Of Cinder and Bone

by Kyoko M

  It could even be used to destroy.

  She knew from experience that it took the average person about two minutes to drown. The world record for the longest breath held underwater was an astonishing twenty-four minutes.

  No wonder he had been holding her under for around one minute and thirty seconds now.

  A huge, rough hand hauled her up by the neck out of the trough. She kept her eyes closed. The water wasn’t any semblance of clean. Dirt, hay, soggy remains of feed, and general filth floated on top of the water. It tasted foul and smelled just as bad. He’d filled it to an inch from the top and lowered her into it repeatedly while still tied to the chair, so that her own body weight helped keep her submerged.

  Harsh coughs wracked her frame. She’d learned to manage her emotions long ago, but the inherent fear of drowning involuntarily made her struggle, and struggling forced more water up her nose and into her lungs. Her dark hair clung to her forehead and down the front of her face, spilling cold water into her blouse and slacks. Three hundred and sixty seconds and counting.

  “This ends whenever you want it to, Fujioka-san,” Okegawa said with a sigh, tipping her chair back into its normal upright position. He’d changed into a simple black sleeveless top and jeans, since he knew he’d be making quite a mess. His cronies were still waiting outside, from what she could tell. Just the two of them. For now, anyway.

  “I know you told Jackson to meet you somewhere if you ever got separated. You’re a smart woman. You know all of this will end once he’s dead. Give him up and I’ll let you walk. It’s that simple. The sooner you give me the information, the sooner you can return to Shinjuku and do what you do best.” He gripped her chin and turned her face towards his. “Where did you tell him to meet you?”

  “O-Old…”

  Okegawa’s eyebrows rose in interest. “Old?”

  “Old… McDonald…”

  He frowned. “What?”

  Fujioka’s upper body shook with sparse, hoarse laughter. “Old McDonald had a farm… E-I-E-I-O…”

  Okegawa scowled. “This is very unprofessional, Fujioka-san.”

  She spat a mouthful of saliva and water in his face. “And on that farm he had a cow, E-I-E-I—”

  He shoved her back down into the water.

  Four hundred and fifty seconds and counting.

  He brought her back up. Air. Light. So precious. She gulped it in as fast as she could, ignoring the screaming pain slicing through her aching lungs.

  “Where is he, Fujioka? Where did you send him?”

  She tilted her head towards him, her dark eyes blood-shot and crazed, her lips slashed with an ugly grin. “To your mother’s house, bitch.”

  Five hundred and forty seconds and counting.

  He ripped her from the water yet again. “Do you know how many times I can do this before you die, Fujioka-san? I do. I’ve drowned my share of rats working for the yakuza. You are no different from them. Give me what I want or the last thing you’ll ever see will be the bottom of this trough.”

  Fujioka let out a weak giggle. “Death by kiddie pool. How embarrassing for me.”

  To her surprise, his hand slid away from her throat. He chuckled darkly and sat himself down on the rim of the trough. “You know, if it were anyone else, I’d have pulled out their tongue by now. It’s usually the fifth time that gets them. They start to panic and question if it’s really worth their life, if it’s possible that I’ll let them go, because of the lack of oxygen. Death makes men do crazy things.” He leaned down to her height again. “So does love.”

  Fujioka stared at him. “You think I love him?”

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t.”

  Fujioka laughed, brash and unafraid. “Love is for children, boy. Is that the bedtime story your oyabun read to you every night? That a woman only shows loyalty to the man she loves? Let’s get one thing straight before we go any further. I’m not doing this for Jack. I’m doing this for me. The yakuza have been killing Tokyo for decades. Any opportunity to stomp you out like the vermin you are is worth more than my life.”

  “And why is that, Fujioka-san?” he asked. “Is it because of your late husband?”

  Fujioka stilled.

  “Oh? I see. You are made of steel, but we both know you weren’t always. Detective Kyōya Saitō. That was his name, wasn’t it?”

  “Shut your mouth,” she whispered.

  “Outstanding in every known capacity, from what I hear. Noble. Strong. Kind-hearted. And above all, loyal. The man could not be bought for any amount, and believe me, the yakuza did make him generous offers.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Married only two years before that fateful night where he foiled a human trafficking ring and the yakuza drove him off the road and then shot him dead where he lay. He died a hero. He died alone.”

  With a roar, Fujioka threw herself at him, heedless of the restraints, of the knowledge that there was no way to hurt him while she was bound, but with every word, the memories crashed against the barrier she’d built in her mind and made her want to tear him limb from limb.

  “Say his name again!” she bellowed. “Say it and I’ll rip your throat out, you spoiled, insolent child!”

  Okegawa merely stared down at her, silent and patient, as she struggled against her bonds. He shook his head after a moment. “Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way.” He settled his hands on the arms of the chair. “Tell me where Jackson went… and I’ll tell you who murdered your husband.”

  Fujioka stopped breathing. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

  “I have been inside both the Inagawa and the Yamaguchi for over ten years,” he murmured. “Do you really believe that I can’t find out, or do you just not want to?”

  “There was no evidence,” she spat. “Nothing but tire tracks. It could have been anyone.”

  “And for all you know, it could be the man standing right outside that barn door. Give me what I want and I’ll tell you who killed him.”

  Cold, fluttering panic flooded through her body. She knew better. He was lying. Of course he was lying. He’d already worked out that the torture wouldn’t work, so he went for a sucker punch instead, preying on the open wound inside her. He didn’t know.

  Right?

  “I’ll give you time to think about it,” Okegawa said, rising to his feet. “Not long. If you refuse my offer, I’m afraid our friendly courtship will reach its end.”

  He strode out of the barn. She listened to the droplets of water hitting her shoulders and the staggered pants escaping her parted lips. The memories swarmed and swallowed her whole. She’d been so good at keeping them at bay over the years, locking them deep inside her where no one could find them. Until now, only one person had managed to drag them out of her.

  “Jack… oh God, Jack…”

  She couldn’t think straight. She was losing it. All she could do was feel; feel his hand in her hair, his lips on her throat, his heavy, solid chest grazing hers, and the way the pleasure kept building higher and higher, as if it had nowhere to go but up. They clung to each other, frantic, impulsive, impatient, and yet desperately prolonging their last night together.

  In a blur of liquid grace and power, he scooped her up across his lap until they were face to face and kissed her hard, winding those long arms around her waist. She assumed control without hesitation, and it didn’t take long, not with the frenetic pace they’d set. She screamed in triumph and set her nails into his shoulders, crushed against him, trapped, as the world fell away and everything was bliss.

  She didn’t remember him laying her back down on the mattress. She came around an eternity later with his lanky naked frame braced on one arm above her, his sweaty forehead in the crook of her neck, his free hand tracing patterns along her side. He moved above her when he felt her wake and offered her an exhausted smile, and a kiss so sweet it would have made hone
ybees jealous.

  She shoved him off her and grabbed her clothes from the floor.

  “Whoa,” Jack said, scrambling upright. “What’s gotten into you?”

  She didn’t say anything. Her hands shook as she pulled on her underwear. She hated it. A lot. It made it harder to clip the bra on.

  “Christ, what did I do?” Jack asked anxiously, standing. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she said tightly as she pulled on her shirt and jeans.

  “Then what? Talk to me, for God’s sake.”

  She got her boots on and marched towards the door.

  “Misaki!” He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “What’s wrong?”

  “You broke it!” she snarled. “You broke the rules, alright? I told you. I told you, and you didn’t listen to me.”

  “What rule?”

  “I told you not to make love to me. Ever. This is physical. No attachments. You crossed the line.”

  “Oh, so this is all my fault, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Grow up.”

  “No, I think you’re the one who needs to grow up. Shit happens. Sometimes it’s not just sex. Sometimes things get in the way, and I’m damn sure not going to apologize for the way I feel about you.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You don’t know how you feel.”

  “And neither do you,” he shot back. “What the hell is the matter with you? Why do you think the whole world’s going to end if I like you and you like me?”

  “I’m going back to Japan tomorrow. I don’t have time for goodbyes and childish affections. That’s not what my life is about.”

  “Tough shit, Fujioka. It’s not possible to live in this world without attachments.”

  She stepped in close, spitting the words into his face. “Watch me.”

  He glared back, not flinching under her piercing gaze. “Too late. It wasn’t just me back there. You felt something too. Why the hell is that so wrong?”

  “Because of my husband.”

  Jack froze. “You… you’re married?”

  “I was,” she said, and then she turned and opened the door. “He died six months ago.”

  She slammed the door behind her. He didn’t go after her.

  But she wanted him to.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHRONOPHOBIA

  Faye Worthington was used to not sleeping.

  But this was something different entirely.

  A week ago, she’d have been on her iPad watching a movie on Netflix, or typing out notes for her next research paper, and would have fallen asleep a little after midnight if she’d had a long day. Some nights, she and Kamala stayed up talking, smoking weed on the back porch swing if they were stressed, or binge-watching something if they both couldn’t sleep. Other times, she’d be staying over at whatever boy-toy she’d caught in her web for the evening, wrapped in a pair of muscular arms after a night of indulgence. When the sun went down, she lit up and the night life in Cambridge would have to sprint to keep pace with her.

  Not tonight.

  “Don’t look,” she muttered, staring up at the crystal dolphin dangling from the chain of her ceiling fan. “Don’t do it, Faye. Just don’t do it.” She shut her eyes. “Sleep. Go to sleep.”

  A minute passed. Two. Three. Five. Ten.

  She grabbed her phone, snatching it free from its charger. She pressed the button in the center, but the only thing that greeted her was the selfie she’d taken with Kamala on their trip to Clearwater Beach, Florida. No messages. No missed calls.

  She hadn’t heard from them in hours.

  “They’re investigating a dragon kidnapped by the yakuza,” she snarled at herself as she dropped the phone into her lap. “It’s not like they can stop to call every five seconds. Go to sleep, you idiot.”

  She tossed the phone back on her nightstand and rolled over onto her belly, smushing her face into the pillow with resolute finality.

  A minute passed. Two. Three. Five. Ten.

  “Fuck it,” Faye growled, and then she marched into the bathroom to find a bottle of ZzzQuil.

  A second after she’d popped the cap off the bottle, her phone rang.

  She pounced across the bedroom and answered it, breathless. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Jack said. “Did I wake you?”

  She paused and then faked a yawn. “Yeah, but it’s fine. What’s up?”

  “Uh… kind of a lot.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “A good lot or a bad lot?”

  “Both?”

  She settled the pillow over her lap and squeezed it a bit, taking a deep, calming breath. “Okay. Start from the beginning.”

  Recounting the events of the last twenty-four hours only took about fifteen minutes, surprisingly enough. She listened patiently without interrupting. She could tell he had a lot on his mind and needed a sounding board more than anything else, because it wasn’t like she was in any position to help at one o’clock in the morning on the opposite side of the planet.

  “So…” she said after he’d finished. “You left my best friend with a killer dragon in a cave on a mountain somewhere in Japan?”

  He let out a haggard sigh. “I didn’t leave her there. She’s safe for now. I’ve still got a target painted on my back and it’s not going anywhere while Fujioka’s still out there.”

  Faye hesitated. “I hate to ask, but… what do you think they’ll do to her if they have her?”

  “Try to get her to tell them where we went,” he said, sighing heavily. “Which I’ve been trying my best not to think about for the moment.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, Jack. She sounds tough. Maybe she made it out.”

  “Doubtful,” he said. “I’ve been here over an hour and she hasn’t showed. I think they took her and Yagami both.”

  “What did the authorities say?”

  Silence. Faye frowned. “Jack? What did they tell you to do?”

  “I… haven’t called them yet.”

  “Rhett Bartholomew Jackson,” she growled. “Are you insane?”

  “I know, I know, but let me explain—”

  “Explain what? If she’s out there and they have her, you have to surrender what you know. They’re the only ones who can help you.”

  “I know that, dammit. I also know that the yakuza here buy people like they’re nothing, and there’s a good chance that I’ll get us all killed if I contact the local police.”

  “What other choice do you have, Jack? You don’t know where they are. And even if you did, you can’t just ride into town and challenge them to a showdown. You have to take a leap of faith here and trust the system.”

  “Remember what happened the last time I did that? Detective Stubbs paid for it with his life.”

  Faye ran a hand through her blonde hair and suppressed the urge to continue yelling at him. “That’s why you called me, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “I know you’re supposed to keep me updated, but that’s the real reason. You wanted to call the cops, but you kept thinking about him and Evelyn.”

  “…yeah.”

  “Dammit, Jack, we talked about this. You can’t hold the world on your shoulders. You’ll get yourself killed thinking this way. Stubbs is gone. It’s a tragedy, but it happened and nothing you do will take it back. You must make the hard choice here. If the yakuza want the dragon back, then Fujioka is still alive, and they’ll find a way to contact you to bargain for her life. If you’re already working with the police, then you’ve at least got a better shot at saving her.”

  “I know. I guess… I just needed to hear it from someone I trust.”

  Faye froze. “Oh. Well. Yeah.”

  “Don’t go all mushy on me, Faye,” he said with a teasing lilt. “I thought we agreed to keep things platonic.”

  She relaxed into a smile. “Platonic, my per
fectly toned ass. I remember ‘thinly veiled flirting’ being part of the package deal.”

  “Are you coming on to me, Faye?”

  “Always. Oh, that reminds me. I ran into James McGruder at the gym tonight.”

  The line went dead for about ten seconds and then Jack very sheepishly replied with a small, “Oh.”

  “Yeah, it’s funny. When I saw him, he had a broken nose and he practically tripped over himself apologizing to me and said to also apologize to the ‘tall, scary guy’ if I saw him. Do you know any tall, scary men, Jack?”