Echo, p.2
Echo, page 2
"Tara, why are you still here?" No matter how many times Heidi yelled, Tara didn’t respond. She didn’t even flinch when the beast came closer and reached its claw for her.
"Tara," Jackson screamed from afar.
"You idiot." Heidi continued to shoot, but her gun didn’t save Tara. A syringe did. In the nick of time, someone fired a dart syringe from behind, and the beast recoiled.
Tara turned around to see a tall man with pale skin and purple hair and eyes. Dressed in a green sweatshirt and jeans, he easily stood out from the formal-wearing crowd. His side-swept fringe covered half his forehead, highlighting his boyish features.
"A gun won’t work," he told Heidi. "Take this."
He placed a rifle in Heidi’s hands and hurried to help Tara off the ground. "Has anyone seen Echo?"
"Ech-o," Tara cooed, dewy-eyed.
"You need to leave." The stranger held Tara’s hand and motioned her away from the pit. He tried to rush her, but she kept tripping over her dress.
"Echo," the stranger called out, still holding onto Tara’s hand. As they hustled around the venue, Tara examined the faces encountered—frightened faces, hurried faces, confused faces trying to make it out alive.
"Echo," the stranger screamed. Tara hoped the crowd would go silent so his voice would reach, but soon, she was going to regret her wish.
There was a thud and a collective gasp followed by stillness. One of the beasts had leaped over the crowd and settled where the arch used to be. Those who had fled were safe, but everyone in the venue was surrounded.
"No one moves," the stranger yelled.
The guests remained in their positions, and the sound of Heidi’s gunshots disappeared. Petrified, Tara clutched her throat.
"Stay still," the stranger warned, nevertheless, a guest tried to run. She was a middle-aged woman standing too close to the beast. Only God knew what she was thinking. Lifting her dress, she busted out from the crowd and towards some opening she must’ve seen, but the beast swayed its arm, slashing its claw across her abdomen.
***
Blood spattered everywhere, staining Tara’s dress.
That was the vision I had seen before, and the first thing I witnessed when I arrived at the venue.
Everyone went chaotic. It was hard to keep calm when someone had just been slaughtered. I watched from the other side of the pit, shaken by the image of the murdered woman—the bloody party dress, the red hair with a streak of gray, the rectangular glasses, the horrified look. Though I had never met her before, her face would haunt me in my nightmares for weeks.
Find Kirby. The psychic’s words rang in my mind. Who’s Kirby? Why would I find him? Does he have a plan? What can I do? I had to pull the brakes on my thoughts, otherwise, I might’ve collapsed.
So I did the only thing I could do, the only thing that made (or didn’t make) sense. I sucked in a deep breath and let it all out in a call, "Kirbyyy."
My throat itched as I raised my voice above the crowd. A lot of heads turned to see me, but it was easy to recognize the purple-haired man among them. Once he saw me, he sprinted along the edge of the pit, disregarding the beast and the ground on the verge of crumpling.
He was trying to reach me, so I launched myself his way. I just knew it was important for us to meet. It didn’t make any sense, but nothing did. There were freaking monsters at my sister’s wedding. Besides, his friend saved my life. They had to be the good guys, right?
Gulping for air, I stopped running halfway and waited for him. The closer he got, the taller he appeared. As he caught up with me, he produced a Swiss knife from his pocket. "Give me your hand," he said.
"Wha-t? Why?" I drew back at the sight of the blade.
"Echo, please," he uttered between his shallow breaths. "We don’t have time."
I peered at him. Although he looked like the psychic’s twin, his eyes were kinder and more compassionate. We hadn’t met, but I sensed his genuine concern. For a reason beyond my logic, I trusted him.
"Here." I opened both hands out.
He smiled slightly and grabbed the hand his twin had stamped. "Claude ostium," he said as he slid the knife along my palm.
I watched as the blood oozed from the wound, too shocked to feel the pain. "Bloo-" I managed to utter before my body fired up. The tattoo glowed white, and my heart galloped so forcefully that my entire body convulsed. A warping, echoing sound came from the pit as it started to close. Dust and rocks filled up the emptiness while the beasts were pulled in as if by a magnet.
My last memory of the event was Kirby catching me right before I slipped into the void.
***
"Echo... Echo..." my sister whispered.
"T-tara?" I opened my eyes, but my vision was blurry. I barely made out the color of her hair and her blue shirt.
"Who else would it be?"
I blinked rapidly, wiping my eyes to get rid of the blur. Tara sat at the edge of my bed. Grandpa and Joe were by the window.
"Honey, are you okay?" Joe asked.
"She must have hit her head hard," Grandpa said.
What are they talking about? My brain glitched. A moment ago, I was with Kirby at the pit. There was a loud noise, and my body felt strange. How did I get here?
"The monsters," I cried with a jolt. "What happened?"
"Monsters?" Tara scoffed. "Did you have a nightmare?"
I clutched at her shirt. "Tara. We were at your wedding. Monsters came out of the ground. They killed a woman."
"Monsters at my wedding? The only thing that came close to a monster was Jackson’s great-aunt. She’s a piece of work."
"I’m not joking, Tara." I croaked through my painful throat.
"Neither am I," Tara replied with a hint of annoyance, then turned to the men. "Did you guys see any monsters?"
Joe walked over to my side and patted my head. "Honey, you fainted at the wedding, and we brought you home. That’s it. There are no monsters."
"He’s right," Tara said. "Jackson and I postponed our flight until we make sure you’re okay." The two seemed serious. I looked at Grandpa, whose nod affirmed it. No one remembered what happened.
"Okay, okay. Cool. Everything is cool. I was just...dreaming."
I knew I wasn’t. The wound on my hand proved it. Although the tattoo disappeared, the knife had left a diagonal scar on my palm.
I sank into my pillow. A burning pain spiraled through my chest, and my muscles ached.
"Your heart rate and blood pressure were soaring," Joe said. "I gave you an antiarrhythmic injection, but you need to get checked up to make sure this doesn’t happen again."
"Sure," I said, mindlessly. My brain was preoccupied with the psychic and her twin, the sword-clawed beasts, and the woman who got killed.
"Tara, do we have any redheads in the family? A middle-aged woman, who wears rectangular glasses."
"Hmm." Tara wrinkled her forehead. "Are you talking about Margo? Jackson’s cousin. How do you know her?"
"Was she at the wedding?"
"She RSVP’d but never showed up," Tara said before narrowing her eyes. "Why are you asking?"
"No reason." I averted her gaze.
"What do you mean no reason? How do you even know Margo?"
"Enough with the interrogation, Tara," Grandpa broke in. "Your sister is exhausted. Let her get some rest."
"Fine." She came to her feet. "We can talk later. I’ll let you rest for now."
"We should all go." Grandpa gestured for them to leave the room.
Everyone left, allowing me to relax. I turned in bed, trying to fall asleep, but couldn’t stop the mental chatter. There were too many questions and no clue on where to look for answers. Why were there beasts at my sister’s wedding and why doesn’t anyone remember them? The overthinking drove me crazy.
Nothing interrupted my chain of thoughts until my phone beeped with a message from an unknown number.
We need to talk.
-Kirby.
Chapter 2: The Prophecy
"Echo, Echo. Wake up. It’s your birthday." Tara nudged me awake.
"It’s my birthday?" I sat up, sleepy-eyed yet dazzled. Looking at my hand, I put up four fingers. "I’m this old now."
"Yeah," said Tara, who was then eight. She wore a party hat on her head and a cheery grin on her face.
I jumped out of bed and hurried to the closet where my new dress waited. Tara helped me get changed, then I left the room and ran along the hallway, my feet pounding on the floorboard and my heart fluttering. If this is my special day, Mommy will stay with me. I hoped that if I was good enough, I’d get a present, or even better, a hug, but when I arrived at Mother’s room, she had already left.
"Something came up, and she had to hurry," Tara said, but I had heard that line before. "Look. She got you a present." Tara pointed at Mother’s nightstand, where an untitled storybook was placed along with a note: Happy Birthday, Echo.
"This is a bad, bad present." I burst into tears, my face contorting and my jaws shaking.
Back in my room, I flung myself into bed, punching and screaming at the pillows. Tara waited until I calmed down before she grabbed the book and asked, "Do you want me to read it to you?"
That was a strange offer. At night, Grandpa used to read to me bedtime stories, but not Tara. I wondered if she had the talent or if she could make funny sounds for the characters. Intrigued, I scooted over so she sat down, crossed her leg, and started to read.
"The young witch made one m-mistake. She didn’t know right from wrong.
She h-helped an evil man become more strong.
He asked to live forever, to n-never die.
But he t-turned into a devil no one could, uh.. d-e-f-y."
Young Tara tried to pronounce the unfamiliar word.
"This is scary," I said, burying my head under the blanket.
"Mommy bought it for you."
"Mommy is the devil," I said in a child's grudge-filled tone, less wicked and more cartoony.
Tara smacked her hand at her cheek. "Don’t say that."
Removing the blanket, I showed her my scrunched-up, angry face, which made her laugh.
"Do you want to know what will happen next?" she asked. "I hope the witches cast a spell."
"What’s a sbill?"
"No, not a sbill, a spell." She expelled a huff of air with the letter P. "It’s a witch’s song."
"Witches are silly." I curled my lips, feigning disinterest.
"I love witches. They have magic wands and cool hats." Tara said with a lilt in her voice. "They can make anything happen."
"Anything?" The idea seemed enticing. I let my face relax and allowed Tara to see the wonder in my eyes. Resting my chin on my palms, I asked,"Can they make Mommy love me?"
Tara frowned but said nothing. That was when Grandpa opened the door and breezed into the room. "Good morning, my little kittens."
Tara rushed into his arms while I stood nearby awkwardly.
"Come here, Echo." He kneeled so I would climb up his shoulders, but I didn’t. "What’s wrong?"
I dropped my head and wrapped my hands behind my back. "It’s my birthday. I wanted Mommy to take me to the park."
"Hmm. How are we going to fix this big problem?" Grandpa tapped on his temple. "How about I take the day off and we go to the park together?"
I took a moment to consider his offer. "Can I get cake?"
"Of course."
"And a new story with no scary devil?"
Grandpa chuckled. "You can get whatever you want, sweetie."
That untitled storybook stayed unread for a long time. It was after Mother had passed away that I finally gave it a look, and even then, I never thought it meant anything other than her poor taste in presents.
***
"Is this it?" I glanced at my phone to make sure the map was correct. "This can’t be it."
The day after my sister’s wedding, I received a text from Kirby asking me to meet. I followed the location, expecting to find an underground psychic’s lair with cauldrons, wands, and even a black cat. Instead, I arrived at a colorful pet store with a sign saying, We don’t believe in selling animals, but your dog is free to shop here.
I squared my shoulders and clutched at the straps of my backpack. A wind chime sounded when I opened the door. Stocks of pet food were lined on the shelves. The odor overwhelmed me. It was like stepping into a bag of chicken potato chips.
The psychic stood at the cash register, talking to a customer. She no longer wore a cloak, only a simple sheath dress and tall boots. Her purple hair trailed down to her waist with no curls or waves.
"Echo." Kirby came from behind me. I turned around to see his welcoming smile. "Did you find the place easily?"
"Oh, yes. It’s right across the street from the park."
"Yeah."
I nodded, not sure what to say next. "So what are you exactly? Pet store people or psychics?"
"Pet store people, mainly." He waved his hands and moved casually as he spoke. "The psychic thing was a gig." He pointed to the staircase in the back of the store. "Why don’t we go upstairs to talk?"
I followed Kirby to a small apartment above the store. The front door led us to a living room with a round dining table and a bookcase. In the corner were a TV and a yellow couch, on which a golden retriever and two cats slept.
Before I sat down, I browsed through the unusual book collection—The Lore of Rituals, The History of Witchcraft, The Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, and many foreign titles I couldn’t read. What’s that about?
"I’m sure you have questions, Echo," Kirby said.
"I don’t even know where to start," I said, pressing onto my wounded hand as I turned to face him. "Who are you two? What happened yesterday? What were these monsters? And why doesn’t anyone remember them? Why am I the only one who does?"
"Easy there." He raised his hands, gesturing for me to calm down. I realized how anxious I must have looked. "I promise, I’ll explain everything. Have a seat."
We sat around the table with a jar of water and a glass between us. Kirby poured some for me to drink, and I gulped it down without hesitation. "Okay. I’m calm. Explain."
"Echo. Umm..." Kirby fumbled for the right words. "Do you remember a storybook your mother gave you when you were young? The one about a young witch."
It wasn’t hard to recall the only gift Mother had ever given me, but why was a stranger asking about it? "How do you know about that?"
"It’s a tradition to pass this story to one's children," The psychic interrupted, appearing at the door. "It’s how your family kept their history alive."
"Echo, this is my sister, Vanna," Kirby said. "You two have met."
Vanna extended her hand to greet me. It took me a moment before I reciprocated. "Hello. I’m Echo. Echo Knight."
"I thought you were Echo Blackwood." She eyed me. As a tradition, my mother insisted Tara and I carry her family name as well as my father’s. Half the people I knew called me Echo Knight; the other half Echo Blackwood. Officially, I was Echo Blackwood-Knight.
"Just call me Echo." I pulled away, discomforted by her cold stare. "What was that thing you said about family and history? You’re not suggesting the story is real, are you?"
"It is."
"Please, explain." I tried to keep a poker face.
"Do you remember how the story ended, Echo?" Kirby asked.
"Uh. I remember there is a young witch who turns a man into an immortal being that slaughters innocent people. Then some other witches combine their powers and trap that person somewhere."
"Ersert La Tari," Vanna said. "The Land of no Return. It’s the realm where Jivar has been imprisoned for the past millennium."
"Are you guys serious?" I sounded more sarcastic than concerned.
Kirby gave me a soft smile. "The witch in the story, Lú, was your great-grandmother. She used her magic to make Jivar immortal, and as a punishment, her bloodline—now, the Blackwoods—lost its powers. That’s why your mother didn’t have magic. Neither did her mother. Neither did her mother. Neither—"
"I got it. I got it." I waved.
"But the witches’ spell was flawed," on went Kirby. "Although Jivar is trapped, he’s still able to open portals to our world and send beasts to hunt for him. Beasts like the ones you saw yesterday."
"They’re called Katarus," Vanna broke in.
"Ka-tarus," I singled out the word. "But why? Why does he do this?" I suspended my disbelief for a moment.
“According to the story, Jivar feeds on human souls,” Vanna stated in a voice void of emotions.
My head sank as memories from the wedding came to mind. “Those Katarus, they slaughtered Jackson’s cousin, and no one remembers anything. Her family even reported her missing. They're devastated! Are you saying that Jivar fed on her soul?”
"I’m so sorry," Kirby said.
I gaped, unable to wrap my head around what he said.
"Margo is not the only one," Vanna broke in. "Over the years, Katarus must have captured thousands of people. We tried to stop them a few times."
"But it doesn't matter who’s trying, Echo," Kirby said. "Only you can put an end to this."
"M-m-me?" I tittered nervously but stopped when I realized they weren’t joking.
"Before Lú died, she had a vision that Jivar would return to the human world and that you, Echo Blackwood, would stop him. My sister and I are spirits of light sent here to help you."
"Spirits of light?" I murmured, my feet tapping on the wooden floor.
"Read this." Vanna handed me an old book with yellowish papers.
I cleared my throat. "Born to the cursed bloodline, the chosen witch is destined to fight the impending evil. The words are sealed for the youngest of two to be granted the powers of her ancestors. The sacrifice shall be done, and the chosen shall lead her army into war."
Vanna and Kirby waited for my reaction.
"Youngest of two?"
"Your bloodline is cursed to have only one child in every generation," Kirby said. "Lú had one daughter, her daughter had one daughter, and so on. Never a second child, except for you, Echo. You’re the youngest of two."
