The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  I bit back a curse and took a deep breath.

  “Prime Minister Oshiro,” I began. “I have a message for the Emperor.”

  He looked up at me, rage barely contained in the depths of his eyes. “I am not your errand boy. I am the Prime Minister of Blackwatch. You and these men,” his hand swept across the group, “are traitors and you shall be dealt with accordingly.”

  I wanted to grab him by that collar and shake him until his eyes popped out of his skull. I wanted to tell him to stop with the drama and just get to the battle already. I couldn’t handle even one more negotiation.

  “I can’t deal with more histrionics. Just take the message to Nigel. Tell him that I’m coming and I want his throne. Can you do that?” I asked.

  Driscoll’s eyes were large, disbelief filling his face and I felt Roman’s shock through the channel, but seriously, what did people expect from me? I was running on little sleep and little food and I had been for days. The people I relied on just kept going their own way, leaving me to mop up and no one who was supposedly in charge of things could seem to navigate to the bathroom and back without me holding their hands. I was done with them all.

  Easy. Calm down. You’ll do no one any good by losing it now. Roman said in the channel. I took a deep breath and he continued, Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so close to snapping, but Ryu needed me. It’s going to be ok, alright? We really do have your back. I’ve got it. Driscoll’s got it. We are here for you. Just calm down.

  I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.

  Humor threaded through the channel. Remember when I told you that you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown?

  Yes?

  Well that was months ago, and things have only gotten worse. Believe me. I know how brittle you are. Just hang in there and when we’re done I’ll help you heal.

  Promise?

  Absolutely.

  Driscoll and Oshiro were still staring at me with matching looks, like they were trying to plan out where to run to safety when the volcano finally blew apart.

  “This has all gone too far,” Mr. Fukushima said, from behind me, his hands held up palms out. “Can you tell us, Ms. Matsumoto, why a known terrorist has brought you the Prime Minister as a hostage?”

  “You know that document I just signed for you?” I said, “It’s pretty and full of good ideals, but this right here is how we make deals that actually happen.”

  “They’ve made a new pact with you?” Oshiro asked, his body flashing back and forth from shadow to man as quick as I could blink.

  “What’s happening to him?” Fukushima asked. “It’s only supposed to happen slowly after being injected.

  “Or ingesting it in your food source,” Driscoll said wryly, holding up a shadowy hand.

  I felt ill. I’d eaten that food, too.

  “But something else is happening to him!” Fukushima yelled.

  His counterparts leapt up, gathering together in a huddle across the sanctuary from Roman and Ryu. I nodded to Roman. This was the time to take Ryu out of here. He didn’t need prompting. He and the boy had already begun to sneak across to the little back door.

  “Sometimes,” Kitsano said, her voice eerie as she enunciated each word, “they call to you. No one can hold out forever.”

  As if her words had triggered something, Oshiro snapped into a full shadow. His clothing formed a loose puddle at his feet, though he seemed to be still fully clothed. He lunged towards Mr. Fukushima, slipping easily from Driscoll’s grasp. Fukushima dodged, leaving Ikeda vulnerable. Oshiro attacked him, feet flying in a series of kicks and hands grasping and tearing at Ikeda’s ears and mouth.

  I booted my Tactical Interface and glanced at Roman, who was stuffing Ryu into a cupboard. They were too far away from the action for me to be too worried, but the main church doors sprang open and a rush of shadows poured in.

  The thugs sprayed nettles into their midst, stalling them, but even as the shadows burst apart they reformed again and pressed on.

  With a terrible cracking sound, the spot Ikeda had been standing in filled with a stalagmite rushing into existence. Not for the first time I wondered how these spiritual-seeming beings etched themselves onto the face of their planets in the form of stalagmites and columns of fungus.

  Don’t ask, just fight! Roman said.

  I jumped forward and entered the fray. Fighting with the interface where I needed to keep black shadows from grasping me or the other humans, and then when I had my chance, forcibly absorbing the ones I could into Zeta’s army.

  Not your right! she screamed from within me, but I ignored her. Two could play at that game.

  “Things must be bad if he’s let his shadows attack a church in broad daylight,” Driscoll said as O’Reilly morphed into a pillar of salt.

  The Emperor has a message for you Vera Matsumoto, Oshiro said within my mind. Meet me on the killing fields in twenty-four hours. We’ll settle this as befits the last of the Matsumotos.

  Nigel always did have a dramatic streak. I absorbed two shadows as the last of the toughs froze into a permanent rictus on the church floor with stalagmites jutting through them. Fukushima and Finseth hid behind Driscoll as he fought off Oshiro. Roman was pinned, fighting one of the shadows who kept dodging at Ryu. With great effort, I reached across and snatched him up.

  To my right Kitsano shrieked and I saw Oshiro seize Driscoll, lunging forward. Kitsano dodged between them, and he bit her shoulder. Shadow took her immediately. Quick as thought I absorbed them both, drawing them into Zeta’s army. Kitsano had never wanted that.

  “Jaya!” Driscoll said, sinking to his knees. His hands flicked back and forth in shadow and out again, and his face melted in grief. I had forgotten that was her given name.

  With no enemies left, we all stood staring at the place she had been.

  “Does the Emperor have her soul?” Driscoll asked, his agonized eyes drifting to mine.

  “I took it before he could,” I said. My lips trembled. “Hers and Oshiro’s.”

  “Can you absorb them all?”

  I shrugged.

  “Can the Emperor?” Driscoll asked.

  We were so far out of the known that even speculation seemed too certain to be real.

  Fukushima cleared his throat and I tore my glance from my father to look at him. Finseth was holding the portable computer with the new pact on it.

  “We need to go. Now. We have chosen our side in this battle. Please don’t fail us.”

  They didn’t even wait to hear my answer. I supposed my signature was enough. The two of them fled through the back door. I tried not to worry about how many shadows might be on the other side. Hopefully none. Hopefully they would go and talk to the others like them and Blackwatch would be waiting only for my ultimate victory. If only life were really so easy.

  Ayumi sunk onto a pew and Roman brought little Ryu over to join him. The boy was crying and Roman was trying to convince him to eat a small treat. They looked like a tiny sampling of the Refugees hordes outside.

  This was what we had come to. A crying terrorist. A bodyguard pledged to a little child. A tired old man and an Empress with no army. My eyes strayed to Driscoll. According to Kitsano, I could have my army back at any time if I just sacrificed my father.

  Give him to us. We know now that she told you what we want. We want him. Zeta said in my mind. How long ago had my real mother faded out of existence? All that was left of her was this grizzly shell of hunger and hustle.

  Absorbing those new shadows must have weakened my barriers just enough, because Zeta slid from my grasp and popped out of my shadow like a soap bubble and into her full, dark glory.

  You know what I want.

  “What is she doing here? Can she show me Jaya?” Driscoll asked.

  “No. She is here to make demands. No demands met, then no shadow army.”

  His head whipped back and forth from me to her.

  “No army? After everything? After Jaya…” He sank b
ack down, this time to the pew beside Ayumi. “All I ever wanted was for it all to mean something. All the sacrifices. All the choices.”

  I wondered if he included me in that. I wondered if I even wanted him to be thinking of me, when I knew what I would have to do. Are you still human if you are willing to give a loved one’s life for your own?

  I ran both hands through my short hair. My scar throbbed.

  “Nigel will meet me in twenty-four hours on the Killing Fields. I have until then to find a way.”

  “That’s rather dramatic,” Roman said, “Why doesn’t he just finish us now?”

  I shook my head.

  “He wants it all to mean something, too. He lives larger than life. His victory over the last of his rivals should be dramatic. Symbolic. It costs him nothing to delay.”

  I sighed. I barely had enough fight left in me to explain. How would I fight back?

  “And the People’s Freehold?” Roman asked.

  I shrugged. “I’ve run out of time to negotiate with them. Maybe if we win we can convince them to sign a ceasefire.”

  He nodded, hugging Ryu to him.

  “Let me take the little boy to a place of safety while you fight with your Matsumoto,” Ayumi said to Roman.

  Roman frowned.

  “I will take good care of him. I have grandchildren he can play with. A battle is not a place to bring a child, and you will not be able to do anything else except keep him safe if you bring him. Maybe not even that.”

  “Wait,” I said, kneeling before little Ryu. “Do you have a knife?”

  Ayumi handed me a pocket knife and I popped open the blade and slit my thumb.

  “Hold out your thumb, little one,” I said.

  His big brown eyes welled up with tears.

  “Vera-” Roman began.

  “Shhhh. Your thumb little one. Be brave.”

  He held up a shaking thumb, his tiny mouth quivering, and I sliced it quickly and pressed my thumb to his. I looked at Ayumi.

  “A Matsumoto born in blood - like all of us,” I said, in the ancient words that named the boy my heir. I looked down at Ryu, removing the scarf from my neck to wind around his little hand. “This means that if I die you get everything I have, and if I don’t die you will be treated with respect and honor. It’s the only gift I can give you, but it’s yours…son.”

  He nodded and I hugged him close for a moment and then stood up to make room for Roman who fussed over him and hugged him tight while I spoke to Ayumi.

  “Guard him with your life. If I fall, he is of great value to you. If I do not and anything happens to him…”

  “I swear on my life,” the old man said, looking his full age for the first time since I’d met him.

  “Come little one,” he said, drawing Ryu from Roman’s arms and leading him through the back door.

  A fool’s choice of heir, Zeta said, still hovering over Driscoll like a vindictive angel of death.

  It made me feel more sure knowing that my mother disapproved so strongly.

  THE MATSUMOTO: 37

  “COME HERE, GIRL,” ROMAN SAID, taking both my hands and leading me into the tiny storage room in the back. As soon as we left the carnage behind he pulled me into his chest. It had been so long since I’d heard the beat of his heart.

  I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his scent and soaking in the affection swirling in through our channel. It was laced with anxiety for our situation, concern over Ryu and adrenaline-induced stress, but I drew it in and let it wash over me.

  “I’m so tired, Roman,” I said, clinging to his shirt. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve been driven by survival and my implant-”

  “And honor and a desire to right every wrong done by your blood,” he said, breathing into my feathery hair.

  “I feel lost.”

  “You’re not lost, Vera. You’re here with me,” he said, tilting my chin up gently with a finger and kissing me tenderly. He ran his hand through my hair and over the back of my neck as he kissed me and my hands sought out his waist.

  It occurred to me that if things went poorly – if they went the way that everyone except us expected – these would be my last twenty-four hours with him. I deepened our kiss, pulling him in tightly against my torso.

  “I’m never lost with you,” I agreed. But a moment later the anxiety came back and I had to ask, “Do you believe in what I’m doing?”

  “It was my idea,” he said, “or have you forgotten that?”

  “I thought it was my idea.”

  He laughed, “You should know by now that all your good ideas are the ones I put in your head.”

  I poked him lightly in the ribs.

  “Ouch.”

  “Do you think that all this happened, not just because Matsumotos are cold as ice and without compassion, but because I am?” I asked.Why did I have to ruin a perfect moment with deep confession? Was it because I was in a church?

  He ran his hands up and down my biceps as he looked out over the church pews and then smiled gently and said, “I like you a bit icy. It makes things shine so much brighter when you warm up.”

  I stood up on my tiptoes, smoothing his hair above either ear with my finger tips and delicately kissed his forehead.

  “My warrior,” I said with tears sparkling in my eyes. I couldn’t say that I thought this might be our last night. I couldn’t say that I regretted that he was here because I was afraid he would die with me

  “My Princess,” he said, sliding his hands down from my arms to my back and then my waist. I should have found a way to send him with Ryu. My own hands drifted down to his waist, sliding under his shirt. His skin felt warm and so delicious that I paused for a moment. He took the opportunity to kiss me.

  I wouldn’t have gone. I swore to you as your protector. I swore to you as your husband.

  His kiss was deep and passionate and we wound around each other like clinging vines.

  I don’t think the vows said, ‘with an army or without one,’* I said.

  But they say in sickness and in health,” he said, tapping his prosthetic lightly against my living leg, and for richer or poorer. You’re going to make me a very wealthy man.

  I broke apart from him long enough to laugh. He waggled his eyebrows slightly.

  If your father wasn’t sitting thirty feet away I’d show you the rest of what this marriage thing is about, he said, with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “’If we had world enough and time,’” I said, quoting a poem so ancient that it really shouldn’t be dripping with sensuality.

  “That’s right, Vera,” he said, letting his hands roam a little under the edge of my own shirt.

  His touch on my skin left little ripples of desire that washed up and down me, and I glanced at Driscoll hoping he couldn’t see. If he weren’t here I would have thrown caution to the wind. After all, the Emperor already knew where we were and so what could it hurt?

  “That’s right,” he agreed, hearing my thoughts. For the first time I took full advantage of that, thinking hard on images of the two of us together, until he shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Mercy, woman! I have to fight alongside you tomorrow. Don’t drive me wild tonight.”

  The glint in his eye said he meant none of it.

  I wished we could have stayed like that forever, but as always responsibility weighed heavily on me. We broke apart and went to check on Driscoll. He hadn’t moved and neither had Zeta. I rifled through the pews and found a bag belonging to one of the toughs. Water and e-rats were more helpful than the knife or electronics, but I took them all. Roman combed the other side and found similar belongings in another small pack. We pulled Driscoll to his feet. He shook himself slightly, as if he was emerging from such deep thoughts that he required the shaking to remember where he was. None of us wanted to eat in the midst of all the death.

  “Ayumi had someone clean the safe house. We could return to it,” he suggested. We nodded and followed his lead through public tran
sport. It wasn’t far, but it was packed tight with people of every station and type. All of them had the same exhausted look. Refugees.

  We stumbled through the security measures at the door and settled into one of the smaller sitting rooms on the main floor. It had a faux fire that heated the room, and we gathered around it with blankets and cushions stolen from the rest of the room. I wanted privacy with Roman, but Driscoll was a mess and I didn’t dare leave him. Especially with Zeta basically screaming ‘Nevermore’ over him. Twice I had tried to reabsorb her and had failed. At least he couldn’t hear her occasional threats and lack of compassion the way I could.

  We’d found better provisions than just the e-rats and were eating what we could around the fire. The journey to the Killing Fields was short and I had until tomorrow afternoon. I wanted to eat and rest and be ready for what was coming. Even so, I barely managed to swallow more than a bite, and what I did eat I had to gulp down with water. Every taste made me want to gag, as if my body were rejecting my fate.

  “Do you know what she wants?” Driscoll asked, gesturing at Zeta. He didn’t sound curious, though, and he’d barely eaten.

  “I do, but something tells me that you do, too,” I said.

  “They’re singing to me. They want to absorb me. Can they do that without your permission?” His face was drawn and his shoulders tight.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, swallowing a tiny trickle of water, the most I could manage. “I would have thought they couldn’t, but I also thought they couldn’t disobey me.”

  “They aren’t listening to you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” he asked, leaping up to his feet and pacing before the fire.

  “They want me to give them something before they’ll serve me again.”