Dark Desires_A Novel of the Dark Ones

by Aja James

  No, he’d as soon torch the shrine to ashes, reduced to an evil black stain in the ground.

  Instead, he walked a short distance to the quaint historic village that surrounded the mountain.

  It was the middle of the morning but he didn’t care. He willed himself to stay vertical and put one foot in front of the other despite the exhaustion the sun’s rays beat into his very bones, through the leather and the almost opaque aviators he wore.

  He needed to do this. He needed to kick himself in the ass.

  As he strolled down the paved narrow sidewalk, he passed unsuspecting humans on their way to school or work, walking at a purposeful pace or riding bicycles on the sides of the street. Very few cars went by; it was mostly a pedestrian town.

  Few of the shops he knew as a child remained. Most of the old architecture had been built over or demolished to make way for modern condos, though they tried to keep the exterior design reminiscent of traditional Japanese homes. This far from the center of the city, modernization still left its mark, though some original pagodas and shrines were left standing, commercialized for the tourist population that inevitably came into town every spring and summer.

  Cherry trees were in full bloom. A bit early this year. The storm that swept through dispersed the fragile blossoms before their time, filling the streets, roofs and gutters with delicate pink petals. For most observers, cherry blossoms embodied romance, an ethereal beauty that was all the more precious for its brevity.

  For Ryu, the petals were like blood drops. Tainting everything they touched like blood flicked from the blade of a sword as it cut through flesh and bone.

  All he saw was death.

  He stopped in front of a tall bamboo gate, blackened with age, that led to a private courtyard beyond. He forced himself to reach out a hand and touch the wood, clenching his jaw as he did so, as if he were reaching into the jaws of a monster.

  Memories of a long buried past assailed him. He didn’t try to stop them from flooding into his consciousness. He needed to remember where he came from and what he was. He needed to forget his dark desires for a certain research scientist who could never be his…

  Sengoku period, 15th century Edo.

  Six-year-old Ryu stood silent and still a few feet away from the woman who knelt before her dressing table powdering her face and applying rouge.

  Her sleek black hair was dressed elaborately behind her head, not a single strand out of place. Two long ivory pins dangling with precious stones were inserted strategically into the silky masses to draw the appreciative gaze to her large, almond-shaped eyes and her proud, high cheek bones.

  She was the most beautiful woman Ryu had ever seen. She was his mother.

  “Mother—” he started in a quiet voice, afraid to disturb her routine ministrations.

  “What did I tell you, Ryu-chan?” she said in a lilting, haunting feminine voice, like that of a nightingale.

  He was not supposed to call her mother. She did not like being reminded that she had a son.

  “Misaki-sama,” he began once more, “Aiko-sama is waiting outside and would like to speak with you. Shall I show her in?”

  A faint sneer appeared in his mother’s expression, though her facial muscles did not move. Only her eyes seemed colder.

  She sighed long and wearily. “Why not. I suppose I cannot avoid her for long.”

  Ryu bowed and went to slide open the partition for the other woman to enter.

  In swept another gorgeous creature, if one could sweep in a tight kimono and wooden slippers. But somehow Aiko managed it. There was a smile of disdain on her blood-red lips as she greeted Ryu’s mother.

  “Preparing to entertain later?” she asked the obvious, her dark eyes roving the chamber contemptuously.

  Misaki remained kneeling at her dressing table, not bothering to rise as politeness dictated. She did not look at her visitor as she spoke, instead carefully applying dots of scent oil along her long, graceful neck and behind each ear.

  “I am in high demand.”

  Aiko narrowed her eyes, the smile disappearing briefly, a frightening frown taking its place. But then the mask of arrogant nonchalance was back so fast Ryu thought he’d imagined the slip.

  “He will tire of you soon, you know. He always does.”

  “As he did you, Aiko-chan?”

  Before the other woman could react to the verbal dart, Misaki continued, “But who do you mean exactly? I cannot keep track of all my admirers.”

  Aiko released a breath through her nose, so long and deep Ryu could see her delicate nostrils flare and her chest compress.

  She was about to say something in response, but then she looked down at the thick sash around Misaki’s waist. The disdainful smile tipped her lips again.

  “Why Misaki-chan,” she said silkily, “you tied your obi wrong. Only Geishas are allowed to tie it in the back. You, my dear little whore, must wear it in the front.”

  Ryu’s mother gave no observable reaction, but he knew that her stillness was the calm before the storm. She was blackly furious.

  Long, weighty moments of silence passed, no one moving, and Ryu, for one, was holding even his breath.

  “Does your belly still trouble you, Aiko-chan?” Misaki said softly, “did cutting out your bastard make you more desirable to him?”

  Aiko’s sharp indrawn breath was like a bullet in the eerily quiet chamber, as if some oppressive shadow had cloaked the room.

  “No?” Misaki asked rhetorically in the same soft voice. “Did he throw you away like so much rubbish despite your noble sacrifice?” She let out a little huff of breath as if laughing at the other woman.

  Inhaling deeply, Misaki regarded herself in the ornate mirror on her table, a gift from one of her admirers, looking pleased.

  “Run along, little Aiko,” she dismissed airily, “pick a fight with someone your own size. I am leagues above you, my dear.”

  A muffled sob could be heard as Aiko hastily turned around and rushed out of the room.

  Ryu did not understand all of the exchange, but he knew enough to be frightened.

  Of her. His mother.

  “Come here, Ryu-chan,” Misaki beckoned, her good mood restored. “I must prepare a tea setting for my honored guest.”

  Slowly, reluctantly, he made his way to stand beside her as she pulled out the tea set and laid it on the table in the center of the room.

  “Do you remember what I taught you? Do you remember the steps?” she asked, her expression girlish and lovely, so charming Ryu thought he’d imagined the evil in her just moments earlier.

  He nodded and tried to go through the motions she’d taught him. When he finished, she clapped her hands in approval.

  “You are very smart, Ryu-chan,” she gifted him with her most brilliant smile. “That was very well done. You still have to practice, however, and go slower next time. That way, your movements will be more graceful, more pleasing to the beholder.”

  Ryu nodded again and gazed at his mother expectantly.

  Whenever she was in such a good mood, she would touch him with what he believed to be affection. A gentle brush of his hair, a pat on the cheek, even sometimes, though very rarely, a kiss on the brow.

  She did none of those things just now. She took his chin in her long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand instead.

  “You are growing up, Ryu-chan,” she said as her gaze roamed leisurely over his face, though it grew in intensity the longer she looked. “With those big black eyes, long nose, small mouth and pointy ears you look a bit like a mouse. A cute mouse, but a mouse nevertheless.”

  Ryu didn’t know how he felt about mice. They were small and furry and sometimes he helped them escape the resident tomcat. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing to be compared to one?

  “But your face will change,” she continued, now gripping his chin more tightly. “You will grow up to be tall and beautiful because you’re my son.”

  It was the only time in Ryu’s life that she had e
ver owned his relationship to her. He stared back at her with unblinking eyes, hypnotized by her intensity.

  “And his. You are his son too. He will come for you one day. He must.” Her voice no longer sounded sweet, the urgency in it deepened and roughened her tone, making a trickle of fear slide down Ryu’s spine.

  “I did not give birth to you for nothing—he cannot avoid me forever. He must come for you.”

  Her nails were now digging into the flesh around his jaw, breaking the skin.

  “And in the meantime, you will earn your keep. You cost me untold grief and pain, you little monster.” This she spat out almost hysterically, her spittle hitting his face and mouth.

  And then suddenly, the storm was over. Her touch gentled. Her eyes blinked, and magically, the beautiful Geisha was back.

  “But not yet, my darling,” she said soothingly, giving his reddened and bloodied cheek a fond little pat. “You must grow up first.”

  She turned back to the tea setting and moved the pot a little this way, the bowl a little that way, perfecting the arrangement just so.

  “Now run along, little mouse,” she said in that haunting, lilting voice. “I have admirers to entertain.”

  Chapter Five

  Ava greeted her new colleagues with warm enthusiasm when she arrived at the research center promptly at 10am.

  The first of the project team members, their de facto leader, who came forth to introduce himself was Sōsuke Matsumoto, a handsome, slim man whose black-rimmed glasses made him look even handsomer, lending him an air of sophistication and refinement.

  Ava shook his hand enthusiastically and smiled shyly when he flashed bright white teeth at her in an engaging grin of welcome.

  Not only was Sōsuke charming and good looking, he was also extremely brilliant. Like Ava, he’d stacked up an immense number of accomplishments at a young age, now one of the leading authorities in their field.

  “This is Shinji Abarai,” Sōsuke gestured to the second man in the group, a tall, gaunt fellow with straggly longish hair pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck and scruffy facial hair in the form of a haphazard mustache and beard.

  Shinji merely glanced at Ava, said neither hello nor gestured a greeting. Abruptly, he walked out of the room without a word.

  Sōsuke wore an expression of pained embarrassment. “Apologies for his rudeness,” he said to Ava in perfect American English. “He’s a bit of a recluse and doesn’t do well with strangers. He’s quite ingenious as a scientist though.”

  Ava nodded in understanding. There were a lot of extreme introverts in their field. When you spent most of your time in a lab with mice and hamsters and other rodents, small mammals and marine life doing experiments, it could get isolating. And after a while, you start to prefer the company of animals to other humans.

  “And here is Tōshirō Aizen,” Sōsuke introduced next a small man of average height and build in his late forties or early fifties with peppered gray hair and oversized glasses. He looked like the stereotypical hard-working research scientist while Sōsuke looked like a Ray Ban model with his designer gear.

  Tōshirō gave Ava a small bow instead of shaking her hand, and she bowed back. She was not well versed in Japanese formalities, but she figured mimicking whatever people did when they greeted her might not be too far off from what she was supposed to do in return.

  Finally, Ava turned to the only other woman in the group. An ethereal beauty, tall and thin with long black hair so silky, thick and smooth Ava suspected no clip or rubber band could ever hold it.

  “I am Nanao Ise,” the goddess-like creature introduced herself without waiting for Sōsuke to speak. “How do you do, Dr. Monroe?”

  Ava shook her extended hand and felt like she was condescended upon by a member of royalty. She had a strong compulsion to sink into a deep curtsy.

  “Nice to meet you,” Ava said instead, her voice remarkably steady despite her awe.

  Irreverently, the image of a praying mantis popped into her head, and suddenly, the icy beauty seemed less intimidating.

  Introductions were followed by some stilted small talk; only Sōsuke spoke fluent English, the others spoke very little and when they did, it seemed to require effort and concentration. Ava did not want to disrupt the team dynamics with her foreign presence. She didn’t want them to speak only in English for her sake, so she cut the pleasantries short.

  “Dr. Matsumoto,” she said, and he looked at her with his ever-present smile, “perhaps you could show me around the lab? I’d like to start contributing as soon as possible. Just tell me where everything is and if there’s a station for me in particular and I’ll get out of everybody’s hair.”

  “Of course, Dr. Monroe,” Sōsuke replied, gesturing with his extended hand for her to precede him through a pair of double doors.

  “Please call me Ava,” she said encouragingly. It always made her feel twice her age when people called her Doctor.

  “And I am Sōsuke,” he returned readily.

  As they toured around the state-of-the-art facilities, which consisted of eleven levels overall, of which six were dedicated to their particular project, Sōsuke kept up a steady flow of light conversation.

  “Do you by any chance know a woman named Rain Ambrosius?” he asked as he showed her the Technology level with all of the larger scanners and machines.

  “Yes, I actually do,” Ava replied, smiling at the fact that they had a common acquaintance. What a small world!

  “She attended a seminar I gave last winter at Harvard Medical School. Though she’s only a first-year med student, she often came to my office after class to chat and demonstrated a vast array of knowledge. Mostly of Chinese medicine, it’s true, but she’s absorbing knowledge of Western medicine at an extraordinary rate. I am quite in awe of her intellect.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” Sōsuke agreed. “I am glad I am not alone in my feeling of intellectual inadequacy when I am around her. If you feel it too, she must truly be astounding.”

  His confident smile showed that his self-deprecation was mostly teasing, but Ava could see genuine admiration for Rain in his eyes.

  They walked down a flight of stairs to enter a different level that housed all the toxic, radioactive chemicals and solutions, as well as unstable or dangerous organic compounds, even viruses.

  “You need special clearance to get through these doors,” Sōsuke explained as they stopped outside the extremely secure corridor.

  Ava nodded. “Hopefully I don’t have to come down here too often. I don’t like the feeling of being trapped, and whenever there’s such high security, I’m always afraid I can get in but won’t be able to get out.”

  “Claustrophobic?” Sōsuke guessed.

  “Just a little,” Ava said. “It’s not really a phobia, only a discomfort, and one I’d like to avoid.”

  “I’ll try to make sure you are always comfortable during your stay in Japan,” Sōsuke said with that charming grin of his.

  He paused before adding, “Ava.”

  Ava smiled back at him.

  He was flirting with her. But while she liked the attention and would probably flirt harmlessly back, she felt no attraction whatsoever.

  She wondered whether any man would ever appeal to her as much as Ryu Takamura did.

  “How do you know Rain?” she asked as they left the secure corridor, going back to their earlier subject.

  “I met her through a woman called Wan’er when I volunteered at the Chinatown clinic for the poor in Boston City,” he answered. “Wan’er runs the clinic full-time and Rain comes by regularly to help out.”

  “I’ve heard of the place,” Ava said and nodded. “It’s getting a lot of traction with not only the Chinese population in Boston but expanding to other groups as well. It’s known for providing care to poor people with terminal illnesses, but even wealthy patients go there now, donating their money to the nonprofit while getting treatment. Their use of traditional Chinese medicine to harmon
ize the patients’ internal body chemistry and flow is really doing wonders. They’ve found a potent treatment if not cure for many debilitating conditions.”

  Ava had considered taking her father there on a long weekend, but that all depended on whether she could convince him to go.

  “I’ve been trying to persuade Rain or Wan’er or both to give a lecture on Chinese medicine at Harvard or here at Todai,” Sōsuke elaborated, “with no success thus far. But I intend to keep trying.”

  They rounded back to the main research lab on one of the lower levels.

  “Here we are,” he gestured, showing her a cubicle at the end of a series of lab tables piled with various equipment, by the windows that ran the entire length of the far wall.

  “You can use this as your desk for the duration of your stay. Your computer is set up with everything you need. Username and password are on the sticky note there.”

  “Do you have a notebook I can use?” Ava asked.

  Few researchers wrote real notes on paper any more. Everything was digital these days, but she was old fashioned. Growing up solidly middle-class but slightly on the lower end, she didn’t even own her own computer until she got into college. She held her second-hand refurbished Toshiba in fond memory, despite it giving her the blue screen of death every so often.

  But then, since she started university at age fourteen, she supposed she didn’t really miss out relative to other teenagers in her hood.

  She had some of her most inspired ideas while jotting down things in her notebook. She liked to keep it all together in a physical place she could hold and flip through and put colorful tags on.

  “Of course,” Sōsuke grinned. “You are rather famous for your habit of toting around a notebook and multi-colored pens. They are in the top right drawer of your desk. I hope they meet with your approval.”

  Yes, indeed, Ava could see as she slid the drawer open. She had just about every color of the rainbow in terms of writing gear, and some neon and glitter pens too. There were also two hard-back notebooks with quality paper, one lined, one graphed.