“I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “It’s only been a few months since that scary bastard was here. I don’t want him coming back.”
“Are you afraid, Sen?” Arima chided. “Should I bring another in your place and let you hide behind the whores in the brothel?”
Sen bristled. “I’m simply recommending caution, Arima. That’s my job, along with keeping the operations running smoothly. We have a good thing here. The Yakuza leave us alone, and we have more than we’ll ever need. I don’t want to risk losing it all for a small payday when we already make so much more than that over the year.”
Arima laughed. “I know what you’re doing, but you can’t talk me out of it. Trust me on this. She’ll never miss it.”
Akio’s lips turned up at the corners in a not-quite-smile as he heard the crime boss admit to what had already sealed his fate. Not that it mattered—he was a dead man when Akio received his orders. Kamiko didn’t mind if the humans skimmed a little here and there, but she wouldn’t tolerate anyone who had the gall to lie to her when questioned. That he had admitted trying to use her to attack other criminal enterprises made it worse, especially since the criminals he had recently blamed were hers as well.
Akio stepped out of the darkened doorway and leaped to catch the lip of the window frame. He pulled himself up and held himself steady while he reached into a concealed pocket and removed a small bottle. He caught the cap in his teeth and pulled out the stopper. The scent of oil filled his nose before he moved it away.
He carefully poured the oil onto the hinges that allowed the windows to swing out. Satisfied, he reached through a missing pane and poured the remainder of the oil on the rust-coated latch. He silently released it and slowly opened the window with careful motions. It rotated out silently on the freshly oiled hinges. That done, he climbed into the warehouse and stopped to listen.
Once assured that no one had heard him, Akio made his way to a set of wooden stairs that ran down the wall to the floor below. He unsheathed his katana when he came to the door at the bottom that led into the office, gripping it lightly as he prepared to deliver the reprimand.
A shadow appeared in the grime-covered glass of the door and stopped.
“Be careful, Arima. I don’t like it, but you’re the boss, and I respect that. I only hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass.” The knob rattled as he opened the door.
Sen started through the door while still looking at Arima and jerked back when he caught a motion in front of him. His eyes shot open in shock that turned to fear when he saw Akio.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered as he backpedaled into the office, only stopping when he bumped into the desk. He hit it with enough force to move it back a couple of inches.
“What the hell, Sen?” Arima yelled. “Watch what you’re doing!”
Sen didn’t answer, transfixed by the light gleaming off the exposed blade.
Akio stepped forward and pointed to the side with his katana.
Sen gulped, his face ashen as he sidestepped away from the desk.
Arima’s eyes were focused on Sen. He didn’t notice Akio until the tip of his sword landed on the desk directly in front of him. Arima tried to push back, but his chair was already against the wall. He surged to his feet and stammered a greeting.
“Konichiwa, Akio-san. To what do we owe the honor of your…” His words cut off in a gurgle as the sword flashed from resting on the desk to extended out to the side at shoulder level, pointed at Sen.
A thin red line appeared on Arima’s throat, followed by a rush of blood as the wound opened, covering Arima’s front in seconds and pulsing across the small space. His body flopped back into the chair, his eyes wide as he bled out.
Akio turned his head and looked down the blade at Sen. “That one sought to incite dissention within the organization to promote personal gain. Do better, or I will return for you.” He delivered the threat in a low voice, one that Sen later swore sounded like Death himself pronouncing judgment.
Sen started to answer, but before he could form the words, Akio disappeared. One moment, he’d stood there like a vengeful oni. The next, he was gone. Sen wiped his face, surprised to see his hand covered in blood as he pulled it away. He was still there an hour later when one of his men came to check on him because he’d been gone so long.
Akio moved at vampire speed across the floor and up the steps leading to the window. He hung on the frame long enough to close and secure it before he silently dropped to the street below. He was a block away by the time Sen discovered the blood on his face.
While moving, he pulled a soft cloth from his pocket and wiped off the small amount of blood clinging to his katana before sliding the blade into the sheath on his back. He slowed to a walk and pulled a dark cloak over his shoulders to conceal it. He didn’t fear anyone who might see him, but it was best not to attract undue attention.
He already knew from previous experience that the superstitious among the criminals would come up with many different theories about Arima’s death, each one more fantastic than the other. It served his purpose for them to think he was some kind of Oni, a demon from Japanese lore. It made them more cautious about how they conducted their business, and in turn, caused less disruption to Kamiko’s criminal enterprises. It was a method that had worked well for him for many years.
He had stayed away from Chiba since the night he had met Kenjii, and had suppressed the memory to keep others from learning about his transgression of allowing a human to know of the UnknownWorld.
Although he had worked to push the memory away, he still experienced moments when heat surged through his body, remembering the brief touch and how warm Kenjii’s hand felt in his. Those feelings came at odd times, so he was careful to employ every trick he had ever learned to conceal them. This resulted in him spending more time meditating and working out, two of the normal activities that allowed him to focus on something other than the need to actively shield his mind.
Walking through the streets of Chiba, he soon reached the mouth of a familiar alley. He looked down to the end, half-expecting to see figures standing there, but there was only rotting trash this time. His hand strayed to the hidden pocket in his tunic and caressed the small, hard piece of brass secured inside it.
He started walking again, his mind bringing up memories of Kenjii as his feet carried him through the darkened streets and alleys. He stopped after a short time to get his bearings and recognized which street he was on. His glance swung to the store and apothecary in front of him, his fingers still touching the key. Between the businesses was the door it unlocked.
He stepped into a darkened entryway and looked above the store, where a light shone from a window. It winked out as he watched. He was home. Akio stayed in the shadows, watching and fighting the urge to go to the man. His conscious mind told him it was a bad idea, but his subconscious and his body both pushed him to go.
After a half-hour of fighting the internal battle, his conscious mind conceded defeat, and he slowly walked to the door. The key went into the lock and turned. A soft snick signaled that it had accomplished its task. Akio leaned and rested his head against the door’s rough wood for a moment before he stepped back and pulled it open.
The door swung out silently on well-oiled hinges. He stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. He moved up the stairs, a silent shadow in the night, and stopped when barely inside the dark living room.
The scent he recognized as Kenjii’s permeated the air and caused the warmth he had felt before to run through him like fire in his veins. He looked around the darkened area, seeing no sign of the man, but a soft noise from behind the closed door at the end of the room caught his attention.
He made his way to the door on silent feet but froze as he heard muted footsteps from the other side. The doorknob rattled as it turned, then the door swung open and Kenjii stood there, his lean body sparkling with drops of water. He wore only a pair of short pants, and vigorously rubbed a towel over his
wet hair with one hand.
He looked up when Akio moved, and his eyes flew open in surprise. He stepped back with a small yelp and stumbled as his foot caught on a loose rug. He was falling to the floor when strong arms went under his lower back and shoulders and he stopped abruptly.
He focused on who held him. “Akio? You nearly scared me to death!” he went on in a rush. “Is everything all right? Your eyes. They are red.”
Akio stood, effortlessly pulling Kenjii to his feet as he did. He released him, his arms tingling and the fire rushing through his blood hotter than before. “I should not have come here.” He stepped back and turned to leave, then froze when Kenjii reached out and caught his arm in a light grip.
“No, please don’t go,” Kenjii pleaded. “I have prayed to the ancestors that you were not a dream, that I would see you again. I didn’t speak of you to anyone or try to find you, but I begged them to send you back.”
He looked down at his hand, still holding Akio’s arm. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t be so forward. My apologies,” he stammered as he let go.
As Kenjii pulled his hand away, a sense of loss surged through Akio, and he felt longing deep inside. Both feelings had become so foreign to him over the past centuries that it took him a few beats to recognize them for what they were. He forced his body to relax and his eyes to lose the red glow that came out when he saw Kenjii fall.
He tentatively stretched out one hand and felt the internal fire ignite again when Kenjii reached out and took it in his, smiling that bright smile which haunted Akio’s visions during the times he couldn’t make the memories stop.
Chapter Thirty
Wajima, Japan
Li Song stood on a hill overlooking what was left of the city of Wajima on the northern coast of Japan. The earthquakes and tsunamis had left their marks on what was once a thriving coastal city. Now it was little more than a small fishing village made up of houses cobbled together from the debris that the natural disasters had left.
Shao lay in the shade of a tree while they waited for Jin and Wu to return from scouting. It had taken them four days to make the journey from Kobe to Wajima. It was only around four hundred kilometers by the fastest route, but it had taken much longer for the team, given the need to avoid built-up areas and possibly hostile people armed with silver weapons.
A faint rustling below his lookout alerted him that someone was coming. A few moments later, Wu poked his head through the brush and made his way to where Li was waiting.
Li nodded toward the town. “What did you find?”
Wu shrugged. “Most of the men are out fishing today. There were a few women and elders about, but the ones who saw me darted inside and locked their doors before I could speak to them.”
Li shook his head in disgust. Not only had he failed to locate the missing teams, but they also couldn’t find anyone willing to talk to them. He was not looking forward to his next report to Master Peng if he didn’t have any information on the teams.
Jin returned three hours later, carrying a brown bottle. He had a smile on his face.
“What are you so damn happy about?” Wu grumbled from where he had been napping against a tree.
Li kicked the bottom of Wu’s boot as he went by. “Leave him alone, Wu.”
He met Jin where they had stashed their packs in the bushes earlier. “Well, did you get anything useful, or did you spend the afternoon drinking sake? Not that it does anything to you anyway.”
Jin pulled a canteen out of his pack and took a swallow. He swished it around his mouth and spat it on the ground. “This is without a doubt the worst homemade hooch I have ever tasted. I think paint thinner would taste better.”
Shao rolled his eyes. “So why are you drinking it?”
“Because, my friend, it was the only way I could get anyone to talk to me,” Jin replied.
“Do you have the information?” Li demanded.
All signs of levity drained from Jin’s face. “I do,” he confirmed. “You and the Grand Master are not going to like it. According to the old man I spoke to, Sun and Ling were here. They had practically taken over the town, if he can be believed. ‘Tinpot tyrants’ was the description he used.”
Li reached for Jin, but he darted away before he caught his arm. “Don’t shoot the messenger. My erstwhile friend claims he saw it all. He was sleeping off the night before under a tarp when a black box dropped out of the morning sky directly in front of him.”
“A box fell from the sky?” Wu scoffed. “How much of that sake did you drink?”
“Believe me, very little,” Jin assured him with a frown. “As I was saying, a box fell from the sky, but it stopped inches above the ground, and a man dressed in all black and carrying a sword got out.”
“A sword?” Li pursed his lips. “You expect us to believe that crap?”
“That’s not the important or even the most unbelievable part,” Jin continued. “This man supposedly walked up to Sun and cut his head off without a word. Then, according to my witness, Ling ‘turned into a big-assed tiger’ and suffered the same fate.”
Wu laughed. “I want some of whatever he was drinking.”
Jin scowled at him. “Now comes the part that made me believe what he was telling me, drunk or not. The man with the sword was dressed all in black, and he had a patch on his shoulder. He described it as having a red background with a skull on it.”
Li’s eyes widened. “A Queen’s Bitch? He’s claiming that a Queen’s Bitch flew into town, killed two Weres, and just left them? They all departed years ago in that damned spaceship.”
“Yes, he claims it was a Queen’s Bitch,” Jin confirmed. “He said he had a picture of that one in a calendar back before WWDE. Says his name is Akio, and he was the only Japanese Bitch. According to the old man, he was quite the celebrity here in Japan.”
Wu joined them from his spot against the tree. “What happened to the bodies?”
“This is where it gets strange. The old drunk says two government trucks loaded with soldiers showed up about fifteen minutes later. This Akio talked to the officer in charge while the troops cleaned up everything. They shook hands, and everyone left.”
Li’s mouth opened and closed several times before he was able to form the words. “The Japanese government is working openly with a vampire. Not just any vampire, but a Queen’s Bitch, and they know about the UnknownWorld?”
“Looks that way,” Jin agreed.
“Shao, hand me the phone, ” Li ordered. “Master Peng must have this information immediately.”
“What do we do now, Li?” Wu was looking around as if he expected to be attacked at any minute. “Everything I remember about those guys who were the Bitches is that they are like a force of nature. How do we fight someone like that?”
“With superior intelligence and excessive firepower,” Li answered as he pressed the button on the satellite phone, dreading how Kun would react and what reprisal he could expect for delivering the news.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Palace, Tokyo, Japan
Horst waved his hand at the data on the screen in front of him. “Eve, how will the ships keep from being torn apart at those speeds?”
“First, because they are large and they have the new reinforced bows. Second, because they won’t run at those speeds except when the weather and other conditions are optimal.”
Horst wasn’t convinced. “Still, there have been a lot of changes since WWDE. What happens if you run aground on an uncharted atoll or the top of a sea volcano that wasn’t on the old charts?”
“We would not allow full-speed operation unless we were sure the routes were clear,” she assured him. “I have already verified that the way is open to Vladivostok, Shanghai, and Kume. The Japanese Navy has information on other sea lanes that I can obtain easily enough too.”
Horst shook his head as he looked over the numbers again. “This is phenomenal. These ships will cut days off the time it takes to move people and goods. I believe we will ha
ve more business than we can handle once word gets out.”
“My calculations using the current shipping data shows that we can easily handle forty percent of the current business at lower rates than the shippers are paying and still turn a substantial profit.” Eve pulled up another screen, this one with a picture of a ship design that was radically different from the ones they were currently using.
“What’s this?” Horst inquired.
Eve grinned up at him. “The next generation of Etheric-powered cargo ships. This one doesn’t have the total capacity of the four that are being currently outfitted, but they have a significantly higher cruise speed. These ships can go from Tokyo to San Francisco in three days.”
“Mein Gott!” Horst exclaimed. “That’s amazing.”
Eve grinned. “I am also looking into manufacturing facilities that can build components. The shipyard we are currently using can handle the assembly; we just need to get the parts to them.”
“Is San Francisco still a market?” Horst asked.
“Not at this time,” Eve commiserated. “But they are starting to recover. Who knows what the next few years hold? That was just an example. Until there is a market for goods there, we still have enough in this region to keep us busy for years.”
Horst nodded. “Makes sense. When will the ships we are working on now be ready for sea trials?”
“The first is scheduled to launch in three months,” Eve informed him. “I have already booked the first load of cargo. We will be operational two weeks after the launch.”
Horst chuckled. “You don’t do anything by half measures.”
“Things to move and money to make,” Eve told him. “There’s no logic in doing it by half measures.”
Asai growled as she flopped down in the chair at her desk. “Oh, that man.”
Koda looked up from the screen she was reviewing sales numbers on. “What’s the matter, cousin?”
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