ECHO [Rewritten - NaNoWriMo '16]

Chapter 4: The House Guest

I placed the books back in their place and paused. It just clicked, she was an assassin. He was harboring an assassin.

And somehow she knew what had happened to Pria.

Breathing deeply, I headed back upstairs. I headed into my bedroom, closing the door, and locking it behind me. In my closet was a box; inside it was all of the information I had gathered over the last year on Pria. She had arrived at the airport at 4:21 a.m. on a Thursday in March 2015. She looked nervous, yet almost excited. But as soon as walked into those doors, she disappeared. The cameras didn't pick her up; there was no ticket in her name. Nothing. As soon as she walked Phoenix Sky Harbor, she disappeared.

I must've fallen asleep because suddenly I was lying on my side. And there was something very warm beside me. Very warm and very...womanly. I let out a (masculine) shriek and jumped to my feet. Beside me was Echo, she smiled broadly at me, arching an elegant brow. "That was attractive."

"What the actual fuck?" I snapped.

She stood promptly and grabbed my hand, "Come on."

I tried to yank my hand away but her grip was surprisingly strong. The iron grip nearly bruised my hand, and I figured that it would be better to allow myself to follow her. "Where are we going?"

A muscle ticked her jaw but she didn't reply. Instead she led me out of the house. I looked down at our entwined fingers, hers looking so soft and delicate. But that was so far from what she was, it was unfathomable to associate that with her. She stopped next to my car and looked at me, her blue eyes blades. "Get in the fucking car."

I hesitated but her stillness was unsettling, and so I did what she ordered. Just a second later she was in the driver's seat. Paiute jumped on to the center console and sat, his tail curling around his paws. Echo started the car, pulled away from the curb, and headed down the street. I ran a hand through my hair before letting my hands in my lap. I glanced sideways, she was so beautiful. But there was something about her that was disturbing.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

"I'm not from America," Echo replied. I leaned back as she took the I17 and began to head towards Flagstaff. Oddly enough, She abruptly turned off of the freeway and before she hit any main roads, she turned on to a dirt road. The dirt crunched beneath the tires. As we pulled further away from the freeway, the streetlights ended, and all that surrounded us was brush, cacti, and dirt. I looked at Echo again, "Where are we going?"

No reply.

"You know, your personality is similar to a fucking cactus," I snapped.

Again, no reply. After five minutes, she switched off the headlights. I ignored the rumbling fear in my gut. With it being so dark, I almost didn't see the line of cars on the side of the road. Echo pulled the car to a stop behind another one, turning it off, and gripping the keys tightly in her hands on her lap. Then, with a suddenness that was akin to whiplash, she got out of the car. After a moment's hesitation, I followed. There were no lights, nothing to illuminate our way. Yet Echo seemed to know exactly where she was going. The only way I managed to keep up was because the crescent moon cast her hair in silver light.

There was a house that arose in the middle of this nothingness, but she simply skirted it. A hum of chatter only grew louder as they advanced further into the desert. Light seemed to explode as the passed the house. On the other side there was a generator roaring, powering lights. Bushes, rocks, and everything else had been moved to create an empty space. There was a chaotic music of shouting, screaming, jeering, flesh hitting flesh, bodies slamming against one another, and more screaming. There were at least two-dozen men, shirtless and glistening with sweat standing in a rough circle. They were surrounding something, but by the sounds of it, it was probably two men fighting.

I was watching the scene so intently that I didn't realize Echo had stopped until I ran into her, almost causing her familiar to fall off her shoulder as well. She looked at him, "Sehen Sie es, Arschloch."

Her face was partially illuminated in the dancing light, and it was furious. The ice blue eyes shifted from him to focus on something...or someone. We walked closer. Blood, sweat, and smoke invaded my smell, masking everything from the desert. I glanced at her, to find the young woman looking back. Her face was haunted, but she smiled. There was a collective gasp from those fathered as one of the opponents fell down, his face covered in blood from a broken nose, and split skin over his eye. His lips desperately formed the word, "Stop." The victor beat his fists into the air, and the crowd erupted into cheering.

"And the winner is Bryan!" a voice yelled over the crowd. I looked over to see a man standing on a makeshift podium. Cash was being exchanged rapidly. "Who will challenge this fella next?"

"I will!" A man with platinum blond hair, blue eyes, and bone structure that look unnatural shouted. Something about him seemed oddly familiar. Out of the corner of my eye, Echo's face transformed from irritated to downright terrifying in her rage.

He looked familiar because he was the same as Echo.