Destiny's Blood (19 page)

Yoma stopped but didn’t turn around, only lowering her head
 
—
 
just enough for Layela to see. She felt comforted that her sister cared enough to grieve a bit.

Layela’s voice sounded small and young to her own ears. “Why did they destroy it, Yoma? Why did you leave me?” She wanted to scream, to hang on to her anger, but she could only feel sorrow. She felt like a little girl again, huddled in a damp corner and frightened. She wanted her sister to turn around and tell her everything was all right, maybe that it was even just a bad dream. That her hard work had paid off, and the two of them could work quietly amongst the blooms and be content with a simple life filled with honest work.

Yoma did turn around, but the instant Layela met her eyes, she knew those were not the words that would escape her lips.

“Did Josmere show you?” she asked, green eyes blazing.

Layela felt her fury rising again, against Yoma and Josmere, who refused to let her be a part of what she had helped create. She had been wounded, blood and bones, but not broken. She considered lying to see what Yoma would reveal, but her sister knew her too well.

“No,” she simply replied, thunder welling in her mind.

Yoma nodded, just nodded, and walked out. No explanation, no apology, not even a goodbye.

“Get back here!” Layela shouted as she stormed out of the shop, bumping into Josmere instead. She looked just as stunned to see Yoma.

Josmere opened her mouth, staring at Yoma, but it was Layela she turned to. “They’re here.”

“How do you know?”

“I can sense other Berganda. And I know of no other who would have just arrived.”

“Who’s here?” Yoma asked, darting back and forth between the two, and Layela felt some satisfaction at seeing her sister’s confusion.

She waited a moment, enjoying knowing something Yoma did not. A shot ripped through the quiet neighbourhood and the window beside them exploded into a thousand shards.

“Run!” Josmere screamed, and Layela grabbed her sister by the arm and dragged her along, in case she decided to part ways based on a misguided belief that it would save them. Josmere led the way, the sisters staying close, and at the first alley Yoma darted but Layela held her fast, almost stumbling as she pulled Yoma back.

“We have to separate!” Yoma screamed in short breaths. Another shot was fired, and shards of stone flew from the building onto them.

“No we don’t, Yoma. We never had to!” Yoma didn’t voice any agreement, but didn’t try to break away again, either. Layela dug her fingers deep into her sister’s flesh, just in case she should try.

That felt good, too.

“Blood and bones!” Josmere cursed from up ahead, and Layela and Yoma came short of tackling her. They had been so engrossed in their little battle that they hadn’t noticed they had headed right into a dead end. Josmere ran to the side, about to try the handle to one of the shops, when another shot fired close to her feet and she stopped, lifting her hands above her head.

Layela and Yoma turned. The Kilita marched toward them, holding a gun. The Berganda, rifle slung across her shoulder, sauntered up. They stopped far enough away to avoid being jumped, but close enough that they couldn’t miss a shot at a cockroach.

Yoma hissed and Josmere swore.

Layela couldn’t break away from the Kilita’s orange eyes, seeing in them what she had seen for three complete days, visions that still haunted her and slowed her heart, the wretched depths of which she still could not fully block out. Three days, millions of different individuals, worlds, races, children and adults, all flashing by too quickly for her mind to grasp, for her memory to retain, only one oily darkness clinging to all of them: their final screams and last, desperate thoughts.

In those eyes, she had been forced to live countless deaths, countless different ways, spread through time and space.

In those eyes, she had seen and felt mortality stripped to its barest, souls screaming in the last wink, screaming for an afterlife. Their fates had never been revealed to Layela, her visions ending where life ended.

In those eyes, she had had her own mortality stripped away a thousand times, so harshly, so strongly, that she still believed sometimes that every released breath was her last.

And now, those eyes stared at her again, and she knew that there was no escape.

C
HAPTER
17

W
el
l,
well, what do we have here,” the Berganda mused, cocking her head sideways as she looked from Yoma to Layela. Yoma curled her hands into fists.

“Twins? How sweet!” Her eyes shone vivid green but, unlike Josmere’s, held no warmth in them.

“We’re to bring you into custody,” the Kilita said formally, but took no step toward them. Yoma chanced a glance at her sister. Layela’s inky blue eyes were wide and stared, unblinking, at the Kilita. What was wrong with her? Layela was hot-tempered, but she rarely lost her head so completely as to become a drooling idiot.

“So it was a twin,” the Kilita said, staring at the two. “That’s why she wouldn’t turn you in.” The man sounded infuriated at his own failure. “And I certainly tried to get the confession.”

Yoma’s eyes widened and her pulse quickened.

“I wonder if she would turn you in now,” the Kilita wondered, furrowing his brow, “were I to have her another three days.”

Yoma was gone before he finished speaking, her boiling rage exploding and ripping her last shred of control. She ran towards him screaming, ready to die for the chance to kill him, when two arms linked her from behind, and a whisper came in her ear, “I’m all right, Yoma. I’m all right, Yoma.” Layela repeated the words over and over again, clutching her sister like she would the only oxygen tank left in the vastness of space.

“I’m all right, Yoma.” Layela’s voice gained strength with each repetition, slowly draining the anger out of her sister. “Please, believe me.”

“I know you’re strong, Layl,” Yoma whispered, and Layela released her. Her eyes were no longer lost and wide, but set with a new purpose. They made Yoma’s heart swell and she looked away before Layela could see her unfamiliar tears.

Why did you have to follow me, Layela? All I want is for you to be safe.

“Three are too many and too dangerous,” the Berganda said to the Kilita.

“You’re the one that’s too dangerous,” Josmere hissed from behind the twins, having approached a bit closer.

The Berganda raised an eyebrow at Josmere, as though she was inferior, smirking at her before focusing on the twins again. Yoma heard her friend’s low swear, the sound like music to her ears. It felt good to have her two allies with her again, she had to admit.

“We’ve only been told to bring one,” the Berganda said, and the Kilita stiffened a bit.

“We also haven’t been ordered to dispose of anyone, Seela,” the Kilita said, his orange eyes flashing.

“But how will anyone know I slipped, Romero?” the woman mused, training her gun on Layela. Yoma jumped and pushed Layela out of the way as the bullet raced from the gun. She grunted as it hit her upper arm, blood spattering on Layela’s clothing.

She heard Layela scream and Josmere was on the move, but as Seela was about to fire again, the Kilita pushed her. A bullet flew past Seela’s face, grazing her cheek. Green blood oozed onto her perfect features.

Yoma was on her knees, facing her sister. Bullets were flying, but not from Seela’s gun.

“Are you all right?” Layela screamed, but Yoma could barely hear her. A shuttle had appeared above them, filling the alley with the loud drone of its engines. But the shots weren’t coming from the shuttle. A man stood in the doorway of the first shop, cloaked and clad in black, firing at the assassins. The Kilita withdrew quickly, carrying the Berganda.

“Come on,” the man screamed. He didn’t look much friendlier; dark hair streaked with grey highlighted the perfect scar running from forehead to chin on the right side of his face. But he wasn’t firing at them, so Yoma was more inclined to trust him.

“It’s the Malavants!” Layela screamed, laughing, as the shuttle landed near the man in black, blocking them from the fleeing assassins. The door opened and a woman with wild red hair motioned for them to get on. The man in black was on the other side already, firing a few more shots at the retreating assassins.

“You know them?” Yoma screamed to be heard. Didn’t these people believe in modern sound filtering equipment?

“They’re friends, I think.” Layela shouted. “Well, they’re not enemies, anyway!” Layela looked down at her sister’s arm, where blood was trickling down. It wasn’t bad. She had felt worse.

“Let’s get you healed up,” Layela said and Yoma smiled in agreement. Layela got up and Yoma followed for a few steps. But then she turned on her heel and ran in the other direction. The man in black had left the shop door open, and Yoma guessed that there would be a back exit through it.

She thought she heard Layela scream her name once, but the sound was ripped from her as the shuttle quickly took off, the sounds of law enforcement all that remained in the dreary air.

Yoma ran through the shop, out the other side, and kept running until the throbbing in her arm demanded attention, and the ache in her heart felt like it would never heal. She had been given one last chance to hug Layela and say goodbye. But that had been taken away from her, too.

All that she had left was the future, and the memories to keep her warm in the night.

Stay safe, Layela.

i

She had lost her again. She had been within her grasp, and she had lost her. Why hadn’t Layela insisted that her sister run ahead of her? Why, why did Yoma keep abandoning her when she needed her most?

Not true
. She felt it in her heart, knew she was thinking out of anger, but the frustration was hard to quench.

“You didn’t have to hit me,” Avienne said, massaging her left shoulder.

“You didn’t have to stop me from reaching my sister,” Layela retorted with none of the fire she had felt just seconds earlier. Yoma was gone.

“You didn’t have to steal our shuttle!” Ardin interjected from the controls.

“You didn’t have to kidnap us!” Josmere spat.

“You didn’t have to spit on me,” the man in black deadpanned from beside Josmere, with what Layela hoped was a sense of humour.

“Sorry,” Josmere said, although her tone certainly didn’t convey the emotion. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Zortan.” The man sat back, content, as if deciding his answer was good enough.

“He’s the man who hired us to bring you to Lockor,” Avienne added. “And this is as chatty as he gets.”

“What do you want with us,” Layela asked, narrowing her eyes. The man was strong, she knew instinctively, and she doubted age had rusted his warrior instincts. He had a gun secured to his belt, and a large, old sword strapped to his back. Not exactly common space-faring weaponry.

“With her,” Zortan said, nodding towards Josmere, “nothing. But with you,” he continued, looking at Layela, “I simply wish to protect you from those who would seek to harm you.”

Shadows fell in the shuttle as Ardin expertly navigated into the Destiny’s docking bay.

“Who might they be?” Josmere asked before Layela could, her words punctuated by the thud of the shuttle touching ground.

“We’ll all know soon enough,” Zortan said, jumping lightly to his feet the second Avienne opened the shuttle door. Without another word, Zortan walked swiftly towards the bay exit. Avienne stared for a moment before following. “I guess I’ll show his highness to his room,” she mumbled as she left.

Layela and Josmere stepped off. Ardin intercepted Layela. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said, piercing her with his eyes. “I meant what I said. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know,” Layela whispered, meeting his gaze, unflinching. She didn’t realize how close he stood to her until Josmere cleared her throat.

Layela blushed and stepped back.

“Your room is still available,” Ardin said, as he looked down at his flashing comm unit. He walked quickly away, calling back, “No lock, no key, but you have to give me a reason to trust you!”

The door closed and he was gone.

“Layela,” Josmere said, looking towards the bay doors. “Let’s go to our room.” The Berganda sighed and ruffled her hair uncharacteristically. “I think it’s time that we both see what this vision is all about.”

i

Colonel Dunkat Groosh fought back his annoyance. He didn’t want to have to set foot on this ugly little planet, but he had little choice but to pursue this matter personally.

Layela Delamores’ trail had grown cold on Thalos IV. Her rescuers had flown her to the docks, and then...nothing. He pushed his thoughts of failure away one by one, except for the final one, the destruction of
Sunrise Flowers
. It would come back to haunt him, he knew, and so he kept it as close as he would keep his fiercest enemy.

The ships strewn within the Veruvian docks were from all destinations and ages, not one seemed more important than the last. The inspection team followed at a respectful distance, as though afraid of eliciting his ire.

Merchants lowered their eyes out of respect and fear. The insignia of Solari, coupled with his high rank, were enough to deter even the most curious. And had they heard his name, a name passed from father to son for countless generations, a family unbroken by dishonour for centuries, he knew they would cower further. Dunkat bore his father’s name with pride. He looked forward to uttering it to Layela’s so-called rescuers.

They walked for almost an hour. Dunkat insisted on proceeding on foot to get acquainted with his surroundings. They left the outdoor docks and walked into the enclosed ones, a maze of metal housing ships for longer-term stay. Or for remaining unseen.

From behind him, the inspector cleared his throat. “We believe they were spotted entering that ship, Colonel.” Only a small fraction of the vessel he pointed to was visible, its dark panelling dull in the dim blue lights. Dunkat barely gave it a second glance; he already knew she would be unmarked, no doubt a smuggling ship.