Flesh and Blood

He hoped for Chrysabelle’s sake that was true. If he’d lost the chance to die with his brain and body at peace, he would not forgive her. Or himself.

‘I’m going to begin now.’ She spoke with the same voice she’d used to charm the human into giving them an airboat. Mal distrusted that voice. It sounded false. It is. ‘Once I start, you must not touch me or interrupt me or you will break the ritual and I will have to start over.’

In the Heliotrope’s salon, she kneeled on the gleaming teak floor. Her white silk gown pooled over her knees and feet, the fabric so delicate he could tell she carried no weapons. The only thing between her and the silk were her signum. From shoulder to shoulder, a strand of braided fabric kept the backless dress from falling off, and with her hair twisted up, the length of her spine was visible. Too visible. The gold runes engraved into her skin shimmered with her breathing.

Mal ground his teeth together, despising his weakness for her beauty. Pathetic. Fool. Getting lost in her loveliness wouldn’t save him, but he still couldn’t look away.

At her side was a scrap of paper and a long, narrow pouch of red leather, like the kind that wrapped the handles of her swords. With her head bowed to her chest, she chanted softly for what seemed like an hour or two. The shadows moved around her as the sun sank lower, but she stayed in her place, never wavering.

At last she raised her chin. He rose from his seat and moved a few steps to the side so he could see what she was about to do. Opposite him, Creek did the same.

Her eyes stayed closed a moment longer. When she opened them, she took the small slip of paper and unfurled it across her lap. On it were the runes that decorated her spine. She took up the pouch, unfastened it, and removed a thin gold pipette. One end tapered to a needle-thin point.

She bent her head again in what looked like prayer, but briefly this time. With her right hand, she lifted the pipette, the pointed end facing her. What little color she had drained away.

She inhaled.

Wrapped her left hand over her right.

And plunged the pipette into her chest.

Doc paced the freighter’s hold, the small wrapped bundle from Aliza as heavy as bricks in his pocket. The sun would be down soon. Just a few more minutes. He’d never seen Fi until after sunset. There was no reason tonight would be different.

He exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. At Aliza’s, Dominic had told Mal things were square, but Doc didn’t believe Dominic. He knew the man, and the man liked his revenge.

‘Fi! Fi, you there?’ The sooner he could do this thing, the better. He flicked on the lighter in his hand, but the small flame was powerless to chase the hold’s gloom. Even the solars, strong at this hour, didn’t do much more than fill the cavernous space with extra shadows.

‘Fi!’ he shouted one more time. ‘Where are you, girl?’

‘Here,’ came the weak response.

He whirled around but saw nothing. ‘You there?’

‘Yes. Trying to be.’ She stood a few feet away, so soft and transparent he could see only the brightest parts of her. The Cheshire glow of her eyes and teeth, the faintness of her pale skin. ‘It’s hard. I feel … like I’m not really here.’

Excitement zipped through him. He pulled out the bundle. ‘I’ve got the cure for all that, baby. Stay with me now.’

‘You got it?’ she asked, growing brighter for a moment. ‘Sure do.’ He cleared a spot near her, making sure there was nothing but metal where he planned to start the fire. He’d brought a bucket of water with him, but if things got out of hand, that bucket wasn’t going to put out much. He pulled out the bundle and showed it to her. ‘I’m going to light this, then you have to pass through the smoke. Can you do that?’

She disappeared entirely, then flickered back into view. ‘Maybe we should wait until a little later so it’s easier for me to stay visible. You know, if this works and things go back to the way they were, I could get snapped back to Mal’s side, wherever he is.’

‘Well, at least we’ll know it worked, then, won’t we? We gotta do this now.’ If Dominic still had that potion in his system, he could be headed here now. Doc listened a minute, trying to see if any odd noises filtered through, but the ship seemed quiet. ‘Try for me, okay? For us?’

‘Okay.’ She smiled. ‘For us.’

He set the bundle down and lit the end. The gathered paper ends burned slowly until they hit the fat part. Whatever Aliza had packed in there went up with a bright flare. Greenish gray smoke rose in a thick column. He sat back on his haunches. ‘Go ahead, baby. Go through it.’

She gave him a weak smile. ‘Here I go.’

As thin and wispy as she was, she nearly vanished into the smoke. For a second, it seemed she and the smoke were one. She bathed in it, closing her eyes and cupping her hands full of it like it was water. ‘It’s soft. And cool.’

‘Not too long now. The witch just said pass through it, not spend all day.’ He grinned to soften his words.

She floated through the smoke and stopped in front of him. ‘Do I look any different?’

He nodded, hesitant hope filling him. ‘You do. You look … more solid. Try it. See if you can get corporeal.’

Nodding, she blinked hard. The wound on her throat disappeared along with the bloody sweatshirt, replaced by smooth skin and some funky off-the-shoulder top. She fell to the floor of the hold with a thud. She was solid. Laughter echoed through the space. ‘You did it. I’m me again! And I’m still here!’