by J. F. Holmes
Standing with an effort, John began to look around the apartment. Sam also stood with difficulty and retrieved his shotgun. They all heard raised voices from the upper floors, calling out in questioning tones. Motioning at the door, Sam said, “We have to go. The neighbors will be here soon, and more cops. I doubt Takeshi was here at all, and if even if he was, he’s gone now.”
Holstering his pistol, John ran one hand through his hair as he glanced one more time around the room. He winced as the motion pulled at the wounds on his chest, and he sighed in frustration. “Dammit. I’m really starting to hate this guy.”
Keeping the shotgun tight against his leg to conceal it, Sam led the way to the back door. The body of the creature was still in the position in which it had fallen, and they quickly made their way to the alley, and then across the street to where their car was parked.
~~~~~
Sam and Ham helped John sit on the bed in his room. The scratches on John’s chest had soaked the shirt and jacket completely, and he was moving very stiffly. His friend went to the bathroom sink and soaked a hand towel with water.
“Let’s get that shirt off you and clean that out. No telling what was on her claws.”
John winced and gasped as the motion of pulling his arm out of the sleeve stretched the torn muscles and skin. “Forget it,” he panted. “Cut it off. It’s ruined anyway.”
Sam hesitated, but Ham pulled a slim, pointed dagger from a sheath on his wrist. He stepped forward, but stopped at the looks from the other two. “What? You guys ain’t never seen a knife before?”
“I shouldn’t be surprised at you having a knife like that.” John smiled tiredly and lifted his arms slightly. “I probably assumed it would be a switchblade. Cut away.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ham asked, but used the slim Fairbairn–Sykes to start slicing away the sleeves. The jacket fell away from John’s shoulder, and then he set to work on the shirt. Once they were gone, Sam went to work on the wounds.
Ham watched the whole affair with measuring eyes. “You boys get cut up like this a lot, going after these things?”
Sam looked at John briefly. He smiled back at his friend, true amusement in his eyes. Turning back to Ham as he cleaned the wounds, he said, “It varies. John more than most.”
“Fuck you, Airedale,” John said in a tired voice. “What was that you were toting back there?”
Ham smiled. “Cut down BAR. Figgered if it was good enough for Clyde Barrow, it’s good enough for me. Makes it easier to carry, too.” suspect NIS
Several minutes later, the towel was stained red, but the wounds were clean and bandaged from a kit Sam had fetched from his room. “Boy Scouts are always prepared,” he proclaimed to John, who only grunted assent. “I prescribe lots of bed rest and plenty to drink. Water, that is. And you won’t listen to me, and you’ll be dragging us onto the street bright and early to hunt down you-know-who.”
Ham pulled a chair out and sat backward on it. “Yeah, about that. Who’s this bigwig you’re—we’re hunting.”
John motioned to the musette bag sitting in the closet. “Show him the pictures, Sam.”
As Ham examined the photographs, John explained about Takeshi and the mission. When he was done, the blonde man looked him in the eye and said, “I ain’t no assassin. Not a triggerman neither.”
From where he was lying on the bed, propped up by several pillows Sam had appropriated from other rooms, John replied calmly, “Yeah, but you swore an oath to defend the Constitution from all enemies. This isn’t an assassination or murder; it’s war. A conflict with supernatural and unholy powers that has been going on since before the United States was founded. These things don’t respect human life. We’re just tools, or playthings, or even food. As you said before, we have to stop them, because we’re the ones who can do it. And humans who consort with these creatures? They’ve given up their humanity and made common cause with the side of evil.”
A heavy silence followed his words as Ham looked from him to Sam. The pilot’s face was solemn, and he nodded once. Ham blew out a long breath. “Wow. You sure know how to hit a guy in the gut. And how’d you know I was in the service?”
John smiled. “Just a gut feeling. Army or Navy?”
“Navy. Mustang, with five years enlisted, then commissioned from the ranks. Currently serving in the Cavite Quartermaster shop.”
“Where you have access to all kinds of things.”
“Yeah, I know some people who can get things. I take care of my people, and I take care of other kinds of people.” He paused, then laughed. “Okay, you got me. And yeah, I’m in for putting the fix on this Takeshi guy. What the hell, we’re gonna be at war with Japan sooner or later.”
~~~~~
Kasumi stood over the sleeping form, tasting his dreams. His morality is so delicious. If I only had a month to work on him, oh, the fall to depravity I could bring him to. But she didn’t have a month. Nor even a week. No, she had to have something she could use today, right now. This one was not suitable. Perhaps the other one…
Gaining access to the hotel the Americans were staying in was child’s play. A simple spell of familiarity on the clerk so that she looked like someone he expected to see. Then up the stairs to the rooms her spirit had found. Another spell on the simple locks, opening them with ease. The American pilot was her first target, and she had hoped he was like the ones from her homeland—young, cocky, full of themselves, and ready to prey on any reasonably attractive female. She could have worked herself into his dreams, an exotic woman to entice, attract, snare, and learn his weaknesses. But this one, this Samuel, he was that rare quality of man. Nearly pure in thought, conscientious of his family and friends, and considerate in deed.
She shuddered in revulsion at the touch of his mind, even though a small part of her, the lonely remaining human part, reveled in the find. If only one such as he…
The demon in her quashed that thought before it finished, pummeling the human frailty within with images of her past; rape, violence, abuse. The things that pushed her to seek her revenge. Then the demon brought back images of the revenge she had inflicted on those men. Men bloodied and beaten, forced into postures of submission and subservience. Bodies mutilated and flayed, and their blood used to power her spells. The human part shrank from all of it, back into the mental box she had constructed to keep it hidden away.
Kasumi breathed deeply, composing herself. She still had work to do tonight. Silently, she left Sam’s room, the door enspelled to close silently and lock again. The lock and hinges on John’s door moved just as easily, and the scent of his blood hit her as she entered. Though it was dark with only a bit of moonlight coming in through the small window, she unerringly crossed the room to the small bathroom. There, in the tub, was the bloody shirt and towel.
His blood was cold and lifeless now, but she still brought the shirt to her lips and tasted it. It would make her connection to him stronger, and she could do more in his dreams. She sucked lightly on the fabric, drawing more blood into her mouth and sampling the taste. After a few minutes, she reluctantly dropped the shirt back into the tub and moved over to his bed.
He stirred restlessly in his sleep, his wounds obviously paining him. The bandages on his chest were spotted with fresh blood, and he lay on top of the sheet and blanket, wearing only boxer shorts. She drew in a breath, cupped her hands, and blew gently on them. A shower of blue sparks, gently glowing in the darkness, cascaded down to land on his face. His skin absorbed them quickly, and she closed her eyes, linking her mind to his with the spell.
Immediately she was assaulted with waves of terror and pain. He was reliving a memory in the form of a dream. A creature with leathery skin and needle-sharp fangs was bent over him, going for his throat. She watched as he got his feet between them and pushed sharply, sending the creature flying backward into a wooden table. The table shattered under the impact, pieces of wood everywhere, and the creature rolled back to its feet and charged at h
im.
They fought in the dream, wrestling back and forth until he was able to grab a sharp piece of wood, a table leg, and thrust it into the creature’s chest. He twisted and ground it into the creature’s heart, and it struggled weakly against the mortal wound. Amazingly, he was crying as he did so.
The creature’s face changed after it died into that of a pretty young Western woman. Her eyes were fixed in death, all vestiges gone of the evil influence. Kasumi recognized the type of creature, if not the specific kind. The poor woman had likely fallen under its influence, and it had captured her soul and changed her into one of its kind. Killing her was a mercy. Ironic that she was lucky enough to have someone who cared enough about her to perform that mercy. And that gave her what she needed.
Chant in a soft voice, barely a whisper, she began to cast her spells. His dreams changed, subtly so he would not recognize it. She softened his pain, but intensified his sorrow, and started changing the face of the woman to hers. When the time came, if she needed to immobilize or even incapacitate him, she could change her looks to that of his dead woman, the one he’d killed, and he would recognize her from his dreams. The shock of seeing the person he loved—whom he thought he’d killed—come back to life would be enough to ensure he hesitated at the very least, or did not act at all.
Before she was done with the spell, he gasped in his sleep. It was almost a sob, a cry for help. She froze, her motions incomplete, as she waited to hear what his outburst might bring. The door across the hall creaked as it opened, and she turned her spell into one of concealment. In the shadows she would remain unnoticed, and she quickly but quietly moved to stand next to the dresser, where its bulk would provide cover.
However, it was hard to find any shadows when Sam swung open the door and switched on the light. Several things happened at once. John awoke with a start, hand diving under his pillow. Kasumi ran for the door, her demon-enhanced speed turning her motion into a blur. Sam was knocked aside as she fled through the door, and John was left with no target as he aimed his pistol around the room.
“What…what the hell was that?” Sam gasped as he rubbed his shoulder. “Are you okay? I heard you cry out.”
John’s heart was racing, first from the dream, and then from the startlement of how he was awakened. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just having a bad dream.”
“About Anna?”
He nodded. “At least, I thought I was having the dream. With that creature here, something seemed different than before.” He swung out of bed and headed for the dresser. At this point, he didn’t care who saw. Pulling open the drawer, he fished out the flask and took a healthy swallow.
He wasn’t surprised when Sam took the flask from his hand, but that Sam only took a swallow himself. Perhaps not as big as his. Handing it back to John, his friend patted him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check those bandages. Knowing you, there’s probably more bleeding.”
3
Manila, Philippine Islands, 7 December 1941
Sam looked up from his breakfast as John walked into the room. Despite being freshly showered and shaved, his gait was slow and his demeanor distracted. He absently grabbed a cup of coffee from the urn at the counter and headed toward Sam.
“Did you get any sleep after…” Sam paused, at a loss for words to describe last night’s encounter with the supernatural.
John set his cup down on the table and sat heavily in the chair. “Not much. Between that and this”—and he waved a hand at the bandages on his chest—”it’s a wonder I got any sleep at all. But I’m okay.”
Sam pursed his lips as if to say more, but nodded and motioned toward the door. “Speak of the devil.”
John turned to see Ham walking into the dining room, dressed in civilian clothes as well. He headed straight for their table after getting a cup of coffee for himself.
“Mornin’. You two look like you slept like shit.”
Sam snorted. “We had some unexpected company last night.” He briefly relayed the night’s encounter to Ham.
“Damn. That’s…they can do that? Walk into your dreams?”
Sighing, John massaged his face with his hands. “Apparently so. She was trying to play some tricks on me with…people I know. Knew. Anyway, we now have some idea of the kind of magical muscle Takeshi is using.”
“Now if we only knew where your boy is hiding out.”
“Yeah. I think the plan today is for Sam and me to drive around this morning, looking for likely places that Takeshi would hole up. Places that might not attract too much attention.”
Ham spun the coffee cup around on the counter. “You might wanna be careful of that. Plenty of normal people in not-so-nice businesses fit that bill, and they won’t be happy with you snooping around.”
“We’ll be careful. We’re not looking to engage him at this point, just find him, or some likely places we can stake out. Ham, if you could touch base with your people, maybe they’ve noticed something. We’ll meet back here after lunch and talk about what we’ve found.”
~~~~~
Three frustrated men sat around the hotel dining room table later that day, staring morosely at the food there, untouched.
“I hate ta be the one to say it, but this guy is good.” Ham sighed. “Ain’t none of my fish got a nibble on nothing. It’s like he’s a ghost.” There was a pause. “He ain’t, is he? A ghost, I mean?”
John shook his head tiredly. “No, he’s as flesh and blood as us. He’s just got some real horsepower under the hood of his operation. Namely his tame spook. If she can get into our dreams, what else can she do? We already suspect she’s teased out some classified information, probably on operational plans and deployments. And she was doing it for weeks before Ron suspected there might be something spooky. The guys she…spelled, entranced, whatever, they didn’t even think they were doing anything wrong, even when confronted by evidence otherwise.”
“So where does that leave us? We don’t even know their timeline.” Sam toyed with his fork, but didn’t eat anything.
“Right where we started.” They all looked up as Sam’s name was called, but it was only the desk clerk, motioning him to the front. As Sam went to see what he wanted, Ham started shoveling food onto his plate.
“Well, I ain’t givin’ up. This little rat bastard is on my territory now. He can hide for now, but I got connections all over this city. They’ll find him.”
“Yeah, but I got the feeling we need to do it soon. Takeshi’s pattern is that he doesn’t show his cards until he’s ready to clean you out. With his spook operating in the open, I think he’s almost done with his game.”
Sam came back and dropped an envelope on the table. “Desk clerk had this for us. No name on the outside, and he doesn’t remember who left it with him.”
The Marine considered the envelope as if it would bite him. Finally, with a sigh, he picked it up and opened the flap. It popped open as if held by the tiniest amount of glue, and inside was single, folded slip of paper. He slid it out and opened it.
Old Manila Café
5 pm
There was no signature, but also no doubt in John’s mind who it was from. He showed it to the others. “Thinks pretty highly of himself, if he thinks we’re going to fall for that. Not after last time.”
John considered the note carefully. “I think I’m going to meet him.”
“Are you crazy? What if he’s got a hit squad ready?”
“In broad daylight on a crowded street? Besides, he could have had us both whacked last night by his creature.” He tossed the note onto the table. “No, I think he wants to gloat in front of us. To show us that he can walk the streets by day with impunity, that there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Well, there is nothing we can do about it, right?”
“Maybe there is.” Pushing the note to Ham, he asked, “What do you know about this place?”
He read the note and shrugged. “It’s near the main drag. Fairly popular place, ‘specially at suppe
rtime. You thinking of meetin’ up with him? Get his measure?”
“That’s about right. You say you have people all over the city. I assume you mean locals. If they got a look at Takeshi, could they follow him, or even track him back to wherever he’s using for his base?”
Ham smiled. “You bet. Then we put paid on him and his spooky friends?”
“Close. I’ll head out to the Fourth Marine encampment before we go in and round up some heavier firepower. After last night, I don’t want to go in unprepared. As far as they’ll know, it’s just a Japanese agent the Office of Naval Intelligence wants apprehended. Anyone or anything that gets in the way is fair game.”
~~~~~
John glared up at the lean Asian man in a neat white suit who sat down at the sidewalk café table across from him. He suspected Takeshi wanted to evaluate his opposition, so he decided to give him what he expected. “You’ve got some big balls, wanting to meet like this.”
The man smiled faintly. “And you, despite your education, talk like a common enlisted soldier. I’m disappointed.” His English had a West Coast accent. “Really, if this is the best American Naval Intelligence can send, this escapade won’t be much fun.”
“Fuck you, it’s Marine, not soldier. That low class enough for you?”
Takeshi laughed softly. “Oh, you do have fighting spirit. But a warrior needs more than just bravado in face of the enemy, Captain Torres.”
“I’ve taken down three of your creatures already.” John glared back, his body hunched forward over the table.
Leaning back in his chair with an air of nonchalance, the Japanese agent waved his hand dismissively. “Merely the least of our assets. Local talent, not worth much.” He motioned at his jacket pocket, and when John nodded, pulled out a package of cigarettes and a lighter. He held out the pack to John, who shook his head curtly.