Byzantine Purple

Chapter X: Told In Blood

Josip both hated and admired the Ancestors' vehicles. Slippers resembled silvery straps of transparent fabrics that enveloped the pilot, creating a bubble to protect him from Veil Breaches and time fluctuations. They were rare vehicles that remained mainly in the hands of the Council, the Alka and certain prominent families who were fortunate enough to inherit those technological marvels from their ancestors. Unlike bigger gliders, they traveled almost at light speed and caused no side effects to their pilots. But even an Alka-owned slipper could not prevent Josip from being late.

He rushed through the quiet village on the Croatian-Hungarian border, a single thought occupying his mind: he had to locate the Basilisk beyond the Veil while the Natives' police were checking the passengers' documents. Anxious to the point of snapping, Josip searched for the likeness of a woman whose beautiful face haunted the dreams of most Balkan Offcasts.

If Gordana Drašković was indeed waiting for the Basilisk on the platform, Josip had to demonstrate miracles of stealth to avoid the Serpent's sister. Scrutinizing rusty train cars, he wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead, shivering at the thought of encountering Leudora Galbur. From what he knew of the Basilisk, she could kill with her stare alone. Josip was not going to look into her eyes, though. The prospect of dying by the hand of Alka's official enemy did not suit him.

Josip dug his nails into his palms and took a deep breath. He had always known he'd meet her again. His capricious destiny chose to send him back to her now. Once, he had tried to kill her. Now, he came to save her.

Bracing himself, he boarded the train and made his way past mostly empty compartments. Persistent and careful, he sought a familiar Veil synchronization pattern that existed in a dimension outside the Natives' reach. He almost missed her in a Veil breach. The Basilisk snapped her fingers, and the clicking sound sent waves of heat through his body, and Josip finally saw her.

The woman lifted a slanted eyebrow, staring at him. The first thing Josip recognized were her gunpowder-colored eyes that struck a balance between realistic and otherworldly. The Basilisk had not changed much over the last decade. She wore a black coat with a high collar and heavy boots that seemed too big for her otherwise fragile figure. He wondered if she recognized him. Panting heavily, he reached out to sense her blood: the unmistakable presence of excessive iron cells confirmed her identity. Scanning him with her unmoving gaze, the Basilisk lifted a finger. "I wouldn't do it if I were you."

Josip frowned in confusion, realizing he had a thin braceter gleaming on his wrist. She scrutinized his weapon with wry amusement.

"You must cross two fingers to activate it," she said, her eyebrow twitching.

"What...?" He had expected many things, but polite nonchalance was not one of them.

"If you intend to use your braceter, you may as well do it correctly."

His face reddened, and he immediately switched the position of his fingers, lowering his gaze.

"Lady Galbur, I'll shoot twice, then I will slam the wall. The noise should give you enough time to escape." He took a deep inhale. "You need to get out of here. Now."

The Basilisk remained unfazed.

"I won't hurt her, if that's what you are worried about."

"She will hurt you if you do not leave," Josip replied, wondering who of the two women could inflict more damage. "My orders are to keep Gordana out of trouble and not let her break anyone's neck on my watch."

Leudora's lips twisted.

"You can't do much to contain a hurricane. But you can stay and watch."

Josip had no time to respond when outraged Gordana jumped into the compartment, holding a glimmer-blade in one hand and a braceter in another. To his surprise, Leudora did not bat an eyelid.