Page 7 of The Echo of Forever

“He deserved to die right then.”

My lips curled without permission.

“There she goes,” I muttered, shifting my gaze to see if I spotted my tail. “I’m not mad as long as you handled it how I taught you.”

Oliver yawned.

“Just be who you are, Sol,” he said, going into lecture mode. “If you wanna dead niggas for a living, do that shit. Nobody gives a fuck.”

I scanned the road as we drove further from the city, confirming my tail had turned back.

“Might know the perfect person to help with that,” I mused, smirking at the way she popped between the seats again.

“Who?”

I nudged her back with my elbow.

“Prove to me you got some self-control first, and I’ll see what I can do.”

She mumbled a halfhearted response, but I knew Solei could show restraint. With a little guidance, my little monster would be the perfect weapon in the near future.

We rolled into unincorporated territory forty minutes later. Our family purchased private land a decade ago and built a small community of our own, although we’d done the same on Everwood soil and lived there full-time.

“House on the end,” Solei directed.

I let them lead me inside, nodding at the thermostat.

Sixty degrees.

Down in the basement were two fifty-five-gallon drums. I could tell which one was new and walked toward it, running my newly gloved hands along the edges to see if she’d sealed it correctly.

“You did this alone?”

“Wouldn’t let me do anything but watch,” Oliver answered for her as he dropped on the steps.

I nodded and faced my sister. She wasn’t a fourteen-year-old anymore, but a grown ass twenty-six. Coddling her would only bring us more problems. If this was the life she wanted to live, then it had to be done right or not at all.

“Break it down to me.”

“I used a shit ton of biological washing powder and mixed it with warm water. He’s been in there for about two months and probably needs fourteen more days before I can transfer the bones and what’s left to a sulfuric acid solution.”

Our mother had been a brilliant scientist; she freelanced for a cleaning company that specialized in removing human remains. It’d been her who taught me what simple household items could do to the body with a little patience.

The enzymes in biological washing powder broke down fatty material, stripping soft tissue from the bone over time; sulfuric acid always finished the job.

She’d had done good, but even if she hadn’t, I would’ve fixed it.

“If something happens to me—”

Solei shook her head, stopping me before I could get the words out.

“Nah, keep that bullshit to yourself,” she cut in. “If you go, we both going with you soon after, and that’s nonnegotiable.”

“If something happens to me,” I started again, looking between them. “Remember every fucking thing I taught you. Am I understood?”

“Understood,” they mumbled in unison.

They didn’t want to hear me speak on death so openly, yet had no problem reminding me I could die at every turn.