Silence (17 page)

“
Well, guess we follow
him,” Sheikoh shrugged at Indigo. They caught up to the dirty
man.

“
I am your contact. No
questions. Just follow,” the vagrant muttered out of his bearded
mouth in an eerie, toneless voice.

Indigo and Sheikoh shared
another glance. Indigo’s face was equal measures of anger and
incredulity, and Sheikoh knew how the ganglord felt. But between
him and Indigo, they didn’t have anything to worry about. This dude
wasn’t going to mess with Silence and Indigo. No one in Interium
was
that
stupid.
There was no way they were in any danger.

Nonetheless, Sheikoh’d learned his
lesson yesterday. He kept a hand on his pistol.

After a while, their motley group came
to a stop in front of a shanty, one-room building.

Sheikoh could tell that the houses on
the dirty, residential street were all built based on the same
model, but, depending on the paintjobs and/or the various states
and areas of decomposition, all of the dingy houses all looked
wildly different. It was a bad neighborhood, even for the West
Side, and that said something. The dirty-looking bum guide looked
right at home here.

The man pointed an ominously limp arm
at the door of the house before them.

“
Go in. They’re waiting,”
the man droned, staring at them with slightly unfocused eyes.
Creepy.

Secluded building
no-one
would cry for…
super creepy guide… Indigo…. two plus one equals… ambush. Sheikoh
shot a glance at Indigo, just in time to catch the ganglord’s
identical, distrusting look at him. Sheikoh and Indigo turned and
focused their suspicious gazes on to the bum. Obviously, neither of
them were going into the building without something more than
‘
they’re waiting’
.

He man started shaking, shuddering
violently, and Sheikoh and Indigo whipped out their guns. But
before they had a chance to shoot, the guide fell over. His face
smacked the ground, and blood pooled out of his nose. Sheikoh and
Indigo kept their weapons trained on the man, but he didn’t make a
move.

They looked at one another uncertainly
and then turned to gaze around the dilapidated street. Sheikoh
quickly scanned the rooftops for a shooter, even though he’d
already ruled out plasmafire or any other kind projectile
weapon.

Was this some kind of
trick?

Sheikoh glanced down at their fallen
guide. Indigo had the same idea. The ganglord barred his teeth and
shoved his assault rifle into the fallen man’s rib cage. Sheikoh
saw Indigo’s trigger finger twitch, and he was sure that their
guide was officially a dead man.

Only the assault rifle never sounded.
Indigo just stood there, completely still. Unnaturally still.
Sheikoh tried to bent to check their guide for clues, but he
couldn’t. He couldn’t move his body. Adrenaline slammed his heart
into high gear.

The Arch Centaurai was
here!

He was
dead
.

Chapter 9

The Renegade
Celestial

Terror froze his bones and carved his insides to pieces. It
was torture to be frozen. He wanted to scream. He wanted to move,
to resist, to find some way to
live
. He didn’t want to die like
this, frozen beneath the Arch Centaurai's threats and contempt.
He
couldn't
.

Suddenly, Sheikoh went
numb.

His entire being was made up of a
pounding, racing heart. He felt the icy silver of the Centaurai’s
crescent trace the nape of his neck. Memory of the cold silver
blade against his throat felt as real as it had the first time. It
began at his neck and then crept throughout his body like poisonous
mist, spreading and growing until it’d invaded every crevice of his
being with the knowledge that this was it; he was going to
die.

Sheikoh closed his eyes and took a
deep breath. ‘Death is nothing to be afraid of,’ he whispered to
himself. He tried to say it out loud, but his jaw didn’t deign to
obey him. Still, he felt a tiny amelioration. Then regret as
Sheikoh realized he’d lied to Dorothi. If he died here, she was
alone. Sheikoh swallowed, his chest hollow. His last words were
going to be the same as Emili’s.

I’m sorry...

Suddenly, his body lurched forward.
Heart racing with terror, his and Indigo’s bodies lumbered across
this house’s rotting porch. Primal fear sliced through the sadness
blanketing his chest. He forced his eyes closed and felt his body
stagger over half-rotting timbers. Then felt his hand lift itself
up and push the door open.

He just hoped that it would be
quick.

Chills raced down his spine. Sheikoh
gathered his will and tried to force himself to come to a stop, but
it was exactly like it’d been before; It was like he’d forgotten
how to move. There was nothing to push against. It was like trying
to move a cloud of smoke with his bare hands.

He opened his eyes and looked inside
the house. His breath caught in his throat, and dread morphed into
flickering surprise. His attention flickered backwards as Indigo’s
limp wrist flick the door closed, and he staggered upon suddenly
regaining control of his body. The ganglord stumbled as
well.

When Indigo straightened up, Sheikoh
shuddered at the ganglord’s black expression. He’d never seen
hatred like that that burned in the ganglord’s eyes and twisted his
face into a bestial snarl. Indigo stalked beside Sheikoh, fists
white around the assault rifle he was still holding. Sheikoh could
tell the ganglord was itching to use it. Their eyes combed the
hazy, blue room for the person that’d molded their wills like
putty.

Sheikoh's wide eyes glanced over
everything inside the dancing, blue room. He sighed with relief
when he realized that the Supreme Centaurai wasn’t in the room. The
seemingly abandoned house’s interior spread out before the two
above a floor of glossy, marble tiles. Comfortable-looking velvet
armchairs cluttered the walking space around a gleaming mahogany
table, whose surface tumbled and spiraled with intricately-carved,
artistic designs that surrounded the circular rune burned black
into the wood’s center. Cool, electric-blue fires flickered on
solid silver braziers on the walls. He felt light headed watching
the lights shimmer and flick off of the crystal chandelier. The
room’s dancing, blue atmosphere felt like that of a half-remembered
dream.

Two men sat at the table, looking at
Sheikoh and Indigo. The one sitting at the right side of the table
had a plain, shaved face and short, mousey hair. His eyes flickered
between Sheikoh and Indigo underneath a clunky, white monocle
helmet. The man was thoroughly boring looking. Sheikoh’d only
glanced at him to find the source of the routinely clicking and
revving that his giant monocle made. The guy wore a subdued, grey
suit. After a cursory glance at him, Sheikoh turned his attention
to the individual that sat at the head of the runed
table.

Sheikoh instantly knew that this man
was the Celestial. He just had a draconic, unbridled presence like
a handful of electricity. The Celestial’s purple shirt was airy and
its material seemed to float without wind. Deep purple and midnight
blue silk runes weaved artfully through the partially see-through
fabric. The shirt fell just below the waist. It reminded Sheikoh of
the open button-down shirt fashion among many muscular factory
workers, only the Celestial’s shirt was half closed by the elegant,
jewel-speckled, silver belt winding around his waist.

The robe-shirt hung open from his
throat to the top of the Celestial’s stomach, exposing a smooth,
muscled chest and a coin-sized, sapphire medallion, spinning with
intricately minute runes and designs. Sheikoh noticed a silken
purple cloak resting on the back of the Celestial’s armchair. He
could see a hood and a bunch of silver clasps and fine link chains,
so he assumed that the magenta cloak added a layer to the
outfit.

Silver, gem-studded rings and
bracelets gloved the hand that the man rested on against the
mahogany table and Sheikoh could see a diamond and ruby studded
lifelike dragon adornment wound all the way up the Celestial’s
forearm. Sheikoh tried to count the sapphires, diamonds, emeralds
and rubies that twinkled with the shimmering blue light, but there
was too many. He knew the outfit alone was worth more than he could
ever steal in a lifetime. Sheikoh tore his eyes from the glittering
jewelry and majestic outfit and looked into the face of what was
likely the only Celestial he would ever see.

A tint of stubble shadowed the
Celestial's high cheekbones and chin. His long grey-streaked, dirty
blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that crowned his
head with thick, bristly hair. Four or five strands of bang hung
from his forehead. One of the thin threads of hair streaked over
one of the Celestial’s eyes, giving the older man a sense of
intensity.

The Celestial’s ocean blue eyes that
seemed to be simultaneously grave and calculating. Age and
determination had gently crinkled thin lines into his pale skin,
and, to Sheikoh at least, it seemed that the light lines of age all
bent towards the deep furrows that orbited his murky blue irises,
like they were caught in the event horizon of an infinite
gravity.

The Celestial caught his attention
again, motioning with a nod and a hand that he and Indigo should
sit at the table with him and his companion. Sheikoh approached a
little apprehensively. Indigo, however, strode up to the table with
a challenging gait. The ganglord easily dragged the biggest
armchair back with one hand. Its legs shrieked horribly across the
marble tiles. Sheikoh noticed the Celestial wince at the harsh
sound, as he slipped into a chair that was far from
Indigo's.

He glanced over at Indigo. The
ganglord had crossed his thick arms impatiently, but Sheikoh saw
that Indigo’s fury had abated in the face of the man beside the
Celestial. The black man’s face arranged itself into a stiff smile
as he noddle at the other man. Sheikoh watched the exchange
curiously. For someone like Indigo, that was like tackling the dude
in a hug. He had a sneaking suspicion about who this
might-

“
Thank you for coming here
today,” the Celestial started, interrupting Sheikoh’s conjecture,
with a dramatic voice that seemed used to addressing larger crowds
than the three people there. The Celestial’s words reverberated
against the walls.

“
Introductions are in
order. Silence, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting
your esteemed colleague-” the Celestial began, gesturing to the man
in the grey suit.

Sheikoh glanced at the other man, sure
he’d guessed his identity. When he turned back to the Celestial, he
caught him staring.  The Celestial looked away quickly.
Something about the Celestial’s gaze had felt... off...

“
-The leader of the
organization Legacy, the illustrious Ghost-”

Sheikoh had
called
it.

“
Ghost!" Sheikoh squealed.
"I’m like your biggest fan!” The Celestial narrowed his eyes in
annoyance. “I’ve wanted your autograph since I was like two or
something.”

Indigo gritted his teeth.

“
Likewise, Sheikoh. Or do
you prefer Silence?” Ghost responded calmly with the slightest
emphasis on his real name.

Sheikoh heard the threat. He wondered
who the leader of Legacy was threatening exactly. Him
or…

A chill shuddered down his
spine.

“
Silence is fine, mate.
Honestly though, I’m really glad to meet you,” Sheikoh smiled at
the guy.

Ghost nodded without
expression.

“
You and me would make a
great team. We totally have so much in common,” Sheikoh told Ghost
with deadpan sincerity.

“
Really? And what exactly
do you that?” Ghost asked in a bored voice.

“
We both spend all our time
hiding from Legacy,” Sheikoh shot back through laughter. “Scared of
your own ganglords, mate?”

Ghost raised an eyebrow and then
turned back to the Celestial. Indigo leveled a steady glare at
him.

“
That was illuminating. Are
you finished, then?” asked the Celestial coolly.  

Sheikoh couldn’t help it. It was too
perfect.

“
Bet you practice that line
on your wife,” he giggled under his breath.

The Celestial turned two ice-cold eyes
back onto him, and Sheikoh stopped laughing at once. The
Celestial’s gaze made him feel like an insect - small and
insignificant.

Indigo and Ghost eyed him as well,
awestruck with contempt.

Nice. Sheikoh had pissed
off the one guy in the room that could freaking make him
eat
his own insides. If
he survived, he promised himself he'd shut up.

The Celestial’s stare broke into a
grudging chuckle. It sounded rusty, like the dude wasn’t used to
laughing. Indigo’s perplexed eyes leapt from Sheikoh to the
Celestial and then back again, and Sheikoh lips unconsciously
mirrored the Celestial’s. He felt about as confused as Indigo
looked. Ghost’s face went smooth and empty.