The ground quivered under my feet.
I looked down in alarm. Another quiver. A shivering rumble.
A crack appeared in the floor. Another zigzagging line split the concrete, jolting the desk. A shudder traveled through the ground and into my legs, vibrating my teeth—then the earth heaved. The floor shattered, bits of concrete shooting into the air.
Dark, twisting vines thrust out of the ground, lengthening by the second. The desk flipped as a vine thicker than my arm uncurled beneath it. The computer monitors smashed on the floor, and the desk splintered into pieces, crushed between engorged plants.
I shrieked as the floor fissured between my feet. A vine a foot in diameter unfurled, shoving me into the wall as it stretched upward.
Zak vaulted over the remains of the desk and charged for the stairwell.
I tore free from the vine as it thickened, the flexible stem bulging with quarter-sized bumps. Inch-long thorns with glistening black tips sprouted from the nubs.
Kai grabbed my hand and sprinted after Zak. Darting around a vine, the druid rammed his shoulder into a panicking agent. The man crashed into a thorny plant and loosed a scream I could hear over the blaring alarm, shattering concrete, and groaning earth.
Zak shot past the remaining agents, who were too busy fleeing or helping their comrades to stop him. Ever-thickening vines pushed upward, climbing the stairs or ripping straight through them. I chased the druid up the steps, stumbling and clutching the railing as the whole building rocked.
The stairs split open, a vine thrusting through them. I sprang over the widening gap with a desperate cry. I stumbled on the landing and Kai caught my elbow, steadying me. We raced for the main level.
Zak was already through the door, but I doubted he’d face any resistance. The precinct was in chaos—alarms blaring and people screaming. The cubicles were collapsing, the floor was quaking, and chasms were erupting everywhere. As I burst out of the stairwell, a five-foot section of the floor caved in and a swarm of vines spewed out like writhing tentacles.
I sprinted after Zak as he flew past the booking desk, the glass wall behind it in pieces. He shoved through the first door, and I caught up as he slammed through the second and out into the parking lot. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to the right, Kai behind us. We sprinted alongside the building toward the street.
Glass shattered overhead. Shards rained down, disintegrating into sparkling dust on impact. Above us, vines surged out of the second-floor windows, seeking sunlight. A hunk of dislodged concrete slammed down on a parked car, caving the roof in.
We bolted across the street and into the mouth of the alley where Kai and I had waited for an unlucky agent to ambush at the burger joint. The restaurant staff was standing on the street corner, gaping upward.
Just before the alley could cut off our view, I stopped and turned, pulling off my ski mask.
The ground groaned and trembled as the precinct shook under the onslaught. Agents were fleeing out the doors in droves, and a handful of unagenty rogues dashed across the parking lot for safety. Debris pummeled the street as the walls split and the ceiling ripped open.
As we watched, the writhing plants slowed, then stiffened. The quaking violence quieted, broken only by bits of falling debris and shifting rubble. A twisted sculpture of dark green vines and black thorns rose from the precinct’s roof like a hideous crown.
Reaching out blindly, I closed one hand around Kai’s wrist and the other around the druid’s.
“Zak,” I whispered hoarsely, “what did you do?”
He tilted his other hand up, glancing at the empty circle on his forearm. “The fae who gave me that magic wasn’t very specific about its effects.”
Kai swore quietly. “How will MagiPol explain this to the public? Conspiracy theorists will go nuts.”
Disbelieving humans crept closer, their phones out and video recording. Sirens wailed in the distance.
“Holy shit,” I whimpered.
Zak tugged his wrist from my hand. “Do you have a vehicle?”
“This way.” Tugging his mask off, Kai turned his back on the disquieting sight. “We should hurry.”
He broke into a jog and I hastened after him, Zak trailing behind me. My head was spinning, and as the adrenaline faded, cold dread grew in its place. Were the people in there okay? Had the agents survived the unleashing of the vines and the collapse of the ceiling?
“Zak,” I muttered over my shoulder, “don’t you think that was overkill?”
“I told you I didn’t know the spell was that destructive.”
“Then you shouldn’t have used it.” I glanced back at him, furious and scared and relieved all at once. “Maybe I should start calling you pea-brain instead of dickhead. How could you—”
I ran into Kai’s back.
Bouncing off with a gasp, I flailed for balance. Zak caught me by the waist and heaved me upright. Winded, I opened my mouth to berate Kai for stopping so suddenly.
We’d reached the far end of the alley. Our borrowed car waited on the adjoining street for our triumphant getaway, but it wouldn’t be going anywhere—not with two big black SUVs parked inches from its front and back bumpers, trapping it in place.
Four Asian men, dressed in identical black suits with reflective sunglasses, stood on the sidewalk in front of the SUVs. The one beside the nearer vehicle opened the back door and held it wide in invitation, accompanying the motion with a polite bow.
Kai, standing rigidly, didn’t seem to breathe. I looked from him to the waiting men to Zak, whose eyes had gone flat and scary again.
The man at the SUV door held his bow, waiting. No one moved. The tension was so thick I could taste it.
The second stranger bowed as well. “Yamada-dono, onegaishimasu.”
I got two things out of that: the name Yamada and that the language was Japanese. Icy alarm splintered through my veins.
At the man’s words, Kai’s rigidity broke. His shoulders slumped, the fight going out of him, his air of defeat palpable.
No. No, Kai didn’t give up. He never gave up.
“Tori, go back to the airfield and wait in the hangar with the plane. When the pilot returns, tell him I said to take you home.”
His tone was as emotionless, as hopeless, as his body language. Between my confusion and concern, it took a moment for his instructions to register.
My eyes widened. “Kai—”
The man bowed again. “Yamada-dono, tomodachi to go-sanka kudasai.”
“Nani?” Kai stiffened, his spine straightening. “Karera wa kankei nai de.”
The man bowed even deeper. “Onegaishimasu.”
A long pulse of silence. Kai’s hands tightened into fists, then he turned his back on the men. His dark eyes met mine, his face a mask I couldn’t read—a mask I scarcely recognized.
“I’m sorry, Tori. I’m afraid you have to come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
Terror flashed in his eyes, there and gone in an instant. He faced the waiting men again, his jaw tight.
“To see my family.”
Chapter Seven
I sat between Kai and Zak, my elbows bumping theirs as the SUV rolled smoothly through the LA streets. I barely noticed the buildings or the bumper-to-bumper traffic that filled the four lanes.
“Kai,” I hissed. “What did you mean, your family?”
Zak folded his arms. “Our chances were better with the MPD.”
“Shut up, Zak. Kai, what’s going on?”
He stared determinedly at the front seats, where the driver and his identically dressed co-pilot sat. The second SUV followed behind us, keeping close in the heavy afternoon traffic.
“I didn’t think we’d be here long enough for them to notice,” he said, his voice low and terse. “I’m sorry.”
He was gripping his knees, his knuckles white. I remembered how, months ago, we’d accidentally run into a few members of his family at an illegal auction. During the encounter, he’d clam
ped me tight against his side—so tight I’d had sore spots the next day from his fingers.
“Kai …” I gauged his tension, then swallowed my questions, aware that the men in the front could hear our every word.
The SUV continued to creep through traffic, and I grimaced at the gridlock. It was only, what, two in the afternoon? I’d noticed a lot of congestion on our way into downtown LA, but I’d thought that was the lunch rush. Did the city’s rush hour last all day?
“Tori,” Kai said tonelessly after ten minutes of anxious silence. “We’re passing through Hollywood now.”
Forgetting my apprehension, I leaned across him to peer out the window, but there wasn’t much to see. The four-lane freeway was bordered by a wall on one side and a scrubby bank on the other, but as we came around a bend, a distant green hill peeked out from between buildings. For a few seconds, I could see the huge white letters near the crest before the road curved again and I lost sight of the famous sign.
As the terrain grew hillier, low green plant life contrasting with yellow patches of dead grass, the traffic began to thin. I watched the palm trees fly past as we picked up speed.
When the buildings disappeared, replaced by hills, I mumbled worriedly, “Are we leaving the city?”
“Hm?” Kai glanced at me distractedly. “No, we’re entering the San Fernando Valley. We’ll be in North Hollywood in a minute.”
“How do you know that?”
“I lived here for eight years.”
Say what? He used to live here? Talk about things I would’ve liked to know before now.
The driver eventually exited the freeway, only to join another, this one bordered by walls on both sides. The road went on … and on … and on. I couldn’t believe the endless lines of traffic and the monotonous glimpses of rooftops stretching as far as I could see. I’d never felt like a small-town bumpkin before, but this place was blowing my mind. How could a single metropolis be this big? Where did it end?
When green hills started to outnumber buildings, we left the freeway entirely. The exit ramp curved around, and the next thing I knew, the driver was braking hard, bringing the vehicle’s speed down to a crawl. Huge mature trees shaded the road for all of two hundred yards, where it met a grand wooden arch that spanned the street. “Hidden Hills” was written across it in wrought-iron letters.
A gatehouse with a red-and-white-striped arm blocked our way, but as the SUV approached, the arm lifted. The two vehicles passed through.
Inside the gated community, the quiet road wound past white fences and big, healthy trees. Instead of desert scrub, everything was green and manicured. Huge mansions sprawled across expansive properties. Tennis courts, pools, grand gardens, fountains. We even drove by a small pasture with grazing horses.
The properties grew grander and grander until, abruptly, they ended. The road continued, the arid terrain taking over again. The SUV accelerated up a lazy hill, and I leaned forward, inexplicably tense as we crested the slope.
The land dipped down again, and nestled in its own private depression between hills was a property like none I’d seen in LA.
Transported straight from Japan, the estate lounged within a surrounding wall topped with a clay-tile roof. Sloping roofs with curling eaves formed a maze of structures around green gardens, stone courtyards, and ponds that sparkled in the afternoon sun. My immediate impression was of serene, perfectly balanced beauty.
The road wound down to the entrance, where large gates were propped open. Inside, the road branched, leading to different parts of the estate, but we didn’t go far. The SUVs halted in the center of a stone courtyard, and Kai unbuckled his seat belt. He was out the door before I had mine undone, and Zak exited on the other side.
I scrambled out, my gaze darting from the traditional architecture to a garden peeking out from behind a two-story building.
Kai strode away, leaving the suited goons behind. Gulping, I jogged after him, and Zak paced beside me. Kai ascended the steps of the largest building. The huge double doors parted before he reached them, opened by men in Japanese clothes. They bowed as Kai passed.
He led the way through a huge but empty room. A mural in black ink, depicting towering mountains amidst artful clouds, spanned the golden walls. A set of sliding doors waited, and again they opened before we reached them.
Another large, barren room waited, but this one ended in a platform raised one step above the floor. Kai stopped before the vacant platform. Zak and I followed, and the two men who’d opened the doors bowed, stepped out of the room, and closed the doors.
I peered around at the paneled walls. The mural continued into this room, and as much as I didn’t want to be impressed, it was beautiful.
Two steps in front of us, Kai stood silently, so I copied him—for about two minutes. Then I leaned toward Zak and whispered as quietly as I could, “What are we waiting for?”
“To be granted an audience, I assume.”
“With who?”
A panel of the wall on our left slid open. Six men in dark Japanese clothing walked in, their loose, pleated pants swishing. Six women in somber kimonos with their hair pulled into simple buns followed them. They lined up facing each other, men on the left and women on the right, and sank into kneeling positions on the floor, forming an aisle that led to the platform.
Another panel slid open. A woman in a plain kimono knelt just inside, bowing low. An old man walked onto the platform and lowered himself onto the flat cushion in its middle. The woman rose, stepped through the doorway, knelt again, and slid it closed.
At the old man’s arrival, the twelve others bowed low, holding the subservient poses as he settled himself.
“Kiritsu,” he murmured in a gravelly voice.
The dozen subordinates straightened, hands in their laps, waiting in docile silence. They didn’t even look curious, just blankly disinterested.
A long moment passed.
The old man’s mouth twitched slightly, disturbing his thin silver beard. “You will show no respect to your grandfather, Kaisuke?”
His English was flawless, only a hint of an accent lightening his syllables.
“When I lived here,” Kai replied coolly, “you never once let me forget that I’m not Nihon-jin. Why should I observe your customs?”
“Sō desu ka? Mā.” He studied his grandson, the length of the room between them. “Eight years since you last set foot here, Kaisuke, and you have learned nothing. When I was informed of your return, so soon after receiving your final warning, I dared to hope that you had come to abase yourself before me, beg my forgiveness, and at last accept your duties with humble grace.”
A long pause. “But as ever, you disappoint me. For years you have acted with impunity, shaming yourself beyond reparation. You do not deserve to be treated as a son of this family, or as a man.”
The Yamada leader turned his dark stare to the line of women. “Makiko.”
“Hai, Oyabun?” the young lady closest to us answered, her eyes demurely downcast.
“You were promised to Kaisuke at his birth, but such an abject failure is not worthy of a woman of your stature. Instead, I now give him to you. If you deem him to have any value, marry him. If you find him lacking, as I suspect you will, he will be your eager servant from now until you determine that he is your equal in merit, purpose, and honor.”
The man’s attention shifted back to Kai, crushing in its arctic authority. “He will obey your every command. Should he fail to submit to your slightest whim, send word immediately.”
“Hai, Oyabun.”
“His restoration is in your hands. Ensure I do not hear a whisper of his name until you return to present him as your dutiful husband.” He rose to his feet with a final, cutting glance at Kai. “I can no longer allow my love for your mother to soften my heart. Do not test my mercy again, Kaisuke.”
He strode to the panel, and it slid open for him. He vanished through it. Not once had he looked at me or Zak. The instant he was gone, the doz
en witnesses rose to their feet and filed out.
All except one.
The young woman turned, her eyes no longer downcast and submissive. Her dark stare blazed as it fixed on Kai, her beautiful face carved from ice. “Kaisuke.”
Kai didn’t move, his back to me. “Makiko.”
Her frigid mask fractured, intense emotion rippling over her features before she recovered. “You lost the right to address me that way eight years ago.”
“Mōshiwake gozaimasen,” Kai said softly, “Miura-sama.”
She raised her chin, stretching her body taller, but it did little to increase her stature. She was several inches shorter than me and several more inches shorter than Kai.
“Well, Kaisuke. The oyabun has given you to me to do with as I please. Starting now, your transformation from shameful runaway to respectable Yamada heir begins.”
* * *
I blinked at the sun, wondering how its golden light had lost all warmth over the last couple hours.
Zak stood beside me, arms folded as he leaned against the black SUV. Several goons in suits waited around, eerily quiet—small talk was not a thing here—and more men and women in traditional garb moved about in a busy sort of way.
“I don’t understand what happened,” I whispered.
“We laid eyes on the Yamada oyabun and lived to tell the tale.” He shrugged. “A better outcome than I expected.”
“Oyabun?” I repeated in a mumble.
“The head of the head family. The Yamadas are like the mafia. One family in charge, and dozens of lesser families under their command. Most people call them all Yamadas, but that’s not accurate.”
“How do you know so much about them?”
He angled his face toward the sun, eyes closed. “I’ve dealt with them on and off over the years. They’re a dominant player in the Vancouver black markets.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my face. “So, what the hell was going on in that room? Kai’s grandfather gave him to that woman?”
“You can’t figure it out yourself?”
I shot him a glare.
“The woman is his fiancée, right?” Zak didn’t open his eyes. “The oyabun is bringing Kai into line by humiliating him. He made Kai subservient to a woman—to his future wife. For a traditional family like the Yamadas, that’s the ultimate emasculation.”
Druid Vices and a Vodka: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Six Page 7