The Tale of the Blood Diamond (35 page)

Jayme remained silent as the woman went on.

“All I can say is, though I don’t understand what he feels for you, I respect it and his decision to remain with you to take care of his family. Despite public outcry on my planet right now, I am in full support of us seeing this ’til the end. We owe you people, and it is the least we can do. Besides, I’ve always wanted to vacation on Earth. Burning a deceased Morphitian, a delightful killing spree of Yuledrakes, and seeing my brother in his new environment are just an added bonus.”

Jayme chuckled. She raised her glass in the air for a toast.

“To peace, acceptance, respect and renewed understanding between us, forever more!”

“I’ll drink to that!”

Their glasses clinked together, and despite the previous barriers, a new friendship was born…

The smell of new money bundled neatly on an antique, alabaster table didn’t sway his mood in a more upbeat direction. Lorenzo hooked his fingers around the dark red, thinly parted curtains, relishing time alone in the wee hours of the dawn. The ladies were piled in the living room, their soft chatter grating him. He turned up his music a bit louder to drown them out.  He’d just gotten back in town from New York. He got his affairs in order in record time, and was more than pleased with the progress. Business was now booming while here, in D.C., he began to loath the entire scene. The ice was melting and a row of cars parked across from his home sported pockets of thawing ice from the heated glare of the sun, which generously removed the white pain in the ass that had been hammering down on the city for months.

Things weren’t going as well as he’d anticipated. By now, he should have had the handle on Mr. Xzion Khrome, but nothing could be further from the truth. He’d never had such a hard time tracking down a motherfucka before. He pegged himself as good in these arenas. Now he regretted killing the snitch so soon. The man may have had additional information that could have aided in getting this business wrapped up a bit sooner. Maybe it was some of the shit he saw around the dwelling that caused this craziness. Not the men and the one woman walking about, but the strange shadowy figures he couldn’t quite make out…

This Xzion guy stayed low-key, and he had never managed to see him leave or enter his own dwelling. Did he actually live there? He had to have…all his research pointed to that one house. He sighed and turned away from the window, then sat down before the table, which he’d covered in his favorite ‘Benjamin’ green topping. He re-counted the money, divided it up just right, then leaned back on the couch and ran his hand lazily over his bare chest. His fingers caught hold to the thick, platinum chain that dangled and sparkled around his neck. After some brief moments of thinking, he came back strong, grabbed his keys and stood at attention as if someone important had called his name…

“Time to take a little ride…time for an investigation.”

****

The odor of roaming cigarette smoke floated past his borrowed nostrils just long enough to begin a new coughing spell. Vex’s chest caved with pain. He itched to get out of the damn humanoid flesh, but amongst these creatures, that was an impossibility. He stood under the green awning of the bus stop, protected from the damp cold of the Baltimore winter. He was hungry, but all he could taste was revenge and he hoped he’d be feeding soon. The previous night, when he was alerted of what had transpired, he took refuge inside a welcoming gutter tunnel filled with tiny meals, better known as sewer rats with their thickly wound, delicious tough tails and packed, stiff fur. As he lay there resting, Nij arrived with a handful of grief and cast it in his face. He wailed long and hard; the damn tunnel filled with his voice and echoed so. He couldn’t control himself. How could it be?!

And that wasn’t the worse of it. When he’d contacted Jatorn and let the bastard know of the turn of events, as well as his desire to pursue the whore responsible for his man’s death, he laughed and appeared completely uninterested in such ideas. After the call, Vex sat back for a measure or two in tormented confusion, then it all made sense. His suspicious were correct. He’d been sold out. Never in his wildest dreams did he’d think Jatorn would want the boy to the point that he’d forsake all others, turn his back and walk away as if the war were not still alive and very much real. The Yuledrakes perished, and the Morphitians now too, while the big and bad leader didn’t care. Bosi was supposedly around somewhere, but no one had spotted the hairy beast, nor did he come out to assist.

Regardless of this unpleasant turn of events, it couldn’t end this way. He tried to speak to Jatorn one last time, to see if he could coax the man into taking Earth by the balls and claiming it for his own, but it was much too late. Their palaces were already filled with diamonds, and now, Jatorn was focused on one thing and one thing only: the boy. That was all he’d asked Vex about since hearing of the little mutant’s existence.

A loud vehicle with glowing red lights veered down the street, startling Vex out of his mournful, heated thoughts. Its siren brought everything to a stand-still. Vex’s senses awakened as he could smell, almost taste the nearby fear. Someone was dying, and another was falling to pieces over the matter. A small crowd gathered. In the not so far distance, a house was engulfed in flames and emergency vehicles continued to arrive on the scene. One was a police car…

His eyes narrowed on the damned thing, reminding him just what he needed to do. He wanted the blood of that woman, to taste her bones, to feel them turning to dust while he crushed them in his mouth. He was going to appreciate her salty sweet essence to its fullest and he’d have it! After all, the degenerate human being had killed his favorite relative — his dear nephew, Gertu…

****

“This isn’t what I had planned.” Xzion couldn’t stand it another second. The overwhelming Warrior had demanded to travel to Drakenard, right then and there. Xzion had plans to visit the man, too, but not as part of a covert operation. He wanted Jatorn to believe he was handing over his son, while Xzion gained easier access, but Zahar demanded a sneak attack and wouldn’t go into the reasons why. Xzion was prepared to argue, but the look in Zahar’s eyes let him know that though the man had been in a dead, frozen sleep for over three centuries, he still wasn’t to be questioned. He sighed with slight anxiety as their pod arrived on Yuledrake territory, skidding along a heavily foliaged area. Drakenard was always under some form of development, due to the inhabitants’ lavish lifestyles. This part hadn’t been destroyed as of yet, making it ideal for them to park and gather their bearings.

Zahar clumsily pulled his burly body out of the damned thing and reached down to Xzion, assuming he needed help. He didn’t, hesitated, but thought,
what the hell,
and took the man’s hand. They stood there taking a gander at their surroundings, their eyes scanning the entire perimeter. They weren’t far from Jatorn; he’d been pinpointed in his home. Instinctively, they walked the rest of the distance. Thick, fallen branches cracked and disintegrated under the warrior giant’s gait. On his feet were not boots but hand-tied gladiator-style sandals with thick ropes. He refused the new clothing of his people, instead opting to keep his chest bare, his jewelry intact, his long hair loose and his old-school ways. He finally conceded to turning in his loin-cloth for a pair of pants, and even that was a struggle.  Aton tried to convince Zahar that he should take the army with him. He refused them, stating that was not the way he conducted business and all he needed was his great grandson. He’d seen a lot in that eye, Xzion was certain, and the man had confidence in him, perhaps or not because of the bloodline.

“The day has changed, but the Yuledrakes are the same,” the man offered gruffly as they made their trek through the heavy thicket. Odd insect type creatures roamed about, snipping and crawling as the two continued forward.

“From my understanding, you had your fair share of battles with them.” Xzion pushed a branch out of his way while stepping over a deep puddle.

“Yes. Shiny things they love. Not great fighters, but relentless. Crafty and destructive.”

Xzion smirked and nodded as he walked several feet behind the man, allowing him to lead the way. “Yes, if that is your assessment, they haven’t changed one bit. They’ve not evolved.”

The big warrior paused, his back still towards him. “Not all evolutions are good…”

Xzion agreed with the big man’s wisdom… great-grandfather was onto something. The Intellects believed their way was the door to the future, and took no notice of the warnings from the Warriors.  Due to that lack of listening and understanding, the heat plague grew, yet no one had so far acknowledged the connection. This reminded Xzion quite a bit of all the Washington Congress talk on television. Living in the heart of it all with his family, he was bombarded on a daily basis with stories of corruption, unhappy citizens, in-fighting, government shut-downs, the never-ending blame game and a host of other political ramblings that never gave way to a reasonable resolution. He knew Jayme grew weary of his analysis of Earthlings, but he found it sickening how one could be so visionless and stupid in following these figureheads with blind allegiance or casting a good soldier in the political game aside based on race, gender or religious differences.

Jayme was quick to remind him how his people were doing the same thing, and he could not argue with that logic. The only difference was, Aton gave the Zarkstormians the power to make their own choices. In Zarkstorm, the main focus was always the military, and that is what he ruled with an iron fist. All other matters were decided by the judges and magistrates after votes from the people and since the Intellects far outnumbered the Warriors, their beliefs always reigned supreme. It was not a democratic system but in fact was completely unfair. With Xzion being the only Zarkstormian possessing a DNA split of both entities, he could feel the tug from both sides.

No one listened; they only wanted their interest heard. This occasionally resulted in violence, but that turn of events still never swayed the majority.

“You are the key to change.” Seemingly reading his mind, the big man interrupted his thoughts. Xzion didn’t respond; he simply absorbed the information and followed the man along the heavily wooded path. They arrived at a clearing atop a jagged cliff. Below, was a bright city gleaming with lights.

“So what now?” Xzion huffed.

“This wasn’t here before…”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”  Xzion rolled his eyes. “Would you like to hear my original plan now?”

“No, I saw it. You were going to bring the army and your boy, the half human. It would’ve worked.”

“I know.” Xzion muttered as pebbles under his feet moved and fell down into the city pit.

“But not as well as mine. We don’t need the army. They’d draw attention.”

“How in the…?” Xzion caught himself and ran his fingers over his eyes. He didn’t want to be disrespectful to the man, but this was getting far too out of hand. The way he saw it, he still had time to call his troops to join them. “How in the world, Great-Grandfather, are we, just the two of us, going to fight all of those Yuledrakes? All I want is Jatorn! I needed a clear path to reach him.”

The man slowly turned and looked down at him. “And you shall have it.”

The old warrior’s eye booted up, the damn thing turning tight and hard until the laser was in place, ready to light the whole place up in blood red. Then, he raised his big, muscular arms out in front of him like an Olympic diver and leapt right off the cliff.

“Waaaaaiiiiit!” Xzion called out, sure the crazy bastard would be dead by the time he hit the pavement below. He went down on his belly. His heart beat out of his chest as he clutched the dirt with his hands and looked aimlessly for the man that disappeared into a cloud of smoke. He called himself crazy, too, as he got to his feet.

And you shall have it…
were the last words his great-grandfather uttered. Xzion took a deep breath, closed his eyes, put out his arms, and did what he hated to do most — trust and follow. A rush of air, colors and madness breezed past him as — he was certain — he was falling to his death. He stifled the screams as he went down, though his body told him this may be the end.

He hit
a dark bed of water, ice cold. His instincts kicked in. Gasping, pumping his legs and vigorously moving his arms, he swam and swam until he reached an outer bank. There, he found his great-grandfather, his hair slick with water. The man extended his hand to him again, and helped to pull him out.

“How…in the…” Xzion bent at the waist, gasping for air. He looked down at himself. Somehow or another he’d lost his shirt. Now he didn’t look much different to the old warrior he was certain to call a crazy fool after this harrowing ordeal. Without saying a word, Zahar pointed the way. Xzion smiled as he saw through the maze of buildings, via his eye booting and gathering his coordinates. There, in the middle of the cityscape, was the acropolis… Jatorn’s urban lair…

*
***

“Are they even here?!” Rizya questioned. No one, according to Zarkstormian intelligence, had seen the bear-like head or stubby tail of the Lyalts. Jayme sat on the edge of a cot watching these soldiers in action. They acted as if she wasn’t even there. That meant one of two things: she was either finally accepted by them or considered inconsequential, not even a blip on their radar. They were big people with stiff faces, odd movements, and scary demeanors. These were now her people too, simply by default.