Taylor, Diane

by Shadow Demon (Triskelion) (lit)

  “Nothing,” she looked up at me with a slight frown on her lips. “Just that the negatives and the other pictures are missing.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry Steph. The negatives and the disk stay with me for now. Call it a hunch but I’m going to need them as insurance to keep my butt safe.”

  “When has your butt ever been safe?” she smiled. “Okay, I can use these, though. Your paycheck will be in the bank tomorrow. Now, I have to get home and get some rest. That and ask the Goddess for advice on how to get you attached.”

  I shooed her out the door by raising one hand out of the water and made the motions. “Always the flirt! Get going or Rachel will be mad at you!” I warned in a lighthearted voice. “Lock the door when you leave. I’m going to be in this boiling pot for a little while longer.”

  She waved and headed back in the house. Soon the door clicked closed, then the dock gate slammed shut with its usual metallic clank. By this time, full dark had fallen, but her shadow made it’s way up the main dock. Moments later, she disappeared amongst the rest of the boats in the marina. I smiled at the empty air above my head, “Thank you, whoever you are. Stephanie was a good choice to unload my troubles to. I just hope she stays safe. This is going to get nasty soon, I fear.”

  An ethereal voice, tinged with amusement, echoed in my brain. “You don’t know the half of it.” An outline of a beautiful Asian woman formed out of the steam. Her face, so familiar, decorates the shrine at the Temple in Kamakura. Now I knew my benefactor. She nodded minutely, as if reading my thoughts. “Yes, I am She, and heed My warnings, but don’t turn down allies. Trust your instincts. If all else fails, pray. You know I will answer you.” She winked, then disappeared in the swirling moisture, leaving me to try and cope with the idea that a Goddess had taken an interest in me.

  Resting my head on the lip of the Jacuzzi, I reached back for the bucket of ice and grabbed a chunk, running it over my face. In my minds’ eye, I saw Markus again. Only this time, my body reacted. Just his green amber gaze caused liquid fire to scorch each nerve ending with heated passion. This time, I indulged in the heated fantasy. Instead of my hand directing the ice, it became Markus’s

  His hands dropped below the waterline as soft lips caressed my neck from behind. His teeth found the sensitive flesh of my earlobe, eliciting a moan of torment from my lips. I squirmed and turned my head to greedily capture his lips with my own. He groaned into my mouth as my teeth nibbled his lower lip and explored that sensual mouth of his. Meanwhile his fingers continued to work their pleasurable magic on my pussy, working closer to that little pearl of desire. The other hand came up to cup one of my breasts to pinch the nipple, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to send pins and needles of pure pleasure shooting downwards. As Markus deepened the kiss, his fingers found their mark, sliding lower and into my hot pussy. It had been too long since I’d even thought about going out with a man, much less having an erotic evening with them. That touch sent me soaring, a cloud in a mind-blowing orgasm. Only then, as the pleasure became delicious aftershocks, did I open my eye to discover that I was alone. My own hands had done what my dream Markus had done.

  I snarled a heartfelt, “Damn!” to the teakwood deck and got out of the water. “Damn, Terri. You meet a man and suddenly you’re having mind-blowing orgasms about him. What are you thinking?” I talked to myself all the way into the lukewarm shower, allowing the cool water to calm my nerves. Minutes later, my head touched the pillow. The past two days finally caught up with my active life, sucking me down into the stygian darkness of oblivion of sleep with only a sigh to mark my passage.

  Chapter Ten

  >The next morning at the marina’s cafe, I was eating my breakfast and reading the newspaper, perusing the want ads first, before my attention went to international news. Halfway down the front page, I almost choked on a swallow of coffee. There, in black and white photos, were four men. Two of which I recognized as the ones who followed me three days ago. According to the report, the men in the photos had been seen at a Tokyo brothel, drinking heavily. Then, eyewitness reports claim they were going for a drive. The next morning, fishermen found the car at the bottom of a steep cliff. Blood alcohol reports were five times the legal limit of intoxication even in the US. The article stated that the police, after piecing together all the information, claimed that they had lost control of their car and ran it off a cliff. All four men were Americans who, according to their passports, were simple tourists out for a sightseeing adventure away from their jobs. Pending the notification of their next of kin, the newspaper had, mercifully withheld the names of the deceased.

  Frowning, I looked through the rest of the paper for any more indications of what happened. Finding it on a sidebar article, it said that troublemakers had set fire to Ashi Nogura’s mountain cabin. It mentioned the place had been a total loss and a search for the arsonists responsible is still an ongoing event. The article went on to say no one inhabited the building when it caught fire. Shaking my head, I left the cafe to make a small side trip to the local cell phone shop, paying up front for a new phone. One that had a few security goodies the old one never had. Back at the boat, the clock read eleven am. It would be four am in Japan, I thought, no need to wake him on this. Later this evening, my time, seemed like a better time to call. For now, though, there were other things on my mind. I went to the headboard of my bed to retrieve the disks from the hiding place. The pictures were something that I could do in the meantime. Booting up the laptop and arranging the pictures in chronological order took but a few minutes. Enough time for me to grab coffee, a pad of paper and pen, then begin the long process of finding out who in hell wanted me dead.

  Hours, and several pots of coffee later, frustration became imminent. I duplicated the original photos using my favorite photo-editing program after having cropped and adjusted the photos to portrait quality. Then my eye studied each face, each politician and every individual face for any sign that might be the key to unlocking the mystery of my fate.

  After finishing the general inspection, I burned all the images onto a CD and went back to square one. This time, to study the backgrounds. Maybe it wasn’t a person, but a thing or a place. Three disks filled with close-ups of everything from teeth caps, to earrings, to tie pins and unusual jewelry. Anything that could be cleaned and blown up. It took a while and, coming up for air, glanced at the time. Two o’clock in the afternoon. “Seven am, Tokyo time,” I murmured, then reached for the phone and called Nogura. It took five minutes for the connection to go through. After the usual patient courtesies of Japanese society, my call went through. After exchanging pleasantries, Nogura’s manservant asked me to please hold, as he’d been told to wake the Master whenever I called.

  I was sipping a mug of warm coffee when Nogura picked up the phone. “Greetings, Daughter. How are you?”

  I smiled, “Doing fine, Ashi-sama. I have a couple questions to ask.” I spoke in Japanese, just to keep practice.

  “Of course, ask away while I eat my breakfast.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice. Something that wouldn’t be there for long.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you, but I think this would be of some interest to you.” I hesitated, “Did you read the newspaper yesterday?” He was a almost a full day ahead of me in time zones. I needed to make sure which day the news showed up on his doorstep.

  A pause on his end. “Yes, I did. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  I had to shake my head, “A shame that four American tourists died on the road to Kamakura. Two of them looked oddly familiar to me. I think they were at the market during my stay.” Two can play that game, I smiled to myself.

  “I may go to the shrine and make an offering for their Kami, then. Not to mention reassure the townspeople that everything will be fine.” Meaning he’d be asking polite questions of those who’d helped me.

  “You might try the owner of Tanaka’s Sushi restaurant, and the thread seller named Ishii.” I grinned, remembering them both fondly. “Those two c
an help you calm ruffled feathers and soothe nerves.”

  “Of course, “he responded, “However, I did hear that you had quite an interesting, reunion with your father. Are you all right?”

  “We had a discussion about my eye and I gave my condolences to the father of your daughter’s fiancé, Stephen Mentari.” I sighed. “By the way, have they caught the arsonists yet?”

  “I am unfamiliar with that term.” A note of warning flavored his words. Sometimes, Ashi Nogura was good at conveying a lot of emotions just with a certain turn of word or inflection of the voice. It made listening to him over the phone much easier. Especially if people were in the room.

  I tensed slightly, “The paper mentioned that your mountain cabin went up in flames. My

  condolences on your loss, Father. A terrible thing.” “Thank you.” He murmured. “Well, I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was fine on your end. Give my best to

  your family from me.” I had a thought. “And give your pilot a raise, a smooth flight.” He laughed, “Your wish is my command, Daughter, now get going before I embarrass myself in

  front of my servants!” Meaning there were ears listening. “Sayonara, Ashi-Sama.” “Watch your back.” A click and an angry buzz of a dial tone in my ear were his good-byes to

  me. I set the phone down and finished up with the laptop. A loud buzz near the door made me jump about a foot. The intercom system to the front gate sounded off a second time before my mind recognized the sound. I stashed the disks in their cubbyhole before jumping off the bed and hitting the respond button near the doorframe.

  “Hello?>” A hesitant voice on the other end spoke. “Um, I’m looking for a Terri Montegard?” “Who are you?” I asked suspiciously. “Federal Express. I have a package for you. But I need your signature before I can release it.”

  He sounded nervous. “Okay, stay there, I’ll be right out.” I snapped off the intercom and put on a jacket before stepping out into the afternoon chill.

  Standing at the top of the dock, a FedEx man waited with an oblong box that looked to be about five feet long. Approaching the gate, I double-checked the immediate surroundings. Paranoid? Me? Nah! Well, maybe just a little bit.

  I unlocked the gate and stepped out. “I’m Terri Montegard.” He’d been staring at the eye patch when the sound of my voice startled him. “Sign here?” he

  asked, then showed me his ID. I smiled at him. “I wasn’t going to ask.” He chuckled. “My instructions were to show you my ID so that you would know I’m

  legitimate.”

  I took down the info on him, shaking my head. I wrote it on the box, actually. “Who the hell is sending me packages? My birthday isn’t till the end of the month on Halloween.” The box had no return address on it.

  The kid shrugged in his jacket. “Don’t know, all I do is deliver the stuff and try not to freeze my butt off.”

  I chuckled. “Thank you for the delivery. Now get back to your truck and turn on the heater. It’s the flu season, you know.”

  Back in the warmth of my home with the doors locked, this mysterious package received my full attention. Suspicious, I grabbed my digital and took pictures of it from every angle. Next, gloves and towels, in case there were fingerprints or something more dangerous coating the box. My hands went over the whole box, checking for trips, fuses, or other sorts of nasty surprises traps. You’ve seen the TV shows. Finally, I took a knife and slowly cut the binding tape. The top lifted slightly as the tape parted, allowing enough space to run my fingers down the inside of the box. Nothing. That didn’t mean there couldn’t be a nasty surprise waiting for me to relax. More pictures of the box, then the time came to lift the top and peer inside. On top of the objects, wrapped securely in paper and bubble wrap, an origami crane with the words ‘Read Me’ on the wings.

  “Damn,” I grumbled, “who the hell are you!” Glaring at the crane, as if it would give me the answers I wanted. An end to this mystery.

  “The Shadow Demon.” A voice said, making me jump and drop the knife, which missed impaling my foot by an inch.

  “Will you at least warn me before you start talking in my head?” My heartbeat took a few moments to resume it‘s normal pace. “And it would help if I had a name to give you. Amaterasu is kind of a mouthful for this gaijin. No offense meant.”

  The sound of genuine laughter erupted from across the room and I turned to see Her sitting in my chair “I congratulate you on your discovery of my name. You may call me whatever you like. Amaterasu is just one of many names. As your friend, Stephanie said, I have many faces. I am all of them, I just look different to each set of eyes.”

  I sighed. “An answer, yet not. How about I just call you Goddess? That way I won’t be surprised if things get a bit weird. Is that okay?” At Her nod, I held up the crane. “Now what’s this about the Shadow Demon?”

  “The Kage Oni is a highly paid assassin. No one knows his true name and even the Yakuza fear to whisper about him. His calling card is an origami piece. No two contracts have the same figure. She nodded at the crane in my hand, “Yours, it seems, is unique. He’s never used the same figure twice and he’s never missed his target. You might read what he has to say.”

  I looked down at the crane and unfolded the beautiful piece of artwork, “I must be insane.”

  Silence befell my comment. An empty chair greeted me when I looked up. “Why am I not surprised?” My gaze lowered to the note on the countertop, my hands flattened the note so that it could be read clearly:

  Terri, the swords aren’t real, but my offer is. If you want to find out more, meet me at the Marakesh at 8 o’clock. Tell the matre’d your name. He’ll know what to do.

  I read it a second time, then glanced at the clock. Two thirty. Plenty of time. Lifting out the first item in the box, my jaw dropped in shock, a wooden sword stand. It appeared to be made with black walnut wood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl cranes on both sides. I moved some stuff off the shelf near the back window, carefully assembling the pieces while marveling at the craftsmanship. Next, were the three other objects in the box. There, nestled in paper and plastic, a full set of Samurai blades stared up at me. The Wakizashi, the Katana, and the Tanto. After unwrapping each one, I put them in their rightful place on the stand. All the swords had black chord wrapped handles, but the scabbard was a dark crimson color, also inlaid with mother-of-pearl cranes.

  Slowly, I slid the Tanto partway out of it’s scabbard to examine the work and whistled softly, “Not real my ass! These things are ready to slice and dice.” After testing the edge of the first blade, and cutting my finger on the edge, a perverse masochistic tendency had me repeating the process with the other two. After finishing with the Wakizashi, I put it back in it’s proper place with a sigh. Too much had happened at once for me to think straight and it annoyed me. Almost to the point where saying the hell with it and remaining at home seemed like a very good idea. But, the note, the origami, and the swords had me very curious. Oh, and let us not forget the Goddess that dispenses the occasionally useful information.

  The need to know outweighed my urge to be slightly annoyed with things beyond my control. Gathering all the trash together, I copied the ID number for the delivery kid onto a piece of paper before the box went out to the trash. Wrestling two garbage bags and a broken down box to the trash bin became a balancing act up to the gate. Once there, however, it provided the balance needed to get to the street level of the Marina. I had just finished dropping everything into the dumpster when the hairs on my neck started to bristle. Turning quickly, my body reacted instinctively before my brain could register the face. I barely had time to check my swing, because the face belonged to my father. Warning flags went up in my brain when he stepped into a patch of afternoon sunlight.

  “What do you want?” I asked coldly, not letting down my guard.

  He opened his mouth, then frowned as he stared at me. Like he just now noticed that I was still on the defensive, “Now Terri. I’m willing to fo
rgive you for your outburst in front of Stephen Mentari.

  But I am your father and you will obey me. Now, you and I are going to go somewhere quiet and you will answer all my questions.” Light from the fading afternoon sun highlighted the dilated pupils of a person on drugs. When he breathed, the sour stench of alcohol on his breath made my stomach churn.

  I had never seen him do drugs or anything like that in my life and it made me more than a little cautious. Taking two steps out of his reach and away from the smell, my eye was on his hands. “When you sober up and come down off of whatever drugs you’re taking at this point, Dad, then you and I will talk. You want to tell me why you’re doing something you swore you’d never do?”

  He frowned at me, “I don’t have to explain anything to you. But I’ll tell you this. Them slant eyed bastards do make a good brand of alcohol.” He breathed on me a bit more while I tried not to gag at the stench.

  “And why were you drinking alcohol with people you are so bigoted against?” Yeah, I know that pushing those buttons were going to cause trouble, but part of me needed to keep him talking and not trying something else.

  He stumbled against the alley wall, then shook his head as if to clear it. “An enemy of my enemy is my friend,” his cold voice sent chills up my spine seconds before he leapt for me with surprising speed. “And you, little whore, are going to be coming with me to answer my questions.” His actions took me by surprise. Just enough so he had me pinned between him and the dumpster. In a purely reflexive action, my knee jack hammered him between his legs, but he sidestepped that. “No you don’t. You’re not going to pull that one on me again.” With that, he proceeded to use his fists on my ribcage.

  Stunned, it wasn’t until the first couple punches connected with the ribs, that realization dawned. He meant to beat me to death. I screamed…“No!” and lunged forward, hooking my right foot behind his left ankle and shoved. He went backwards and I rode him down with a hand on his face. We hit the ground, and his head made solid contact with the ground a couple times. The sound reminded me of a bowling ball hitting concrete. He still kept on hitting me with body shots, though they were less effective. Great, I thought as his fist clipped my chin hard enough to make my teeth rattle, the bastard’s on PCP or something. Goddess help me, he’s going to kill me. Fighting with every ounce of strength I had, my blows didn’t seem to have any effect. Not even when his nose popped like a ripe tomato. Grabbing his nuts only made him scream in agony and hammer away more.