Miranda opened her eyes when her stomach stopped rolling. She met a cold, dark place. A place only those with the blood of a julah could access.
Good thing she had julah blood flowing through her veins. She always had, from the first time her useless father fooled around with the madam of a pleasure moon beyond the Federation’s control.
Sitting before her was an old man, his back to her. Miranda let the gun slip through her hand, limp in her fingers. She didn’t even know if it was still loaded.
“It’s been a while,” Nerilis greeted, not bothering to turn around to properly acknowledge his only daughter. Or was Miranda his hundredth daughter? “I was wondering when I would have to send for you so we could talk.”
Miranda approached him, silent.
“I hope you don’t plan on shooting me with that thing.” He still did not look at her. Miranda clutched her gun with more resolution. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“I came...” Miranda forced her words through her lips. “I came to find out something.”
“Yes?”
Now that she was closer to him, Miranda had a solid view of the salty hair on his scalp. The same hair he had when they met almost twenty years go.
It had still been blond when they met a thousand years ago.
“Can I kill myself, or am I partially immortal like you?”
Her father laughed. “Why don’t you try it? Shoot yourself.”
“But is this body immortal?”
An eerie silence settled, even when he continued to speak. “Don’t you bleed?”
A flake of dried blood fell from her back and into her blouse. She tightened her hand around her gun again. She could bleed. She knew blood almost as well as Syrfila did. She bled every month. She bled when she cut herself, both on purpose and on accident. She bled. She bled so much one time she felt the life leave her body, only to return again and leave her trapped in that wretched place. She could bleed all she wanted, but she knew she could never leave her earthly shell. The gun wavered in her hands.
“You know the answer.”
“I feel like I know nothing.”
Nerilis straightened his back. “I pity you. I pity you more than that beast I hired to do my dirty work and to keep you under control.”
“She has no problems controlling me.”
“But you can’t be controlled, can you?”
Miranda knew what he meant. She was her own master of façade, of letting other men and women think one thing about her while plotting the other. Syrfila fell for it the easiest, for she was foolish and perhaps the biggest idiot Miranda had ever met. There was no wonder why Nerilis had the criminal come fetch his daughter. In the end, it was Miranda distracting and keeping Syrfila close to home. “Once I know what it is I need... I don’t even let the threat of death stand in my way.”
“Aren’t you glad I brought you into this world, then?”
Miranda’s turn to laugh. “If it wasn’t you, then it would be someone else. Unless you do not speak of matters of this world.”
Nerilis shrugged. “I speak of nothing.”
Miranda gritted her teeth. “You know I will go against you, right?”
“With each dawn that brings your planet closer to destruction, I know you wait for your moment to save it. It’s always been your plan, your destiny from even before the day we first met. The only question is if you will succeed in rising above me.”
“I will.”
“There is rarely a true soul worth saving.” Nerilis turned. “In the end, souls only wish to return to the Void, where all existence originates and all life ends.”
“But souls are...”
“You are a failure!” His voice bellowed loud enough to make Miranda’s fingers tremble around her gun – the only sense of warmth she could detect was the ring wrapped around her index finger. “It’s your fault, you selfish child. It’s your fault everyone must perish. And for your failure, and your faults, you will atone for such sins the only way you possibly can.” He sighed. “Perhaps, in that course, you will save this world.”
Miranda wanted to speak, to say anything, but her mouth was dry and her mind blank. All she could fathom was the air pushing in around her, constricting her lungs and forcing her to take a languid step back before her father could come any closer with his startling blue eyes so unlike her own.
“I want to show you something.” His fingers fumbled for the butterfly brooch in his pocket. “Look.”
Her eyes flashed downward as her father opened the brooch and revealed the lock of black hair. “I don’t care about your sick tokens.”
“You should. Look at it. Isn’t it familiar?”
Miranda glanced at it again. Hair. Black hair. Thick black hair. There was nothing special about it, nor was she intrigued by why her father kept it close to his person.
Yet the fingers smoothed down her own hair, washed in the same dark brown dye she had used for many years to hide the boring black of her natural hair color – a gift from her mother, the earthling whose genes had the power to override the unique appearances of a julah. Even a half-julah like Miranda.
“You are a failure,” her father reiterated. “Your mistakes are a result of a deeper failure inside you. You stole a body that wasn’t yours to take.”
She fled, but not because she was a coward. She fled because she was in the wrong space, the wrong environment, the wrong episode for her true abilities to shine. She was in charge. She could save the world. She pried the ring off her finger and held it near her chest, the first slew of tears tearing through the corners of her eyes as she feared for everything, for everyone, for no one, for herself, for the one she loved and refused to let suffer when there were others willing to make the sacrifice instead.
The world trembled as the Third Piece fumbled in her hand. A hundred dead worlds trembled; a million more thrived.
THIRTY-SIX
11:45 A.M.
The car pulled into an open gate. The lots were deserted, save for the abandoned warehouse buildings. There were other vehicles – rusty, stationary, abandoned. Once, the warehouses belonged to an affluent shipping company before the banks took their collateral. Now the buildings belonged to private contractors, who either kept their secrets locked up or converted them into lofts. The renters were always on holiday.
“This looks good.” Danielle put on the brakes in the back alley between two warehouses. “At least my car will stay out of sight here.”
Devon exhaled the breath he had been holding. “Got your gun?”
“You asked me about five times before we left. It’s in my holster.”
“Loaded?”
“With extra bullets ready to go.”
“Good.”
Danielle hesitated. “Any last words you wanna share before we die?”
“No, not really. You?”
Danielle faltered with the door handle. “If I don’t make it out of here... tell my grandmother I love her, and my boss that we should’ve fucked.”
“Sounds good.”
“Let’s go.”
They opened their doors at the same time, sure to close them with nothing but soft clicks. The only weapon on their side was a slim chance at the element of surprise.
They rounded the corner near their warehouse and disrupted a flock of seagulls. The birds squawked and flew up into the air, leaving their crumbs and droppings. Danielle kept her hand poised above her gun.
“Stay calm,” she said, for her benefit and her partner’s. “She can probably smell fear.”
They followed the stench of sea water toward the old dry docks. The gulls continued to hang back and squawk like spectators placing their bets and hoping for a good show.
Devon stopped, grabbing Danielle’s arm. “Over there.”
A figure moved, on a cell phone, relaying orders to someone on the other end. Danielle could barely make out Syrfila’s slim body, but there she was, wearing a red fishnet top and a pair of dark wash jeans. She had yet to no
tice her visitors.
“Where’s Alicia?”
“There!”
When Syrfila moved aside, she revealed her hostage, tied to a rusty pole. Alicia shuddered every time a warm breeze blew by, her exposed skin cut up, bruised, and dirty. Over four days in captivity had not done wonders for her complexion, let alone her form.
“What do we do?” Devon asked. “I mean, do we just go up there?”
“Hello, suicide.”
A smile crossed Syrfila’s face when she caught a glimpse of her visitors. She put her phone away and said, “I was wondering if you would actually show up. Nice to see that Earth’s fate isn’t completely left to a couple of scared shits.”
“What do you want from us?” Danielle called.
Syrfila fidgeted with her sunglasses. “I told you what I wanted, you blond bint. I want your Relic!”
“We don’t have it!”
“What smoke are you blowing in this direction then, huh?” Syrfila threw down her cigarette and smashed it into the concrete beneath her feet. “No Relic, no girl.”
Alicia doubled-over in her binds and let out a sob. Danielle bit her lip. Devon flexed his hands before forming them into tight fists. “We couldn’t bring it even if we wanted to,” Danielle insisted. “Our boss has ours.”
“How hard is this to understand?” Syrfila tossed her hands into the air. “The deal was that you bring the Relic and you get this bitch back!”
“You do realize that if Dunsman’s plan goes through, you die too, right? You may be a piece of shit, but you’re still mortal, aren’t you?” Danielle hoped she was, anyway.
Syrfila checked her jaw before it dropped any further. “What the...” She glanced at Alicia. “Did your ex-bitch just call me a piece of shit?”
“Look, just give her back and we’ll be out of your way.”
“Yeah right,” Syrfila sneered. “How about that pretty gun in your holster, there? What? Were you going to shoot me with it?”
Danielle shrugged. “Only if you gave me a reason.”
“That’s bad manners,” Syrfila reprimanded them.
“Sorry for taking our safety into concern.”
“Put it on the ground and kick it over there.” Syrfila pointed her gun at Alicia’s head. “Now.”
Danielle slowly followed the command, placing her gun on the ground before gruffly kicking it away from the scene. It clattered across the concrete and came to a rest somewhere in the seagull infested shadows. Only a few of them scattered.
“You know...” Syrfila jumped down from her metal pedestal and pulled her handgun out from her back pocket. She pointed it right at Danielle. “I don’t like you.”
“Mutual.”
“What are you doing?” Devon asked. “Don’t piss her off.”
She said nothing, but kept her hands up in the air and her frowning face pointed forward.
“I may not have known the two of you in any previous lives, but I have a feeling you were as annoying and childish back then, too.” Syrfila took a few steps toward them, her gun still cocked and pointed. “The only thing you’ve got going for you, blondie...” she stopped a couple of feet from Danielle, too far to touch her but close enough to share the stink of tobacco, “is that you’re not ugly.”
“What do you want?”
“How about we do a swap?”
Silence.
“In case you don’t know what that means,” Syrfila said, exasperated, “I give you this girl in exchange for you.” She jingled her gun in Danielle’s direction.
“Why me?”
“Because I need some collateral to show my boss. Plus, I don’t worry too much about the little boy here getting the militia to come back after me, whereas you work for the military. Oh, and...” She finished the distance between them with a flourish. “I think you smell pretty.”
Danielle glanced at Alicia, who didn’t look any better than she had two minutes ago. God only knew what had happened to her in the past few days – something Danielle had tried not to think about before arriving at the warehouse district. She had once loved that girl, after all. Shit, a part of her still did. Alicia wasn’t trained for hostage and prisoner of war situations. Neither was Danielle, really, but who was better equipped to deal with it? A law student who knew nothing of the Federation and its politics, or a military officer who was the reincarnated mercenary of a long, bygone era?
“All right,” Danielle said with conviction. “I’ll do it.”
“Danielle!”
She looked to Devon. “I stand a way better chance than Alicia does.”
Another protest shot up his throat. Too bad a gun pointed in his direction.
“Come on,” Syrfila bade. “Come over here and we’ll make the swap. You stay there,” she added to Devon.
Syrfila backed up. Danielle followed with hands on her head and heart racing. Even in the strong sea breeze she swore she heard Alicia whimpering, mouth gag and all.
“This is how we’re going to do this,” Syrfila said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to untie your girlfriend and let her go to Dickhead over there. Then you’re coming with me. No tricks, now. I don’t want anyone to have to get shot before the Earth blows up. Got it?”
Danielle nodded.
Alicia was released only when Syrfila was sure that Danielle wasn’t going to move from her spot – and only after the butterfly locket was snapped off her throat and shoved into Syrfila’s front pocket. Once her blindfold was off Alicia’s head, she stumbled forward, gripping the edges of the freight car and slowly climbing down with her bruised and cramped limbs. She couldn’t run. But she could half-crawl toward her ex-boyfriend, who met her halfway, the gun pointing down at them be damned.
“Lower your hands and put them behind your back,” Syrfila said to Danielle. “Now.”
She obeyed, slowly, letting the chagrin remain on her face. Syrfila grabbed her by the wrists with one hand and pulled Danielle’s torso toward her with her other arm.
“I was right,” Syrfila whispered into her ear. She held the barrel of her gun to Danielle’s throat. “You do smell good. What is that? Roses?”
“I’m not wearing any perfume.”
“Oh, sorry, cologne then. You seem like a girl with penis envy.”
“Are you trying to embarrass me now?”
“Maybe later.”
Syrfila only relented her hold on Danielle to take out her cell phone and hit speed dial. “Take them back around,” she barked. “You know what to do.” She closed her phone again.
“No tricks, right?”
“Sweetie, I’ve been in this business for even longer than you’ve been alive. I invented all the tricks.”
Someone stepped out from behind another stack of freights. A feminine figure pointed her gun to Devon and Alicia, motioning for them to come with her.
It smelled like a trap.
“Is that…” Danielle’s narrowing eyes tried to make out the identity of the woman grabbing Devon’s wrist and hauling both him and Alicia’s half-dead body to the shadows.
All three disappeared around the corner and into a dark alleyway. Danielle didn’t have the chance to offer up her car keys.
Waiting.
Two gunshots.
Danielle’s mouth went dry; her breath stalled in her throat. “In the end, we’re all still mortal,” Syrfila said behind her. “Even the heroes.”
“You didn’t...”
“What? I didn’t do anything.”
The breeze died down. All was quiet. For a moment, Danielle was hopeful, until she remembered the gun shots. Nobody appeared from around the corner.
“Let’s go.” She slapped plastic handcuffs around Danielle’s wrists. “You’re my bitch now.”
***
Everyone expected the worst. Rather obvious that this was an execution, and while Alicia was a novice to dying, Devon was not in the mood to die again. It would also take the will of the world to prevent him from taking Alicia’s hand and giving her the l
ast of his strength. Nobody deserved to die without someone offering some comfort.
“On your knees.”
Alicia fell with a cry from her lips. Devon had no choice but to bend down and wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. If nothing else, he would give her this final hug and take a swing at their executioner. He’d get shot either way, but at least he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
That was what Miranda expected, of course. This man had regressed and allowed Sonall back into his head. This was the woman he had claimed to love. And when Sonall loved a woman, he wouldn’t let her die without putting his body up for sacrifice.
Meat Shield. That’s what people jokingly called him on Cerilyn.
Miranda saw him coming before the idea was even in his head.
“Stop!” She pointed her gun in his face with no intention of firing. “I’m not going to kill you. But I am going to tell you to get the fuck out of here, as quickly as you can.”
Devon pushed Alicia farther behind him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t make me have to shoot you. I need you alive.” Miranda gestured to the girl crumpled on the ground. “Take her and go! Go back to your boss and tell him you’ll have the other Relic soon.”
“But…”
Miranda pulled the hood off her head. Her short brown hair was pulled back into a tiny ponytail, making her already recognizable face even more pronounced. “I’ll get Danielle. You know I will.”
His eyes widened, yet his heart continued to pound in disbelief.
He knew it.
He knew she was alive.
In the back of his mind, even before regressing, he knew that she was alive. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know who shoved her into the Process.
He didn’t even know if he could trust her.
“Run, you idiot!”
Devon hesitated before turning his back on her. It wouldn’t be the first time she shot him in the back and left him to bleed to death while the world burned around him.
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