The red flags were there, so I admit, I had her followed. It didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. I needed to know, and now that I do and that it was Declan, I want to kill that son of a bitch.

  More pictures of Nina, now with him. His hand holding hers. Her smiling up at him. His hand in her red hair. Her arms around his waist. A hug. A kiss. Hand on her ass. Hand on his face. Her body pressed against his, all while standing among the busy city traffic.

  Fuck!

  That’s my goddamn wife! The woman I love beyond my own life. What the fuck is she doing? And when I flip to the next piece of information in the file, I’m reminded that she’s not Nina when I see a picture of her. She’s young—really young. A scanned page from a yearbook with her school photo and name printed right beneath.

  Elizabeth Archer.

  In ink, there’s a note that reads:

  Freshman year.

  Bremen High School. Posen, Illinois.

  Jesus. How did she wind up in Posen?

  My eyes are fixed on the grainy black and white photo. She isn’t smiling, but she’s beautiful. I see the woman I married, and when I close my eyes, I can see her—Elizabeth.

  And now I feel it.

  Guilt.

  I set the file down and lean back in my chair while I attempt to grasp on to reality, but my emotions are too conflicting. I can’t even think straight. My wife isn’t who she’s pretended to be since the day I met her. But why? What does she want? I should hate her, be furious, be in a state of rage. Instead, I feel like driving back to the hospital so I can touch her, see her, hold her, and ask her why, and tell her that whatever it is, I’ll fix it for her because I love her.

  God, I love her.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I should be enraged. Right?

  I take a moment and close my eyes when I feel the pulsing of a headache beginning to form. Loosening my tie, I open my eyes and they land on the manila envelope. With curiosity, I open it up to find a flash drive along with a note that reads:

  Bennett,

  I don’t want to say too much, but after overhearing a very strange phone call Richard was having the other night, I’ve been worried. I wanted to call you since I knew it had something to do with the company, but after finding this flash drive, I got scared. I don’t exactly understand what’s going on, but I fear it could be really bad. Please look at this ASAP.

  Jacqueline

  Opening the lid to my laptop, I plug in the flash drive and click on the only file that pops up. It appears to be the company’s financial spreadsheet, but the numbers are way off the normal spectrum. I scroll through the information, and when
I hit the bottom, I see the account name and panic ignites.

  “Oh my God.”

  My eyes widen as I lean in closer to the screen because I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My stomach lurches when I notice faint noises on the other side of the door. Before I even have a second to think, the door flies opens, smashing into the wall.

  The man’s face is a blur behind the stainless steel barrel of a pistol that’s aimed right at me. Chills spark throughout my body, causing my lungs to collapse as I desperately try to speak, but he speaks first.

  “You won’t ever fucking touch her again,” he snarls as he moves towards me with his arm straight out in front of him, marking his target.

  I quickly stand on weak legs, holding my hands up in surrender, and plead through my crashing panic, “Declan, don’t do th—”

  (bang)

  (bang)

  CRIMSON SOAKS THROUGH the white cotton, spreading its death through the fibers of his shirt as he stands there, wide-eyed. My body goes numb as I watch him slowly stumble backwards. The weight of the pistol becomes too much for my delicate fingers to hold, and the gun slips out of my hand, falling to the floor with a thump at the same time Pike does.

  I’m frozen as I stand here, looking down at my brother. His body begins to spasm, his eyes never blinking, and the gurgling sounds in his throat turn violent as he starts choking on his own blood.

  I don’t move to help him; instead, as if I’m watching a horror movie, I become a voyeur.

  This isn’t real. This is a dream; it isn’t real.

  The terror in his eyes is chilling as they glaze over, dilate, and stare into negative space.

  His body stills, paralyzed to the ground, and then silence takes over. It’s in this moment that I begin to feel the warmth of blood flowing through my veins, and I move. Inching slowly towards Pike, my trembling body kneels next to him, but I’m too scared to touch him.

  Is this real?

  Simply observing, I note a tinge of blue blooming on his lips. I sit. The world unmoving. My mind drifts to a faraway place where nothing exists. It’s pure and empty and free from emotion. I settle in this solitary space, breathing in white noise, when suddenly the body next to me convulses. A retching of coagulated blood splutters out of Pike’s mouth as his stomach contracts in alarming pulses, and then instantly stops. My heart pounds in an unsteady rhythm as I watch Pike’s body soften into the floor beneath him. And when there is no more life, I wake up, snapping out of my trance as reality barrels into me.

  Holy shit!

  Grabbing his arm, I panic, jerking him. “Pike?” Shaking his arm, I murmur in fear, “Pike, wake up. Pike, come on.” I move to hover over his lifeless body, gripping his shoulders and shaking him profusely, begging louder, “Wake up. Wake up! This isn’t funny.” Tears burn my eyes, and I choke on my own words. “Wake up, Pike! I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please, wake up!”

  His eyes are still wide open, but there’s no movement. They’re frozen, locked in place, and utterly black.

  What have I done?

  Pain stabs my lungs as I throw my head up to the heavens and release the most God-awful severing cry, but there’s no sound that comes out of me. The agony is too much, so I wail in a torturous breathlessness. My heart, splintering, ripping apart, takes on a new meaning of misery, creating an emotion that never existed before this very moment, but it’s too much. I can’t bear it, but I feel its birth inside of me.

  Looking back down, I no longer see the man I hated only moments ago. Instead, I see the boy who desperately loved me his whole life, and I crumple over, shifting his arm so that I’m able to nestle in the crook against his chest. He’s still warm, and like I’ve done my whole life, I selfishly take comfort from him. I’m nothing but rot, using Pike, even in his death, in an attempt to soothe myself. I wrap myself around him and cry, breathing him into my soul. His shirt is a soggy combination of blood and sweat, yet I can still smell the ever-familiar fumes of his clove cigarettes as I close my eyes.

  “You’re gonna be okay.”

  His whispered voice startles me, and I pop up to look down at him. He’s alive, blinking, and I see his lips moving when he speaks again.

  “Don’t cry, Elizabeth. I’m still here.”

  “Oh my God, Pike!” I murmur in disbelief.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he assures again, and I cry, “How?”

  “Because I love you, and I believe in you. You’re a fighter. A warrior.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shoot you. God, I’m losing control, but I can’t lose you.”

  A hint of a smile appears on his lips. “You’ll never lose me. You’re my sister. I’ve never loved anyone as much as you. All I ever wanted in this world is for you to be happy. You’re a survivor.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Run.”

  “What?” I question with a slight shake of my head, and when my eyes meet his again, cold, black orbs greet me. “Pike?” Pinching my eyes closed, I open them back up, but the vision remains. He’s dead, and I’m losing it.

  His words sink in. He’s right. I’m a fighter; he taught me how. So with that, I feel my spine straighten, and I take in a couple slow, calculated breaths. I lean down and capture his lips, taking my second kiss of death today. When I pull away, I drop my fingertips to his brows and gently run them down his face, closing his eyelids so that he can sleep peacefully. Wrapping both Pike and Declan safely in the steel cage around my heart, I swallow hard as I shift to stand. Today I lost the two pieces of my black, black heart, but now I have no other choice than to save myself.

  I move quickly around the trailer, stripping out of my bloody clothes and changing into a pair of Pike’s sleep pants and an old t-shirt. I need the smell of him on me because I’m scared to be alone. Gathering my belongings, I make sure to grab the file Pike took from Declan’s before I wipe my fingerprints from various surfaces. Looking back at Pike, who lies dead in a puddle of darkened blood, I release a silent goodbye and thank him for saving me by giving me every piece of him. My body fights hard against the boiling pain that’s begging to erupt, and I shove the thoughts away that it should be me lying there—dead. At least then I would be with Declan.

  Declan.

  Fuck, I’m not strong enough to do this.

  My chest heaves and the cage weakens as I shut the door on my past and walk into the unknown future with Bennett’s gun tucked into my bag.

  As I pull out of the trailer park and onto the main street, my cheeks are coated with tears.

  I’m lost.

  Alone.

  All I can do is go back to my phony life because what other choice do I have? Three men—men that are all linked to me—have been murdered. Bennett, Declan, and Pike. I try to get focused so I can create a plan on what to do when my gut twists in fear as I see Matt’s car pass me by, going in the direction I just came from.

  Shit!

  I could turn around, catch him, explain what happened, but then I hear Pike’s voice urging, “Don’t stop driving.”

  So I don’t.

  Shadows of the city pass by as I make it back home and pull into the parking garage.

  Wiping down the gun and placing it back in Bennett’s car—one bullet short—I rush into the quiet building and up to the penthouse, undetected.

  I take a quiet step across the threshold, and when the door slams behind me, I collapse to the floor. And this time, when I wail, my voice erupts in a fiery sob that burns in my soul. Vulgar cries, ripping through the cords of my throat as they expel into the hopeless air, echo off the walls and evaporate into silence. Tears mix with the dried blood of Pike and Declan, dripping from my chin, and fall lifelessly to the tile beneath me. When I see the swirled, translucent red, I let go of my voice and choke on my breath. I’m lost in the splatterings of my pain merged with all that’s left of my loves.

  Who do I ache for more?

  And like the animal I am, with hands braced on the chilling floor, I le
an forward on my knees, and I lick the blood.

  My salt.

  Their metal.

  My heart’s elixir.

  Peeling off Pike’s clothes while I make my way to the bathroom, I stare at the blood that’s dried on my body, and with no control, I begin to lick that too.

  Fingers, hands, arms, knees.

  I take it all, loving Declan and Pike, making a home for them in the depths of my body, deep inside. Everything’s a haze; my only goal is to consume every last piece of vitality.

  And I cry.

  Eyes burning.

  Lungs aching.

  Hope disintegrating.

  I’m all powdered ash, so hold your breath before a drift of air picks me up and carries me away to nullity.

  “NINA.”

  Tension aches in my muscles as I stir awake. When I roll over and open my tear-stung eyes, I notice Clara, the housekeeper and cook moving around the room.

  “It’s nearly noon. You’ve been sleeping all morning.” She speaks in a gentle voice before pulling the drapes back.

  Light flashes, burning my eyes, and I jerk my head away, squinting against the sun’s rays that pierce the room.

  Clara walks around the bed and takes a seat next to me, stroking her fingers through my tangled hair, and the touch awakens the swollen wound in my heart that only sleep can soothe. Tears leak out onto my pillow, and I close my tired eyes.

  “You should eat, dear. It might help you feel better.”

  I shake my head. Food can’t heal this. I’m not sure anything can. I’ve lost everything. My baby, Declan, Pike ... everything that mattered to me. And for what? Everyone is dead and there’s nothing gained. Nothing but misery. The constricting around my heart makes each breath unbearable, and I desperately want to drift away. More than drift, I just want Declan to hold me. To anchor me by wrapping his warm arms around me, cocooning me into his chest, and filling my lungs with his scent—his life.

  The one man who showed me what it was to be loved ... truly loved ... in the purest form is gone. Gone at the hands of my brother ... my other love, my protector.