“I don’t understand.”
“The crystal,” he explained. “Because we were in contact, it reached into my mind, sensed I had knowledge related to your wish, and brought us.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you think Stephen...”
“I wasn’t finished,” Shitoro said, leaning forward and lowering his voice again. “For I now see that somehow he was able to fool your mother.”
“Fool Mother? But how?”
“It would appear your father was seemingly more than either of us thought.”
“But why...”
“I did not lie when I said your mother shared all of this with me. And what she shared included your father’s name ... and that name was Stephen Fuller.”
23
Crag the hunter stood over the pile of exotic meats before him, drool dripping freely over his lips.
It had been so long since he’d seen such a bounty, too long since he’d feasted to the point where his belly nearly burst from being full. His servants stood around, staring greedily at the food before them, but none dared to make a move toward it. They knew that if they touched so much as a morsel before given the go-ahead, they’d end up in the pile themselves, and there were no healing waters in this wretched place to rely on.
Crag spat upon the ground at the thought, flexing the claws upon one hand. Once, the mighty mazoku had been feared and respected by both demons and mankind alike. He’d led youkai into battle and on raiding parties, nearly always coming back with the spoils of war.
Songs had been sung about him around human campfires by scared soldiers praying that this wasn’t the night when he came prowling for them.
Only the daimao nestled within the celestial palace had ever looked down upon him, primarily because he preferred Earth to their coddled finery. Feh! Crag was no servant. He wasn’t meant to draw baths or cook meals. The very thought brought a snarl to his lips. He was a warrior, bred to kill. It was what he knew, what he excelled at.
And now look at me. Mankind, for so long little more than prey, had risen up, grown strong. Their weapons, once mere insect stings against his flesh, were now much more powerful.
Then there were the daimao. For all their might, they’d abandoned Earth, hidden away in their palace – offering little in the way of succor save a warning that all earthbound youkai were now on their own. So it had been for over half a century.
At first, Crag hadn’t believed what he’d heard. He knew the humans had come far in the prior century, developing weapons vastly superior to the crude arrows of their forefathers. Indeed, many of the youkai under his command had stupidly underestimated them and been laid low. Still, his was a superior race. He refused to retreat like the daimao had. He’d pushed back, sent those loyal to him to spy upon the humans, to prepare for war, a war that would remind those cowards in the celestial palace of their place in the grand order.
But he’d underestimated mankind and this new age of theirs. Wherever his forces struck, the humans pushed back harder. The wolf and ursine youkai under his command were decimated by human hunting parties seeking revenge for those taken. The smaller demons under his rule had mostly fled, becoming little more than the beasts whose shapes they assumed. The few others of Crag’s people left on Earth were quickly cowed, advocating a peaceful existence, far away from the humans, in the woods and mountains where their encounters with man were few.
So it was for far too long. He’d all but given up hope, growing more bitter with every year, staring at the nearby human civilization in the dark of night and dreaming of a day when he could whet his teeth with their blood.
And now, it seemed he might finally have the chance to vent his wrath upon something.
He spied the small crystal that lay among the bounty of fresh meat, grey as a cloudy day right before a storm.
Ignoring the hungry mewling of those around him, he reached into the pile with both hands. With one, he pulled out a massive hunk of flesh. In the other, the crystal.
Crag took a large bite, easily parting the sinew with his teeth. He continued to work on his meal, determined to get his pound of flesh before even considering the duty being commanded of him.
No, not commanded, asked. The daimao had rejected Earth, fled from it. The best they could do now was hope that those left to answer the call were still willing.
At last, when he’d sated himself, he crushed the crystal between his thumb and forefinger. A small puff of miasma escaped from it, a scent trail. He didn’t need to guess to know who it was from.
Ichitiro, of course.
So, the fool who fancied himself a war god had a job for him. Crag was tempted to ignore it, eat the food sent to them, and let Ichitiro go hang himself. It would serve him right for his arrogant presumption.
Only a few points kept Crag from outright dismissing him. It had been so long since he’d heard anything from the celestial palace, but now this. If they were reaching out, then perhaps that meant their cowardly edict was coming to an end.
Of far greater importance to Crag, though, was being both hungry and bored. The payment offered would satisfy the first. Perhaps whatever deed needed to be done would sate the other.
He lifted his head and sniffed the air through his voluminous nostrils while turning in a circle, continuing to ignore his minions. There! He caught wind of a distant scent that matched the miasma Ichitiro had sent, a foul odor that made even him want to retch.
Interestingly enough, it was coming from the direction of the nearby human habitation. Crag’s level of interest immediately dropped. Whoever it was, it had to have been a weak youkai. Only those who could pass as either pets or pests dared venture to the human towns. Such youkai posed no threat to him. Sadly, they provided little sport either. Whoever they were, though, they must have angered Ichitiro greatly.
Crag eyed the bounty. It did not matter who satisfied the contract, so long as the deed was done. He could send his lesser minions to do this while he remained behind and filled his belly.
Yes. That seemed to be a grand idea. Ichitiro would only care about the end result, not how it was accomplished. And then, once done, perhaps more bounties would follow.
Crag bared his teeth in what passed for a smile, then turned and nodded to his followers, letting them know the feast was about to begin.
24
Ichitiro would have loved nothing better than to tear the badger youkai standing before him apart with his bare hands.
He did not like delays, being given excuses, and he especially despised being told no. He was a daimao, one of the princes of creation itself. All others were but puppets to him, and a puppet should know better than to do anything save what its master commanded.
Despite the overpowering urge, he restrained himself. It was frowned upon to dispatch those in the service of another of his siblings. This creature served Midnite and, though he had a great many things he wished to question her about, it would cause an uproar if he gained an audience through bloodshed.
One day perhaps, but not this day.
For now, it was enough to know that a bounty, however trifling, had been sent for the capture of whoever had dared use his crystal without permission. Crag was on the job, and mercy wasn’t his style. The thought of what the mazoku would do to his prey was enough to keep Ichitiro from ripping the insolent creature before him in two.
“I apologize, my lord,” the badger – Tanaki was her name – blubbered, “but Lady Midnite is busy. She...”
“Perhaps she is busy for you,” he replied curtly, “but I am her brother and have matters of importance to discuss ... matters which I prefer not to convey to her handmaiden.”
“I am not a handmaiden.”
“You will not be anything if you continue to stand in my way.” Flames erupted from his body, blackening the white marble upon which he stood. Tanaki cowered before them, but still did not move aside.
What a stubborn creature, Ichitiro considered, no
t much different from Midnite’s previous servant. He hadn’t seen the diminutive pest in some time, or perhaps simply hadn’t noticed him. He never could understand what his sister had seen in that flea speck of a youkai.
“It is okay, Tanaki,” Midnite’s voice called from inside, calm and almost musical in tone. How Ichitiro hated it. “You may let him pass.”
Let him pass? Ichitiro fumed as the double doors before him opened. As if anything in the multiverse could stop me.
He stepped forward with a growl of impatience, but then slowed as he took in the sight before him. Midnite’s audience chamber, unchanged in eons, was in disarray. The floor had been torn up and new stone was in the process of being laid. The walls had been stripped bare. Gone were the chandeliers, and in their place, a few temporary ghost lights helped illuminate the room.
Midnite herself sat in ... a mere chair. Her throne was nowhere to be seen, replaced for the moment with a simple padded seat, functional but plain.
Of greatest concern to Ichitiro, though, was not the room, nor its mistress, but the Taiyosori, or lack thereof. It was no longer in its customary place hanging above Midnite’s head, mocking all those who paid her a visit with both its untouchable power and its impudent use as a mere decoration.
As well versed in the art of deception as he was, even Ichitiro was unable to keep the shock of the weapon’s absence from his face.
“You seem surprised, dear brother.”
He quickly covered for his momentary lapse. “It is just ... all this. I have never known you to be one for change, my dearest.”
Midnite’s smile faltered ever so slightly, but she replied, “It is no different than Earth once was for us. As fine as my chambers might be, I have grown dreadfully bored of them. Considering the current state of emergency, I thought it best to take advantage of the time.”
“State of emergency,” Ichitiro repeated. “Reiden so does enjoy his theater.”
“In that we are agreed, brother,” she replied. “I must apologize for the disrepair, but I find myself in a somewhat capricious mood. I have had my servants rebuild these chambers three times already, only to tear it down and start over. I fear that if I do not settle upon something soon, there will be open revolt among them.” She laughed, expressing that she did not consider such a thing to be likely.
“If we cannot occasionally be capricious in our whims, then who in the multiverse can?” Ichitiro bowed in a feigned show of respect. Then he stepped forward and presented her with what he held in his hand. “Wind lilies. I believe they are your favorite.”
“Indeed they are,” she replied with a smile that he was certain did not reach her eyes. “How ... sweet of you. But I again must apologize for the current state of my chambers. Tanaki, please find somewhere appropriate to place these.”
The badger demon approached, glaring at Ichitiro out of the corner of her eye, and took the multihued flowers from her mistress.
“Be nice, Tanaki,” she scolded mildly before turning back to him. “You must forgive her. She is a dutiful servant, but somewhat overprotective at times.”
“Servants should know their place,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the youkai.
“So they should,” Midnite agreed. “But then, so should visitors. Speaking of which, what brings you here, brother?”
The veiled insult was not lost upon him, but he forced his demeanor to remain pleasant. “A small matter, perhaps nothing. You know of Ito, my servant?”
“The ferret youkai? Yes, I know of him and his fondness for, shall we say, acquisition.”
“He is but a child at heart. A curious one, at that. His eyes continually spy items of interest to him.”
“It is less his eyes I worry about than his hands.”
Ichitiro balled his into fists. His sister appeared to be in the mood for idiotic banter this day, something he would certainly cure her of should she ever consent to be his wife. “Nevertheless, it is his eyes I wished to speak of. He came to me earlier, while we were in session.”
“As I am aware,” Midnite replied in a bored tone, her long fingernails beginning to tap on the edge of the seat upon which she sat. The repetitive clack sound they made was almost enough for Ichitiro to perform his own style of redecoration upon the chamber.
“Ah, but what neither you nor our brothers are aware of is the reason for his interruption. He claimed to see someone near the sending chamber, a figure he hadn’t encountered before.”
If Midnite was surprised to hear this, she did not show it. “The celestial palace and its lands are vast.”
“True enough, but with the edict in place, it is not difficult for any here to notice that which is familiar versus that which is not.”
“Oh? So you are saying that were I to march my servants out before you, one after the other, you would be able to name them all?”
Ichitiro narrowed his eyes at her. She was playing games with him, something which did nothing to improve his mood. “I, of course, meant the lesser youkai of our respective houses. They are our eyes and ears, are they not?”
“Of course, brother.”
“Then believe me when I tell you that Ito’s claims were a cause for interest. Of greater import is that when I myself visited the sending chamber, I discovered that some crystals – the same that Reiden had forbidden any from using – were missing.”
It wasn’t much, barely a twitch, but Midnite’s eyes widened ever so slightly at his revelation. To him, that was proof enough that something was amiss.
“Missing? Are you certain?”
“I am. The crystal chamber has remained undisturbed for decades.”
“Then why were you in it?”
Clever girl, but he was ready for her. “The same reason as you have for wanting to change your surroundings. I was bored.” He could tell his answer annoyed her, which pleased him. Now was the time to strike, when her veneer of control was thinnest. “I came here to warn that you may wish to check on your servants, ensure none are missing ... along with any items of importance.”
“You think one of my servants would dare break Reiden’s edict?”
“Of course not. They are loyal to you and you alone. Still, they are lesser beings, given to their primitive whims. It is not outside the realm of reason that one could decide to go rogue.”
“I will ... ask around,” Midnite replied icily. “However, I believe all are accounted for. I’ve been keeping them quite busy with my changes.”
“And, in the chaos of change, you are certain that nothing has been misplaced?” His eyes were rooted firmly in the spot above her head as he asked.
“All of my heirlooms and rightful belongings are here. They have simply been stored away until such time as my fancy settles upon something that delights me.”
“Stored away?”
“Yes. Albeit a few of the more important trinkets have been moved to my bedchamber.”
The taunting way she said it made Ichitiro want to leap upon her and wrap his hands around her regal throat, but he somehow held his ground.
“While I thank you for your concerns, dear brother,” she continued, “I must ask why you have come to me with them before notifying the court as a whole?”
Ichitiro gritted his teeth. “It is because I hold you dear above all others. You are my sun and moon. The stars shall burn out before my desire for you does. Perhaps one day you will feel the same way, maybe even enough to show me some of the trinkets stored in your bedchamber.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Ichitiro fumed as he walked back to his own wing of the palace. Midnite and her word games. They never ceased to infuriate him. Several times, he stopped and destroyed the various wonders he came across: statues carved of the finest marble, suits of armor eons old. It did not matter their history or worth so long as red hot rage burned in him.
But that was not the only fire inside of him.
He’d meant to confront Midnite about her so-called daugh
ter, threaten to kill her if she didn’t cave to his demands. But her reaction to his mention of the sending chamber had given him pause. She was aware that something was amiss, aware but unwilling to discuss it. Then there was the disarray of her chambers. She claimed boredom, but why now?
Finally, there was the Taiyosori. No matter how much she claimed to be bored by her surroundings, the sword was the item that defined her power, made her stand out among her brethren. To pack it away like discarded garbage? Never. To even relocate it to another room, one which he knew none of the other daimao were given access to, was a lie. It had to be. The sword was an artifact of terrible power, not some vase to be moved to the side whenever there were no flowers to display in it.
An idea began to form in Ichitiro’s mind. It painted a dire picture, but perhaps within it lay opportunity for one who was bold enough to seize it. One such as himself.
25
“Stop fidgeting, Kisaki. It isn’t becoming to one of your station.”
“I can’t help it.”
She was possibly more nervous than she’d been in her entire life. More nervous than when she’d faced down Robbie and his followers. Even more nervous than she’d been during the surprise oral exam Shitoro had once given her on the Fifth Age of the Ferzoe Empire, a dynasty that had ruled within the seven Hells for nearly fifteen thousand years.
Shitoro had insisted that Stephen Fuller was her father. But if so, how had he survived this long, especially when he’d seemed all but helpless in the face of a handful of human bullies?
The answer, if one were to believe the youkai, was obvious – magic.
Such things weren’t only for the realm of the divine. Humans were a curious and adaptable race. When they saw something that was beyond their ken, they could be dogged in their persistence of conquering it. The only question now was whether the Stephen she’d met was an illusion covering an ancient body or if he truly was immortal.
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