The Gate of Sorrows

by Miyuki Miyabe

  Her sassy tone and sneering expression belied her crime: murder and mutilation.

  “You were in Shibuya. Someone must’ve seen the two of you together. There are cameras all over that part of town.”

  Kotaro wasn’t so much trying to convince her as he was trying to keep his balance emotionally. He had to keep talking.

  “You must’ve been seen with her. Somewhere there’s got to be footage of you.”

  “So what? I changed my hair and clothes. I rented the car—”

  “Then you had to show your driver’s license. Or did you whip up a fake ID? I think that’s a little out of your league.”

  She flinched and fell silent.

  “You’re a fool, you know. Rental cars can be traced too, by model and license plate number. The police will know you rented it.”

  “Did I screw up?” Her face contorted with anxiety.

  Kotaro was beyond rage and amazement. He felt something close to despair. The woman was an idiot, with a hot air balloon for a brain and the conscience of an ant.

  This scum murdered my angel.

  “But I haven’t done anything to attract suspicion.” She seemed genuinely perplexed. “I was always nice to Ayuko, and I never let anyone know about me and Seigo.”

  Kotaro almost staggered with surprise. “What about you and Seigo?”

  “I was the one he really loved,” she declared, thrusting her chin out proudly. “Right from the beginning. But Ayuko got her hooks into him and wouldn’t let go. Seigo was too nice a guy to cut her off. So we had to break up. I got married, but Seigo didn’t, for me. But getting married just made me realize I was lying to myself. Seigo Maki is the only man I ever loved. So I got a divorce. That was three years ago. After that, I started seeing Seigo again.

  “Of course Ayuko tried to come between us. She went and set up a company with Seigo. It was her way of making sure he’d never get away from her. But he was in love with me. That’s why he never married her, no matter how hard she pushed him.”

  “Then why were they engaged?”

  “That’s a lie!” Her voice was shrill. She stared daggers at him. “That whole thing was Ayuko’s plot. Sei-chan had nowhere to turn. He needed my help. That’s why I decided we had to stop putting up with her.”

  She spoke with conviction. The cold didn’t seem to bother her now. She was full of vitality, with a faint aura that surrounded her with light.

  “We had to stop being nice to her. It was time for her to face reality.”

  I’d like to throw those words right back in your face.

  The aura that surrounded her was the color of madness. She had lost her ability to stay grounded in the real world. Instead, she’d spent years cultivating her craving until it became a delusion. This delusion, always bubbling and fermenting in her mind, finally penetrated her heart, becoming—for her—the sweetest fantasy imaginable. But for others who refused to share her fantasy, it was deadly poison.

  Her craving was an illusion. That was the sickening truth.

  Seigo almost certainly hadn’t taken much notice of her feelings. Even if he’d realized how she felt, he would have intentionally ignored it. That would’ve been the appropriate response, and it should’ve been enough. He’d been with Ayuko since college; everyone knew they were a couple.

  There was no room between them for Keiko. That was why she had practiced deception. But what she’d hidden was not a relationship with Seigo, but her real feelings. She had deceived all of her friends. Above all, she could never reveal her feelings to Ayuko.

  And she had succeeded, cruelly so, for years on end.

  I’m meeting a friend, Ayuko had said.

  Ayuko had suspected nothing. She’d been happy to get the call, happy to change her plans for the evening. She was Keiko’s friend.

  At the wake, in the mourner’s lounge, Keiko had seemed like a normal adult woman. Without Galla’s eye, Kotaro would have perceived her only as good friend of Ayuko.

  So many men had joined the touring club just to get close to Ayuko and Keiko. Two beautiful college friends. How could anyone have sensed the darkness in the heart of one of them, a darkness that would grow like a tumor?

  Keiko herself probably didn’t know when her obsession had become a delusion. When did she fall in love with him? Why did she love him? Why couldn’t she give up her dream of being with him? What was it she really wanted from him?

  It doesn’t matter. Sei-chan, please want me. Not Ayuko.

  Craving.

  Kotaro understood. Craving was the maggot that had burrowed into her heart. Irresistible craving, more powerful than conscience or morals.

  Keiko was an empty husk. Her craving had consumed her completely.

  She squatted down again with her arms around her knees. Perhaps her own words had shocked her. She gazed up at him with a strangely demure expression.

  “Galla.” Kotaro spoke with his back to the gargoyle. “Did you hear her?”

  Keiko blinked with incomprehension. “Who are you talking to?”

  He ignored her. “I can see her aura.”

  As Keiko looked around, bewildered, Kotaro saw Galla’s answer.

  It is craving’s glow.

  “So that’s the energy you’ve been gathering.”

  The glow was powerful. It pulsed with pure power.

  Kotaro glanced over his shoulder. Galla hadn’t moved. She was still the gargoyle.

  “Look, Galla. The police are going to catch her sooner or later. In my country—my region—there’s no way a criminal this stupid can avoid getting caught for long.”

  Keiko came to a kneeling position on the concrete with her back straight. She eyed Kotaro with suspicion and disgust. “Look, are you okay?”

  I’m okay. You’re not okay.

  “So—Galla. One thing worries me. What if she forgets why she killed Ayuko after you harvest her craving? Won’t that make it impossible for her to explain her motivation? It’s going to make the investigation a lot harder.”

  What do you ask of me? Galla was matter-of-fact.

  Kotaro shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t expect you to wait, but it might be the best thing. I think we should wait till the police have so much evidence, so much proof that she killed Ayuko and mutilated her, that she has no choice but to confess.

  “I want her to tell the cops exactly what she told me. After that you can turn her into a zombie. Do what you did to Shigenori—draw her fangs. Once she’s confessed, that might be the best thing for her.”

  Is that truly your heart’s desire?

  “Yes. I want her to experience what the cops do to her, just the way she is now.”

  “Hello? Anyone home?” Keiko was almost shouting. “Your name is Mishima, right? Are you in a trance or something? You’re creeping me out.”

  Kotaro smiled at the murderer on her knees before him. “I’m finished. You can go. Your time’s up. I don’t have to do a thing.”

  She eyed him doubtfully. “What do you expect me to do?”

  He laughed. “Anything. Nothing. I don’t care. Just be the idiot you are. You’re perfect.”

  “You’re not going to feed me to the police?”

  “I’m not going to do anything. Listen carefully, Keiko Tashiro. I don’t have to do anything. The police will find you soon enough without my help.”

  “But how? Where did I screw up?”

  That was enough. Kotaro finally lost his head.

  “Everywhere! From start to finish! Your whole life is one big fucking screwup! Even if you were a hundred times better than you are, you’d be worth less than the dirt under Ayuko’s fingernails. I hope you live a long time. You’re going to be an empty shell while you rot in prison.” He glared at her furiously.

  Suddenly she burst out laughing. She covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook with mirth. Fina
lly, she caught her breath. “Oh, Mr. Mishima. You do need help.”

  She stood up and came closer, looking cheeky. She nudged him coquettishly.

  “Are you all mad about Ayuko? Did you bring me here to get revenge? Or are you angry I made poor little Seigo suffer? Is that it?”

  What—so you knew he was in love with her!

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Kotaro was grim. “Ayuko and Seigo, they’re good people. You’ll never be anywhere near as good—”

  “Ooh, very impressive. Well done.” She clapped her hands and laughed. “I just want you to know that everything I said is true. I don’t know why. Maybe you just talk a good game. It doesn’t make you any less stupid. Or maybe you’re just shortsighted.

  “You think the police are going to catch me, and I’ll tell them all about why and how I killed her.” She moved closer, so he could feel her breath. “Now, how do you think that’s going to make your beloved Seigo feel? I think he’s going to blame himself for everything. For her death, and for the way she died.”

  Kotaro saw dark flames of joy in her eyes.

  “That’s just the man he is, you know. I know him well. That’s why he couldn’t bring himself to cut things off with Ayuko.”

  Sincere and warmhearted. A keen judge of character who never failed to consider the needs of others. Always encouraging people to make the best of their strengths.

  I always thought you wanted to make the world a better place, Ko-Prime.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Sei-chan thinks even my screwups were his fault.”

  Kotaro couldn’t hear her now. His ears were roaring.

  Keiko’s delusion was hers alone. But when it came to Seigo’s likely reaction, Kotaro knew she was right. No matter how much he might hate to admit it, her intuition was spot-on. When the truth came out, Seigo was certain to blame himself. He should’ve noticed the danger. He should’ve done something to stop Keiko. If he hadn’t delayed marrying Ayuko for so long, none of this might’ve happened. That’s how he’d see it.

  Keiko kept on grinning and talking as the blood raged and boiled in Kotaro’s veins, flooding away from where it was needed most—his heart.

  Bereft of the heat of blood, his heart grew colder second by second, yet he could feel it racing, as if it were trying desperately to keep from freezing solid.

  “Are you sure you want to make your beloved Seigo suffer that much? You look up to him, I can tell. Don’t you think you ought to help me? If you want him to be happy, you’d better protect me. I thought I’d committed the perfect crime, but it looks like I messed up. I’m in trouble, aren’t I? If that’s really what you think—”

  “Galla!”

  Kotaro’s scream was primal, a child calling its mother to protect it from the terror of things that hide in the dark. His voice was shrill. He was begging for help.

  “Take her, Galla! She’s yours now. Use your blade. It’s time to rid the world of this bitch!”

  The concrete beneath their feet vibrated from a giant footfall. The gargoyle had risen.

  It changed color slowly, as if new blood were rising from the soles of its feet toward its heart. From ashen gray its color changed to a bilious dark green. The smooth surface took on the texture of reptile skin. As it changed, it grew.

  From inorganic to organic. From a statue to a living being.

  When the wave of blood reached its waist, a long tail uncoiled from around its legs and rose like a cobra. The blood began to rise from its fingers toward the shoulders; when it reached the creature’s elbows, it raised its fists.

  When the blood reached its shoulders, the creature shifted its grip on the scythe. It raised the weapon high and began to swing it in bold flourishes, like a sword dance. A pair of giant wings spread out behind it. The pulse of air was so strong that Kotaro reflexively shielded his face with his arm.

  The creature had enormous bat wings with sheer green webbing over immense, spidery finger bones. The wings spread and the bones flexed, as though groping for a victim with the touch of death.

  The creature’s hideous face and pointed ears gleamed wetly in the dimness. It was nearly ten feet tall.

  Kotaro and Keiko were struck dumb. They could only watch, spellbound, as the demon emerged.

  Another tremor. The demon took a huge step forward and thrust its horrible face toward Keiko. Its eyes were golden. The crescent pupils were the shape of the blade that shone white in its claws.

  An instant later, it opened its mouth and roared. Its four huge tusks gleamed.

  Keiko gave a shriek of astonishment and turned to flee, but her legs would not move. She toppled backward and tried desperately to scuttle away, still facing the monster, screaming continuously, no words, just wave after wave of piercing screams. Kotaro saw them with this left eye.

  no no no my god please help me scared scared scared scared Sei-chan help me what is it why am I no no no no

  The demon spun lightly, leaping closer. Its scythe was a whirlwind.

  Kotaro saw what happened with both eyes. He saw the blade pass through Keiko’s waist in one smooth motion, slicing her slender torso in two. There was no sound and no gout of blood.

  Her eyes met his. They were wide open, as though she were planning to flee the next moment. There was no pain or fear, only surprise.

  For hardly more than a second she sat there, cut in two. The upper half of her body twisted back to look in wonder at the demon, still trying to move its arms and scuttle away. The lower half was stretched out on the concrete. Her shoes were half off. Kotaro could see her right calf spasm violently.

  The next instant, she began to disappear, her body dissolving into tiny grains of sand—no, more like mist—from the cut that divided her in two. The mist, like sparkling ice particles, flowed toward the scythe. Kotaro saw this clearly, yet it took no more than an eyeblink for her to disappear.

  He suddenly remembered a book Kazumi loved when she was little. It had a picture of a mother sucking up ghosts with a vacuum cleaner. Kazumi had kept asking Asako if ghosts were really burnable trash.

  Keiko had been sucked into the demon’s scythe like a ghost sucked up by a vacuum cleaner …

  A blue-white gleam flashed across the crescent blade. The scythe laughed like a living thing—once, then again and again. With each laugh, light flashed across the blade from one end to the other, like a chemical reaction in progress. Or—

  Like something being ripped apart and consumed.

  Keiko Tashiro’s craving.

  The gleam died away. The demon examined the blade curiously, then swung it again in great arcs that completely encircled it.

  The tip of the scythe flashed inches from the end of his nose. Kotaro’s legs gave way. He landed on his buttocks on the concrete. An arabesque of cold, blue-white light, like an intense fluorescent glow, seemed to hang in the air as the blade dipped and soared.

  As she swung her scythe, Galla began to emerge again. Long hair the color of obsidian. The huge finger bones webbed with thin green membrane shape-shifted into the proud wings of a black raptor, fitting for a warrior whose kingdom was the night.

  Kotaro’s breath came in juddering gasps. He couldn’t seem to get enough air. He rotated his shoulders and rounded and stretched his back again and again. Slowly he stopped wheezing and regained his breath.

  He was soaked in cold sweat. His face was dripping, not just with perspiration but with tears and drool.

  Galla’s transformation was complete. She drew the blade close and studied it in wonder.

  “Her craving was strong.”

  Kotaro could see it had grown larger. He sensed it was sharper as well. The tip glowed with a pale light, like the North Star.

  “The craving of a killer.” He spat the words and tried to stand. His legs trembled. Somehow the muscles wouldn’t work.

  Galla stowed the scythe
behind her. She stepped toward Kotaro without a sound and extended a hand. He took it and stood up, but after a moment fell to his knees, toppled backward and sat down again. He needed time to recover.

  “Sorry. Guess I’m a little shaky. That was pretty shocking.”

  Galla nodded. “That was my true form.” Her voice was gentle.

  “I know. That wolf I met told me about it. I was more or less prepared, I guess. That wasn’t what shocked me, though. I didn’t think your true form would be a gargoyle. In our region, gargoyles are legendary demons from Europe. How did a mythical creature from our region end up in the birthplace of the souls of words? It makes your region seem like, I don’t know, something out of a fantasy novel, or a movie about the Middle Ages.”

  Galla smiled—a full, warm smile. “You have it backward.”

  “How?”

  “Before your legends arose, there was the birthplace of the souls of words. The creatures you call gargoyles are a pale reflection of the guardians of the Tower of Inception. So it is for your other creatures of legend. The amazement and fear and dread inspired by contact with beings from other regions fired the imaginations of people in this region. From those contacts came a multitude of strange creatures. Those you regard as benevolent are called gods and spirits and fairies. Those you fear are demons and monsters.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Wasn’t Galla’s world a legend, a product of the imagination? A place that was real, but not in the real world? How could such a place be older than human culture?

  Kotaro was turning his neck this way and that, trying to get out the kinks, when he saw something sickening on the concrete nearby. At first his brain refused to recognize it.

  It was a human fingernail—a cheap shade of pink the color of Keiko’s nail polish. She had ripped it off when she was trying to scuttle away from the demon.

  “Take it with you,” Galla said. Kotaro looked up. She towered over him, leaning forward to peer at the grisly keepsake. “A prize for the hunter.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t even want to touch it. I don’t need a trophy. I’ll never need anything to remind me of what I saw tonight.” He paused for a moment. “She was evil, wasn’t she, Galla?”