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

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.

“Contact them, Inspector,” Dunkat said, not turning to look at the man. “Tell them we request permission to board. And, if they refuse,” he added, “then lock them down and gas them.”

The man swallowed