The Destiny (Blood and Destiny Book 4)

by E. C. Jarvis

  “Colonel, you look like shit. You and Saunders go get cleaned up, then come back here for a debriefing in twenty minutes. We have work to do. Dismissed.”

  The General stuck the cigar between his teeth and levelled a cool glare at the two men. Covelle moved towards the window, pointedly putting his back to them. The discussion—such as it had been—was over.

  Kerrigan left the room with a furrowed brow and headed towards the dormitories, intending to do as he’d been told and get cleaned up. Hopefully, he would locate a uniform to wear as well…and weapons.

  “Colonel?” Saunders asked as he walked at his side.

  “Yes?”

  “There was no Presidential aide.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When the General ordered me to kill Covelle, we were in the room alone together. He didn’t need to show his loyalty to anybody.”

  “Interesting. I’m not sure that clarifies whose side he’s on,” Kerrigan said.

  “Agreed. What now?”

  “Now we will do as we’re told. Get cleaned up.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, we will press the junior men who have remained stationed at the fort for information. I don’t trust the General, and I certainly don’t trust Covelle.”

  “I wondered if you were going to kill them.”

  “The thought crossed my mind. It may yet come to that. I need to know how Covelle got here and why he’s being allowed to walk around freely. They must have told the remaining men in the fort some story. I want to know where those other pirate airships that escaped the battle have gone and what their final play is. There is only one thing I know for sure...”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “Be it Larissa, Holt, Gott, or Covelle, someone is going to assassinate the President.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  The lamb pie tasted as delicious as it smelled. Larissa savoured every bite as though it were her last meal in the world. Perhaps it would be her last meal. The others ate in silence around the table, their small group of would-be assassins enjoying the food their purloined gold had bought. Larissa tried not to think of the dreadful acts the group of women at the brothel must have been through in order to earn that gold—gold which now existed in the form of a delightfully crusted chicken pie. She made a silent resolution to personally press whomever ended up in charge after the death of the President to make pimps and brothels illegal. That was presuming they could survive and win and that whomever took the position of power would be a halfway decent person.

  “You’re scheming,” Holt said. He looked at her suspiciously from the other side of the table as he blew a line of steam from his forkful of chicken pie.

  “Just wondering…” She glanced around the tavern nervously; a few more people had entered since the sun set, but it was still quiet inside. “If the President…weren’t an option…who would replace him?”

  “I believe there is a man named Swifthe in opposition,” Friar Narry said. He had already devoured his dinner and was busy scooping up the last drops of the gravy at the bottom of his dish with a crust of bread.

  “Do we know anything much about him?” Larissa asked Holt.

  “Ex-military,” Holt said.

  “Oh?”

  “Used to run the Elite Guard…”

  “Huh. Most likely in the President’s pocket?”

  “Indeed.”

  “The President really has set himself up nicely. He can’t lose. Even if all of his vote-rigging goes horribly wrong and Swifthe wins, he’ll still be in control.”

  “Swifthe will be nothing more than a figurehead,” Holt said, confirming her assumption.

  “And I’ll wager that, were the President to meet an unfortunate demise, we’d end up with just another version of him with that man in power.”

  “We can’t kill everyone,” Cid whispered in her ear.

  Larissa dropped her fork. It clanged loudly against the china pie dish and made her jump. Her appetite dissipated as she rubbed her hand across her aching brow.

  “We need to discuss what you learned in the citadel,” she said quietly. Planning whom to replace the President with seemed one step too far into politics and not something she felt able to entertain at the same time as all their other troubles.

  “I thought we were going to wait for Kerrigan?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to show up tonight,” she said, glancing out at the dark night sky.

  “If at all,” Holt said. It hadn’t been a vicious comment. From the dark look on his face, he was deadly serious.

  “Should we wait?” Cid asked.

  “Let’s give him ‘til morning at least. In the meantime, the citadel…”

  “It’s as you suspected,” Sandy said with a grin. “An illusion hiding a true path into the palace.”

  “Easy to get to?”

  “Simple enough, but I think they may be suspicious if a group of us all trudge down there. The soldiers were wary about letting Cid go down there. I’m not sure we can think up a good enough excuse to get us all there at once.”

  “How about the stone?” Larissa said, pulling the invisibility stone from her pocket. She still hadn’t used it.

  “That will work for one of you,” Sandy said.

  “Can you make two more, one for Cid and one for Holt?”

  “Not in one night. I’d need a few days.”

  “Friar can you…”

  Narry responded with a solemn shake of the head.

  “I can go back down there to fix the boiler,” Cid said.

  “Didn’t you already pretend you were doing that?”

  “Yes, but I might have accidentally dislodged part of it.”

  “So now the boiler that wasn’t broken before is actually broken and in need of repair?” Larissa asked.

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “Have I ever told you you’re a genius?”

  “That works for him,” Holt said, interrupting whatever response Cid might have had to her praise. “You have the stone…these two belong in a citadel. How do I get in?”

  Larissa chewed on her lip as the barman approached to clear away their plates. She was torn between wanting Holt by her side and wanting to leave him behind. A shiver worked down her spine as she considered the path ahead. If the time came, Holt would no doubt sacrifice himself to save her, or to achieve his final goal. If she could convince him they had no way of getting him into the palace without jeopardising the whole mission, perhaps he would wait behind. Safely. Obediently. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing, despite his promise to follow her lead, that he would not agree to such a request. They had come so far; it really wouldn’t be fair to leave him behind now. All the same, she felt so afraid to lose him.

  Sandy shifted in her seat as the barman left them in peace, the table cleared. She stretched out her arm to the middle of the table and laid something in the center, pulling her arm away.

  A small, silvery lump sat atop the dark wood, wobbling slightly, reflecting in the fiery light. Anthonium.

  “Gods,” Cid said.

  “I took it from the train engine after I turned off my orb. I thought it might come in handy. It’s the very last piece.”

  Larissa flicked her eyes up at Holt. Behind his shoulder, the flame in the fireplace cracked and danced high into the chimney, casting shadows across his features. A rare and unmistakable smile tugged on Holt’s lips. Larissa shuddered once more. She didn’t want to inject Holt with Anthonium. She didn’t want to infiltrate the palace. She didn’t want to put her friends through more peril, and yet, it seemed fate—or perhaps the Gods—had laid out the path for her to follow.

  “We should get some rest,” Friar Narry said as Holt collected the Anthonium piece, stuffing it into his pocket.

  “Yes. Big day tomorrow,” Larissa said.

  The others nodded and said goodnight.

  Each had their own room, save for Holt and Larissa. She ascended the stairs leading to the top
floor, Holt following behind. Cid opened the door to the bedroom opposite theirs. He grunted something that might have sounded like goodnight before rolling his eyes as he realized she and Holt were sharing a room. Larissa passed the bag of new clothes to Cid, hoping it might cheer his mood. Instead, he scrunched his face up and rolled his eyes again, then banged the door shut.

  Holt held the door to their room open for her, a candle in his other hand, lighting the way. Heat covered her cheeks as she squeezed past him. The double bed dominated the small room. An even smaller room at the back held a bath and toilet, though there wasn’t enough space for the door to the bathroom to close properly. Anyone using the facilities would have no privacy. She checked on their collection of weapons, which they’d hidden underneath the bed, disguised in a travel case.

  “Everything should be in order,” Holt said as he began to undress.

  “How would you know that? We’ve been away from our room for hours.”

  “There is only one staircase to the top floor, and no one except us has come up here.”

  “You’ve been watching it the whole time? I thought you were watching out the window.”

  “I was watching out the window and in the reflection of the window at the door to the staircase simultaneously.”

  “Why do I still find myself amazed by you on a daily basis, Holt?”

  “Because we have not spent long enough in each other’s private company for my habits to become commonplace in your mind.”

  “That must not be true for both of us, otherwise, you’d recognize a rhetorical question by now.”

  Holt paused midway through removing his shoes and opened his mouth to speak. It took a moment for him to understand that she was teasing. Larissa slumped down onto the bed, the plump mattress sinking into a large dip.

  “Gods,” she said.

  “What is it?” Holt snapped to attention, alert for danger.

  “Calm down. It’s just…I haven’t slept in a proper bed, on the ground, in Daltonia since the night before…” She faltered and glanced down at her toes. Perhaps having a conversation with Holt wasn’t such a good idea.

  The bed dipped down farther as Holt sat at her side, wearing nothing more than his underwear. She noted with silent interest that he’d chosen a pair of black shorts to match his outfit.

  “Go on,” he said softly. “It’s something involving your Professor, isn’t it?”

  “I thought we agreed he isn’t my Professor…at least, he certainly isn’t now.”

  “You never told me what occurred between the two of you,” Holt said.

  “You never asked me.”

  “I didn’t want to know.”

  “Do you want to know now?”

  “No…yes.”

  Larissa smiled, a chuckle escaping through her nose, and she shook her head. How could they be so comfortable battling enemies side by side and yet so awkward simply trying to talk about the past?

  “The Professor promised me a night to remember. We’d been on a couple of dates before, but that night, he promised me something special. Gods, Holt, I was so naive. I spent the entire day dreaming about romance, a quiet dinner for two, dancing. I dared to imagine he’d propose, and of course I’d convinced myself that saying yes would be a good idea even though I knew nothing about him. At the least, I thought we might…” She took a deep breath and gestured to the bed.

  “That desperate, were you?” Holt said, a dark, teasing tone in his voice.

  “Not desperate. Just lonely.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Had I known what would happen, I would have told him to stick his promises up his backside.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “That would have been unfortunate,” he said.

  Larissa shifted, crossing one leg under her body and turned to face him. “Why?”

  “Because we would not have met. If you had been the strong-headed woman you are now, you would have taken a very different path. I would probably be dead by now, having attempted to pursue my goals alone.”

  “Well. Don’t tell me the unstoppable Captain Holt is admitting he needs the help of others?”

  “No. Only you,” he said as he reached for her hand, covering it with his own. “We should rest.”

  “Rest?” she asked, feeling heat flush her cheeks once again.

  “Yes. Rest.” He bent forward, kissed her forehead, gave her hand a squeeze, then scooted backwards along the bed.

  Larissa tried not to let out a disappointed sigh, but it emerged regardless. She supposed they should be conserving energy, not spending the night using up the last of Holt’s waning strength.

  She undressed slowly, aware of Holt watching her every move, though she refused to feel embarrassed by it. How funny it seemed; she had begun this journey by attempting to strip off her clothes for the Professor, and he had cared far more for her precious necklace than for her body. Did Holt now care more for her than for his list of people to assassinate? Despite all his promises, she couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

  When she finally turned to face the bed, the solitary candle waving a dim yellow light cast shadows around the room, and Holt was fast asleep. A smile tugged on her lips. She tiptoed around the edge of the bed, freezing in place when a floorboard creaked, then carefully slithered beneath the bedsheet, cringing as the mattress springs twanged.

  Holt’s chest rose and fell with a peaceful calm. His chin was covered in hair, a beard that never quite managed to become anything more meaningful, and seemed to poke through his skin merely hours after he shaved it clean. She scooted as close as she dared without waking him and lay watching him for as long as possible before tiredness tugged on her eyelids.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  The next morning, Larissa awoke to an empty bed. She dressed quickly and discovered the bath had been used at some point; a layer of water glistened on the white porcelain, and a few strands of beard hair remained caught around the plughole. She cursed at the missed opportunity to watch Holt bathing. The case containing the weapons was missing from beneath the bed. She raced down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, not really wanting to believe Holt had left her to continue the mission alone but frightened to find that was the case.

  In the tavern, the group sat around the same table as they had the night before. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the back of Holt’s head and forced herself to at least appear calm and serene. They all smiled as she joined them, slices of cold toast sitting in a pile on a plate in the middle.

  “Where is our suitcase?” she asked Holt. The barman served her a cup of hot coffee, and she asked for fresh toast if only to get him out of the room for a few minutes.

  “The weapons have been distributed,” Holt said, gesturing to the others.

  “And mine?”

  He smirked and slipped a dagger across the table. She tucked it into a belt, hiding the blade in a fold in her skirt.

  “Is that all?”

  Holt proceeded to hand more items over one by one. Two pistols, two more daggers and a set of throwing knives.

  “No sign of Kerrigan?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. By virtue of the fact that Holt had handed out the weapons, he was subtly suggesting they set out right away. Or perhaps the suggestion wasn’t so subtle. Either way, she felt inclined to agree with his sentiment.

  “No. The Colonel has not arrived.”

  “Are we not waiting for him?” Cid asked.

  “No. Today is the day. There is no sense in delaying. We’ll leave a message with the barman, but I think our time is up. No more waiting, no more hoping for a miracle to resolve our worries for us. This is what we are here to do.”

  “What’s the plan when we enter the palace?” Cid asked.

  “Um, go kill the President?”

  The table fell silent. Sandy concealed a smile behind her cup of coffee. Clearly, they had been expecting something more detailed than her rather non-specific strategy.
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  “I can get us to the presidential offices,” Holt said. “We will need a distraction.” He looked directly at Cid.

  “Bloody hell,” Cid said. “What if we get caught?”

  “I think the idea is that you let yourself get caught…” Larissa said as she caught the drift of Holt’s plan.

  “Eventually, after keeping the guards busy for long enough to allow Larissa and I to get past their security measures, it doesn’t matter if you are caught or not.”

  “It might not fucking matter to you,” Cid said.

  “We’ll get you out of whatever cell they throw you in, one way or another,” Larissa said with a smile.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this.”

  “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fun!” Sandy chirped up. “Besides, if Larissa can’t get us out, I know my cousin and the Colonel will do whatever they can to assist us.”

  “That’s if they haven’t been thrown into a cell of their own.”

  The conversation stilted as the barman returned with a plate of fresh toast and a dish of butter. Larissa’s stomach grumbled.

  “What if we fail?” she asked, her voice growing quiet.

  “Then we die,” Holt said.

  Silence surrounded them. The threat of death had been hanging over their heads for some time. There was no denying the sense that this was a final step in their journey, but to hear the danger stated out loud and so plainly made the bubbles of excitement in Larissa’s stomach turn to churning threats of vomit. The fresh toast and butter seemed far less appealing now. She glanced at the faces of everyone at the table, pensive frowns etched on their brows.

  “Listen,” Larissa said, pausing to take a deep breath. “Our plan is dangerous, illegal, arguably immoral, and quite likely to get us killed. I can’t ask any of you to come with us. If you want to stop now and disappear back to your lives, no one will wish you ill. In fact, I think it might be best if Holt and I go on alone from here.”

  “No,” Cid barked. “I’m not leaving you now.”

  “The gods will decide my ultimate fate,” Narry said, “but this path has been clear to me since I found you people in Meridina. I will continue to do what I can.”