The Destiny (Blood and Destiny Book 4) (13 page)

An angry growl erupted from Cid’s stomach
as he trudged through the mud. Though he’d eaten some of Friar Narry’s awful-tasting
cold soup, it served to make him feel sick rather than abating the hunger. Now,
between the oozing squelch of every step through the muddy field and the
constant complaints his stomach made, the silent trip to the airship wreckages
seemed rather noisy. Sandy walked in step a few paces behind, and behind her,
Saunders followed, pulling the cart they had fished out of the boggy mud by the
train tracks. Its wheels squeaked and clanked, complaining as loudly as Cid’s
stomach with every movement.

They’d left Narry
behind, hiding in the dining car. The Friar seemed cheerful as he waved them
away. At least, no one had seemed to notice the strange group of people who’d
purloined the train as their new home, and Cid could only hope that would
remain the case.

Eventually, they passed
by the wreckage of the
Eagle
. The pile of bodies which had been left
behind the night before were gone; at least all of the military fallen had been
taken. Cid tried his best not to pay too much attention to the liberal
scattering of pirate corpses. It certainly made for a morbid graveyard.

“Would the Admiral have
taken them?” Sandy asked as they turned around the charred carcass of the
Eagle’s
hull.

“Yes. They will be
given funeral pyres to appease the Gods,” Saunders said.

“Bloody Gods,” Cid
muttered under his breath.

One final lump of wood
came into view. It was hard to tell from the mess whether it belonged to their
airship or not, as they’d come this far and it seemed a shame not to check it
out.

It took another half an
hour to reach the vessel. Cid’s legs ached, his stomach growled, and his head
felt light, but none of it mattered when it became clear how the ship had gone
down. It had hit hard, one propeller shot out completely sending the whole
thing crashing down on its side. The bow of the ship had disintegrated
entirely, a smattering of splintered wood coating the muddy field in a halo
surrounding the ship. The ass end stuck up in the air, which made his heart
thump a little harder. His engine had been buried at the bottom of the ship in
the farthest room at the back. If anything would have survived the crash, it
appeared that particular room might have been the safest place.

“I take it back,” Cid
said as he came to a stop beside the wreck, staring up at it.

“What?” Sandy asked.

“Cursing the Gods. I
shouldn’t have done that. They may have smiled on us, after all.”

“Don’t say that until
you’ve seen inside. It could still be nothing more than a collection of smashed
up metal parts.” She patted him on the shoulder and stepped forward, only to be
yanked backwards by Saunders.

“Stay here. Let me make
sure it’s safe,” he said, pulling a pistol from his pocket. Sandy rolled her
eyes and opened her mouth as if to argue as Saunders launched himself up,
crawling along the slanted deck.

“I wish he’d stop
trying to order me about like one of his soldiers,” Sandy said.

“I don’t think it’s
that simple for men like him. Holt still orders Larissa about, and she doesn’t
seem to notice.”

“Probably because she
loves him. I love Tobin as family, but one of these days, I’m going to break
his nose.”

“Clear,” Saunders
called as his head popped out of the stairwell.

“He’s concerned for
your safety, that’s all,” Cid said as he climbed up the deck. The wood was
still slick after the rain, making for an awkward climb. He scooted down the
stairs into the depths of the ship. It was distinctly similar to the attempt at
salvaging the last airship in Eptora, save for the scorching heat and burley
Eptoran soldiers breathing down their necks. He didn’t like to think of the
collective value of the number of ships which had been destroyed since he and
Larissa first set out from Sallarium City in the Professor’s dirigible.

Below, the staircase
disappeared into nothing more than a collection of planks, the walls collapsed
into the corridor, blending rooms and levels into one big muddle. Cid turned
his head when he spotted an arm poking out from a support beam. As much as the Marines
had collected the bodies from out on the fields, he supposed they hadn’t really
had the time to go picking around the insides of the ship for the last of their
men.

Slowly and carefully,
he clambered his way to the room containing the engine, while Saunders and
Sandy went in search of her orb.

The door to the engine
room hung on one hinge, dangling down into the lopsided ship. His heart
fluttered a little as he saw a spanner wedged between the door and the frame;
he’d forgotten about his tools. With a deep breath, his eyes fluttered closed,
and he said a silent prayer before glancing into the room.

“Fuck me,” he said as
the engine came into view. It had taken a few scrapes and knocks, and would no
doubt take a few more as they tried to extract it from the room, but it was
intact. Better still were the collection of tools that seemed within easy
reach, and the final pleasing sight came when he found the remains of the lump
of
Anthonium
still sitting in the engine casing. The scavengers could
have made more money from the sale of that small chunk of rock than they would
from anything they salvaged from the other wrecks. Cid laughed at their
incompetence.

As a screech of delight
went up from the other end of the ship, he couldn’t help but smile. It seemed
their journey across the fields would be worth the effort after all.

…

Holt jolted on
Larissa’s arm as they reached the alleyway, bringing her to a stop.

“What is it?” she asked,
a frown furrowing her brow.

“Planning,” he said. He
softened his grip and stroked down the outside of her arm all the way to her
wrist, which he turned over carefully. Her forearm was still marked, her
healing ability appeared greatly reduced, but there was no doubt in his mind
that it still remained.

“I was hoping that
would have gone,” she said as she rubbed her arm.

“You can still heal.”

“I’m not so sure. I
couldn’t help Kerrigan. I don’t think I could anyway. The world seems a far
more dangerous place without that ability helping me along. It’s typical. I
just got used to it, and now I’ve lost it.”

“You haven’t lost it.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m alive.” He
felt his lips curve into a smile.

“You think that’s
because of me?”

“Why else? I should be
dead. I did die, and yet here I stand. I’ve suspected it was because of you for
a while now.”

“Because of my
ability?”

“Yes. I’ve felt better
when I’m near you and awful when we spend any time apart. The closer the
better.”

“That’s almost romantic,
Holt,” she said with a smirk as her cheeks turned pink.

“Almost. As important
as this is—”

“I know, it’s not
pertinent,” she said with a sigh, extracting her arm from his grip. “You have a
plan, I take it?”

“Besides going in there
and slaughtering everyone I see?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“No.”

“Then I guess you had
better play the part of my boyfriend, and I will play the part of a woman
willing to have sex with men in exchange for money. Just try to be more natural
about it.” She turned and headed towards Cosby’s, wriggling her backside as she
walked.

His eyes were drawn to
it, despite the fact that her dress was ripped to shreds and covered in an unappealing
mixture of dirt and gore. He didn’t want to imagine her bathing to wash it all
off, though his mind treated him to the image regardless. The thought of the
brothel owner forcing her into a sort of test performance made the blood in his
veins boil. Despite Larissa’s desire to walk away without leaving a pile of
bodies behind, there would be at least one dead body before they left.

The inside of the brothel was far worse
than Larissa had imagined. A sticky layer clung to the carpet, pulling at her
boots with every step. She didn’t like to guess at what substance might have
caused such a mess. The walls were painted in a deep, velvety red, and a
chandelier that had no business being in a former clock shop hung precariously
from an undersized hook in the ceiling. The main room seemed to be a sort of
waiting room, with benches and mismatched chairs placed around. The most
noticeable and horrifying thing seemed to be the smell. Larissa managed to keep
herself from gagging, her hand covering her mouth and blocking off her nose as
she followed Naomi through to the back rooms. It smelled like sweat and
something else—the unfamiliar scent of masculine fluids. A mouthful of bile
collected at the back of Larissa’s throat. She would have worried about puking
on the carpet, only she wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t be improved with a
covering of vomit.

Holt followed behind,
walking so close his feet almost caught hers with every step. She tried not to
despair at how much she’d longed for such closeness from him, and now that she
had it, it was in one of the worst possible settings. As innocent as she was
about brothels and prostitution, she was quite sure a prostitute’s boyfriend
wouldn’t be allowed to hang around for long unless he paid for the privilege.

“What the fuck is
that?” a voice boomed as she walked past an open door without noticing that someone
was inside.

She sighed, knowing
Holt would have noticed. Her skill in scanning her surroundings and being aware
of threats from all directions was about as much use as her flagging healing
ability.

“A new girl,” Naomi
said.

“And what is the other
one?”

“Her boyfriend. I’m
going to clean her up before I introduce you.”

“Good. She looks like a
pile of horse manure that’s been dragged through a dusty street. Smells like it
too,” the voice called to them. It was harsh and round and, although female,
not very feminine.

Larissa continued along
the corridor, not having seen the owner and not really wanting to put a face to
the booming voice. She had the distinct impression that Holt intended to make
short work of the woman’s existence. Another set of heavy footsteps thumped
along the corridor from behind somewhere.

“Security,” Holt
whispered in her ear as they stopped beside the door to Naomi’s room. “Do you
want them subdued or dispensed of?”

“Neither.” She grabbed
his arm and pulled him into the room with her, closing the door and blocking out
their pursuers.

Naomi’s room had the
same sickly smell about it, lightly covered by the scent of rose water. The
paper on the walls peeled away at the edges, and a very unappealing purple
velvet sheet lay strewn across the bed. Larissa looked around for a bath and
found her heart sinking when she only saw a basin and water jug. If cleaning a
layer of mud and blood from her body meant using a jug of cold water, she
wasn’t sure it would be worth the effort.

“Do you want me to
clean you up? Your boyfriend can watch,” Naomi said, giving Holt a wink.

“No, I’d rather do it
myself, if you don’t mind.”

“We need privacy,” Holt
said, pinning Naomi with one of his long stares.

The woman faltered and
headed towards the door. “You can take whichever dress you want once you’re
clean, but don’t spend too long choosing, Madame Cosby will have you strip for
her as soon as you meet.”

As the door closed,
Larissa found herself staring uneasily at the bedsheets.

“Focus,” Holt said, his
mouth close to her ear.

“How many security
men?”

“At least three I know
of. The brothel is not yet open. More may follow later.”

“So now is the best
time to do make a move?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know, Holt. This
seems a bit rushed.”

“You’d rather spend a
few days working here before launching an attack?”

“Gods no.”

“You doubt my ability
to handle a few overweight security guards and one very overweight Madame?”

“No,” she said after
looking him over thoroughly. He seemed like his usual self. The pale sheen on
his skin had faded, color returning to his cheeks.

“What is it?” he asked
after she spent an inordinate amount of time ogling him.

“You look like you.”

“I would hope that was
the case.”

“No, I mean…you’ve
looked like death for days, and now you look almost normal.”

He gave her a long,
dark stare, then let out a sigh as he headed to the wardrobe. “You should
wash,” he said without turning to look.

Larissa approached the
basin. A small soap dish sat at the side; the white soap smelled like lavender
though it wasn’t strong. She dipped her hands into the water all the way up to
the elbows. The water turned murky in an instant.

“You think my healing
ability is capable of curing you of the
Anthonium
poisoning?” she asked
as she scraped the soap over her skin. The wound on her arm finally healed,
though a pink scar remained.

“Damn, the window is
locked. I was planning on sneaking out and performing reconnaissance, then catching
the guards from behind,” Holt said.

Larissa tugged the
dress from her body and let it fall to the floor at her feet. She should have
felt embarrassed but had the distinct sense Holt was doing his best to not
look, even though he’d seen her nude more than once, and more than that. She scrubbed
her skin, mind racing, thinking a million thoughts all at once.

“Smashing the windows
would be too noisy, I suppose,” she said.

“I’m no expert on
Anthonium
and its benefits or dangers, but it would seem reasonable that someone who is
immune to the poison and possessed a healing ability could heal a person who
was suffering from such effects,” Holt said.

“I suppose I shall have
to meet with this Madame Cosby. If I can put on enough of a performance, I
might be able to distract the guards to give you a chance to slip past. If what
we have both concluded about the
Anthonium
is true, do you suppose the
healing is temporary or permanent?”

“What sort of
performance?” Holt said, his tone cool.

“I have no idea. An
enticing one.” Larissa worked the soap down her body.

“Hmm.”

“Because if the healing
is only temporary for as long as you are close to me, then it follows that we
should remain close indefinitely,” Larissa said, finally turning to look at
Holt. He no longer avoided looking at her. Instead, he was staring directly at
her.

“Indeed,” Holt said.

“You realize we’ve been
having two entirely different conversations simultaneously?” Larissa said.

“Yes. Both have
been…revealing.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the wardrobe,
selecting a dress from it. He walked over and offered it to her, his stance
awkward, arm stiff, eyes staring at a fixed spot on the wall.

“Your hair is a mess,”
he said.

“I don’t have time to
wash my hair,” she said as she took the dress from him and pulled herself into
it. “I don’t want to put on a show for too long, so let’s figure this out.
Where do you think the money would be kept?”

“Most likely in the
room with the Madame.”

“And I don’t suppose
you’ll be allowed in with me.”

“I believe I will be
escorted out the moment you leave this room. The guards are waiting outside.”

“Then I will get the
money. You keep the security busy.”

Holt watched as she
pulled the dress into place on her body. It was a flimsy thing made of cream-colored
taffeta, designed for easy removal. She’d found a pair of knickers and wasn’t
entirely sure she wanted to wear them, but after some internal debate, she
concluded that going into battle sans underwear seemed a little absurd,
especially if she didn’t find any more suitable clothing in the meantime. She
wasn’t enamoured with the idea of presenting her private areas to anyone apart
from Holt, especially not the President during an attempt to overthrow him. It
wasn’t until she’d finished dressing that it occurred to her that she had
committed herself to getting the money out of the place where they assumed it
to be hidden. There was no plan in her mind to accompany such a commitment.

“You want me to keep
the security busy?”

“Or subdue them.”

“Subdue,” Holt said
quietly.

“Yes. As in…not kill.
You can use your imagination with the rest.” Larissa opened the door to find
three faces staring down at her. Naomi stood closest, a look of eager
anticipation on her face, and behind her, two exceedingly tall and well-built
men loomed in the background. Larissa’s heart fluttered at the sight of them.
She hoped Holt was healed enough to survive a fight. She began to second-guess
her instruction that he spare their lives, but as Naomi looped her arm through
Larissa’s elbow and dragged her out of the room, she didn’t have a chance to
articulate her thoughts.

“Say goodbye to your
boyfriend. You’ll see him again after tonight.”

Larissa strained to
look over her shoulder at Holt as she marched down the corridor; the broad back
of one of the guards was all she could see.