15
After a short internal debate, Jade opted for the Spaceport Outskirts as her destination.
The vast conglomerate was relatively safer than the Badlands, and it was close to Belarus Spaceport. If necessity arose, she could hop on the first outbound shuttle and leave the planet behind.
But first, she needed a job.
Past-Jade had left her in a dire predicament. After paying the space fare for her fake trip to Marlin, she had enough to rent a room for a week, maybe two depending on the place, but not enough to eat. Food was scarce on the Outer Belts. Only the richest among the rich could afford fresh produce, while the majority of the population couldn’t even afford the synthetic variety. For a gallon of drinkable water, the black market charged thirty parsecs, the daily pay of the average worker. And a pint of the most expensive alcohol on Belarus cost less than a piece of stale bread. Even children were fed cheap ale to give them sustenance.
Thinking of food made her hungry. Painful stomach pangs reminded Jade she was fasting. During the past two days, Vivaldi must have given her one or more bags of saline solution to keep her hydrated, but she needed to bite into something solid, or she would faint.
With eating as her new priority, Jade took care to smear dirt on the exposed white marks on her skin and left the spaceport behind. She hitched a ride on the first vehicle that drove by. As before, the driver of the tank started to complain, but she reached inside the cabin to grab the man by the lapels of his dirty raincoat. A few good old shakes prompted the man to ask her where she wanted to go. She pointed at the outskirts and enjoyed the brief drive.
Even without her marks in plain sight, she was a force to reckon with, and people tended to recognize a warrior at first glance. Or, like in this case, at first shake.
Less than an hour after leaving Zeus Omnipotent, Jade was sitting at a ramen kiosk. One of the three customers perched on the high stools, she ordered as soon as the woman behind the bar finished arguing with the man at the stove.
A small bowl of muddy soup with a nest of white noodles and a few floating pieces of wild shitake set her back of most of what was left on her card. She eyed the synthetic food with loathing, but hunger pangs doubled her stomach, and she sunk the curved ladle into the plasteel bowl, fishing for the pieces of mushroom.
At her first slurp, memories assailed Jade. Unpleasant reminiscences from a poor youth spent in the squalor of a Celestian ghetto came back to her. The taste of synthetically-grown food was forever etched in her mind. A mouthful was all that was needed to go back in time.
Nausea hit her again, but she refused to let her body stand in the way of nutrition and forced herself to eat. The soup was nothing more than water and salt, and the noodles had a plastic-like quality that made chewing them difficult. Spoonful after spoonful, she gulped the too-salty broth down as her stomach rebelled with all its might.
Once she reached the dregs on the bottom of the bowl, her stomach spasmed violently. She breathed to lessen the rising panic vomiting always prompted and hopped off the stool.
“Tomorrow, octopus stew,” the woman said after her. “Fresh catch!”
Jade waved her hand over her shoulder. The whole of Belarus had never seen a live animal, least of all a delicacy from the Celestian seas, but the neighboring Rim cultivated artificial meat. Tanks as big as a city occupied the entire surface of many farm planets that supplied the Outer Belts with synthetic proteins. Lately, a few of the more entrepreneurial farmers catered more exotic fare to an emerging population of small businesspeople and landowners. Jade doubted that those new, rich folks lived anywhere close to the Spaceport Outskirts in Belarus. The fresh octopus might have been anything from month-old fake fish meat to something even more sinister, ground and reshaped to resemble tentacles.
Jade shivered at the thought of what the deceitful ramen kiosk’s owner might have fed her for the astronomical sum she paid. She hoped that the too-salty soup and thin noodles would not cause her much grief later.
Given the spare change left on her card, getting a job became imperative again. Where to sleep that night came second, but it was contingent upon having enough credit to rent a hole. She took several gulps of the recycled air and steadied her legs, eyeing the few stores open on either side of the street. Grates made of scrap metal and plasteel covered the windows and doors, and buzzers showed prominently at the side of the entrances. Customers had to scan their cards before merchants would let them in.
One of the stores had a big guy standing guard with an electric assault rifle. Above the large porthole that served as a revolving door, a sign said, “Extraordinary Celestian Ornaments.” Like the fresh catch found at the ramen’s place, the baubles this store sold were probably far from fine, but its owner thought he needed the extra protection of a mercenary to protect the merchandise. Jade would have bet the last of her meager credits that jewelry wasn’t the only item for sale inside. Seedy businesses needed muscle to keep unsavory characters at bay, but also to ensure the local mafia wouldn’t become overly greedy.
Jade couldn’t present herself as an assassin, but even impersonating the lower role of a mercenary, she would still fetch good money in an economy based on the big-fish-eat-small-fish philosophy of business. She needed to find one store that looked wealthy enough but didn’t sport a guard outside. From her vantage point, she spotted one or two candidates on the opposite side of the street, and eventually decided to try her luck at a place called, “Oberin’s Fine Jewelry.” The shop sported a neon sign depicting two dancing ladies, from which it became obvious that Oberin’s Fine Jewelry didn’t deal in trinkets but fleshier merchandize.
The afternoon crowd filled the road with a multitude of rickshaws. Street vendors with slumped backs and loud voices dragged their heavy carts, occasionally stopping for last-minute clients.
Jade waded through the throng, heading straight for the brothel’s door. At the buzzer, she swiped her card only to start an infernal ruckus that warned every passerby in a kilometer radius that her funds weren’t sufficient to earn her admittance to the place.
“No need to tell everyone I’m poor,” she said under her breath before jamming her fist through the buzzer. The obnoxious sound fizzled to nothing. “Much better.”
A small plasteel window encased between the metal bars of the heavy grate popped open. The muzzle of a long pistol protruded menacingly, angling its aim toward Jade’s eyes.
Jade stepped forward and pressed her forehead against the barrel of the pistol. It was a show of bravado to give the right impression from the start: weapons would not faze her.
To the credit of whoever stood on the other side of the door, the weapon didn’t waver, indicating a steady hand and steadier nerves. The place might not be successful enough to hire security, but it was run by professionals who weren’t trigger happy, and that made it a good choice for Jade.
“I’d like to offer my skills,” she said.
A moment later, the pistol disappeared, and the metal grate clanked as it rolled up. The door opened only a crack. Jade had not even fully slid inside when it started to close.
Inside the pink-lit hallway, a tall woman looked down her nose at Jade. “What can you do for me than other guns-for-hire haven’t already offered?” Her voice held a familiar lilt that Jade couldn’t identify at first.
“I can screen customers better than your broken buzzer,” Jade answered.
The woman raised a well-trimmed eyebrow. Her eyes were a radiant shade of azure, and they danced under the light of the sconces on the wall. “Does it look like I need a screener?” she said, pointing her chin over her shoulder.
Electric candles sputtered and flickered like the real deal, bathing the place in a haze of pink. The scent of beeswax wafted from two braziers hanging from the vaulted ceiling, completing the old-world effect. Slabs of quartz covered the floor which shone like a mirror, reflecting the suffuse lighting. A mechanical worker glided along the end of the hallway, polishing the gilded frames on th
e wall. Animated paintings of Terran landscapes created a colorful spotlight that drew the eye. The whole display screamed high-end luxury.
Jade had stumbled inside one of the Outer Belts’ famed harems. She had been sorely mistaken; the place made more money than it wanted to show on the outside, which meant that they wanted to maintain a low profile. A low-profile harem meant high-profile patrons.
“I can escort your most prestigious clients.” Jade stared at the woman long and hard. “Not every brothel can afford a professional bodyguard as a driver.”
The woman cocked her hip and waved in Jade’s general direction. “And how much would hiring such a skilled mercenary cost me?”
“Room and board, and one thousand parsecs every two cycles.” Jade didn’t know how long she would remain on Belarus. “First payment at the beginning of my service.”
“You aren’t cheap, are you?” the woman said.
“I’m very good at what I do and always deliver.”
The woman stared intently at Jade, her eyes lingering on her face.
Jade suffered the intense perusal without blinking. She had made sure her marks were still covered, but it looked like her interlocutor could see underneath the sooth and dirt with her piercing gaze.
“It so happens that the business is booming, and I am in need of another driver,” the woman finally said. “Do you have a name?”
A name sprung unbidden to Jade. “Call me Jewel.”
“What a fortunate coincidence.” The woman’s lips quirked into a smile as she extended her hand toward Jade. “Lady Lisandra, owner of Oberin’s Fine Jewelry, the most exclusive harem this side of the galaxy,” she threw back at Jade. “Clean up. You start now.”
16
A gentle wind swept across the porch opening onto a sundeck. Dragon paced the floor in long strides. After two months in space, walking through Gabriel’s expansive rooms felt unbearably liberating. Yet, he couldn’t rejoice at the many luxuries at his disposal, starting with the fine vintage Gabriel had poured for him and that he could barely taste.
“I can’t wait any longer. I must talk to the Academy already.” He swirled the long-stemmed flute in his hand, sloshing the deep burgundy wine all over the glass.
Gabriel gave Dragon’s hand a pointed look and a raised brow. “That’s Laurum Reserve. Two hundred years old.” He made a gesture with his hand for Dragon to stop brandishing the glass like a sword. “There’s only one barrel left of it.”
“Disparaging Martelli’s wine is equivalent to offending his ancestors.” Valentine brought his flute to his lips and carefully sipped the precious beverage.
“I apologize for my beastly behavior.” Dragon placed the flute on the crystal surface floating at elbow level. “I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
They had arrived on Celestia the previous day. After docking at the Martelli’s private spaceport, Gabriel flew them on his liner directly to Paradisia, his island on the Sea of Tranquility. Lush vegetation and a pleasant breeze had welcomed the two groups from Solaria and Lupine.
The first thing Valentine did as soon as they entered Gabriel’s mansion was to whisk Mirella away to their quarters. The werewolf had only reemerged mere minutes earlier, looking supremely satisfied as he plopped into the plush recliner facing the ocean.
After staring at the infinity of black space and faraway stars, the turquoise waters made for an exciting change. Dragon would have given anything to share the wondrous sight with Jade. Instead, he had to wait for Gabriel’s man to procure him a hearing with the Assassin Academy.
“Laonte will report as soon as he has news,” Gabriel said.
Dragon opened his hands in front of him in wonder. Had he talked out loud?
“You are easy to read, my friend.” The vampire chuckled.
A hydrosaurus swam close to the deck jutting over the ocean. Gabriel rose from his recliner and stepped outside under the bright sun. He sat on the edge and leaned, trailing his fingers through the water. The large marine mammal lifted its head to bump Gabriel’s hand. Easily as long as four or five draglets, the beast commanded respect, but the vampire stroked the bulbous head as if he were caressing a defenseless draglet hatchling.
“Hi, Rose,” Gabriel cooed. “How are the babies?”
Two blubbers popped out of the water, spattering water all over the deck. The big hydrosaurus opened a small fin as if directing its babies toward Gabriel.
“They’ve grown a lot since the last time I saw them.” At the vampire’s praise, the mother bobbed her head and emitted a tall water spray that doused Gabriel from head to toe. His custom-made Genevieve Lafrette suit was drenched in salty water, but he didn’t seem to mind. With a chuckle, he caressed the animal one more time before turning his attention to the bubblers and playing with them for a few minutes.
“Look, Uncle Gabe is playing with the nice fishes.” Mirella walked into the room, holding Valemir on her cocked hip.
Valentine stood and met her halfway, taking their son in his arms as he leaned to drop a kiss on her lips. His free hand swept lower to caress his wife’s swollen belly.
The domestic scene affected Dragon. He averted his eyes to give them privacy, but also because it pained him. When he directed his gaze outside to Gabriel, he realized that he wasn’t the only one whose heart longed for something out of reach. The vampire’s expression clouded for a moment before smiling at Valemir, who had extended his chubby, little arms toward him.
United at the hip, Valentine and Mirella walked toward Gabriel.
Dragon watched them from under the shadow of the porch. Valemir twisted in his father’s arm to look over his shoulder at Dragon, and made a gurgling sound.
“Uncle Dragon, come with us,” Mirella said.
The first time Mirella and Valentine had referred to him as their child’s uncle, a strange emotion had choked Dragon. Sweet and unexpected, the feeling still surprised him anew every time the Lobos called him with the affectionate title.
As soon as Dragon pushed himself off the porch’s column, Valemir clapped his hands and regaled him with the most glorious, toothless smile he had ever seen.
“Master,” a voice called from the house.
Gabriel turned and excused himself as he strode inside. A moment later, he was back. “Dragon,” he said. “Laonte is waiting for you in my studio.”
“Later, baby,” he said to Valemir and followed Gabriel toward the other end of the deck.
Martelli Manor hugged the rockier edge of the atoll, and a polished, wooden deck ran along the entire perimeter, connecting the various wings. At the center of the impressive structure, a circular garden provided a nice shade. Every apartment opened both onto the ocean and the internal garden. A long walkway extended from Gabriel’s apartments to the sea, and his studio floated above the crystalline waters. Built like an octagonal gazebo, the structure was made of a dark, polished wood and glass wall that gleamed under the sun.
“My oasis away from Paradisia,” Gabriel said while they walked across the wharf. His tone was light, but his expression was guarded.
Dragon wondered why the vampire needed a retreat from perfection but didn’t ask, respecting his friend’s privacy.
A tall man with a menacing stance waited for them under the studio’s porch. Dragon couldn’t see the man’s face, and it added to his nervousness. The last time he had been on pins and needles had been so long in the past, he couldn’t even remember the cause for his anxiety.
“Laonte,” Gabriel greeted the man.
“Master.” The man lowered his head before bringing his right fist to his heart. “High Lord,” he said to Dragon, repeating the formal gesture.
“News?” Gabriel asked, inviting the man into the cool shade of the studio.
The man nodded. “The Academy granted the High Lord an audience.”
“When?” Dragon asked.
“In two cycles,” the man answered.
“Fifteen days?” Dragon’s ire bubbled to the surface. He had been o
n the edge of exploding since he left Solaria and had only kept it together by sheer will.
Laonte said, “That’s the Academy’s decision.”
“Why?” Dragon passed his hand through his hair, then across his face, feeling the stubble on his unshaven jaw.
“The Academy likes to play mind games.” Gabriel gestured for both men to take a seat.
Neither accepted. Dragon couldn’t stand still and paced the length of the room. Lately, his normal state of mind verged on tumultuous, and everything he did reflected his inner angst. So, he marched instead of walking, and talked without thinking first.
He made to exit the studio, but Gabriel stepped in front of him. “Where are you going?”
“To the Academy. I’ll show them that I don’t like games.” Dragon sidestepped his friend, who moved again to stop him from walking away.
“No, you are not.” Gabriel raised his hand in front of him. “Hear me out,” he said when Dragon tried to remove him from his path. “You’ll accomplish nothing by storming into the Academy.”
Dragon glared at Gabriel, who turned and said, “Thank you, Laonte. You can take the rest of the day off.”
Laonte thanked his master, then saluted both Gabriel and Dragon, and left as Valentine arrived.
“Bad news?” the werewolf asked, looking at Dragon.
“Nothing that can’t be solved by taking action,” Dragon said, giving Gabriel a pointed look.
Gabriel shook his head and walked to the closest chaise lounge and sat. “Let’s say we storm into the Academy’s citadel.”
Dragon nodded.
Reclining on the plush mattress, Gabriel caressed his chin. “Very well. Laonte will be killed, though. Is that acceptable?”
There wasn’t a single soul in the entire Fifth Moon System and beyond who didn’t know about the assassins, but only the assassins and a few people like Laonte, who acted as intermediaries, knew where the Citadel was, and they wouldn’t reveal the coordinates. They couldn’t. Poison activated if an assassin so much as gave away the first string of letters and numbers, and death was immediate, while the intermediaries were hunted down and killed in the most gruesome ways.
The Fifth Moon's Assassin (The Fifth Moon's Tales Book 5) Page 7