Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau (best authors to read .TXT) 📗

holding their guns. Not yet, anyway. Layela walked back towards the counter, her hands in plain sight and every step paced so as not to give the two soldiers any reason to believe she posed a threat. The two soldiers walked into the shop, their footsteps soft but still echoing on the clean floor. They followed her closely, their black and grey uniforms invading her peripheral vision on both sides, and she fought the urge to hunch her back.

Josmere was nowhere in sight, for which Layela was grateful. Although she doubted they would be interested in a petty thief this late in the day, she preferred not to find out.

Carefully, Layela reached into the drawer, pushing aside some papers to reach her digital passport. She recognized it by touch, its smooth cover cool and reassuring.

Yoma had insisted for a long time that they simply acquire fake passports, which would cost them less and be easier. But Layela had argued otherwise. She wanted to begin anew, and the passport was the first step to gaining that freedom. A nice, simple, legal step.

The government official snatched the passport from her hands, and Layela counted her blessings that she had insisted on the legal proceedings. The man was becoming more annoying with each passing second, like a slowly inflaming bug bite. He made a raw sound in his throat.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to confiscate this,” the man said, his mouth speaking the words regretfully where his eyes only spoke boredom. Another assignment completed, another day over.

“Why?” Layela asked, stunned.

“You are forbidden from leaving this planet,” the man continued, ignoring her question, jingling his keys again. “You are forbidden from communicating with anyone off-planet, and you are forbidden from doing business on Collar until further notice.”

“What do you mean?” Layela asked, her voice rising, her face and neck flushed with anger. They couldn’t do this! What right did they have to do this? And why?

Yoma. The word sliced through every other thought, her anger growing deeper. Her sister had done something. Something stupid and illegal, and they had traced her back to Layela. If her sister wanted to throw everything away, fine, but couldn’t she keep Layela out of it for once?

“I mean that you are basically under arrest, simply not in jail.” He prolonged each syllable, as though he spoke to a child. He even stopped jingling his keys, to ensure she could hear him perfectly. “At least, not until we receive proper reason to put you there.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong!” Layela’s voice resonated in the shop. “If I can’t open for business, how am I supposed to pay for it? I need to sell to survive!”

The man simply shrugged, and turned toward the door.

“Wait!” she called after them, walking towards the men. The soldiers blocked her, their hands travelling towards their guns.

She raised her hands to appease them.

“I just need to know why you’re doing this,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I need to know how I can help you clear this up faster.”

The government official didn’t even stop as he called over his shoulder. “You can’t.”

Backing away, the soldiers exited. As the door closed she could hear the jingling of keys.

Stunned, she didn’t even notice when Josmere came out of the shadows and stood beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Layl,” Josmere said, but Layela barely heard her. She wondered what her sister had done now, and how much it would cost her.

CHAPTER 2

Layela fidgeted with the piece of paper. She set it down, grabbed a watering can and walked toward the ferns. The plants were a perfect burgundy and perky, but Layela poured water in their earth regardless. She looked back at the piece of paper. Maybe there was another way.

Water splashed on her foot and she backed up, sighing. I needed to clean the floors anyway.

She set the watering can on the counter, resisted the urge to stay there, and headed to the back, running a hand over Mama Knot’s giant leaves and inventorying the plants in her head. What should she order next? Did it even matter now? With a firm hand she grabbed the mop and walked back into the store, cleaning her floors carefully. She considered waxing them too, but she knew she was stalling. Instead, she stopped in front of the counter, leaning the mop against it.

The tremble in her fingers threatened to rip the paper when she picked it up, and she forced her hands to steady. She set it down on the counter again, grabbed for the watering can and turned back towards the ferns, only remembering that she had already watered them when she saw the droplets still trickling onto the floor. She set the can down and grabbed the shears instead. Only the Growall plants had the constitution and speedy growth to withstand her current care. She hacked at them, feeling the page tug at her heart.

We always take care of each other, Layl.

She reached deep within the plant and hacked, her cutters sticky with sap, leaves and orange flowers littering the floor around her feet. Even the Growall couldn’t take much more of this abuse. Layela lowered the cutters to the floor and sat in the middle of the orange blooms, their musky scent filling her nostrils.

Picking one up, she outlined each petal with her fingers, imagining it withering in time. Like so many other things.

“We do always take care of each other, Yoma,” she whispered, anger fading from her as she spoke the words, a mantra she’d repeated since early childhood.

She felt tears well in her eyes as she thought of all the care and dreams that had gone into the forging of Sunrise Flowers, but she thought of her sister, who might be in trouble and in need of help, and the tears were gone as quickly as they had come. Yoma was all she had, really — and Josmere too, though the Berganda had chosen not to follow them in