Chapter 7 - The Echo of the Past
The heavy silence that followed Vincent's spoken word was entirely different from the quiet that had ruled his life for thirty-seven years. This new silence was filled with the ambient hum of electricity, the distant whistle of the ocean breeze against the reinforced windowpanes, and the frantic pounding of his own heart.
Vincent slowly stood up from his leather chair. Standing at six-foot-two, his broad frame cast a towering shadow across the desk blotter where the microscopic device had rested moments before.
"Mr. Turner..." Emily whimpered from the floor, her voice trembling as she wrapped her arms around Lily. "Is... is someone out there?"
Vincent didn't answer her with words. Instead, his dark eyes fixed on the open door of his study. He reached down into the desk drawer, his fingers closing around the cold, textured grip of his custom 9mm handgun. He pulled it out smoothly, racked the slide with a sharp, mechanical clack that vibrated in his newly awakened ears, and stepped out from behind the mahogany desk.
Lily watched him without a flinch. "It was behind your ear for a long time," she said softly, her small voice clear and resonant. "Like a bug in a flower."
Vincent stopped for a fraction of a second, looking down at the eight-year-old girl. He brought a single finger to his lips, signaling absolute quiet, then gestured for Emily to take Lily into the adjoining private bathroom and lock the door.
May you like
Emily didn't hesitate. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed Lily, and rushed into the side room, turning the brass deadbolt with a click.
Now alone in the vast study, Vincent walked silently across the oriental rug toward the marble hallway, his senses heightened to an agonizing degree. Every creak of his leather shoes sounded like a thunderclap; every breath he took felt amplified. He was a predator learning to hunt in an entirely new spectrum of reality.
