The stealth aircraft was at least forty feet from tip to tail. It was an SSQ 474 Hawk, the tactical transport helicopter currently preferred by the world’s militaries. The blades were still rotating as the side door opened.
“Grandma,” the doll girl called out softly.
“Come here. This is a little present from the mayor.”
Galeen Nuvenberg’s white hair danced in the downdraft of wind. The two official-looking suited men standing on either side of the wheelchair jumped down. In their hands was a big steel hook.
Realizing what they were about to do, the doll girl called out, “Be careful! The slightest contact will lose you your fingers.”
Too late. The two men groaned and grasped their hands. As soon as they touched the casket, five of their fingers dropped to the ground.
The doll girl struggled through the gale to the helicopter. “Grandma—how shall we proceed?”
Galeen Nuvenberg didn’t answer the question, but said, indicating the wide-eyed man next to her, “This is the mayor. The casket would best be entrusted to the Hazmat division. The underground storage facilities at the ward government buildings were suggested earlier. Perhaps here is just as safe. We can always arrive at a solution later.”
After Setsura’s departure, Nuvenberg had also informed the doll girl that she would rely on the mayor’s resources to move General Bey’s casket.
“Fine with me.” Mayor Kajiwara nodded politely to the doll girl. A man who didn’t know to pay his respects to an animated doll didn’t deserve to be mayor of Shinjuku. “We are in something of a fix here. The casket isn’t going anywhere. Aki-kun’s devil wires will cut through chains and cables as easily as yarn. Does the Czech Republic’s—no, the world’s—best witch have no other alternatives?”
He damned with faint praise, and made no attempt to mask the irony. Nuvenberg smiled wryly in turn. This was Demon City and the mayor always had his reasons.
“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” she asked with a sideways glance.
“Can you guarantee that what’s inside it won’t escape? Or that having met with Aki-kun, the Demon Princess won’t notice and come riding to the rescue?”
“Aren’t you the taskmaster,” Nuvenberg said.
“No.” The doll girl seized her wrinkled old wrist. “You are ill, Grandma. Expending so much energy can’t be good for your health. And with Doctor Mephisto—”
“What about Doctor Mephisto?” Kajiwara demanded in an uncharacteristically heated manner.
“Seems he was bitten by a vampire,” Nuvenberg sternly replied.
“In that case, hurry up and stake him and we’ll muster the troops.” He pressed his right hand to his chest and glared back at her. “Enough with the bad jokes. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Understood,” said Galeen Nuvenberg. “We’ll figure it out one way or another. Let’s bring those two aboard. Sorry to have to say it, but it looks like we’ve got another job for you to do.”
Part Eight: Demon Night Falling
Chapter One
Setsura focused his attention on Yakou’s right hand. They could each predict the other’s next move. Yakou’s hands were the conduits of his qi. And he had a dominant hand. Setsura guessed he’d jab with his left the same way a right-handed boxer would.
These two who once fought side-by-side now fought each other. But neither held any sentimentality for the past or anger about the present. The gloves were off.
Yakou locked his hands together in front of his chest. His left hand extended, his palm facing forward. The massive qi sprang forth—the same that had scattered Kikiou in all directions.
The burst of power neatly divided high and low. Yakou flew backwards. He landed apparently unharmed and looked at his chest. A razor-straight cut through his suit and vest and shirt. A thin line of blood welled up on the skin.
Had he jumped a split-second later, his torso would have been cleaved in two. The merciless attack brought a smile to his graceful face. Somewhere at the back of his mind, the naive expectation that he could take it easy was cast to the wind.
This was the Setsura he knew. And the Setsura he did not. They had met at last. He felt a deeply poignant chime of emotion in his cold, cold heart.
The air hummed as Setsura pressed forward with his attack. He feinted, slashing downward from the left, while the strand of devil wire aimed at Yakou’s heart bounced up from his feet.
He ducked to the right, bending at right angles. An impossible contortion of the human form.
With a roaring rush of wind, Yakou soared upward, his wings beating against the darkness. He was master of the air.
“It stands to reason,” Setsura blandly observed as he pursued him. “The Elder’s grandson should have skills no one else possesses.”
“Cannot Setsura Aki take to the skies?” mused Yakou, looking down on the manhunter from thirty feet above the iron shafts. “Shall we test our skills at the crossroads?”
He had, in military terms, air superiority, while Setsura had only two iron shafts to tread upon. It would not do to overestimate his tactical advantage, but his words revealed an overwhelming confidence.
“Why not?” said Setsura.
Yakou unleashed his demon qi. One bolt at Setsura. One in front of him. One behind. One of them surely had his name on it.
But instead he went sideways.
No sooner had Yakou realized that Setsura had flung one of his wires out to the side and taken that new road, Setsura’s right hand reached up. As if drawing a flittering moth into the spider’s web, the net of devil wire closed around Yakou’s body, leaving no space in which he could flap his wings.
Setsura’s eyes narrowed as Yakou tucked himself into a spin, threading between the mesh of the net. In a whirl, folding and unfolding, miraculously sculling the air, riding on the wind, his wings bore him to safety past the countless barbed knives.
Yakou did a one-eighty as he fell, his hand jutted out at the air.
Setsura dodged at the last second. The wall behind him did not break or crumble. The energy ricocheted and poured down on him, now perched in the air several yards lower.
On the verge of scoring a direct hit on his head, Setsura’s dark slicker traced an arc through the air. Yakou had already steadied himself and readjusted his stance when Setsura swung like the weight at the end of a pendulum, over and around, his head coming to a halt upside down, exactly at Yakou’s height.
Setsura was riding the devil wires wound around his shoes. As they were invisible to the naked eye, he looked like a bat hanging from an invisible ceiling.
“Well—” Setsura said.
“Well—” Yakou smiled.
The eagle with command of the sky hurled a mass of killer qi. The bat dancing along invisible bridges in the air cast his magical threads. A battle to the death between two supernatural wizards. They would soon forget everything else and fight like this forever.
The only thing holding them back was a woman’s voice, trembling with agitated fury. “That is enough, Yakou.”
The Elder’s grandson drew his brows. “I understand, but—”
“No. I know how you wished to duel Setsura. And Setsura accepted without hesitation. Which is why this conflict must be settled at some other time.”
“And the reason?”
“Because the two of you are enjoying yourselves so.” Princess settled against the railing and explained with all her vexing charm, “Some sentiment toward each other as allies must remain in both you and Setsura, which I had hoped would arouse within you some degree of suffering. But far from blood, sweat and tears, you are fighting with heart and soul and joy. Whatever the outcome, it will not sate my hunger. Do not kill him. Not here. You won’t fight here. Setsura Aki, I will give you another reason to mourn.”
The Demon Princess raised her voice. A thin line of spittle trickled from the corner of her red mouth. Hatred and an entirely different emotion were roiling the soul of this uncommon witch.
Eyeing the two men below her, her bountiful breasts jouncing, she let go of the railing with as graceful a move as had ever been set into motion.
“Come with me, this Setsura Aki I do not know. To the gates of hell.”
Princess cast him an indescribable look as she walked with rapid steps down the hallway.
Setsura followed her. First, because the will to fight Yakou to the death had been drained dry. And second, because killing such a demoness in his current condition was well-nigh impossible.
He was not a young man who feared dying in vain, except that if not for him, the undead would breed in Shinjuku like cockroaches.
They left the pit and proceeded to a room behind a black door. Princess disappeared into the center of the room. Setsura heard the door locking behind him. Yakou had tailed them from the pit. Whether he was now outside in the hall or elsewhere, his presence had vanished as well.
The darkness wrapped around Setsura, heavy and clinging. The smell of blood was in the air. There weren’t pools of blood nearby. It was in the air itself, as if the molecules of hemoglobin had attached themselves to the molecules of oxygen and nitrogen. Surely this was the result of the room being soaked in blood for an eternity. Breathe the air for long, and the lungs would draw in the blood just as a fish breathes through its gills.
“Come,” resounded a voice from the back of the room.
Simply imagining the scene that voice conjured up, any other man would have gotten hard and come at the same time. And over and over until he was wrung dry. Hers was a voice that would arouse the most impotent man.
Setsura sauntered across the room. He knew that the room was furnished, but his five senses detected neither the shape nor size of the furnishings. A door opened at the very depths of the gloom. The odor of blood increased an order of magnitude.
“Enter,” he was commanded, almost impatiently.
Setsura stepped into the light. Something soft caught his attention. A gold-embroidered quilt covering a four-post canopy bed. Everything was suffused with a pale blue light. The light seemed to pour into the room like water, though Setsura couldn’t ascertain its source.
“Come here,” gestured the white figure on the futon.
Voluptuousness radiated from her woman’s face. What an unearthly allure. The licentious smile rising to her transfixing features, over which seemed to crawl an army of insects—the black hair covering half her face. The one eye brimmed with a corrupt vermillion color of evil that would make blood look cold by comparison.
Her tongue, slippery wet as a leech, flicked out from between her lips and drew back in again. One lick of that tongue could raise the dead.
Below her face, a white arm raised up and beckoned, calling to him.
Setsura stepped forward. And then back again. That movement alone triggered a mighty contest of wills. Sweat trickled down his cheeks.
“What enormous reservoirs of self-denial you have.” Princess’s laughter deepened. “But for it, there would not be such discord between us. The more you resist, the harder it becomes to escape. You won’t get away, you awful, awful man.”
“Shall we call ourselves a couple, then?” Setsura asked. As nonchalant as the question was, a hint of hoarseness was unavoidable. “Let’s stipulate a few conditions to the prenup though. First, permission to cut off your head and drive a stake through your heart. Second, the true nature of this world, and the means by which it can be destroyed. Third, a way to destroy the casket of Kazikli Bey.”
“What a sense of humor you have! I never would have guessed. Ah, this is the man I know. How do you imagine I shall reply?”
“I do not imagine you shall,” Setsura said, with a shake of his head.
It would be hard to say at this point which of them was kidding and which of them was playing it straight.
“Then how shall we proceed?”
“Search me.”
“Your prenup is fine by me.”
However briefly, Setsura couldn’t help reacting. Had Kikiou been there, he would have fainted dead away.
“However, only provisions two and three—the destruction of this world and the disposition of General Bey.”
“You are an outrageous woman,” Setsura honestly replied. Come to think of it, she was always the one setting the terms. “You’d sell out your colleagues to get what you want? After four thousand years, I guess your shame was the first thing to go.”
“I lost nothing. I never had it to start with,” Princess grinned. She couldn’t have toppled three ancient dynasties otherwise. “This is not the way I would prefer to travel the world. It’s all Kikiou.”
“Huh.” Setsura was struck by the curious confession. “You mean, going along to get along, bending to others’ whims, while jerking those same people around. A puppet regime.”
“Exactly. If they want to rule the world, they’re free to. As my servant, Kikiou can make use of Ryuuki and Shuuran and bury humanity six feet under, if he so chooses. He can play his Machiavellian games and watch the streets run red with blood. Only keep me out of it.”
“I’ve heard of sparing the rod and spoiling the child, but you take irresponsibility to extremes. The miracle here isn’t that anyone would have you as their leader, but that you could keep any group together for four thousand years. Frankly, this is more miraculous than eternal life.”
“I do not recall anybody putting me in charge of anything.” She turned away. The futon rippled, like a snake sleeping beneath the cover had woken up. “I told them to suit themselves. That is all they did. Were anything here to become so disagreeable, I would leave forthwith and find me a king or potentate or ruler and fill his dreams with stories of Hsia and Shang.”
“And? So you bewitch the president of America or Russia and bend him to your will. But overdo things and what happened in Romania in times past will surely happen again.”
“I believe that was the intent when we came to this city not so long ago.”
“The last time you came out into the open was the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in France. What have you been up to since? Planning the takeover of Shinjuku?”
“That does indeed seem to have been what Kikiou was up to.”
“Don’t pass the buck. You speak Japanese too, don’t you?”
“I learned it because I wanted to learn it. Not because I had any desire to subjugate this city.”
“You mean killing the Elder was a mere whim as well?”
A pitying look came to the Demon Princess’s eyes. “You haven’t heard? I fought him eight hundred years before in the city now known as Beijing. We’ve been at it a while.”
“An actual reason, huh? I’m impressed. And after this? Whatever Kikiou has in mind?”
“If I said yes?”
“I’ll have to destroy you.”
“You have not proved yourself capable of the task yet.”
“I will use a stake this time.”
“I have been staked before.”
“Your heart is located on your right side.”
Princess laughed long and hard. “Fascinating,” she giggled. “I wouldn’t have believed a man in this world could make me laugh. I’m not letting this little fishy off my hook.”
“And the previous stipulations?” Setsura pressed.
“If I fulfill them, will you become my partner?”
“I’d need a little time to think it over.”
“You must decide now.” Her eye flashed red. “No, as long as you’re still around, I’ll do the deciding.”
“Isn’t General Ryuuki already your favorite retainer?”
“The voyage did not suit that man well.” There was a shadow in her voice that Setsura chose to ignore. “He left here, never to return. I did think of pursuing him, but there’s no need now, seeing as you are so eager to take his place.”
“Got tired of being used by a woman, did he?”
“The laborer was rewarded for his work.”
“Meaning?”
“Beho
ld—”
She took hold of the corner of the futon and pulled it back, revealing her naked body. “What do you think? A reward worth a man’s soul, wouldn’t you say? Judging by your face, not altogether displeasing. You will soon understand why, even though the whole world may be against me, I harbor no regrets. Come.”
The Demon Princess thrust out her hands as if presenting an offering at the altar. Her hips rose up. Hardly the movement of human flesh on human bone. More like that of a white reptile.
The ruby light flashed in her eye. The beautiful genie’s whole body stiffened. And then just as quickly lost its tension. Ryuuki’s demon qi festered in his gut. Princess’s wound scarred his chest. Both were far from healed.
She lowered her right arm. Setsura slumped forward. Beneath his gaze, she spread her legs wide.
“Lick me,” she said.
Setsura stepped closer, lowering his face toward the Demon Princess’s most private and untouchable place—
“Excuse me—”
The raspy voice came from the direction of the door.
Chapter Two
Setsura stopped in his tracks.
“What is this about?” Princess furiously demanded.
Kikiou bowed low. “A matter that demands your immediate attention.”
“What?”
“Hand Setsura Aki over to me.”
“To you? To what end?”
“To destroy him.”
“After a little while longer.”
“And what is a little while longer to you?”
“Until I am tired of him.”
“With Ryuuki, that was two thousand years.”
“And having ended his life so hastily, then what?”
Kikiou shrugged. “Do with the corpse as you wish. Cast him out on the streets and let the dogs at him. In any event, I must take Setsura Aki’s life as soon as possible.”
“You said the same thing about Ryuuki.”
“The hearts of this man and that one have nothing in common. Ryuuki was obedient to his fate. Saving him gave his life meaning. Covertly and overtly, he strove always to protect our interests. But this man—”
Yashakiden: The Demon Princess, Volume 3 Omnibus Edition Page 19