Yashakiden: The Demon Princess, Volume 3 Omnibus Edition

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  With a last glance back at the door, he started walking. The random dance of the curtains dazzled his sight. They were long enough to trail along the floor, so even looking down engendered a sense of vertigo. Looking up, the wind whipped at the white gauze panels.

  He’d gone ten steps when the door behind him creaked. And again.

  Nobody saw the flash of movement. Setsura sensed it dodging his deadly devil wire and leaping to the right. The wire pursued it.

  The curtains split in half. Without a sound, the severed strands of gauze rode on the wind. The beast ran behind them, through their shadows. And seemed to disappear.

  Setsura’s wires shot out in all directions. The curtains shredded and fluttered in the air like confetti.

  “What a bother,” he muttered to himself.

  Chapter Three

  “Thirty,” the pod said. “Twenty-five. Visual confirmation.”

  A white shadow floated in the gloom like frozen crystals of moonlight.

  “Firing.”

  The red beam drew a line through the darkness. A large glowing blister rose on the back of the white shadow, the intensity of the bright crimson bleeding off toward the edges as it spread out.

  The music from the festival orchestra was audible in the distance.

  The beam lasted a second. The pod gave up. “Hold your positions,” it said. “Stand by for orders.”

  The pod shook two, three times, and rebalanced itself. The instability of the magnetic levitation seemed to mirror a mounting dread of the shadow’s forward progress.

  The shadow transformed into a beautiful young woman with fluttering black hair, wearing a white robe. She approached the waiting SDF soldiers and their trump card.

  “Freeze!” the pod commanded in Japanese. “Nobody has to get hurt. We just want to talk—” The ferocity of her comely face, half-hidden by a wave of hair, made Matthews stop talking.

  The Demon Princess didn’t stop. Along her path floated the pod. She struck it. Her pale hand flashed. A slender hand. The pod’s armored steel could repel a 120 mm tank round.

  It dented like the fender of a compact car. By a one-handed karate chop. A force of impact equal to a hundred thousand tons of force. Strain lines ran in a starburst pattern across the surface. It smacked against the ground like one of those self-righting punching dolls.

  The pencil missile launcher jammed. A stabilizer gyro and its electronics circuit board spat fire.

  “God damn,” roared Matthews.

  The sound of his voice hadn’t died away before the built-in computers initiated recovery protocols. The fire extinguisher activated and the repair bots shifted to the damaged components.

  Princess’s body was hit from the right and left by a flurry of small arms fire.

  Cardinal’s 7.62 mm automatic and 15 mm grenade launcher tore into the willowy form, engulfing her in blazing incendiary gel. Aside from the firing rate, Meighan’s 9 mm Spectre submachine gun didn’t add much more than insult to injury.

  Princess raised her hands. Her white sleeves stretched out like a pair of ghostly appendages. The two were flung backwards as if by yanked from behind by a giant pair of magnets.

  Her sleeves extended further, wrapping around Meighan’s neck and Cardinal’s torso and crushing both in a flash. Not sparing the death throes of the two elite soldiers a second glance, Princess flung them into the depths of the parking garage at such a velocity that they might as well have been shot from a cannon.

  The impact with the concrete walls turned what was left inside their combat fatigues to jelly.

  With an expression on her face that said no enemy worth considering had existed from the start, Princess turned toward General Bey’s casket.

  “Ah, that scent. It must be Princess.”

  “Yes. What is such a man as General Bey doing in a place like this?”

  “The reason should speak for itself. As you have seen with your own two eyes, Setsura Aki is a fearsome opponent.”

  “He is presently a prisoner in my manor house.”

  “You managed that much? I am impressed.”

  “However, an additional reward was required to induce him to join our little family. General, I have come to collect what you have there in your casket.”

  “I do not agree. You were the ones who cast her aside. I have a more important role in store for her.”

  “My. Aren’t you one to talk. Do you think you will be getting out of there without my assistance, General? Not likely. I am the only one in this world who can sever Setsura Aki’s threads. But be that as it may, General, what is your fascination with this girl?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Does she resemble a girl you fell for once before? Of course. I heard that when the armies of your foes surrounded your mountain citadel, your wife cast herself into the ravine below. Was she a woman from the Far East?”

  “Open this, Princess,” the general said in an unusually calm voice. If there was any voice in the world, the mere sound of which demanded obedience, this was it.

  The Demon Princess’s right hand reached out toward the casket. The titanium wires—impervious to any other weapon—snapped like the world’s strongest guitar strings.

  Princess took a step backwards.

  The lid of the casket flew open. A burly finger appeared and grasped the edge of the casket. The luxuriant black silhouette of General Bey rose up. Princess’s eyes were drawn to the naked body beneath his arm. General Bey smiled at the look of uncontrolled desire that rose to her face.

  “You want her? You want this girl? Depending on the circumstances, I would not necessarily be opposed to handing her over, Princess. I do owe you for keeping my head and shoulders from being permanently separated in the palace in Istanbul. What do you need her for?”

  “Will you hand her over or not, General?”

  “Or not. What an interesting development this is. Not only the anger in your face. You are trembling. No, glowing. Is it so embarrassing to recognize this desire for what it is? If not, then why?”

  The Demon Princess stamped her feet lightly and flew over the general’s head like the white petal of a flower caught up in a whirlwind. Whether the general jumped of his own accord, or whether struck by Princess’s dainty hand—

  With Takako in his arms, he leapt over the casket. Landing on the ground, he raised his right hand to his neck. Fresh blood oozed from between his fingers.

  The Demon Princess would make even General Bey a target.

  “It may have been your intention to sidestep that blow, but I was the one who missed on purpose. But not the next time.”

  A humble declaration, not a threat. This woman had laid waste to three kingdoms in a similar manner. In the face of a will that would have left any mortal man stiff with fear, Kazikli Bey bared his teeth and laughed.

  “Women are the ruin of nations, but nations never ruin them. However, just as you are now, a woman is never that great of a challenge. Princess, will you die for this girl?”

  The white shadow again kicked off the ground. Even such a man as General Bey could be forgiven for having his throat cut, so transfixing was the beauty of her flight. But he hunched over instead. A silver flash of light traced an arc across the neck of the alighting Princess.

  Black blood showered across her white gown.

  “Hoh!”

  Glimmering in the general’s hand was the knife he’d taken from Meighan’s corpse at his feet. The ten-inch, carbide-steel blade was sharpened practically down to the atom. It could cut wire as easily as a strand of hair.

  “Setsura Aki was a bit too much to ask of a man who would wield a weapon against a woman.”

  Pressing a hand against her carotid artery, Princess smiled derisively. The gushing blood had already stained half of her body. Whatever her demonic qualities, surely whatever constituted her soul must be flowing out of her as well. Except that she made no other attempt to seal the wound.

  “I do not want to use it against a woman, but I�
�ve got a bit too much on my hands.”

  General Bey brought the knife up to his mouth and licked the steel with his thick, red tongue. “As I expected, this delicious wine has been aging for four thousand years. The taste is always sweet.”

  “The time for playing is over.” She brushed her left hand against the wound. The blood ceased to flow. “Release her.”

  Her eyes glowed red, the binding charm she used to make Setsura her prisoner. That same light burned in the general’s eyes as well. He casually tried to close his eyes, but found he could not.

  The woman crossed her pale arms across her chest, forming a cross. It changed into a red hot crucifix that seared the general’s eyes.

  “I am the one who saved you. I thought you might prove useful one day. But you are a loose cannon. So for five hundred years, I sealed you away in the ship’s hold. Having defied me, there is no returning to a peaceful life in my prison. Five hundred years is long enough. Well, well. The undefeatable General Bey can spend the rest of eternity in Hades wondering if he could have ever defeated me. Now, hand her over.”

  Yakou and then Setsura—and now this foreign devil had fallen under the spell of the Demon Princess. The arms wrapped around Takako slowly loosened their grip. The Demon Princess’s crimson cross reflected in his eyes, as if the glowing brand were buried inside his pupils.

  With a heavy thud, Takako fell to his feet. A dreamlike moan rose from her body.

  “Raise the knife.” Princess’s voice was suffused with ecstatic joy. “No need to rush. The night is long. We’ll take our time exterminating your will to live little by little. Up to your fat neck. That’s it. There you go. Take your time. We’ve all the time in the world. Let’s not fuck this up.”

  The General’s outlines suddenly grew dim. He was shaking, trying to push back his own hand as it raised the knife, every fiber in his being rising to the effort.

  And yet the blade rose inexorably.

  The fire radiating from two pairs of eyes coiled around each other, tying them together. The trembling knife touched his thick throat.

  “Well done, my darling. My punishment is simple. Soon it all will end.” Princess brought her hand to her own white throat in the shape of a sword. “Off with your head!”

  Her hand swept sideways. As did the general’s hand—but upwards.

  In that instant, incandescent heat burned through her retinas and stabbed into her brain—the fire from her own eyes reflected off the flat of the combat knife.

  At the last possible second, with his last ounce of will, the general had overcome hers.

  Covering her eyes with her hand, the venomous Cleopatra took a step back. The general dropped the knife and fell to his knees. His final act of resistance had exhausted his strength.

  Neither of them moved. Ten seconds passed. Her arms fell to her sides. The red-hot light still erupted from her eyes. She looked at the kneeling General and smiled. She was about to walk away when she noticed—and turned around—

  Takako Kanan was gone.

  In those ten seconds their mutual war of magic had robbed them of their freedom, Takako must have come to her senses and made her mistake.

  “What the hell—” she growled to herself like a lioness.

  This turn of events left her without the need or desire to see any more of the general. Leaving him there, she left the parking garage in a whirlwind. As Takako’s sire, she ordinarily would not lack for means to find out where she was. Except that her currently flustered state was another matter.

  “She’s gone—”

  The still of the summer night returned and the parking garage filled with the smell of death and the sound of General Bey’s pained voice.

  “Like a child touching a hot stove with her. That is the kind of woman four thousand years of living will get you. Ha! As many flaws as there are sands on the seashore. Has God Himself commanded that no mortal should desire my company? Fine. Knowing that woman, she will soon set out to retrieve the girl. But I shall not easily let her go.”

  He came to his feet. He had started toward the casket when a voice behind him said, sounding raspy as if through a microphone, “Kazikli Bey.”

  The pod hovered at the height of a meter, aslant, and somehow lacking in boldness. It had retreated into the shadows, out of sight, and observed their death match.

  “Ah, you are still here. Do you also wish a voyage across the River Styx?” He twisted his lips and bared his fangs, expressing his irritation at discovering a witness to his own humiliation.

  “I didn’t stick around for that,” the pod answered in becalming tones. “As you observed yourself, that woman is more than any one man can handle. But women are women. As men, I’m sure there is still much we may find we have in common.”

  “What are you babbling about?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just that you have a weakness for crucifixes.”

  Bey had no comeback for this.

  “According to the legends, you loathe garlic, sunlight freezes you and turns you to dust. Get staked in your sleep, and it’s curtains. I’d think it’d all make living in this world a bit of a bitch, as long as you can’t be guaranteed of your safety during the day.”

  The five-hundred-year-old general turned his piercing evil eye on the contraption. But eventually he spat out with great irritation, “Considering your impertinent manner, do not think you will leave here alive if this provocation lacks substance.”

  “So we’re finally seeing eye to eye here?” the pod said, as if speaking to a dear friend. “We’ll work out the particulars later. But if everything goes as promised, you can have your blood and your beauty sleep, and before you wake we’ll produce the devil lady and the girl too.”

  “What a bother,” said Setsura Aki. With a mixture of exasperation and wry humor, he set off walking.

  His plan was to escort Takako to safe quarters, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. He could believe that Princess was just playing with him. He sensed something in the endless sea of silk curtains. Behind him. Attacking.

  A hundred layers of fabric shredded into ghostly wisps. The monster vaulted over them with amazing speed and closed on him.

  The air sang out. A mist of blood erupted in the air.

  Turning overhead with a swiftness God never intended any of His creations to possess, it vanished into the fluttering white on the right, trailing streams of blood.

  Setsura had gotten as well as he’d given. He clasped a hand to his bloody shoulder. The beast was as smart as it was ferocious and had gone for his dominant arm.

  He estimated its length at almost five feet, its weight at over two hundred pounds. Aside from its speed, the approximate description of a medium-sized panther. Even with laser sights, the best hunter in the world would have difficulty drawing a bead on such an animal.

  Setsura quickly closed the wound with a strand of devil wire that cauterized it at the same time. For a run of the mill infection, a booster of antibiotic “X” during his free checkup at Mephisto Hospital would suffice. It was all up to the hospital director, of course, and a patient not named Setsura Aki could expect to pay.

  The wound was most likely inflicted by a claw. Luckily, the nerves were undamaged. Setsura allowed himself to relax a tad.

  He had gone for the gut and split it open. That should slow his attacker down during the next round. In time, it should prove fatal. This led him to one conclusion—the next attack would come soon, and with everything on the line.

  Setsura placed his left hand on his shoulder. His fingers moved almost imperceptibly. The problem was moving unhindered by the wind and the curtains.

  “Well, then—” And he set off once more, clumsily brushing the curtains aside.

  He tripped as a swath of silk entwined around his ankle. Stumbling to regain his balance, he grabbed the curtain to his right. It ripped apart like tissue paper. He pitched forward.

  The beast launched itself directly at him. It had the snout of a wolf. A pair of fangs in
its wide-open mouth. Breathing heavily, it disappeared behind a swath of white fabric.

  In the next moment it split in two, lengthwise. Blood shot into the air and flew in a mass past Setsura’s face. Red roses bloomed on the curtains behind him.

  The devil wires streaming from the fingertips of his left hand had attached themselves to the surface of the cloth, transforming the gauzy fabric around him into a fluttering, razor wire stockade.

  And then grasping the direction of its headlong charge, at the last moment before contact turning the silvery blades outward—that was a no-brainer. But given the enemy’s speed, Setsura only had time to select a single curtain.

  A do or die moment.

  He didn’t look down at where he’d deposited Takako on the floor. But at the ceiling, buried in white silk.

  “I could really use a nap,” the senbei shop owner mumbled to himself.

  “Splendid work, Setsura Aki.” From somewhere among the curtains, the fabric itself seemed to cough out the words. They came from all around him, echoing off the dancing cloth. “We have met many times before, but today shall be our last. I am Kikiou.”

  “Oh, don’t be so shy.”

  “You seem to have only enough energy left to mock your elders. No matter. All work and no play makes Setsura a dull boy. However I would love to chat, things must be squared away.”

  “For one so long-lived, you’re awfully impatient,” Setsura said, rolling his shoulders. As calm and composed as ever. Though the small, stifled yawn revealed some of the tension within. This was no time to take it easy.

  “That is true, too. When we came to this city, the astrological charts revealed a bright star of doom and destruction rising. And yet it also appeared that this fateful star could be shot down. That is what sealed the decision. That is what I wagered on. I did not target you from the first because I did not know who ruled that bad star. Even after arriving here. But it is too late for you to escape. Having fallen into the universe in my pocket, I will now concentrate all my skills and strategies against it, and never let it go.”

  “What a bummer,” Setsura groused. “All-out war, is it?” A thought struck him and he added, “Princess won’t be happy. I get the feeling she isn’t through playing with me. She went out looking for Takako and should be home any minute.”