Vampire Hunter D 16: Tyrant's Stars

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  Both men stepped into the building at the same time.

  The ceiling, floor, and walls were all made of wood, with the flames of a single lamp dancing against each of the four walls. Aside from that, there was nothing else . . . except for the lithe, alluring figure in white that lay sleeping at the base of the wall ahead of them.

  From the vicinity of D’s left hip, a hoarse voice exclaimed, “Oh, is that Miranda I see?”

  The woman who lay there with her sensuous form draped in a white dress was indeed Miranda.

  “Who brought her here, and when, and how?”

  The two men most likely shared the same questions as the hoarse voice. This female fiend’s husband had long ago challenged the Ultimate Noble, along with Count Braujou and General Gaskell. It would’ve been easier to believe the whole world was crumbling than to think the same tried-and-true Noblewoman who’d effortlessly fended off the water witch back at the Dyalhis farm could be put to sleep so easily or left there so defenseless.

  The two of them halted simultaneously. Nodding, the count said to leave this to him and raised his long spear.

  Did he seriously intend to impale Miranda?

  D showed no signs of trying to stop him.

  Whistling through the air, the iron spear lanced right through Miranda’s abdomen. The count hadn’t hurled the spear. Rather, he’d kept it in his hand and made a thrust, like a spear fisherman. Was this cruelty the true nature of a Noble—the true nature of a vampire? He certainly felt the agony of Miranda’s silent contortions transmitted from the spearhead down the weapon and through his hand, and what should arise on his refined countenance but the bloodthirsty grin of a demon.

  Wasn’t D going to stop this?

  The Hunter stood stock still as the hoarse voice said, “Hmm. Interesting approach.”

  It was at that moment the beautiful woman stopped moving. Concentrating a glowing red gaze on the spear and the bright blood spilling from her abdomen, she then slowly turned to one side and looked up at the count, eyes agleam with malice and mocking laughter.

  “What a pleasant way to awaken someone,” said Miranda. Gouts of blood spilled from her mouth to paint vermilion patterns on the floor.

  While it had indeed awakened her, the devil himself couldn’t have come up with a more disturbing manner of rousing someone.

  Her gore-stained mouth shouted, “Hurry up and take that thing out of me, you rude man!”

  Shrugging, the count smirked as he pulled his long spear back out of her.

  The wound closed immediately—not only that, but the fabric seemed to drink up the lifeblood that had seeped from the duchess; in the blink of an eye it all vanished. The men could only gaze at her in surprise as she rose in a pure-white dress without a single spot on it. A displeased look flitted across the graceful features of the Noblewoman the moment she saw Count Braujou lick up the blood she’d left on the tip of his spear.

  “How did you get here?” D asked. It was a natural question. “How indeed,” Miranda said, smiling seductively and looking up at D. “I myself don’t know. I spent all day resting in my coffin, and the next thing I knew, I was here.”

  “Can you recall ever traveling subconsciously?”

  The count was referring to the ability of Nobles to unknowingly travel through space. Since their history had begun, on a few extremely rare and freakish occasions Nobles had traveled from the idle darkness of their enclosure out into the blinding light of day without realizing it, and when it was concluded that this phenomenon was linked to a central mechanism of the Nobility’s own psyche, it caused an absolute panic among the Nobles. Even after an investigation conducted by the Sacred Ancestor’s personal team of physicians determined the cause to be a subconscious longing for the light, many Nobles tried their best not to believe the findings. But that was what the count had been asking about.

  “No, I do not," Miranda replied disdainfully, but the smile never left her face. “Which isn’t to say it couldn’t happen. That’s probably what occurred here. If not, how could I have come to be in such a wretched place without knowing it?”

  “Then you came by coincidence?”

  D’s murmurs caused the two Nobles to turn.

  “It couldn’t be,” the count said. “Not even Miranda could appear before us just at the right time. She doesn’t even know where we are.”

  “Have you ever seen this place?”

  At D’s question, the Noblewoman gave an alluring shake of her head. “No, I’ve never been here before.”

  Lovingly stroking the shaft of his long spear, the count said, “Then, could this be the work of someone with powers we don’t know about working for Valcua?”

  “It might be Valcua himself,” D said, his words freezing the very air.

  III

  Whoever brought the sleeping Miranda there could’ve ended her life if they’d chosen to do so. The fact that she was still alive spoke volumes about the supreme confidence their unseen opponent had in how perfectly he’d laid this trap.

  It was Miranda who fractured the frozen air.

  “The three of us can’t just stand around this doghouse discussing matters. That conversation will keep until later. I’ll be going now.”

  The hem of her dress whirled as she headed toward the entrance. Her shoulders were trembling slightly, perhaps due to the humiliation of not only being abducted by their foe with such ease, but not even noticing it at the time, and then having her two compatriots witness that fact. However, the proud Noblewoman halted before she’d taken three steps.

  “How did you two enter this place?”

  Her query caused the two men to turn, and Count Braujou gasped.

  The place where the door should’ve been was a plank-covered wall. There wasn’t a single crack to indicate an entrance.

  “Dear me. This is a fine amusement they’ve prepared for us. Do you want out, Miranda? Just wait. Now—”

  The count raised the spear over his head. It made the wind swirl so fiercely the hastily erected shack seemed likely to blow away. Amid that roar, they heard an impact.

  Pulling the spear back, the count stared at the wall to his right. There wasn’t a scratch on it.

  “I struck it. What do you think, D? Do my eyes deceive me?” The young man in black turned his handsome features in the same direction and replied, “No, it really is shrinking.”

  It wasn’t strange that the nearly twenty-foot-long spear would strike the wall. The count had taken that into account when he swung the weapon.

  The ceiling was approaching the trio’s heads, just as D said, and the walls were definitely drawing closer.

  “What a quaint setup,” Miranda said with a bewitching smile. Even the most resolute human would’ve been bewildered at this situation, but the way she seemed to actually enjoy their predicament was true to the Nobility’s dauntless nature. “Count Braujou, can’t you do anything with your cherished spear?”

  “Hmph,” the gigantic Nobleman snorted, but there was something about his expression and bearing that suggested he, too, was enjoying this. Without a wasted movement, the count swung the long spear toward the wall to his right. Its path was clearly shorter than last time, and it bounced off the wall with a strident sound.

  “Oh my, I may have given you too much credit," Miranda sneered as she looked at the unmarred wallboards.

  The count’s lips twisted as he took a new stance with his spear. The Noblewoman told him, “Just so you know, even if you stop the walls to our left and right, there’s still the other two to contend with. What’s all this?"

  That last cry of surprise came when she saw D step forward. His right hand flowed toward his shoulder—and a silvery flash split the dancing lamplight.

  A line had been carved in the wall.

  Miranda and the count gasped.

  The line immediately faded.

  Sheathing his blade, D stepped closer to the wall and pressed his left hand against it.

  “Hmm. It seems to absorb gra
vity,” the hoarse voice said. “Think of the house itself as a kind of black hole. Beyond the boards—no, actually the boards themselves have had their neutrons and electrons fused to form an incredibly dense material. If we don’t do something, we’ll eventually be absorbed by the house and become part of that black hole.”

  “Goodness,” Miranda said, ceremoniously raising her hand to her mouth. True to her high station, she clutched a handkerchief in it as always.

  “My, but this is becoming rather trying, wouldn’t you say?” the count said. His voice resounded over D’s head.

  Staring up at the giant, who’d been forced down on one knee, D pulled a fistful of dirt from one of his coat’s inner pockets.

  “Did you bring that just in case? It’s not like you to be so well prepared. Oof!”

  Pushing the palm of his hand—and the human face that’d surfaced on it—into the tightly packed ball of earth, D took a step to the left. The count’s spear had managed to stop the walls in front of and behind them, but it would be difficult to do anything about those to the left and the right, and the ceiling had already dropped to about six and a half feet. The count lay face down on the floor.

  “Pardon me,” a sweet voice said at the same time a softly perfumed sleeve came into contact with D. Standing to his left, Miranda had been pushed closer to him.

  “From what we just saw, it looks like we can depend on you. Is there anything you can do?” she asked, her fragrant breath falling against D’s face. It was like a bare tree in winter.

  “Give me a hand,” D told the count.

  “But I—I can’t get up very well,” the count groused.

  “Your hand,” D said, bending over and taking the count’s left hand.

  As the Nobleman furrowed his brow, the Hunter unbuttoned

  Braujou’s cuff, exposing his wrist. D forcefully flicked his little finger against it and caught the lifeblood that poured out in the palm of his left hand. Not a single drop was wasted.

  “Oh, that’s a bizarre little thing you have there.”

  “How unusual,” Miranda said. Her face and that of the count, both nearly pressed against D’s, displayed astonishment. It wasn’t clear whether or not they realized how distressed they appeared.

  “Okay,” the left hand said, while D ran the same finger across the count’s gash. The blood and the wound both disappeared.

  “Hold your breath. I’m gonna suck up some air.”

  Air whistled into the mouth in his left hand.

  All three of them asphyxiated simultaneously. The mouth of the weird-countenanced carbuncle had drawn in every bit of air in the room with a single breath. A pale blue flame flickered in the depths of its tiny maw.

  Earth, water, fire, and air—all four elements had been assembled.

  Miranda trembled. Her face was pale. Did she sense something from D?

  The ceiling was just above D’s head as he crept on his belly. The space was fewer than six feet from left to right.

  “Pardon me,” Miranda said, sprawling across the back of the prone count as D began to creep forward.

  The walls were closing on them from the front and back. The long spear was bent to its limits. The ever-shrinking confines of the hastily constructed shack- cum-black-hole must have put hundreds of millions of tons of pressure on either end of the weapon. Both this trap and the spear were mind boggling.

  The ceiling dropped even further.

  “You know, this is beginning to hurt,” Miranda’s voice called out behind the Hunter.

  The top of his traveler’s hat hit the ceiling. Now lying completely flat, D drew his sword. It was pitted against ultradense walls that wouldn’t allow even electromagnetic waves or light to escape. There was the sound of bones creaking behind him.

  D thrusted his sword. Miranda and Count Braujou saw it slide into the wall like a mirage. Glowing cracks spread out around them. No one knew how the black hole collapsed.

  Above the three people lying in a tiny lot, the half-moon glowed starkly. D was the first to rise.

  A murmur went through the villagers, who’d been watching from afar.

  “The gods are safe!”

  “They might be, but why are they sprawled over there?”

  “At any rate, they must be worshiped!”

  Kneeling on the ground, they raised their arms and bowed deeply.

  Sheathing his blade, D looked back at the other two.

  The gigantic figure stared intently at his terribly bowed spear, and then said in a distressed tone, “Hmph. There’ll be no fixing this.”

  The weapon had endured billions of tons of pressure. It was a miracle that it hadn’t snapped.

  Apparently giving up on it, he shifted his gaze to D, and his eyes had a hint of fear in them as he asked, “Just who exactly are you, sir?”

  “I should like to know that as well. You’re just fantastic,” Miranda said as she stood beside the count, both hands folded together and her body trembling. “It’s almost as if—as if I were looking at the great one in his youth. The first time I had the honor of meeting him, he already seemed as timeless as the universe, so I can only imagine what he must’ve been like. But verily, in his younger days he must’ve resembled this regal knight—’’

  “He’s a Hunter,” the count reminded her, both his tone and his expression morose.

  “Oh, dear!”

  “But that’s not to say there isn’t some resemblance,” the Nobleman continued.

  Two pairs of eyes crawled over every inch of D with obvious interest and curiosity.

  Footsteps pounded up the hill. It was one of the villagers. Ignoring the old men asking what had happened, the villager ran straight to

  D and said, “Your car’s been stolen. I was keeping an eye on it with a bunch of the others. Then that missionary came along and whispered something to it, and it sped off all by itself down the highway that runs west!”

  “Didn’t anyone go after it?” one of the old men cried out, his jowls quaking with the words.

  “It all happened so suddenly. And that car’s terribly fast.”

  “What became of the missionary?”

  “I don’t know. We were all focused on the car, and the next thing we knew, he wasn’t there anymore.”

  “Excuse me,” Miranda said with a cough before turning to the count. “Are you certain this isn’t due to some negligence on your part?”

  “It can’t be,” the count spat angrily. “That car is under the complete control of a proton computer. Its recognition sensors can check five million points in a half a millionth of a second to see if a person is me or not. It would never operate on anyone else’s instructions.”

  “And yet, it left.”

  “Oh, shut up!” the count said. Those who could see in the dark saw his face darkening with rage.

  As the villagers stood paralyzed, thinking the allies were about to fight among themselves, one of them noticed something. D was looking up at the sky.

  Following his lead, the villagers gasped aloud. By the time the count and Miranda looked up in the air, grumbling spilled from the foremost rank of villagers like a bank of clouds.

  “What’s that?”

  “The half-moon just became a full moon.”

  “The top half wasn’t there. Hey, are those letters I see?”

  Indeed, there were letters darkly stained into the top half of the brightly shining moon.

  “Wha—what’s written up there?”

  A hoarse voice that the villagers straining their eyes would never hear said in a murky tone, “Come to Galleon Valley tomorrow at one o’clock Afternoon. If all three of you aren’t there, the hostages’ lives are forfeit.”

  “What’s this Galleon Valley place?”

  When the count’s query rained down on him from above, the villager who’d raced to notify them replied in a quavering voice, “It’s a valley just two miles west of here. They say the Nobility used it as a testing ground long ago, but no one’s been out there as long a
s this village has been around.”

  “Hmm. I don’t care where we have to go, but traveling by daylight is going to make things a little difficult. D, do you have any ideas?” There was no reply. D would obviously be going with them. However, could even the Hunter put up a good fight against foes with the power to turn a board-covered shack into a black hole, or inscribe words on the half of the moon that should’ve been in darkness, especially when his two allies were forced to take refuge from the sunlight?

  “Well, do you, D?” the count inquired again. The wind made the hem of his clothes and Miranda’s dress dance before reaching D’s hair.

  The unearthly beauty of the young man in black’s face glowed in the moonlight as he asserted in a low voice, “I do.”

  CHAPTER I

  I

  "Someone’s on the move,” a voice called out by the flickering light of a single candle. At the same time a number of people

  squirmed to life. They looked up in unison.

  A glance at the rough but simple beds lining the walls made it clear this was an inn. Up by the ceiling floated a man; he was upside down about ten feet off the floor. His body excreted a thread that those on the ground could never make out, no matter how they strained their eyes, and the man entrusted his full weight to it, curled up and dangling like a spider. His arms, his legs, and the fingers he presently used to scratch at his chin were disproportionately long compared to his body. This was the man who could even do battle in the stratosphere—Speeny.

  “One of the threads I strung around the village just broke—the one on the route north. Which would mean they’re headed for Janos, I suppose.”

  “Who is it?” asked the monklike figure—Courbet. His right arm hung in a sling looped around his neck.

  “Judging by the way the thread was cut—it’d have to be D.”

  “For what purpose?” came a woman’s voice.

  In a corner of the dilapidated room was a ceramic pitcher filled to the brim with water. Although there was no sign of anyone, that was where the voice originated. It had to be Lucienne.