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The mini-blaster.
Grabbing it, I waved it in front of me wildly. “Stay back!” I tried to be brave, to be fierce, but my voice wasn’t even a whisper.
“What are you going to do with that?” the chef sneered. “Pitiful little human like you can’t even hold a weapon straight.”
He was right.
I never held anything like a gun before. Had never wanted to.
But he didn’t leave me much choice.
Hunching my shoulders, I raised the blaster, aiming for his leg. “I don’t want to hurt you!” I cried.
Laughing, he lunged towards me, his face twisted into cruel amusement.
And I fired.
Before I even fully caught my breath, his body fell to the ground next to me with wide-open eyes, dark blue blood pooling out from a terrible hole in his thigh as his eyes glazed over, my percomm crashing into the far wall as he spasmed.
My breathing slowed, but my heart rate increased drastically. My mind was blank. I don’t know how long I laid there staring at him until I got to my knees and felt for his pulse.
Oh, no. Oh, seven galaxies, no. He can’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
But there was no denying it.
I sat back on my knees and looked at my bloody hands, trembling much more than before I went into Conii’s office.
I killed him. I’m a killer. I’ve killed a being on Thodos III. I’m a murderer.
I wanted to vomit. Moreover, I wanted to cry. I was so overwhelmed and immediately thought of the consequences of my actions. I wasn’t afraid of getting in trouble with any Enforcers, the act would be considered self-defense if it was told truthfully, and I took pictures of my wounds, which I planned to do just in case. I was more terrifiedof what Conii or her hitmen would do if they figured out it was me who killed him.
Should I hide the body? Should I clean off his hands? What about my hands? Anything I touch will be smeared in his blood.
I picked up my percomm and the gun and jammed them into my pockets. I probably stood there for another few minutes, just looking at the soulless body on the ground. Granted, he was an asshole, but still, I committed murder.
It said more about me than him, even if it was self-defense. I couldn’t even recognize myself at that point. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to run.
Before I could make my escape, I had to clean up. There was no way I could have made it to Realta with the clothes I had on and blood on my hands without others noticing. I fled to my room and ripped off my clothes before rushing to the sink and washing my hands, ensuring I got every drop of his blood off my fingers.
When I was done, I pulled on a new shirt and pants before glancing around at the room I called home for so long. It was unlikely I would ever return.
My eyes shifted to the books on my shelf, and I looked at all the Sherlock Holmes titles I managed to collect over the years, wondering if I would ever see them again. Then, my eyes got caught on one book in particular, one with pages facing the outside of the shelf.
Deathgate.
I walked over to it and knelt down before pulling it out and holding it for a moment. I barely had time to skim the book. I just wanted to get a better understanding of what was going on, and reading about it was my first instinct.
I held the book in my hands, feeling like I knew what Deathgate was. It was an alien substitute for what humans used to call hell when we lived on Earth. It was a way of replicating the terror that came from the notion we used to hold onto.
Taz’s Vinduthi brother was locked in hell, and killing that chef was a part of the equation to free him from it. He wanted our help. Heneededour help.
But still, I didn’t want to kill anyone.
Those thoughts were what propelled me forward. Before I knew it, I was out of the front door of Conii’s quarters, dashing like a madman through the streets. I darted in the direction of Realta, desperate to be with Tazhr.
He would hold me, help me.
He would know what to do.
