Destiny's Blood (3 page)

“But I don’t want it. This is yours, not mine,” Josmere said, pushing the piece of paper back towards Layela.

Layela rooted her arms by her side, her fingers forming fists lest they reach out for the document before she could stop them.

“Josmere, I know it isn’t like you to stay so sedentary, but I need you to do this.” Her voice rose with the need to be understood; to convince Josmere, not to mention herself, that this was indeed the right course of action. “I can’t do business right now, and if I don’t make money, then I can’t keep this place up. I have no savings left. Everything is tied into this place.”

Josmere’s eyes held hers. The small creases around them were the only sign of aging the Berganda would ever show.

“Bergandas can’t own businesses in Solarian space,” she whispered, as though afraid her refusal might shatter Layela like fine glass.

“If they wear regulation gloves at all times on Collar, they can.” Layela gave her a thin smile. “It was one of the many reasons we chose this planet, should you ever decide to join us.”

Josmere opened her mouth as though to say something, but then stopped and lowered her eyes. In the throes of her own grief over her flower shop, Layela didn’t care to pursue the matter further. It was time to go.

“Besides,” Layela added with a forced laugh. “You’re a plant, so this should be easy for you, right? Just make sure not to sell yourself.”

Josmere’s frown lessened, and she looked down at the paper again.

“You’re going after Yoma?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes. I need to know what’s happening so I know how to fix it. I’m guessing Yoma has the answers I need.” The last words were spoken with more bitterness than she had intended.

Josmere shook her head again, green hair tossing like leaves caught in the wind.

“Josmere,” Layela said, her voice becoming more forceful. As she grabbed the Berganda’s arm, the familiar tingle of Josmere’s powers coursed through her fingers.

Josmere looked up, and Layela was surprised to see uncertainty in the green eyes. It was not a quality she had ever witnessed in the
Berganda.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.” Layela whispered, holding Josmere’s gaze. For all of her faults and secrets, the Berganda had always been loyal to the twins, even when it would have proven wiser to stay away.

“I don’t like this,” Josmere said. “But I’ll do it. Where will you begin your search?”

“I don’t know.” She studied the Berganda closely. “Do you have any ideas?”

Anger flashed across Josmere’s face for a second. “If I did, don’t you think I’d be out there looking? Bones, Layela, you two are my best friends, and if you think I’d endanger Yoma even if she’d beg me to, I wouldn’t! I don’t know what’s going on any more than you!”

Layela studied her friend for a moment, inclined to believe her. She walked behind the counter to pick up her light travel satchel.

“Then I hope my instincts will guide me. That’s usually enough to find her,” she said. Josmere had witnessed enough of the twins’ link over the years not to question it. She busied herself with the satchel so that the Berganda wouldn’t see the lie in her eyes. In the past few years, her link with Yoma had weakened, to the point where Layela had not even felt the direction in which Yoma had headed.

When she dared look at Josmere again, the small bag secured around her shoulder, the contract was on the counter with fresh ink drying at the bottom. Suddenly, Layela’s bag felt heavier.

“I’ll do this, Layl,” Josmere said, her eyes regaining their certainty. “But if you don’t have luck quickly enough for my liking, I’m coming after you.”

Layela nodded and walked toward the door, trying not to look at the red roses on the right that she had been growing for years, or at the white Lichta flowers that she had bargained three days to acquire. She tried to ignore the musky scent of the Growalls still dancing in the air, and the soft rustle of Mama Knot’s leaves as the large Booknot swayed, agitated by Layela’s unhappiness and departure.

The door was smooth and cold to the touch, and she closed it quickly behind her before she could relent and convince herself that her dream, her freedom, her flower shop were more important than her sister. It would be too easy to turn back.

It had been too long a road to
Sunrise Flowers
for the dream to set in one day.

i

The man stood by the railing, his cloaked body outlined by the setting sun. He did not move, did nothing to draw attention, but Avienne Malavant approached him very warily.

Something about the man’s calm yet ready posture told her that he was a warrior, and probably a dangerous one. Avienne glanced sideways from him and assessed her brother’s appearance. With his black leather pants, loose tunic and vest, he could be just another merchant. But his confident walk and the gun at his waist marked him as something much more dangerous. Not to mention the sword he insisted on strapping to his back, despite Avienne’s teasing and protests. She wished she could tease him now, but despite his casual steps, she could feel tension flowing from him as they approached the stranger.

Why tonight of all nights?
Avienne thought, consciously trying to keep her hands steady. Fidgeting would not do.

Her brother walked up to the man, his stride unwavering.

“Beautiful night for a flight, isn’t it?” the man said as soon as the two siblings came within earshot.

Avienne’s pulse accelerated, though she was careful not to show it. So the man knew they were smugglers. He must have been the one who had sent word he wanted to hire them. If not, he certainly had picked an odd phrase to open the conversation. Besides, this was not a place a man came to unless he had some illegal or immoral business to take care of.

“That it is,” her brother Ardin said nonchalantly, leaning casually on the railing beside the man. Avienne stood off to one side, close enough to intervene if necessary. She let her brother do most of the talking on these occasions. It had been her experience that in her line of work, men were taken more seriously. Most men did not like talking business with a woman they would prefer to see in their beds.

The men stood silently and Avienne ran through the possible outcomes of this meeting. The most likely was that they were about to be hired, but being raided or killed also had high probability.

“Anything we can do for you?” Ardin finally said. Avienne hid a smile. Her brother had never been patient.

“I need one of the quickest, strongest and most discreet crews in the entire star system to take care of a very important mission. With suitable compensation, of course.”

“You’ve certainly come to the right crew,” Ardin said, pride filling his voice.

“That’s what I was told, and I’ve researched extensively.”

“Good. I’m sure you also found that we’re not the stupidest crew around. We won’t take a suicidal contract just to fill our pockets.”

“I’d expect no less.”

“Then what are we talking about?” Ardin said. Avienne winced at the impatience
 
—
 
worse, curiosity
 
—
 
in her brother’s voice. His decisions were not always the most sensible. Avienne had always blamed it on his sense of adventure and undying curiosity
 
—
 
things that she had hoped he would outgrow when he reached manhood. Too many odd adventures and questionable decisions had since occurred for her to continue to hope.

“A young woman needs protection, although she may not realize it. You may have to convince her to come with you, and bring her to Lockor for her own good.”

“Kidnapping?” Ardin said, his voice conveying disapproval. There were laws that even smugglers wouldn’t break. Stolen goods were not a problem; stolen people were a different matter entirely.

“Not quite. It’s where she needs to go, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Still sounds like kidnapping to me,” Ardin said, looking sideways at the man.

The man shrugged. “You’ll be keeping her safe and protecting her from those who will try to harm her.”

“Who wants to harm her?” Avienne asked, drawing attention to herself.

The man did not even bother turning toward her. “Solarian Government. Maybe an assassin or two.”

“Is that all?” Avienne replied sarcastically. “If it’s too dangerous, we can’t do it,” she said, her blood boiling. Ardin tensed as her words bit the air, words he had often used on her. “Our duty is to our own.”

The man turned around slowly and locked eyes with hers. “Remember those words, Avienne Malavant. Remember them well.”

Ice rushed down Avienne’s spine and she fought not to let it show. The man turned back to lean on the railing. So he knew their names, as well. That did not comfort her.

“Anything else?” Ardin asked.

“Yes. You must find her quickly, bring her to your ship and get her away from Collar. If you fail to do this, I won’t be able to compensate you.”

Ardin looked off into the spaceport where their ship, the
Destiny
, was docked. Avienne followed his gaze briefly. Although an old, unidentified model, its dull metal and battle scars were more beautiful to her than any of the newer ships in the port.
But still...

Acid sloshed in her stomach and her heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to look away from the old ship and back to the man. Her brother was only second-in-command, so the stakes had to be good for him to accept this mission. He would need to justify his decisions to the captain, a man with a kind heart but little sense of humour when it came to the safety of his ship and crew.

Hopefully this decision is better than the last three missions he decided we should accept,
Avienne thought, almost smiling. Her brother’s voice broke through her musings.

“How much are we talking about?”

The man reached inside his cloak. Avienne tensed, her fingers grazing the hilt of one of her throwing knives.

He pulled a pouch free from his cloak. Avienne focused on his other arm in case the pouch was intended to distract them.

Her brother opened the pouch, and she heard his breath catch as he looked inside it. From the corner of her eye, she saw something sparkle. Lonil diamonds would give off that light.

“This is a down payment. Bring her safely to Lockor and I’ll double it.”

“That’s a king’s ransom!” her brother hissed.

“I know.” the man said, his voice distant.

Ardin shot his sister a quick look. She shrugged and grinned. It had been a while since they had made good money. How difficult could it be to protect one girl and get her safely to her destination?

Her brother smiled. “What do we need to know?”

C
HAPTER
3

T
he docks of Harbour Bay were littered with ships, from single pods to large commuter and freight vessels. Located on the remnants of the old bay that had once housed the biggest trading stations, the Harbour Bay docks were the perfect portrait of Collar. Everyone was simply passing by, all social classes and walks of life mingled without pause, and so many non-natives travelled the streets that a blue-haired Collarian was a rare sight.

Strolling amidst the various merchants pushing their wares and fortunes on the travellers, Layela carefully inspected her surroundings. She was intent on avoiding all Solarian soldiers and surveillance equipment, not wishing to test their determination to keep her on Collar. Thankfully, the nature of Collar did not encourage Solari mingling too closely
 
—
 
the strategically located planet stood at the centre of three major solar systems and relied on trade.

Of course, as with all other trading planets, smuggling had become the norm. The Solarian Government, in a rare show of wisdom, had put very little effort into stopping the illegal trade, just enough to appease the merchants from their other planets. In actuality, the government funded quite a bit of the smuggling, hoping to acquire cheaper merchandise than their own taxes would allow.

Layela navigated the crowded streets and wished she could see green again, could touch a silken petal and smell life blooming around her. But Collar’s vegetation was sparse, the darkness too great and the development too dense to allow for any life other than its own. Instead of the carefully chosen blooms of her shop, her senses were now assaulted by hanging meats, ale and sweat. She quickened her pace, hoping to soon find a suitable ship. The sooner she left the planet and found Yoma, the better.

She spotted a small bar, tucked away from the rest of the merchants, its doors kept closed and its facade uninviting. Perfect. Having grown up on the streets, even though on a different planet, Layela knew how to recognize certain areas. A dark bar where few were invited and even fewer questions were asked probably held the ride she was seeking.

She readjusted her pack and approached the door. Unzipping her coat, she let the pommel of her gun, tied at her waist, show a bit. Weakness and vulnerability would not be assets in this situation. She wished the weapon didn’t feel so heavy, the weight tugging at whispering visions.

Without hesitation, Layela opened the door. Her eyes, already used to the dark landscape of Collar, quickly adjusted to the darker room. She walked to the bar, her head held high but avoiding eye contact. Nobody needed to think she was looking for someone in particular. Too many people in here would take offence to being recognized.

“Something I can do for you, miss?” the barkeeper asked without looking up from the glass he was pouring.

“I’m looking for transport off the planet,” she answered casually.

He looked up and leaned in, foul breath coating her face as he spoke. “Where to?”

She fought the urge to back away. “Anywhere with a safe landing.” She slit her eyes and took a step closer, trying not to breathe in his stench. “And no ‘hidden fees.’”