Reaping Wind

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I bet he’s hungry,” Ursula said. “One sec.”

  She stepped to her industrial-sized fridge and grabbed an enormous bratwurst nearly the size of my leg.

  “You really don’t have to—” I began, when she gave Peaches the sausage. “Thanks, really. You just made a friend for life. One who will eat you out of house and home, if you let him.”

  “The last hellhound I met wasn’t friendly,” she said. “I’m glad your Peaches is—even if he is ultra-destructive.”

 

  < I like the bear lady. Maybe she’s a butcher too?>

  I looked at the hammer again, as Peaches inhaled the bratwurst.

 

  “Do the Norse know you’ve borrowed Mjolnir?” I asked, still amazed by the hammer’s materialization. Monty elbowed me in the ribs. “I’m just saying, they may be looking for it.”

  “This isn’t Mjolnir,” Ursula answered with a smile. “I can see the confusion, but Kirves belongs to Ukko.”

  “Curvy?” I asked. “Your hammer is named Curvy?”

  “Do the Blood Hunters know you have one of their blood blades?” she said, pointing at Ebonsoul. “Why do you wear it in a sheath? You’re bonded to it. You can carry it within you.”

  She tapped her chest.

  “Not quite ready for that step,” I said. “It feels off, somehow, when I do that.”

  “The longer you wait, the harder it will be to resist,” she said, extending an arm. “I can help you, if you want.”

  The hammer on the counter transformed to silver mist and evaporated into her hand, exactly the same as Ebonsoul did when I carried it in me.

  “I’ll think about it, when I’m not being hunted.”

  Ursula nodded. “You told me the how, now tell me the why,” she said. “Why are you here at this hour?”

  “We need to leave the city,” Monty said. “Tonight.”

  “There’s the door,” Ursula said, pointing at the front door. “Besides, you’re a mage. Cast a circle—outside.”

  “That’s not possible,” Monty answered. “The moment I begin a cast—”

  “You’ll have everyone on you”—she glanced down at Peaches—“like a hellhound on sausage.”

  “That would be accurate,” Monty said. “We need to leave the city without alerting anyone watching for my particular signature.”

  “After today, what I need is a hot shower and another one of these,” Ursula said, holding up her bottle of Guinness. “How do I expedite your exit from my home?”

  “Maybe this is when you tell her where we’re going?” I muttered to Monty. “Before it becomes ‘hammer time’?”

  “We need to get to Japan. Specifically, Osaka,” Monty said. “Can you access a nexus there?”

  “Yes, even one that won’t get traced, at least not for a few days,” she said. “But it’s going to cost you.”

  “If it’s financial remuneration you’re looking for,” Monty said, “I’m sure we can—”

  “Please, don’t insult me,” Ursula said, her expression darkening. “Have you seen my bed? Money is not the issue here. I’ve reconsidered your offer to help. When I find out whatever is disrupting the nexus points, I’ll call you and you will answer. Deal?”

  “In exchange for safe passage to Osaka, agreed,” Monty said. “On my word as bond.”

  Ursula looked at me and I nodded. “What he said.”

  “Good. Maybe I can channel your destructive tendencies for the greater good,” Ursula said. “Let me get the circle ready.”

  “Is this trip going to turn my insides out?”

  “You don’t seem to be suffering now,” Ursula said, walking over to the training area on the other side of the space. “You’ll want to stay back while I do this. This process can get dicey.”

  She materialized her hammer, uttered some words I couldn’t understand, and placed it on the floor as she stepped back. A large green circle appeared in the center of her training area around the hammer.

  Peaches growled and chuffed at Ursula. She nodded her head.

  “Are you really a werebear?” I asked. “Peaches told me to ask.”

  “Sure he did,” she said with a smile. “I’ll answer that if you can prove you’re really immortal.”

  “I think it’s time for us to leave,” I said, quickly.

  “How long before the trip is detected?” Monty asked, stepping into the circle. “They will be using normal methods of detection.”

  “My method will give you three days before they know where you went,” Ursula answered, absorbing her hammer again. “Use them well.”

  “We intend to,” I said, and the world vanished in a green flash.

  SIX

  We arrived in Japan just before dawn.

  “We have three days,” Monty said, looking around. “Let’s not squander them.”

  We stood in a large garden in the middle of a larger grassy area. Monty sat cross-legged, taking in a deep breath and focusing. I looked around. Off to my left, I saw an ancient, large, fortress-like building of some kind, surrounded by a high wall. On my right, I saw a sizable lake.

  “Looks like we’re in some kind of park, a pretty big one.”

  “Open land is scarce in Japan,” Monty answered. “Large parks like this aren’t overly common.”

  “Do you know where we are?” I asked, looking off into the distance. “None of this looks familiar to me.”

  “That structure looks like Osaka Castle, which would make this Osaka Castle Park.”

  “Makes sense,” I said, taking in the sight. “What are you doing?”

  “Attuning our energy signatures,” Monty said, closing his eyes. “I’d like to avoid detection for as long as possible.”

  “Good plan,” I answered. “A question, though.”

  “Can it wait?” Monty asked, without opening his eyes. “I’m trying to see if I can sense any trace energy signature of your vampire in the immediate area.”

  “That would help,” I said. “Monty, do you remember when we arrived in London? When the Penumbra Consortium rolled out the welcome committee?”

  “Yes,” Monty said, keeping his eyes closed as his body floated a few inches above the ground, turning slowly. “I seem to recall it wasn’t much of a welcome.”

  “Do you think every country has some variation of the Dark Council?”

  “I would imagine so,” Monty answered. “Why do you ask?”

  “Seems like the attuning thing you’re trying to do didn’t work.”

  “If you would stop interrupting and let me start—”

  “I thought you had begun. Your eyes were closed, and you looked very ‘one with the Force,’ attuned and all.”

  “One with the what?”

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “Say it with me: ‘I am one with the Force. The Force is with me.’ Maybe it will speed up the process?”

  “The process you keep interrupting?” Monty asked, keeping his eyes closed.

  “Not my fault this attuning thing isn’t working,” I said. “How long do you think it will take?”

  “I’ve barely started,” Monty snapped. “Is there a point to the questioning?”

  “Oh, no reason,” I replied, as Peaches entered ‘shred and rend’ mode with a low growl. “It just looks like that group over there, with the drawn swords, wants to have a chat.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  ith being friendly before you chew on them.>

  In the distance stood a group in a semicircle formation. The six men and one woman were dressed in formal business attire. When I looked closer, I noticed all of the men had drawn their swords. The woman in the center was empty-handed, arms crossed in front of her body. She was the one I kept my eyes on.

  They looked like angry bankers, except most of the bankers I knew didn’t wield softly glowing swords. They wore black suits, white shirts, and scowls. We were facing either bankers or mages—or possibly bankermages. The violet glow around the swords had me thinking the bankermages were about to execute our last transaction.

  I had non-lethal, synapse-disrupting, persuader rounds in Grim Whisper. I thought the non-fatal approach would make a better first impression on foreign soil. Apparently, however they hadn’t received the same memo the edges on those swords were definitely in the lethal category.

  “What?” Monty said, opening his eyes, getting to his feet and brushing off his suit as he turned to our welcoming committee. “They look displeased.”

  “What gave you that impression?” I asked, opening my jacket to give me access to Grim Whisper. “The angry expressions or the glowing swords?”

  “Both,” Monty said. “Let’s start this interaction with diplomacy, shall we?”

  “Sure,” I muttered under my breath as the group approached. “We’ve had a great track record with diplomacy. I thought Uhura said we had three days? We didn’t do one of those Ziller time slides things, did we?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Monty said, keeping his hands wiggle-free and in plain sight. “Her name is Ursula, by the way. Can you calm your creature down? Our hosts seem agitated as it is, and his ‘smile’ isn’t helping.”

  “Do you want me to try and communicate with the bankermages?”

  “Bankermages, really?” Monty asked. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with renegade sushi chefs.”

  “That was my second guess, but I really wasn’t getting the chef vibe from them.”

  “I’m fairly certain these aren’t Blood Hunters,” Monty replied, narrowing his eyes. “The attire and time of day are wrong.”

  “The glowing swords have me leaning toward mages, but the dress code is too corporate for regular mages. These guys are not shopping on High Street.”

  “Are you implying they are part-time mages?”

  “Or part-time bankers,” I answered, glancing at him. “I’m not sensing the level of anger I get from some mages. They seem upset, but it’s not that seething undercurrent of rage most mages exhibit.”

  “I do not have a seething undercurrent of mage,” Monty snapped, pulling on a sleeve. “Let’s see how cheerful you are after a few centuries.”

  “Like I said, not getting that uber cranky vibe from them. They seem more along the lines of ‘we will stab and slice you for offending us’ angry.”

  “Then it’s probably better if you don’t approach them.”

  “Maybe they’re just here to tell us to get off their lawn?” I said. “I could ask if they know where the Nakatomi residence is.”

  “I think you should let me do the talking,” Monty answered. “We agreed on diplomacy first.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “My Japanese is rusty. I’d probably challenge them to a duel or call their mothers smelly pigs—which wouldn’t be diplomatic at all.”

  “Your fluency with the language is not an issue,” Monty said. “If I recall, your Japanese is serviceable. If you’d like, I can cast a babel rune?”

  “Pass. There’s always something lost in translation, even if the translation is magical.”

  A babel rune allowed anyone under its effect to understand any spoken language.

  “Babel runes are extremely accurate,” Monty said. “I doubt it will impede your ability to communicate.”

  “That’s just for my understanding of what they are saying,” I clarified. “I may still call them ‘scruffy-looking nerfherders.’”

  “I don’t even want to know,” Monty replied. “And for your information, the babel rune translates your speech as well, such that the listener can understand you.”

  “I wonder what ‘nerfherder’ sounds like in Japanese? Do you think it even translates?”

  Monty shot me a glare, before walking ahead to meet the approaching mages. I turned to Peaches, who was beaming his best hellhound smile at the group. His smile hovered between full-on ‘tear you to pieces’ and ‘going to chew on your bones’ intensity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I walked slowly behind Monty, giving him space to approach the cranky bankermage committee alone first. I had a few questions.

  SEVEN

  As we approached the group, I was certain the bankermages weren’t vampire killers. They lacked a certain deranged blood lust I’ve come to associate with Blood Hunters. This group looked at us like we had entered their territory, and they were going to escort us out—in pieces, if needed.

  The sun was creeping over the horizon, brightening the cloudless sky. Dawn was minutes away, and Blood Hunters did most of their work in the dead of night. Also, the fact that we weren’t vampires factored heavily in my assessment. Still, they looked angry about something.

  “Maybe we’re standing in a sacred park or something?” I said as I stepped behind Monty. “How did they know we were going to show up here?”

  “A good question,” Monty said without turning. “If you give me a moment, I’ll ask her.”

  I let my hand rest on Grim Whisper. If they were going to be holding drawn swords, I wanted to be ready if the conversation suddenly became bladed. Call me cynical, but I didn’t trust angry mages holding glowing swords. Actually, outside of Monty and maybe Dex, I didn’t trust mages much…period. The ones I knew were either borderline crazy, full-blown psychotic, or too powerful not to instill a healthy fear when around them.

  It probably had something to do with manipulating that much energy, frying some of the important neurons. Another reason for me to stay away from magic and magic weapons. The six men hung back and let the woman step forward to meet Monty.

  “Maybe she is going to politely inform you that we are trespassing and are about to be repeatedly stabbed and sliced. Japan is big on manners.”

  “Can you, for at least two minutes, exercise some restraint before speaking?” Monty asked, while remaining focused on the woman. “I’d prefer this not become an incident.”

  “I’m a master of restraint,” I muttered. “Are you kidding? Watch me and my powers of restraint. As long as they refrain from going ginsu on us, restraint is my middle name.”

  Monty sighed and shook his head. He bowed when the woman stepped a little closer to us and stopped. She returned the bow, glancing at Peaches for a second before returning her gaze to Monty.

  “Ohayogozaimasu, good morning,” Monty said.“I am—”

  “Tristan Montague, mage of the Golden Circle,” the woman finished in crisp English and turned to me. “You are Simon Strong, and that”—she pointed a finger at Peaches—“is your tenma dog.”

  She looked down at Peaches with an expression of disgust, which made my fingers twitchy. Her tone immediately set me on edge.
I didn’t need to understand the word to get the meaning behind it, but in the spirit of positive foreign relations and diplomacy, I would give her a chance to explain.

  “Tenma?” I asked. “I’m sorry, my Japanese is rusty. Can you explain?”

  The woman turned her expressionless face and looked at me.

  “Tenma means monster, evil spirit, or demon,” she said, glancing at Peaches again. “Is this inaccurate? Your creature is a demon dog, and should be exterminated.”

  “Simon—” Monty said, warning me with his eyes. “It’s quite possible something is lost in translation.”

  “For the record,” I said quietly, “the fact that my gun is still holstered demonstrates my phenomenal restraint.”

  “Duly noted,” Monty said. “Perhaps she really meant contained?”

  “Exterminated sounded pretty clear to me,” I said, letting the anger seep into my voice. “He is not a tenma, or monster. His name is Peaches, and if you touch him you are going to have a problem.”

  “Momo?” the woman replied. “Are you certain?”

  “Momo? I didn’t say his name is Momo, I said his name—”

  “Momo is Japanese for peach, Simon,” Monty said. “Let’s find out who they are before we start shooting.”

  “I am Fumiko Ishikawa, Osaka Regional Director of Kuro Hyogikai, the Japanese Dark Council,” she said. “You are to surrender to my authority or face the consequences.”

  EIGHT

  “There must be some misunderstanding,” Monty said, stepping back. “We have no quarrel with you or your country.”

  “Why would you have a quarrel with us?” Fumiko answered with a slight smile and made a subtle gesture. “You three are the ones responsible for the extensive damage recently inflicted on New York City.”

  I looked around for some kind of attack after her gesture, but nothing appeared.

  “You feel anything weird after that hand motion?” I asked Monty under my breath. “I’m sensing something, but it reads off.”

  Monty nodded. “Stay alert,” he replied. “She is stronger than she looks. She just cast some kind of disruption wave.”