Venturers

by Bella Forrest

  Cambien rested his hand on my arm, attracting my attention. “I have one piece of operable opaleine left, from reviving your muddled friend,” he said. “It will permit me to take my true form and use my firelung for a restricted amount of time. It’s not much, but we need more eyes in the sky.”

  “If you’ve got it, use it. We need every advantage we can get our hands on,” I replied. “Do you have two Pyros you can spare, to guard my friends during the search?” I asked, looking to Angie and Lauren.

  “We’ll be fine together,” Lauren insisted, but I wasn’t taking any more risks.

  “No, I want you to have a Draconian with you,” I replied, leveling my gaze at Cambien.

  He bowed his head. “I have two of my finest, Raien and Lysana,” he said, beckoning two Draconians over to where he stood. To my surprise, they were the two I’d seen laughing at my expense, after asking one of them for help finding Cambien. Now, however, they seemed only too eager to assist. “Protect these two on the search for this purple-haired coldblood,” Cambien demanded. The two Draconians nodded in understanding.

  Angie eyed the blue-scaled female distrustfully. “Are you coming with us?” she asked me.

  “I’m going to check the underside of the ship, in case she’s hiding under there,” I explained, gesturing at the Vanquish. Pandora was smart—she would know we were coming after her. To me, the best place to hide would be in plain sight, but I had no idea if that was the route she would follow.

  “I’ll come with you, Riley,” Cambien insisted. “I will be your bodyguard.”

  Ordinarily, his presence at my side would have irked me, but I was in no place to argue. We all needed support to track down Pandora, and Cambien was as strong as he was lecherous.

  “Fine, but we need to get going,” I urged.

  “Be careful,” Lauren said.

  Angie nodded. “Call for backup—don’t try and be a hero, okay? That goes for you, too, Commander Scales.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  Cambien grinned wolfishly. “I knew I’d win you over in the end.”

  Angie rolled her eyes, refusing to respond to his remark. With that, my two friends set off, diverging to either side of the Vanquish with their Draconian guards in tow.

  I was about to set foot on the gangplank when terrified screams erupted behind me, ricocheting up my spine. Worshippers poured out of the crumbling front entrance of the temple, their faces smeared with soot, many of them covered in a blue substance that I guessed was their blood. I stared at them in horror—they’d stayed in the temple, even with the roof caving in and the walls tumbling down. These people were as devout as it was possible to be; of course they would never abandon their temple. They would die first.

  “She’s in there!” I snapped, running for the ruined temple entrance, barging my way through the fleeing Draconians. Cambien was at my side, weaving through the injured worshippers.

  Inside, I rushed toward the sound of screaming, rounding a corner to find Pandora standing in the center of the cavernous prayer hall, cutting down Draconians with her bare hands. She extracted their blood with her fanged teeth, catching it in a large ceremonial bowl she had snatched up from the temple floor. Her wings were open wide, acting as two leathery nets to catch her fleeing victims.

  While some Draconians were running for the exit, far too many were still prostrate on the ground, huddled in their prayer positions. Evidently, they expected divine intervention, but I knew all they’d get was a slashed throat and a grisly end. Nobody was doing anything to stop Pandora, and she was showing no signs of letting up. The blue blood sloshed in the bowl in her hands.

  It was then I noticed Freya standing at the far end of the room, leading the remaining worshippers in prayer, her voice just audible through the screams. Her hands were clasped together, her eyes closed, and she was apparently oblivious to the chaos and destruction Pandora was wreaking upon her congregation.

  “This is ludicrous! There is piety, and then there is idiocy!” Cambien muttered, his eyes fixed on Freya’s angelic form.

  “We need to get these people out,” I whispered. Pandora still hadn’t seen us, though it would only be a matter of time.

  Pandora froze, her head lifting to look at the same sight that held Cambien so transfixed. Wiping her mouth on the back of her arm, she dumped her latest victim on the ground, making a beeline for Freya.

  “No!” Cambien hissed, his amber eyes glittering with rage.

  He pulled the last piece of uncorrupted opaleine from its hiding place and yanked down the collar of his tunic, revealing a notch in the center of his chest. He pressed the stone against the hollow, and his skin melded around it, his body twisting up in a pillar of fire.

  I staggered away from the intense heat, running for the shadowed walkway that cut down the side of the prayer hall, hoping I could reach it before Pandora caught sight of me. If she didn’t see me, I could launch a surprise attack. No time to call for backup now.

  Pandora whirled around at the sound of Cambien’s violent transformation, her eyes narrowing. Out of the raging fire, he emerged, his red scales glinting in the low candlelight of the temple hall. He really was enormous, his vast wings beating hard, sending a gust of fierce wind in her direction. Pandora didn’t even blink.

  Instead, she reached for a long candelabra that stood off to one side and snapped it in half across her thigh, leaving one jagged metal end. She sprinted straight at him, her wings outspread, her fangs and claws bared, the pointed end of her makeshift spear headed for his heart as she took flight.

  Cambien was ready for her, his sharp talons swiping for her face when she came too near. Within minutes, the candlestick had fallen from her hands, leaving them in a bare-knuckle brawl. Cambien had the size advantage, but Pandora was slight and agile, ducking under his wings and attacking from the back before he even had time to turn around. Even so, his blows to her body were crushing. The air filled with the sickening crack of breaking bones and the lash of his whipping tail as it snapped against her skin.

  I crept along in the darkness. For some crazy reason, the Draconians were continuing to pray while an aerial assault went on above their heads. I shook their shoulders gently and urged them to get out of the temple, while Pandora was distracted. Many of them took my advice, but others refused to move. Even so, I wasn’t deterred. I made my way through the worshippers, trying to get as many out as possible, keeping one eye on what was happening above me.

  I grimaced as Pandora landed a dropkick to the back of Cambien’s neck. His dragon head lurched forward, but he retaliated quickly, his scales providing a thick armor that appeared to be keeping him from any real harm.

  With a thunderous crack, his tail lashed against her, cutting clean through her dense military jacket. A deep welt appeared on the bare skin beneath. She winced, clutching at her side for a moment before lunging back at Cambien, striking at his face. Her boots hit him square in the snout, but he rallied fast, bringing his talons down on her shoulders, raking four deep gashes down her back, narrowly missing the stem where her wings began. A fraction closer, and she would have lost one.

  She cried out in agony, whirling around. “You scaly—” She didn’t get to finish, as Cambien swiped at her face, knocking her head to one side. Blood sprang from the cuts, but she wasn’t defeated yet. I could see the defiance on her face, and the hatred that burned for the Draconian race.

  “Is that everything you have?” Cambien taunted, his voice clear despite being so high up.

  “Not even close!” Pandora spat, surging toward the back of his head. With her clawed hands, she gripped on tight, lying flat against his spine, careful to avoid the protruding blades. She was trying to reach for his eyes, to blind him.

  Cambien bucked his neck back, swinging it hard from side to side, trying to dislodge her from his spine. He beat his wings, building up speed as he hurtled toward the ceiling and slammed into it. The whole building shook on impact. Chunks of ceiling rushed t
oward Pandora. She hit the painted stone with a gut-wrenching thud, her whole body seeming to crumble against it. A cracked silhouette was left in her wake as Cambien lowered himself down again.

  I gasped as Pandora toppled from Cambien’s neck, falling through the air, her wings flowing up with the rush of her descent. It made her look strangely like a seed pod tumbling from a tree, the wings cocooning her.

  She hit the ground with as much force as she had hit the ceiling, her limbs splayed out on the floor, a wheeze echoing from the back of her throat. Dark veins pulsed under her skin every few seconds, more persistent than I’d seen on any coldblood before. Even so, Vysantheans were even hardier than I’d given them credit for. Her chest was rising and falling. She was still alive.

  Cambien landed on the ground beside her with a weighty thump, remaining in his dragon form as he approached. I darted out of my shadowed hiding place, running for the spot where she had ended up. It wasn’t far, but I could see the anger shining in Cambien’s amber eyes, and I knew I had to get there before he did something he regretted.

  “Cambien, stop!” I roared, seeing him lower his snout to Pandora’s face, his jaws enveloping her skull. He was going to bite her head off. He paused at the sound of my voice, lifting his elegant neck.

  “She must be punished. Look at what she has done!” Cambien growled, his eyes flitting to the trail of dead and maimed Draconians that covered the prayer hall floor in despicable numbers. “Execution is the only fair retribution. She has given us no choice.”

  I shook my head. “Not by your hand, Cambien,” I said softly. “If you kill her, you stand to corrupt the opaleine forever. There won’t be any coming back from that.”

  “Then who?” Cambien growled, narrowing his eyes.

  I said nothing as I moved forward, until I was straddling both sides of the limp, barely moving Pandora. Bloodied welts covered her body, bruises blossoming beneath her gray skin, her veins pulsing ever harder.

  She blinked up at me, grimacing in pain. “Tell your… pet… to stand down!”

  I ignored her, sinking to my knees and leaning closer to her face. She had played every card she had, and now she had nothing left.

  “I really do know… a secret… about Earth,” she rasped.

  I shook my head, pulling out my blade and resting the point against her throat, where a particularly dark vein pulsed violently. “You’re lying,” I whispered. I readjusted my grip on the knife handle, my palms sweaty.

  “I’m not… lying.” A gurgle of laughter emerged from her throat. “And you don’t have… the guts to… kill—”

  She almost looked surprised as the knife glided across her neck, the razor-sharp blade slicing her throat open. Her eyes even glanced uselessly down as the blood poured from the wound, the pulse of her veins slowing until it eventually stopped. A rattle of breath hissed from her lungs. Her eyes glassed over as her entire body turned jet black for a moment, before slowly crumbling away to ash. An intense metallic, ozone smell rose up, infiltrating my senses.

  The blood sank into the fabric of my clothes, the dust of her clinging to me, but I made no move to stand. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t understand what my hand had just done. It was like it belonged to someone else. Blood was everywhere, but I couldn’t connect it with reality. It felt as though I were seeing a movie scene play out in front of me, and this was a pool of corn syrup.

  “Riley?” Cambien murmured, his body returned to his half-form.

  I didn’t want to look at him.

  I was completely numb.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My hands were covered in blood. It oozed between my fingers, much of it splashed up my arms and across my face. I staggered out of the temple, barely noticing what lay ahead, or Cambien’s arm propping me up. All I could see was the final image of Pandora replaying in my mind—that horrifying look of quiet surprise crossing her face.

  And yet, I felt nothing. I had killed a person, but I felt no emotion running through my veins. My eyes weren’t filling with tears; my stomach wasn’t twisting with nausea. I didn’t feel sorrow, remorse, triumph, relief… I felt nothing. My heart was empty, my mind even emptier.

  “Riley, speak to me,” Cambien urged, but nothing in me seemed to want to function. I was having thoughts, but I couldn’t make my mouth open to speak. I feared what voice might come out, now that I was a monster. A murderous monster who had sliced open the throat of another living being.

  Instead of responding, I looked down to the blood drying rapidly on my hands. They didn’t look like my hands—they belonged to someone else. None of this had anything to do with me. This was all a bad dream from which I would soon awaken. I would never kill anyone. I’d already told myself that, when I’d been unable to kill Pandora before.

  A moment later, I became aware of the sound of boots pounding toward me on the grass. I lifted my head to see Navan running in my direction, his brow furrowed with concern. A quiet part of me wanted to close the gap between us and crumble in his arms, but that part of me no longer held sway over the rest of my head and heart.

  A memory flashed in my mind, raw and unexpected. I remembered a man speaking in a documentary I’d seen once about soldiers suffering from PTSD. I couldn’t quite recall which war he’d fought in, but he was old, his rheumy eyes desperately sad. The interviewer had asked him what it was like to kill a man, and he’d taken a moment before replying. In a sorrowful voice, he’d said, “When you take another person’s life, that person takes a little piece of your own with them.”

  I wondered if that was true. Right now, I didn’t feel like anything was missing, because I couldn’t feel anything at all. When Navan put his arms around me, I knew he was there, but it was like I wasn’t. I was watching it all from a distance, somehow.

  “Riley?” Navan murmured, holding my face in his hands. “Riley, what happened to you? Are you injured?”

  “It’s not my blood,” I replied, my tone matter-of-fact.

  He frowned, his eyes flickering with alarm. “Whose blood is it, Riley?”

  “Pandora’s,” I said. “I killed her.”

  “Why are you talking like that?” Navan pressed, staring deep into my eyes.

  I stared back. “What do you mean?”

  “Your voice—you don’t sound like yourself,” he explained. “What happened in there? Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Riley, stop it. You’re freaking me out,” he murmured, his hands trembling as they gripped my face.

  I gazed at him, though my mind was blank. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just telling you I’m fine.”

  Cambien stepped up, having politely given us some space. “I think she’s in shock, Navan,” he said, his voice low. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d shouted it from the rooftops—my ears barely registered it.

  “What the hell happened?” Navan demanded.

  Cambien sighed. “It was a massacre in there. After Pandora got loose, she went on a killing spree in the temple. Riley killed Pandora so I didn’t have to, saving the future of the opaleine.”

  Navan looked at me. “How?” he asked, without turning back to Cambien.

  “A knife to the throat. Hence the blood,” Cambien replied for me, pulling a face. It seemed that, even for a more pro-violence Draconian, Cambien was still squeamish when it came to the actual act of spilling blood. I wondered how he was going to react to all those coldbloods dying, if Pandora’s demise had him so appalled.

  “I need a blanket. Do you have anything?” Navan asked.

  Cambien nodded, disappearing inside the temple. Meanwhile, Navan helped me over to a boulder in front of the tree line, a short distance from the landed Vanquish. The chunk of rock looked like it might once have been the head of a statue, but I wasn’t in the mood to scrutinize it.

  I had just sat down when Cambien reappeared, brandishing a woven quilt. He hastily handed it to Navan, who
put it around my shoulders and pulled it tight across me, rubbing my back to try to comfort me. What he didn’t realize was that I didn’t need comforting. I wasn’t sad, or angry. I was just numb.

  “Why is she covered in blood?!” Angie’s voice cut through the clearing as she and Lauren emerged from around the side of the ship. Bashrik was with them, gazing up at the still-smoking wreckage of the temple’s front entrance. Worshippers were still slowly making their way out of the building, their heads bowed in fear, even though the danger was now over. Regardless, I didn’t even want to think about the body count.

  “How are you two doing?” I asked quietly. “Did they tell you what Pandora did, on the ship? I made a pretty sweet knife shot.” I couldn’t even muster a smile, the memory just shutting off more of my senses. The violence of it all was overwhelming.

  “We told the boys everything that happened on the ship,” Lauren said softly, crouching in front of where I sat. “Angie and I are fine. Are you?” She took my hands in hers. I looked down at them with a blank stare.

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine,” I insisted.

  Angie shook her head. “Because you’re covered in blood, and you’re staring at us like a zombie.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated.

  “We should have gone on the ship with you, no matter the consequences,” Bashrik lamented, his attention diverted away from the temple. “If we’d gone with you, we might’ve stopped the cannons before they caused any of this damage.”

  I took a deep breath in. “There’s no point in blaming yourselves. We were all just trying to appease Pandora, so Orion would stay off our backs. We should’ve known she would never let us go through with the reversal process, but all of this is a game to her. It’s her way of toying with us, for her own sick delight,” I muttered, realizing I’d referred to her in the present tense. It felt weird to think of her as gone.

  The group fell silent, their eyes turned toward the ground. Angie was shuffling her feet, Lauren looking awkward, Bashrik running an anxious hand through his hair, while Navan kept his hand on my back, rubbing in perpetual circles.