His Blade

Tejeda's lips moved as though they were not his own. “Who’s she?”

Shayla placed a hand on his back, touching for the first time the sludgy skin he had in this form. “Tejeda, stop. He’s dead.”

Tejeda lifted his head to look at the sky. He remained like that for a long while before murmuring, “Why did you kill him?”

"Sorry! Next time," Shayla murmured, sheathing her scimitar, "I'll kill the other guy after he kills you."

“How did you know which one was me?”

“Really? Is there another idiot who would risk dying for a spoon?”

She observed how he flinched but said nothing. There was something wrong with him. Nonetheless, Shayla didn't believe she had the authority to inquire. In any case, she didn't expect a fair answer from him.

"Did you bring any DNA for me?" Tejeda asked without turning around. "As you can see, I’m in bad shape."

Shayla hurled a vial toward him, and he grabbed it with one of his two remaining tentacles.