Vampire Hunter D 16: Tyrant's Stars

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  As the Hunter sheathed his blade, free as usual of a single drop of gore, there was the sound of several small footfalls on the road up the hill.

  “There it is!”

  “Oh, it’s been cut!”

  “That stinks!” a chorus of children’s voices cried.

  Picking up the kite, D headed toward them. The faces of the paralyzed children were tinged with fear and admiration. Just a glance told them there was nothing ordinary about this young man. For these children who’d never be able to leave the Frontier, outsiders were the object of adulation.

  “Whose kite is this?” D asked.

  The children backed away, as if threatened by the Hunter’s gaze.

  “It—it’s his!” they said, shoving one boy forward.

  He was a little redhead about eight or nine years old. Apparently shy, he lowered his eyes, and his body tensed from nervousness.

  There were five children all told.

  “Sorry about that. Let me pay you restitution,” D said, pulling a coin out of an inner coat pocket. Just as he was about to put it in the boy’s hand, the boy hurriedly pulled his hand away and shook his head.

  “That’s too much—I couldn’t take it.”

  “Then in return, you can also answer a question for me. Did your kite cut somebody’s string?”

  Kite flyers normally crashed their kites into others, trying to slash each other’s strings.

  Eyes still lowered, the boy shook his head and said, “Nope. It got cut.”

  “I cut it,” said a pudgy girl behind the boy, inflating her chest proudly.

  “I see. Thank you,” D said, giving the boy the coin and walking away.

  Reaching the road up the slope, he turned to look back. Right behind him, the children halted. He started walking again—and turning, found the children stopped again and staring at him.

  “Seems you’re Mr. Popular,” the hoarse voice remarked with amusement.

  “Can I do something for you?” D asked.

  Glancing at each other, the children fidgeted. Still, they couldn’t hide the youthful curiosity and adoration that burned in their eyes.

  Looking determined, the same pudgy girl from earlier asked, “Mister—are you a Hunter?”

  “Yes.”

  “A Vampire Hunter?”

  “That’s right.”

  Before he’d even finished answering, the children broke into cheers.

  “Wow! A real, live Vampire Hunter!”

  “That’s so cool.”

  “You know, as soon as I saw you, I knew that’s what you had to be for sure!”

  “Awesome!”

  The chubby girl asked, “So, how many Nobles have you cut down?”

  “Well—a lot.”

  “Excellent!”

  “Does it make you happy that a lot of Nobility have been destroyed?” D asked.

  “Of course it does!”

  All the children nodded their agreement.

  “I hope all those monsters get turned into dust.”

  “Yeah, me too!”

  The tall boy who seemed to be their leader asked, blushing, “Um— do you think I could be a Hunter, too?”

  “Do you want to be one?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then give it your best.”

  “You bet!” he replied, his previously drooping head shooting up high.

  On his way back to the vehicle, the Hunter passed a number of villagers running up the hill. Apparently the men doing the carpentry had let the others know of the mayor’s demise.

  “Go on home,” D said.

  The children showed no signs of leaving.

  “Go home now.”

  When his tone became sterner, it came as little surprise the children quickly scattered, but they continued to watch the Hunter from behind statues and stone walls.

  “Looks like you’re a hero here,” the hoarse voice chided.

  “When that kite fell, I stepped on a stone and was thrown off balance," D said.

  The hoarse voice responded, “And as a result—that bugger got away. To all appearances, it’s just a coincidence. The ceiling collapsing on the villager in the chapel and the mayor falling through the ground were coincidences, too. Plus, there just happened to be a corpse rider underground. Hmm ... It all seems a little too convenient. Still, you stepping on that stone was undoubtedly a coincidence, and so was the kite. Makes me wonder.”

  “You think he can control coincidences?”

  After a short pause, the hoarse voice replied, “Could be.”

  “If he can, will it prevent me from cutting him down?”

  “That’s a distinct possibility.”

  Someone with the ability to control coincidences might cause wind-borne leaves to block an attacker’s field of view without even needing to think about it, or a split second before receiving a blow, that same opponent might happen to notice he hadn’t strapped his armor on correctly.

  “We’ll have to find some way around that, I guess,” the hoarse voice murmured grimly. They heard the faint sound of a motor, and then the door to Count Braujou’s car opened. Matthew and Sue stepped out and stretched. Obviously they’d been released because D had returned.

  D inquired coolly, “Did the count tell you to get out?” Dismissing that with a wave of his hand, Matthew replied, “No, it wasn’t like that. We asked him to let us out. It’s one big room in there, real lavish like a castle or something, but with the artificial lamps and all, it feels kinda stuffy.”

  Beside him, Sue nodded but said nothing.

  “What happened?” the count’s voice finally asked.

  Once D had explained the situation, the Nobleman remarked, “That’s a strange ability he has. Is he one of the foes we know about? Or is he one of the two about whom we know nothing? Eh?”

  The count’s gloomy monologue was interrupted by the village children, who had gathered once more around the Hunter.

  D remained silent, but the leader of the group finally said to him, “Um, mister—you’re gonna leave town, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Then I guess we’ll never get another chance to meet a Vampire Hunter again. So, um .. .”

  “Oh, don’t even think about it,” the hoarse voice said. It was a special remark that D alone heard. “There’s no money to be made showing these brats your tricks.”

  “You want to see something?” D asked.

  “You bet!” the children exclaimed.

  Matthew and Sue looked at each other, and then trained curious eyes on D.

  “Oh, you big dope!” said the voice the Hunter alone heard. “Show us anything. Anything at all,” the children cried out.

  D pointed down at their feet. “Pick up some rocks and throw them at me. Throw them whenever you like, from wherever you like.”

  The children complied with his request, but they were reluctant once they had the stones in hand.

  “Don’t hold anything back. I’m a Vampire Hunter.”

  D’s words stoked the flames of battle in the children.

  “Everyone—we’ll all let him have it at the same time. Spread out.”

  At their leader’s command, the little combatants ran out all around D. D stood right where he was. A thread of tension connected the children. This wasn’t a game. This was war.

  “Let ’im have it!”

  With the leader’s shout, rocks flew at D from all directions.

  What exactly was it that the children saw? Thin streaks of light spun around D as he stood perfectly still. Even when they heard the ring of hilt against scabbard, that light remained burned into the children’s retinas along with the gorgeous figure in black. They didn’t notice that the rocks they’d thrown with all their might had rolled right back at their feet. It was several seconds before they took note and finally exhibited normal human surprise again.

  They were left speechless by the shock, but D bent over to pick a stick up off the ground—a tree branch about a foot and a half lon
g.

  He told the children, “Take a swing at me.”

  “What?” they said, their youthful faces more excited than surprised. Who would’ve thought they’d get to practice with a Vampire Hunter? It was understandable that they hesitated to take the stick.

  D waved his right arm, and the stick jabbed into the ground at the feet of one of the boys. It was the same boy who’d had the string cut on his kite. The boy wasn’t looking at D. His downturned eyes beheld only the ground.

  Several seconds passed. And then the boy’s face rose little by little, looking toward the branch. He grasped the stick with both hands.

  “Wow! He’s usually got less nerve than anyone!” the leader exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “No matter what we do, he always holds back, always goes last. He’s the slowest kid around! But he’s going first. Hey, Slowpoke, you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Good for you! Give ’im hell, Slowpoke!” the chubby girl said, clapping her hands, and the other children followed suit.

  The boy’s face flushed, and then he made a manly expression of what was clearly determination. The boy they’d always called “Slowpoke” had kept something hidden in his heart, and now it’d become a fire. Without anyone telling him what to do or ordering him, he let out a youthful and ferocious cry to focus himself for battle. Making a thrust, he passed by the Hunter on the left. To the children, it looked as if he’d passed right through D’s body. Desperately trying to slam on the brakes, the boy dug his feet into the ground as he turned around.

  D’s right hand was going for the hilt over his shoulder. Seeing where he’d be coming from, the boy adjusted his stance with the branch.

  A faint shadow skimmed across D’s lips. A smile.

  The Hunter tapped the toe of his boot lightly against the ground. The stick, except for the part the boy gripped, fell to the ground.

  A rumble that wasn’t quite words spilled from the mouths of the children—and from those of Matthew and Sue.

  When had he drawn his sword and made the cut? More than that, how had he managed to not move at all while avoiding the boy thrusting straight toward him? All these things remained a mystery. However, the children accepted them. This was a Vampire Hunter—a man who slew the Nobility.

  D stood before the boy, who was so stunned he still hadn’t left his combat stance.

  “You know what happened, don’t you? I took a hit to the waist.”

  When the Hunter’s hand touched the stick, the boy released fingers that were wrapped so tightly around the wood it seemed like part of him, and the branch was transferred into D’s hands. He picked up the half on the ground as well. Though the branch was a piece of wood, the cuts on either end had a sheen like metal. Sticking them together, D held them for the span of two breaths or so, and then brought one of his hands away.

  The branch didn’t fall apart.

  Placing it back in the boy’s hand, he said, “Give it a swing.”

  The boy made a hesitant swing with it.

  “Give it all you’ve got.”

  The boy swung it high, and then swung it low. It whistled through the wind. But the stick remained in one piece.

  Surprise and another emotion glowed in the face of the boy—and in the faces of all the children. They were quite impressed.

  “That’s all,” D said. “You scored a hit on a Vampire Hunter. Never forget that.”

  There was no reply.

  The boy knew that D had purposely let him get that hit in. The other children were fully aware of it as well. However, the boy wasn’t embarrassed, and the other children had no complaints. What they’d been focused on wasn’t what D had done, but rather the boy’s actions as he took up the branch and charged at the Hunter. Whether D had let the boy hit him or not, that was good enough for the children.

  Clapping the boy on the shoulder, the leader said, “That was pretty good.”

  “I won’t be calling you Slowpoke anymore,” the chubby girl said, grinning.

  By the time a smile spread across the boy’s whole face, D was already walking off toward Matthew and Sue.

  II

  When the last hint of red decorating the rim of the western mountains had been lost, Count Braujou appeared.

  “This Courbet fellow seems to be connected to the spider man who attacked me,” the man who’d fallen from the stratosphere pointed out. “In which case, we should prepare ourselves for air-to-air combat. But before we do—we have to brace ourselves for being worshiped as gods, I suppose.” “Are you really going?” Matthew inquired with dissatisfaction. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The whole reason we stopped in this village is because you wanted to look good.”

  “That may be true, but it’s still got me kinda worried. You guys aren’t gonna get beaten, are you?”

  The count smiled widely. “Now there’s something that God only knows. It may be shabby, but I don’t think this shrine has been constructed on a whim. They must be fairly sure they can kill us.” “Are you gonna be okay?” Matthew asked, both his voice and his expression growing even more uncertain. “The folks from the village seem to be on pins and needles. Apparently they blame you guys for the death of the mayor.”

  Glancing at D, the count said, “How is that my fault?” His tone was sly. In this regard, the Nobility didn’t differ at all from human beings.

  D didn’t answer.

  “There are three gods—D, Miranda, and myself. But Miranda isn’t here. If only two of us enter this shrine, I wonder if will incur the wrath of their true god.”

  Looking at the brother and sister, D said, “Wait in the count’s car until we return.”

  “Is it gonna be okay? Will you really come back?”

  “What a nuisance you are, boy. If you tell us not to do this, we could save a lot of wasted time. Which will it be?”

  “Well—we already said you’d do it.”

  “In that case, relax,” the count said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.

  Still, Matthew had his doubts. “But you don’t both have to go, do you? I mean, in case something happens.”

  “Matt,” Sue said reproachfully. “You made the call. Pull yourself together.”

  “I’ve got myself together,” Matthew countered heatedly. “But this isn’t like the farm or our village. There’s no one here to protect us except these two. If we lose them, what do you think will become of us? These people are out to kill you, too. You wanna end up like Mom?”

  “Don’t say that to me at a time like this,” Sue said, her cheeks stained bright red. Not with anger, but with embarrassment.

  “I suppose it’d be asking too much for you to have a little faith in the Nobility,” the count said, smiling and clapping Matthew on the shoulder again. Though the boy stood six feet tall, he was like a mere child beside the ten-foot-tall giant, and the slap tossed him violently.

  “You’ll be safe if you remain inside my car. Though you’re still young, I suppose you drink wine, at least. The Nobility’s drinks are exceptional. So, shall we go?” Braujou said to D, swinging the long spear he held in his hand and walking toward both the Hunter and the village.

  A half-moon rose, and there was some wind.

  Villagers were already keeping watch on the situation from their homes or out on the streets, but they hurriedly shut their doors and windows, or else ducked behind buildings.

  “Hmm. So the Nobility are still the object of fear, are they?” Count Braujou remarked, his tone conveying a certain amount of pride.

  “I don’t know if that’s it,” said D.

  “Oh, you mean they think we got their mayor killed? Wouldn’t it be best to dispel their misconceptions?”

  The count continued on in this manner, but D didn’t reply, and the two of them came to the road up the hill. Only four villagers were waiting there.

  An old man a bit larger and a bit older than the late mayor bowed his head and said, “Right this way.”

  They followed him up the hill. The other three w
ere also grayhaired and gray-bearded old men—making it seem like a procession of the dead.

  Just before sundown the sound of hammering had ceased at the shrine, which stood quietly in the light of the half-moon. The two men who stood by its door bowed. Despite its rushed construction, the windowless shrine was remarkably well built.

  “So, all the other houses are mud brick, but not this one. Wood bums, you know.”

  The count seemed to read the intentions of the one who’d ordered its construction, laughing and looking up at the sky. The village leaders followed his example, having heard the manner in which the missionary had fled when cornered by D. The man who’d vanished into the heavens would probably be watching the ground from on high. But would he descend from the heavens again?

  “Is there anyone inside?”

  At D’s query, the men all shook their heads. The middle-aged man who stood at the fore turned to the two men who’d been guarding the shrine.

  “No, not a soul. Not even a mouse could’ve got by us, right?”

  The other man nodded repeatedly at this.

  Everyone there was utterly terrified. None of them had actually seen a Noble before. What’s more, this one was ten feet tall. And they knew about the other man who stood beside him—the young man darker than the darkness and more exquisite than the moonlight. They could tell he was a dhampir.

  “Very well, then—”

  The count extended his right hand, and a spear seemed to grow from his fist and jabbed against the door to the building. Creaking on its hinges, the door swung inside. A bit over twelve feet high, the doorway would allow the count to enter without any difficulty.

  Side by side, they were walking toward the flickering lamplight that filled the doorway when the count narrowed his gaze and exclaimed, “Dear me! It would seem mice have taken to wearing perfume these days. And Noble perfume, at that.”