Rebirth (Cross Book 1)

by Hildred Billings

  The hallway was quiet. There were two other doors aside from the one Syrfila now knew led to the library. The door on her left was ajar, however. She peered inside.

  Danielle was still asleep – and so was Devon, having crashed in the spare resting room for the night only a few hours earlier. Danielle looked like she could wake up at any moment if provoked, but Devon snoozed in the deepest sleep after his bouts with regression.

  Syrfila rarely went anywhere without some hardware on her person. A pistol sat in its holster beneath her jacket, and it was loaded. Six bullets. Three shots each.

  But there was no fun when there was no challenge. Plus, Syrfila had everything to fear given the hideout’s proximity to Terra III. All it would take was one rousing cry for help and half of the Federation’s Forces – or at least the ones with clearance to Marlow’s place of study – would come barreling through, frothing at the mouth to take someone like her out. Hell, Marlow might be calling his buddies right now.

  A thump sounded in the library, followed by the grumblings of an old man. “Later, darlin’,” Syrfila whispered to the sleeping mercenaries. She returned to Miranda’s side out in the office before Marlow reemerged from the library.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Syrfila withdrew one of her cigarettes. “Cool, right? I mean Dunsman lets me smoke…”

  Marlow glared at her until she took the cigarette out of her mouth. Before he could turn around again, however, Syrfila let the horrid plume of black smoke froth through her nostrils.

  “So help me Void…”

  “Don’t you have some antidoting to do?”

  Marlow huddled over his desk and smashed two of his herbs into a pestle before mixing them in a small cup of water. When he finished, he offered the cup to Syrfila.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not doing it. She’s your charge, so you give her this.” He shook the cup in Syrfila’s direction. “Prop her head up and make her drink this. It should force her to wake up.”

  “I hope it’s better than smelling salts, because I already tried that.” Syrfila yanked the cup out of his wrinkled hand.

  Miranda was still a damned corpse when Syrfila knelt beside her, cup of antidote in hand. She propped her left arm beneath Miranda’s shoulders and tilted her head up. The sight of a dark, green and thick mucus-like liquid oozing down the corners of Miranda’s mouth while her eyes continued to stare at the ceiling was enough to make even Syrfila want to call it quits and go home to get drunk.

  “That should do it.”

  Syrfila threw the cup down, letting the last few drops spill across the floor. Miranda’s body went limp again on the couch from Syrfila abandoning her side.

  “Hope she wakes up soon. I’m not taking her back like that.”

  “For future reference, I have no desire to deal with Nerilis’s business beyond stopping his threats. I’d appreciate it if you did not bother me again.”

  “Hopefully Dunsman contains himself in the future. People aren’t supposed to know about hedpahzikin. Hedpah fucks you up enough! I know. I go to the parties.” Hedpah parties, also called past-life parties, were one of the naughtiest affairs members of the Federation could attend. The properties of the plant made it easy for reincarnated souls to catch glimpses of their past lives. That was in gaseous form, however. Liquidized hedpah was on another plane of concentrated existence.

  Footsteps approached from behind.

  “I’ve given out worse,” came a spine-chilling voice. “Remember those tickets to an old Socratic play I once gave you? Turned out to be a scalper’s, and you were stuck sitting in the back row for the live-feed projection from Ancient Greece.”

  “Well, shit,” Syrfila muttered as Marlow looked to be having a heart attack. “It just went down.”

  Another male figure approached the office from the interdimensional entrance. Syrfila raised an eyebrow at this one-of-a-kind sight. Ramaron Marlow and Nerilis Dunsman were eerily alike in their advanced age and julah-bestowed height. But one man remained spry, even at his age, his body lean and limber and liable to carry both Syrfila and Miranda out of there if he dared. The other man relied on a cane to haul his decrepit ass around a small office.

  “Nerilis,” Marlow choked. His dog whimpered beneath the couch. “It’s dangerous here.”

  Nerilis laughed, throwing both Syrfila and Marlow off guard. “You’re worried about me getting caught by the authorities?”

  “It’s like seeing a friend sneak into your house after you’ve been grounded.” Marlow relaxed his guard. “Or at least that’s something they would say on Earth, according to my assistant. It was always a favorite past time of ours, remember? We used to go to live feeds from Earth and laugh at the ridiculous sounding dialects. Remember the Assyrians?”

  “Best episode that week. I watch the historical reruns regularly,” Nerilis said. “How are you, Ramaron? Still trying to make my life more hell than it already is?”

  “Always.”

  Syrfila cleared her throat. “What is this? You two sure are friendly for the one trying to stop the other from blowing up shit.”

  “Ah, yes, how is that going for you?” Marlow asked. “Why Earth, though? Everyone loves Earth. Or is that the reason?”

  The chivalry left Nerilis’s demeanor. “I’m done wasting time. This schtick is getting old, and I want nothing more than to escape from Terra’s government. But I still have my mission to fulfill. Unfortunately, it includes the deaths of millions.”

  “Kinky,” Syrfila muttered. She sat down on the edge of the couch next to Miranda’s body and chewed on the end of her cigarette. “Get the mercenaries involved and it will be an orgy.”

  The laugh flying out of Nerilis’s mouth was enough to shake the contents of their pockets. “What a sorry pair they’ve always been… they were never loyal to you to begin with, anyway. Especially that woman. She was so easy to catch back on that degenerate planet.” Reminiscing about his first target with sentient creatures, the planet Sonall and Sulim were from, gave Nerilis goosebumps he would never otherwise discuss in present company. “They’re going to be trapped in the Process forever because they’ll never fulfill their wishes. What a shame for such strong spirits to be denied the Void.” He continued to chuckle. “But maybe that’s for the best. Fill the Void with endless potential.”

  “The boy regressed tonight.”

  “What’s regression? Just long-term memory kicking in. Give your other stubborn one some chocolate.”

  “Like you gave that other one there?” Marlow motioned toward Miranda’s body.

  “What is she to me? She’s the most useless of them all. She’s better off sleeping like that for now. Maybe something good for me will come out of it.”

  “So you drugged her into an amnestic relapse?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t put the drops in her food. I didn’t make her ingest it. Besides, what is there for her to remember? Some tortured childhood? Who knows. Maybe I keep her around because she amuses Syrfila, and she’s loyal enough.”

  “For now,” she grumbled.

  The old pair continued to ignore her. “You were always good at using people.” The smile began to fade on Marlow’s face.

  Nerilis snorted. “You have no idea.”

  “So what, then?” Syrfila pulled the cigarette from her mouth. “You gonna let them win? Whatever, I didn’t want to have to find a new planet to live on, anyway.”

  “Be quiet. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Like hell it doesn’t!” Syrfila leaped back up. “What am I busting my ass for if you’re not going to care about blowing up this godawful planet? I’ve got better things to do!”

  “Like what?” Nerilis grunted another short phrase that made Syrfila grit her teeth and form fists with her shaking hands. “Before I came here, you were doing nothing, bored out of your mind and so drugged up I wouldn’t be surprised if you let yourself get caught by some incognito bounty hunter. I give you the thril
l you lost when you went into hiding.”

  Syrfila choked back a growl – she wasn’t about to get a rise out of either immortal sorcerer. He had her; he knew her. Sometimes, Syrfila lost track of her real age, but in the decades of her dirty life, she knew almost nothing else besides scheming, hiding, and acting in random bouts of violence. Before coming to Earth, she was something as good as a mercenary – in fact, she was better than one, because she picked her sides. The most money, the most interesting, the best looking client…

  But when Syrfila destroyed a planet under the guise of political terrorism, she was forced to go into hiding or be killed. She had no doubt most people knew she was somewhere on Earth, the haven for rogue criminals. The bounty would never come off Syrfila’s head, just like Nerilis would be forever branded as one of the universe’s greatest menaces. She needed him for the chase, for the extra money, for the violence, for the thrill. Nothing would be on the same scale as working for Dunsman, the man who blew up planets without remorse and the man who now protected Syrfila’s identity from those who searched for her on Earth.

  Miranda stirred next to her.

  “What about her?” Syrfila asked. “I do this for the giggles, but she’s only an addendum to you. Why do you torture her like this? I mean, it’s her birthday.”

  “Ramaron.” Nerilis ignored her, favoring the man he had come to visit. “I intend to continue this fight. I will kill your mercenaries again. I will destroy this planet.”

  “I thought you said you wanted to run away and be done with it.”

  “I do. But it is necessary.”

  “Why? Because you developed some condition long ago?”

  The other old man bowed his head. “Someday you will understand.”

  Marlow scoffed in disgust.

  “We have the Third Piece. Soon, we will fight for what the other has. I will kill your mercenaries. Your mercenaries may kill Syrfila.”

  “Uh, no,” she said.

  “But this planet, like all the others, will also go. Soon these six billion souls will return to the Void.”

  “That’s not our duty to decide.”

  “Perhaps yours is not… yours is to protect what now exists.” Nerilis backed away, toward the pendulum swinging like a hypnotic arch in the distance. “I have great respect for you, Ramaron. Perhaps a day will come when you and I will no longer need to play this game of death. But it will not be soon.”

  Marlow tapped his cane to the ground the moment his old friend disappeared into the darkness. Beside him, Syrfila stuffed her cigarette into one of his antique decorative cups.

  “I can’t hack this,” she said. “He’s got me pinned, but what can I do? I’ve gotta go after the other Relic and kill your mercenaries. It’s my game, you know? Man, fuck it.”

  Marlow turned back to his desk. It was time for the others to leave before either Devon or Danielle awoke from their nap.

  “Yeah, I get it.” Syrfila glanced back down at Miranda’s wilted frame. “Goddamnit, I don’t get it! Why does he do this to her? I’ve never understood why he treats her like she’s equal to me and then cripples her. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, you know. Turn her into a dead body. He likes her dead, and I don’t know why. You know who she is, right?”

  Marlow thumbed through a stack of papers at the edge of his desk. He did not answer. Nor did he really listen to the half-baked ramblings of a criminal madwoman.

  “He gave her life!” Syrfila thrust a thumb in Miranda’s direction. “He gave her life and he financially supports her, treats her like she’s special, and then steps on her like she’s shit! I mean, who does that? Who does that to their own daughter?” Syrfila kicked the couch. Before her anger could subside, however, Miranda told her to knock it off and take her home.

  She complied, but only because Miranda was the boss’s progeny.

  THIRTY-ONE

  “Oh, thank God, you’re not dying anymore!”

  Clyde hugged his friend in the doorway. Devon ushered him into the apartment and closed the door, their clingy hug soon resuming.

  “Knock it off, man,” Devon muttered.

  “You cool now? No more dying?” Clyde asked. “No more whatever that was last night?”

  Devon sank into the couch. “Theoretically, yeah. Thanks for calling… you know…”

  “Don’t mention it. I figured she would know better than me. I take it I was right.”

  “Well, I didn’t kill anyone, including myself.”

  “That’s good!”

  “There’s something I should probably tell you, though.”

  “What?”

  Devon retold the previous night’s events as clearly as he could. Something about past life memories coming back in full force. Something about slight personality changes could be oncoming, as his soul balanced between then and now. And he definitely needed to hit the gym harder, because had this body ever felt weaker when he knew his true potential?

  “Dude, what?” That was all Clyde could say.

  The stigma of Devon’s regression remained while they attempted to chat for a few more minutes. Clyde left with a friendly clasp of the hand when he finally believed that Devon would be all right.

  Devon leaned against the door once he was alone. Alone. For the first time since he regressed the night before. Memories loomed before his eyes, a foggy reminder that this was his life now.

  I am Sonall. That’s all that matters. He remembered life as a child, the son of an equine-rearing nobleman who did not want for much. He had an older sister. Although they had a personal chef, his mother still cooked the most delicious holiday meals he ever consumed. Their life was gifted, but simple.

  Thinking about those instances warmed Devon’s heart.

  Remember when you were fourteen?

  No. No, he didn’t want to remember, but once the thought was in his head, he couldn’t push it away.

  It’s a cloudy day. It’s gonna rain, isn’t it? That’s what Father says. We need to bring the horses to the northern pastures in case the western ones flood.

  We’re inside. Graella helps me study for my exams. Our parents are watching a live report of what’s happening with the civil war on the other side of Federation. Mother constantly pesters Father about protecting our assets should the war come our way. He clutches his chair, knuckles white.

  I hear it. We all hear it. The sound of militarized aircrafts.

  “Get to the cellar!”

  The cellar couldn’t save them when the mercenaries came.

  The first few burst through the windows, their armor already plated in blood and their faces covered in either menace or boredom. They drew their swords, their maces, their guns, and descended upon the family.

  They shot his father in the head.

  They skewered his mother until she vomited blood instead of crying in pain and horror.

  We can’t cry. We’re lost. We’re scared. Suddenly, we are orphans, and these people will kill us. Why? Who signed a writ of execution for my family? Who has my father pissed off?

  The household employees who didn’t hide in time were exterminated or assimilated. The older ones were executed, including the cook and the wet nurse who acted as second mother to the Gardiah children. The younger ones were given the choice of assimilation or death. Some tried to barter with money and sex to get out of either one. Their money and bodies were taken. If they struggled too much, they were killed. Otherwise, they were assimilated.

  It’s every horror story we’ve heard about with these barbarians.

  They’re coming for us. My sister and me.

  Graella begs them to spare us. I’m too petrified to speak.

  Please don’t kill us. Please don’t rape us. Graella begs to be killed before she is raped. We even fear it from their female commander. These people have no souls.

  “Take them.” Cairn grabs someone else’s arm. Her blade is covered in my mother’s blood. She did it. She killed my mother in cold blood. “We need someone who kno
ws how to take care of these horses.”

  That’s what they did when they executed their writs on behalf of governments and rich private citizens. Kidnapping young people to become one of them was part of their payment, their spoils. Nobody willingly went to Cerilyn, the planet of mindless killing machines, unless they feared for their lives.

  They were drugged.

  Tied up.

  Loaded onto ships and treated like the prisoners they were until they finally broke down and complied with their new lives. These barbarians assassinating everyone in Gardiah Manor were either born into the life or victims themselves.

  Such was Sonall’s life. He was trained to become a mercenary, like those that killed his parents, and he excelled once he realized it was either that or death. Kill or be killed. His sister chose death before the first year was over.

  Before Marlow came to Cerilyn, looking to hire two of the planet’s best mercenaries to combat the menace intent on executing a planet of executioners, Sonall was a prominent mercenary in his tribe’s authority. Within ten years of watching his parents be murdered, he became the second-in-command and possible successor to the chief, Cairn. And because of that position, his renowned services were offered to Marlow, alongside Sulim’s, Cairn’s personal bodyguard.

  And the woman Sonall had been in love with ever since she showed him kindness when he was fourteen years old, absconded to a barbaric planet that they soon called home.

  She was assigned to me. Me. The boy they made take care of the horses they stole from my family. Sulim knew equines as well. They were a good enough match in those early days.

  No wonder Devon now had so many hang-ups over Danielle; after all, she was Sulim, and all he could see was the woman he once loved and admired for her ability to retain a little bit of humanity.

  He wanted to call her, to assure her again he was the same as ever. Yet he remembered things about her she refused to reconcile… and it was not his place to discuss those things with her. If somebody told him some of those things, his shock would be so great he doubted he would ever recover from it. No, it was Danielle’s duty to remember on her own. To tell her the details could mean her life.