Four Moons: The Complete Collection: (Books 1 - 4)

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Four Moons: The Complete Collection: (Books 1 - 4) Page 61

by Amos, Richard


  “Oh.”

  “King Daichi should never have fallen. Yet he did, and it lasted for centuries.”

  The railway was a bit of a headfuck. What was I saying? It all was!

  Okay, my opinion of the tenshi was becoming seriously muddied. Not warriors? That didn’t sit right. But then if they were creators, weavers of whatever, what the hell was I expecting? Kick-arse ninja angels?

  “We needed help, Akira. Help we could not find for centuries. There was no way to fight Daichi. His power over his realm was too great. We could not penetrate it to unravel it or weave any new crowns, only touch the fringes of this abomination, which did nothing. All was polluted, and all dead souls suffered when those who should not have died, even those who lived within the shades of gray.”

  Wonder what category I fit in…

  “Then, you were born.”

  And here we go. One part answered, now for the golden nugget.

  I let them talk. “You were born to a werewolf father and a tenshi mother. It is blood that should never have mixed, yet we are grateful it did. You see, Akira, the tenshi do walk the earth from time to time, to explore the garden we have made. You will not know them, and you will not see them. We are as any regular human, hidden, there to observe, passing through your lives unnoticed. A human life is for humans, yet there is one who craved it, to experience more, who found herself enraptured in sensations not reserved for tenshi and made herself known. She had been affected with human feelings. She had fallen in love, assimilated herself into the world, weaving her own human tale, her own history, and family. She cut herself off from this place, not wanting to come home.”

  I held my breath.

  “She called herself Sakura, giving herself a name when tenshi do not have names themselves.”

  Fuck. For a minute, I couldn’t breathe, disorientated. I pulled it together, got some words on my tongue, and set them free. “My mum.”

  Daichi groaned gently. The world around me was still. No wind, not even the rustle of the white leaves on the tree.

  “My mum,” I said again.

  “She fell in love with your father. Because of her actions, she gave birth to you, created an anomaly unseen before. You. As her body was not built for bearing a human child, the threads of her own creation unwound, killing her.”

  I wanted to cry again. “You called me an anomaly.”

  “That is what you are, Akira. A dangerous creation full of wolf and tenshi. Not one or the other. Something new. The blend has affected you in the ways of your metaphysical wolves, in how you can wield the katanas forged by the hands of your swordsmith uncle and transform them into things that devour. His blood, his own creations, reacted to you, bonded with you—none greater than these second swords he made. They are deadly, and we are ourselves afraid of them. Your blood is dangerous. You are not quite wolf, not quite tenshi—something else. Blood of our blood, yes, and a creature capable of saving the world, yet also one capable of great destruction.”

  Destruction…

  I sucked in a breath; my brain stuffed to the brim with info. My mum, the revelations about me. This was…intense.

  “An anomaly.”

  “Yes, Akira.”

  “You’re really afraid of me?”

  “Yes.”

  Thanks for making me feel awesome about myself. “Where’s my uncle?”

  “Alive.”

  I nearly collapsed with relief. “Where, though?”

  “In the realm of the living.”

  Shit. “You can’t tell me where?”

  “Your task is to break the curse upon the moon. You have taken death into your blades, an essence of death that should not exist—deadly, corrupted. You must return to the point in London where the curse was made and release this power into the moon. It will kill the curse, for the curse is a living curse. The potency of the death you wield will be enough to end the twilight of the wolves. You must not fail. An eternal silver moon cannot be. Failure will bring about a new dawn—one with a mazoku queen at the helm. Shadows will spread across the lands rather than the light of the tenshi. We will be powerless to stop it. The wolves cannot fall. The world needs the werewolves. They may not be perfect, yet at the core of their brutal being, they are a force for good no other creation can hope to ever be. They can withstand evil like no other. Just look at your father. Now is a chance for a better day, a new beginning in their salvation, a time for healing the fractures, for their light to shine brighter than it ever has before.”

  Man, my head. “I wanna see G.”

  “You will.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He is well, Akira.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  Daichi groaned some more.

  “Mama Rita’s power grows every day and will continue to do so,” the tenshi said. “But she must prove her worth to truly be queen.”

  “How does she do that?”

  “By killing you. The twilight of the wolves will bring about her final ascent.”

  “She didn’t kill me.”

  “Thus, she is not yet queen.”

  “So, she knows I’m not dead?”

  “Not yet. She will.”

  I grabbed the bridge of my nose. “You used me. All of this… You used me. You saw me taking G’s power, didn’t you? Somehow. I’m a slave to a higher power like Daichi said I was.”

  “We did. You made it true, what we saw, what we sensed could be possible for you to achieve. You could have fallen to true death. Nothing is certain.”

  “That’s some nasty bullshit. Why not tell me straight up?”

  “It was your journey to make, with gentle help from us. It still is. We do not interfere, not able to. Yet in you we had the chance to attempt to influence certain directions. The threads of creation are interesting things. They reveal possibilities, and we had found a possibility in you to end the madness of the king.”

  Used me, used G. Call me Akira the Puppet!

  Yeah, I was fuming, but at the same time, I wasn’t about to go tearing off and raging about it. My head was spinning too much for one, plus, well, what the hell was the point? I had to work through this shit, not go off on one. I’d accepted this task, this trial, come all this way, and I wasn’t about to kick it to the curb.

  And I’d got myself some answers. I now knew who my mum was, sort of. What I was. A dangerous anomaly who could flip either way, judging by what they’d said. Couldn’t say that did my confidence much good, but fuck it. Balls to it. So I got manipulated? So I was potentially a scary bastard? So I was still as much of a mess as I always was?

  Suck it, up. Get on with it. Save the world because the world needed all the help it could get.

  Wow. A mature decision! Go me!

  “I am…fallen…” Daichi whispered.

  I looked down. No change in him. Still a naked ball.

  “You are, Daichi,” the voices responded. “You are ended, unwoven. A new Daichi will step into your place, death remade into what it should be, your corruption now taken.”

  And now inside my katanas… “What happens now?” I asked.

  “You have survived the trials within the mountain, which has led you without.”

  That was my answer?

  “Elves aside,” the tenshi carried on, “all death leads to the Three Holy Mountains for all once again after so much time. One death. No second death.”

  Where was this going? “Oh. So, where did the people who did die again go?”

  “Trapped. Locked away at the pleasure of King Daichi.”

  “Where?”

  A spiral of gold flew past my face. “Thanks to you, Akira Murakami, the afterlife can be whole again, be of its true purpose. No more tyrant of death shall preside over it. The three Crowns of Death are restored, a new Daichi woven. The three realms of death—Mount Tate, Mount Haku, and Mount Fuji—have had their lights dulled for centuries. Now they will be free to burn once again—paradise within Mount Tate for the worthy, and the fire pits
of Mount Fuji for the darkest of hearts, leaving the gray lands of Mount Haku for those souls in between. A balance of good and evil.”

  “The bone key,” I said. “Tell me about that.”

  “The key of the three Crowns was used for them to move around the realms. Daichi took it, broke it in three, yet could not destroy it—only hide the pieces. There were brave souls close to the Crowns, servants, who knew about it, who wrote about its existence in secret, keeping its legend alive to find its way to now.”

  “Like that Joji guy.”

  “Exactly like him. He found the records.”

  “You… Gabriel. You put him in the path of that key.”

  “Again, he was part of our sensing, and being able to touch the fringes of Daichi’s creation, we placed him on the path of possibility. He is the gift, Akira. You saw his wonders for yourself, how much of a gift he is, and was.” More swirling gold sparkles, nothing following that. “Your use of his power in your unique way, thanks to your blood, destroyed Daichi’s realm.”

  “That’s why I’m dangerous.”

  “For the right reasons, that time.”

  “I can still mess this up.”

  “You can.”

  Everything had played out how they’d wanted it to so far.

  Maybe I should learn a puppet dance.

  “I really need to see G.”

  “There are two days left until the silver moon.”

  “What? How is that possible? I had eight days!”

  “Time moves differently in the realm of the dead.”

  “Then, I best be going.”

  “Listen, Akira. There is much power in blood.”

  “Erm, okay.”

  “Always remember it is as powerful a force as any magic.”

  Cryptic much? Were they talking about my family? “Okay. I will.”

  “There is one more thing you must do to purge all of the cruelty Daichi has infected the dead with.”

  “What’s that?”

  “End the trial.”

  “I thought it was over.”

  A wind kicked up then, wafting around me, chilly kisses on my naked body.

  “Open the door, Akira. Set the trapped souls free.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  With my head all a mess, untangling the spaghetti details, I was back on the mountainside.

  Wait until my dad heard about all this!

  Behind me, the rock where the figures had been slid open. It revealed a stairway lit by white fire burning in sconces.

  Trapped souls. Mrs. Wallace, Gerald, and all those people who’d died a second death, which wasn’t even supposed to be a thing. Those people who’d marched off into the city, led by that werewolf Elaine. Whatever had happened to them, it was over. They were gonna be free now.

  And Uncle Ryoka was alive.

  Where the hell was he?

  The stairs went down, so I went down, following the spiral until I reached some sort of bottom. Then the stairs shifted, pointing up.

  “Ah, what’s the point of being freaked out?” I told myself aloud and went up the spiral stairwell.

  A circle of moonlight above me. Not red, but normal lunar white. Was that a blossom tree? An orange koi fish swam across the circle.

  “The hell? Wait a minute!”

  I hurried up the rest of the stairs, scaring the crap out of the fish, and more of its fish friends, breaking the surface of a pond.

  I was back in the place with the pagoda and the snow and the changing mountains in the distance. The place where Mama Rita and her cronies had attacked and ‘killed’ me and G.

  “What is this?”

  I was even dressed in the same clothes I’d had on the last time I’d been here—jeans and boots and thick coat, with the same backpack on. Twisting round to check, I saw the white holders for my katanas strapped to my back.

  Everything back in its place.

  But not everyone.

  “G?”

  Oh, shit. No. Please don’t say he was a trapped soul, that he’d died in the arena. I’d only pricked him. No damage. The tenshi had said he was okay.

  “Please…” I whispered. “Not without him.”

  A swirl of pink cherry blossom petals flew around me, taking the shape of the petal woman.

  “Well done, Akira,” she said with that sweet voice.

  Wait…

  Pink blossom.

  Pink Sakura blossom.

  Wait…

  Sakura.

  Sakura blossom

  Sakura Murakami.

  “You’re my mum, aren’t you?” I asked, tummy in knots.

  “Akira…”

  Within the shapes of limbs, the petals melded to form actual body parts, gleaming with an olive skin-colored glow. It spread out, forming arms and hands and fingers, legs and feet and toes. A head, long black hair fluttering in an invisible breeze, a white sundress with pink petals on it.

  Then her brown eyes opened, her lips a pale pink parting into a smile.

  My mum, floating right before my eyes.

  “You’re really her, aren’t you?”

  She drifted down to the floor, then walked over, bare feet making no sound. “My son.”

  Tears. Oh, man. They just started leaking like mad, rolling, and rolling in hot tracks down my cheeks. “Mum…”

  She came to me, wrapping her arms around me. My heart broke, and the agony was unleashed—both physical and metaphysical.

  My mum.

  I was in the arms of my mum, and I couldn’t stop crying.

  * * *

  When the tears were all dried up, we sat together on the steps of the pagoda.

  “Mama Rita didn’t burn this place down,” I said, my mum’s hand in mine.

  “Only in her mind, like the death of you and Gabriel.”

  “He’s not here,” I said softly. “Do you know where he is?”

  “He will be here soon.”

  “Okay. He’s okay. Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “I am so proud of you, my son. I knew you would succeed.”

  I sighed, squeezing her hand tighter. She was so pretty, so delicate and warm and I never wanted to let her go. But I knew I had to.

  The woman in my dreams, the guiding hand all along. How the hell had I missed it?

  “You’re dead, though.”

  “I am.”

  “Because of me. The complications of giving birth to me.”

  “No, my son. It is not your fault.”

  “You were taken away from us. Me and Dad.”

  “Do not see it that way.”

  My anger was stirring. If she’d lived, we could’ve been a family, maybe I’d have had someone in my corner, someone to soften my dad like his new wife did.

  “I feel robbed.” So much for me being alright. I guess the waves of sorrow were getting too heavy now.

  She placed a hand on my cheek. Man, it was so warm. “There are times when I wanted to tell you the whole truth of who I was in those dreams of yours. But it was forbidden. I was only allowed to gently push you.”

  How was I supposed to let her go?

  “Akira, I am sorry for the time we never had, for all the sadness, for the coldness of my human husband. I did not foresee it when I fell for him.”

  “It’s not fair.” Fresh tears. “I needed you.”

  “No more tears, my son.”

  “Mum…” Tears for what I’d never have wouldn’t ever dry up. “I want my mum.” I sounded like a kid, but it was true. I wanted her so badly to come home with me, to be in my life, to be my family.

  I told her that.

  “You have a family, Akira.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do. Now is the time for healing.”

  “I don’t think I can. Maybe if I find Uncle Ryoka, but not with Dad.”

  “Another trial for you to undergo—the trial of you, of the life you want to live. I think your father may surprise you.”
>
  “He already has,” I said without thinking. “He showed a different side of himself… Oh, shit. I can’t do this.” More sobbing, my cheek resting in her palm.

  “Do not falter. You are full of so much light, so much love, no matter the darkness within you. Do not let your pain win. Yes, I know you’re hurting, but think of what you have done here. You have broken one wheel of shadows, now you can break another. You have not given up in the face of adversity. That tells me you are a warrior, so full of strengths a punch can only dream of gaining.”

  I sat up, wiping my tears. “That’s funny.”

  She shrugged. “Punches are punches. Emotional wounds are worse. You are still standing after an onslaught.”

  Her words… They held something special. Was it the truth? I could only see it through a rainy window pane.

  “Mum…”

  “Open the door, Akira.” She stood up, offering me a hand.

  I took it, standing up, turning to face the pagoda. It was still five-stories high as before, still made up of a white pillar, golden balustrades, black eaves, and a black finial.

  “Open the door,” she said again.

  With a deep breath, I went up to the door, touching the wood. The last time I’d done this, nothing had happened. But now the wood was alive, moving under my hand, whispering the rhythm of the dead on my skin.

  I twisted the handle, and the door opened inward. The pagoda collapsed. I leaped back, letting out some curses, but the rubble wasn’t solid. It broke apart, turning into white feathers and white blossoms, dancing on the air, floating away in three different directions.

  Standing where the pagoda had just been was G, wearing white feather trousers and a top, with a long feather coat flapping in the breeze.

  You know that whole thing ‘be still my beating heart’? That was me as I drank him in, a radiant glow all around him like he was totally otherworldly.

  “Interesting outfit,” I said.

  His lips curled into a smile. “It’s a loan.”

  Behind him, the glowing white shapes of people—all the same shape.

  “Thanks, Akira.” Jessie. “This is so awesome.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Mitesh’s voice.

  “Thanks.” Tim that time.

 

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