“We call it the Antitower. And down below, the wreckage in the sea. The home of Sonnerie’s forlorn souls. While it was part of the land above, it was called Namazu Shrine. But nowadays people refer to it as ‘downstairs.’”
“It’s a prison?” Johnny asked.
“I suppose you could think of it that way. It’s the place an Index will send you if you’re deemed a threat to the order of our society. Or if you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once you’re down there, there’s no coming back.”
Johnny stared down at the village for a time, speechless. He had crossed the boundary between what was real and what was unreal. A plane of existence that few humans had entered.
“Why are you showing me this?” Johnny asked.
“You asked me for my reasons for hiring you, and here they are. Ayano and Mari were the last straws. I knew there was no way those girls would have killed each other without some kind of influence from the Indices. But I couldn’t act alone. I needed someone I could trust. Someone who didn’t have any ties with Sonnerie. And for fifty thousand, I’d say I got you at a bargain.”
Johnny’s knees began to shake, and he propped himself up against a long countertop that ran across the length of the observatory. He continued to watch until the sky had turned a deep purple. But just before he had taken his fill of the scene, something off the shore caught his eye. A bubbling torrent that caused an immediate commotion among the inhabitants of the village.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Those who have transformed enter the sea, never to return. It happens every twenty-eight days. When the full moon has reached its zenith.”
“Transformed?” Johnny stood perplexed, but Aiko quickly hushed him.
“Here he comes. The master of Namazu. The leader of the forlorn village.”
At first, he looked to the broken buildings along the shore, but saw nothing. Only a wave of people rushing toward the water. But when he turned his eyes back to the sea, he saw it. Leaping from the water straight up at the Antitower—a giant catfish. It was easily over a hundred feet long, and when it crashed back down into the ocean below, it sent waves hurtling at the shore that swept a number of villagers away. Those remaining in the village raised their arms and cheered. Cheered for those that had been taken. Cheered for their Catfish God.
“The master of Namazu.” Johnny’s voice was no more than a whisper. “That means . . . ”
“Yes,” Aiko said. “The creature was once a man. And that man was my father. The Eleventh Index, who rules now over the village in the sea. The God of Namazu.”
The village with the catfish-men. They jump into the sea with a full moon.
Johnny remembered the mad words of Mei Goto, who sat staring out the window of her second-floor bedroom.
“Does anyone else know about this?” he asked.
“Only the Indices know the truth. After the quake, Ninomiya claimed that it was divine punishment for the Eleventh and those that had followed him. Nowadays, the threat of sending someone downstairs is mostly a line said by angry mothers to their misbehaving children. To the people of Sonnerie, it’s no more than a fairytale.”
Johnny’s eyes returned to the Antitower. His thoughts suddenly shifted to Mari, and where she went when she disappeared.
“The Antitower,” Johnny began. “Has anyone ever been inside?”
Aiko shook her head. “No,” she said. “No one has ever set foot inside either tower, save the Mayor, who locked himself in the moment it was completed.”
“I’m not too sure about that,” Johnny said, coming to her side. “Your mother-in-law. You know she installed Ninomiya’s movement in Ayano. That it brought her back to life.”
“Yes,” she said. “And that she tried to do the same with Mari, but failed.”
“No,” Johnny said. “She didn’t put one of Ninomiya’s machines in Mari. She put one of Itsuka’s. The only one.”
“What?” Aiko spun around. “How do you know this?”
“She told me just before she took her life. I’m not sure how she managed to get her hands on it, or even what it does. But Mari, she told me when we first spoke that she goes back to Inverness when she isn’t here.”
“Inverness?” Aiko asked.
Johnny pointed at the Antitower. “I think that’s what she was talking about. I think that’s where Mari’s been going when she’s not here. I think somehow she got trapped. Something must have gone wrong. I don’t know, but I think she’s there. The last thing that Dr. Tonimura told me was to seek out Akira Itsuka, the former Fifth Index. That he would be the only one who could help Mari.”
“What you say is impossible. All of Itsuka’s movements were destroyed by his own hand. He burned them, and then disappeared. No one knows where he is. Not even Gabriel.”
“Are you sure?” Johnny asked.
“I . . .” she hesitated.
“Think about it. If Gabriel knew and was trying to protect him, he wouldn’t tell a soul. In fact, he might be relieved by everyone believing that his father had just up and vanished.” Johnny pushed himself off the counter and started toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” Aiko asked.
“To find Gabriel. He’s the only one who can help.”
Johnny passed through the umbra first, leaving Aiko Tonimura behind. His return trip was just as brief, and after a few seconds, he emerged into the abandoned pantry. Only this time, it was occupied.
“Tokisaki, wait!” Aiko shouted after him. She emerged moments later, but was stopped in her tracks by the men that surrounded them. There were six in total. Three strong, black-suited men and Yama flanked a single older gentleman standing in the center. Johnny had seen him only once before at a distance, but he knew immediately who it was. The First Index, Isshin Hanekawa. Behind all of them was Aiko’s driver, hat in hands and eyes cast downward.
“I should have known you were behind the recent events here, Doctor,” Hanekawa said. His voice was raspy and grim. When Johnny had first seen him from afar at the cathedral days ago, he looked both powerful and intimidating. But now, no more than ten feet away, he looked elderly and frail, as if a stiff breeze might stop him in his tracks.
Johnny instinctively reached for the revolver at his side, but found the holster empty.
“Looking for this?” Yama said, holding the pistol up.
“How’s your nose doing, Yama? Still broken?”
“Funny,” he said. “But not as funny as what I’m going to do to you once we’re back at the cathedral.”
Johnny gritted his teeth and glared at Yama, who only smiled wickedly back at him. He was too weak to fight, and they had nowhere to run.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Tonimura,” the driver spoke up from the back, eyes still glued to the floor. “I couldn’t let you carry on with this criminal anymore. I had to get help.”
“You played a good game, Investigator Tokisaki. But your luck ended when you shot Zachary Finch. I’m afraid I’ll have to bring this little match to a close.”
“Master Hanekawa.” Aiko’s voice was filled with terror.
“If you value your life, and your position as the new Twelfth Index, then by God, Aiko, you’ll keep your mouth shut. I’ll be taking Investigator Tokisaki with me. Then you and I can have our own discussion.”
Johnny clenched his fists and bent his knees. There was only one way out: forward. If he could take Hanekawa hostage, he might be able to force a negotiation.
He leapt at the Index with what meager might he could muster, but before he had the chance to grab him, Yama shot out from his side and slammed Johnny’s own pistol into his temple, knocking him to the ground.
“Take him away!” Hanekawa ordered. Johnny had no strength left to resist. The last thing he saw was Yama, smiling as he gave him one last blow to the head, robbing him of consciousnes
s once again.
Thirtieth Movement
Prisoner
There was no dream nor familiar voice that roused him this time. Only the cold sting of water splashing against his face. He didn’t know how long he had been there. There were no windows in his cell, no clocks to tell the time. He sat in a hardwood chair, his hands bound tight behind him.
“He’s coming around,” a nearby voice said.
“Good,” said another. “It’s about time.”
Johnny’s eyes fluttered open, and through them, two blurry figures began to take shape.
“Hello, Investigator Tokisaki,” the withered voice of Isshin Hanekawa said. “Forgive the restraints. You gave us quite the scare, lunging at me like that.”
Johnny groaned. His forehead was still throbbing, but he managed to pull his head up and focus on the man in front of him.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“You’re in the cathedral,” the First Index replied. “This is where you will stay until we know everything that you know, at which time you will be moving on to parts unknown.”
“Parts unknown?” Johnny managed a gasp of a laugh. “You mean downstairs, with the rest of your undesirables.”
“A forgiving sentence,” he replied. “Considering that in less than a week you’ve managed to commit theft, breaking an entry, assault, and murder.”
“Two murders, Master Hanekawa. Two.”
Johnny moved his eyes past Isshin, to a robed man standing at the door behind him. Grand Luminary Ninomiya. The designer of the movement in Ayano’s chest. The manipulator behind the marionette of Sonnerie and her forbidden mechanizations. He wore a black robe emblazoned with the symbol of his office—the watch hands set at the two-o’clock position, and an incredible watch of solid gold sat upon his wrist.
“Two?” Johnny asked.
“Come now, Mr. Tokisaki,” the Grand Luminary said, floating past Isshin and coming to Johnny’s side. “Do you deny that you stabbed my man in Dr. Tonimura’s office?”
“Stabbed?” Johnny’s eyes narrowed briefly and scanned his bruised memory. “You mean the guy that Ayano killed?”
“Silence!” the Second Index shouted. He raised his wrinkled hand and struck him hard across the face.
Johnny reeled at the sudden blow, but the pain was quickly replaced by a cynical joy. Despite the impact, he had managed to keep his eyes on the First Index, and saw all he needed to see in that single moment. His eyes danced downward in the briefest instant of doubt, and his old leather lips twitched in distress.
“You didn’t know?” Johnny laughed. “Oh, God. How?”
“Insolent insect.” The Second Index struck him again, but Johnny’s hysterical laughter only increased.
“We will find out everything you know.” Isshin Hanekawa did his best to ignore Johnny’s provocations. He stood up slowly, and turned toward the door.
“Why wait?” Johnny said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about your daughter right here and now. Like how she assaulted and murdered Mari Mishima. Or how she drove a knife through that guard’s heart without so much as a flinch.”
“Hmph!” Isshin scoffed. “Don’t try to convince me that it wasn’t my daughter who was assaulted in that classroom.”
“Do you even know where she is right now?” Johnny asked. “I wonder how long you’ll be able to cover up her little killing sprees. How long until people start asking questions.”
The First Index maintained his composure, but his face had turned a bright pink. Someone was shielding him from the truth. Maybe the man himself could not come to accept his own daughter’s misdeeds. Either way, it didn’t matter. He gave one last nod to Ninomiya, then exited the room and closed the door behind him.
There was a short silence after he left. Behind him, he heard Ninomiya fiddling with something metallic, but no matter how he turned, he could not see what it was.
“It’s not nice to tease a man of his age,” Ninomiya said. “The poor First Index has been through enough.”
“I’m sure you don’t lose any sleep over it, ‘Listener’,” Johnny mocked.
“Ahh,” he said. “Not many people refer to us by the old titles these days. I wonder how long it’s been?”
Ninomiya circled back around, and pulled a chair up in front of Johnny. In his hand was a long syringe filled with a semi-translucent liquid. He gave it a couple flicks with his finger before sitting down and giving Johnny a wide, toothy grin.
“I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Tokisaki. I doubt there’s much you know that I’m not already aware of. Your questioning of Mei Goto and her sister. Your collusion with Gabriel Itsuka. Your midnight raid of the hospital with Mutsumi Baba’s little bastard. You’ve been a busy man. A true gumshoe.”
“Why, thank you,” Johnny said, trying to push his hands out of their binds.
“I want you to know that I bear you no grudge. I am just doing what needs to be done. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yeah?” Johnny smirked, “Is that what the good Mayor whispers to you through the clocktower doors? Put clockwork hearts in the chests of teenage girls? Cover up murder? Turn the Indices against themselves?”
Ninomiya laughed. He was a thinning man, nearly the same age as Hanekawa, but much more alive. He took a sick pleasure in this game. Johnny could see it in his bespectacled eyes.
“My boy,” he said. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, before I inject you with my wonderful concoction here.”
He leaned in close, until his mouth was almost touching Johnny’s right ear.
“I haven’t heard the voice of the Mayor in over twenty years,” he whispered. “Because why listen to a chained God, when I can become one myself?”
“You’re delusional,” Johnny said, but his only response was Ninomiya’s needle driving into his left leg. Johnny winced in pain, but didn’t scream. He refused Ninomiya that satisfaction.
“It’s a potent mixture,” he said. “Before I received the illustrious honor of being chosen as Second Index, I was a chemist. Quite a good one at that. But one day, my fellow Americans came and took that all away from me. My home. My job. They dumped me into that prison with the others and threw away the key.”
His mouth was nearly frothing with disdain. Hatred bled into every word, as if the memories were still swimming in the front of his mind. Without warning, he ripped the needle from Johnny’s leg and let out a pained sigh.
“We use this to ferret out the unbelievers,” he said, raising up the syringe. “To find the truth hidden in the tall grass of the mind. Don’t worry, though. In a few minutes, you’ll feel like you’re floating on a rainbow river. It’ll be delightful, but I’m afraid you won’t be fully useful for a few hours at least.”
“And then what?” Johnny asked.
Ninomiya smiled, then stood up and approached the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m afraid you’re not my only appointment this evening, Mr. Tokisaki. Resurrection is a tiresome business, and seeing as you’ve given me the pleasure of a new subject in the form of Zachary Finch, I have much work to do.”
Johnny pictured the teacher’s twisted smile as he lay dead upon his own kitchen floor. The man who had instigated the murders. The man who had whored out his own student. Johnny spat in disgust at the thought.
“You should leave him dead,” Johnny said. “It’s what he deserves.”
“Mr. Finch is a deviant and a drunk, this is true,” Ninomiya acknowledged. “But fresh corpses are so hard to come by here in Sonnerie. I would be remiss to lose the chance to experiment. Besides, I’m sure Ayano will want her dog back.”
“That dog’ll bite you, Ninomiya. He already pitted Ayano and Mari against each other, and look what happened. He’s insane.”
“He will listen to Ayano. And Ayano will listen to me. D
o you really think I hadn’t thought of this, Mr. Tokisaki?”
“Ayano will listen to you?” Johnny shook his head. “You don’t know what that girl is capable of.”
“She’s just a child. Easily manipulated, if you know which knobs to turn and buttons to press.” Ninomiya approached Johnny again, tapping his palms together. “But enough about that. Soon, you won’t have to trouble yourself with thoughts of conspiracy and betrayal. You won’t have to trouble yourself with any thoughts at all.”
“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to ask and get this over with?” Johnny barked.
“Because your mind hasn’t been sufficiently . . . lubricated yet. But believe me, in a few hours you’ll tell me everything. Including the location of Mari Mishima’s body.”
Johnny’s eyes opened wide. He had been all but certain that Mari’s corpse would have been retrieved by either the hospital staff or the police after he had made his escape with Jack Amano. Had someone else taken it entirely? Johnny’s mind raced for answers, but all he found were more questions.
“No answer, hm?” Ninomiya hummed. “Very well. Enjoy the next few hours. If the hallucinations you begin to see start asking you questions, try not to humor them. I don’t want you running out of energy before I return.”
The Second Index turned again, and Johnny made no effort to stop him. The heavy door closed behind Ninomiya after he exited, leaving him alone in his stonewall prison.
*
For at least an hour after his isolation, nothing changed. Though there was no means for him to tell the hour of the day in his cell, he felt the passing of time keenly. Every so often, he would test the strength of his bonds by pulling his arms against them as hard as he could, but his efforts ended in failure. He had neither the strength to break them, nor the dexterity to contort his hands through them. So he sat. And he waited.
The effects of the drug were all but absent for that first hour, but shortly after his fourth attempt to break free, he noticed something different about the room. A coloring of the walls. Like drops of paint leaking through the ceiling and dripping ever downward. Each streak had a different color, and before long the entire room was a kaleidoscope of exotic hues.
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