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

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.

CHAPTER 17

Well, 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