Wight

by Dorien Vincent

"We were testing you. The rumors are true - you're unstoppable. You cut a trench a mile long and filled it with blood. Then carried a small unconscious girl through it, keeping her alive. I shudder to think what Tset has on you."

  "Connections. Can I put her to bed now?"

  "Surely. I'll have a surgeon attend to her. But we're leaving to the Oro Palace soon."

  "Palace?"

  Yoto nodded, "Yes. I have much larger accomodations than this. In Central Tower, in Nagasaki."

  "Sounds like a plan. I'm going to put her down."

  After awaiting a nod from Yoto, Tset bowed and went up the stairs.

  He put Jacqueline down on her mattress and tucked her in. The skin suit had held together and the bleeding from her flesh wounds had stopped.

  He looked down at her small frame beneath the thin coverlet, "God damn lucky your snipes were out of form today. Those aren't cuts, girl, they're dents."

  She didn't respond. He stood there a moment and then moved out and went across the hall to his room. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to see Hiroshi, teary-eyed, quivering in front of him.

  She put her arms around his neck and cried on blood-spattered tie, "Thank you. You're an angel."

  "At a stretch." He patted her, "But I'm a damned tired angel, so let me sleep."

  She nodded and left to her quarters. To tend to her daughter.

  Tset closed his door and took off his shirt. There were eight quarter-dollar sized bullet holes in the back and it was entirely crusted.

  He checked himself in the mirror - relative to where he'd been shot, there were the blackened tumorous lumps where his body was processing and dissolving the lead. 'God save the plumbers when I pass today's ammo intake.'

  He went to take a shower.

  When he was done he pulled on a pair of burgundy pajama pants and laid down. His arm flung itself over his head and he was out before another thought had time to pass.

  A light, low knocking. Hiroshi or Yoto - probably Yoto by the height.

  He put on his sunglasses and walked across his room to answer the door.

  He threw it open.

  There was Jacqueline.

  He slammed his door shut.

  Fifteen seconds later he opened it again. He wore a white t-shirt.

  "What?"

  She was tired, he could see it, and maybe a few other things. She stuttered.

  "J-just wanted to say thank you."

  "No problem."

  They stood there a moment more, Jacqueline watching her feet closely and Tset almost glowering down at her.

  "Did you need something?"

  She looked up, "Er..."

  "Bullet proof vest."

  "What?"

  Tset repeated, "You're curious why I didn't die. I told you. Bullet proof vest."

  "Oh." She wasn't really.

  "What..." The jumps - all that space. He flew?

  But he cut her off, "Jesus you're a weird one, do you want some coffee? I made some, it's on the heater."

  Jacqueline realized she was being invited in, and she brightened, "Oh... sure!"

  She stepped into the room and was somewhat surprised at the clutter - gun parts, ammunition, clips, books, magazines, shirts, and then the coffee pot he'd stolen from the kitchen. Everything seemed organized, but there was just so much in the closed space, and all of it had a tousled look.

  "You weren't kidding." She said, of the pot, which was sitting on his radiator.

  "Yeah, wha'd you think I meant?" He was pouring her a mug.

  "I thought you meant, y'know..."

  He handed her the white porcelain mug and picked up one of his own. Jacqueline was delighted to see he kept his things clean if not entirely tidy.

  "Yeah, I stole this. Didn't want to drag the stove up."

  She tried sipping the hot acid brew while Tset drank it like water.

  She grimaced and felt her stomach knot, and when she looked up, she noticed his shirt over the chair - the one he'd been wearing the day before.

  The back was rough and hard from dried blood, totally covered from belt to yoke, and the size of the holes was almost cartoonish.

  The mug slipped slightly in her hands.

  "You're dripping."

  "I... I'm sorry. Just, sleepy."

  He glanced at his shirt, "Oh, yeah. Looks worse than it was. See? Just some bruises." He turned and lifted the back of his T for her to see one of the blackened splotches at his belt line. It didn't look like a bruise.

  He put his shirt down and interrupted her before she began, "What about you?"

  "Oof, separated a rib." She rotated her shoulder with obvious effort, "But otherwise just bruised and contused... you really did bail me out."

  "My pleasure. Things were getting too quiet, anyway. Did I kill any cops?"

  "No. Yoto was really pleased with you. But they're still trawling the shore for our bodies - we made a scene."

  "Ha. Excellent - they never see us again? No harm done. Yoto's a... smart... little man." Tset forced a sardonic grin.

  "Yeah." She trailed off and stared at the oily surface of her coffee.

  "So, tell me again how you came to be where you're at and why in God's name Odd Job and his little buddy were taking bets."

  She looked sad for a moment, "Oh, they do that."

  "Explain."

  "It's 'cause my skin, Dargent."

  "Looks clear to me."

  "No... the color of it. I'm dark." Her heart started to pound. She'd never talked to anyone about this. 'I'm such a freak outcast...' She felt weaker. Her eyes grew hot.

  Tset sloshed his mug at her.

  She sighed and looked away, he really did know how to ruin a morning, "Look, the whiter you are, the more valuable you are socially here in Japan, okay? And the darker is reverse, get it?"

  Tset took a slug, "Uh-huh."

  "Yeah..." Her eyes were brimming, and she willed them to stop - 'Not now, not in front of him, not about this.' - she could cry about her life of racial prejudice by herself.

  She looked down, thinking 'Keep it together, Jacqueline. Keep-'

  "You look like you need some chess."

  She jerked her head up and sputtered a hesitant laugh - hot in the face, her tears welling and breaking, "What?"

  "And chocolate. Soothes the soul." He went into his bathroom and came out a minute or so later with a spare blanket. He'd also heated some milk in his water boiler by the sink and added some chocolate powder for her.

  He presented her with glass and blanket. She sat on a discarded pillow and accepted.

  "Ow, hot." She said. Her glass was a high-ball.

  "You're a guest, you drink what I tell you."

  She giggled and sniffed a little.

  He used his toe to slide his chess board out from beneath his bed. The pieces lay and rolled in a dissaray, and on the middle of the board was a hip flask.

  "Ah, yes." He unscrewed the cap while Jacqueline fumbled around her blanket for chess pieces and set them up.

  "What's that?" She was looking up and he was looking down.

  "Bourbon. Cheers." He toasted and drank, tilting his head back.

  Jacqueline became somewhat worried - alcohol, it had the tendency to change and forget for one. She half expected to see a beastman look down at her from where Dargent had been.

  But somehow he didn't seem any different at all. Or for the rest of the day while she again unsuccessfully tried to teach him chess. He just smelled a bit, which somehow made him seem more friendly in her eyes. And if anything, he laughed just a bit louder, which she liked, very much.

  After he sent her to bed, she realized she'd forgotten her problems. He'd kept her busy and distracted and spoken with her so much, she hadn't time to think about her hurts. And they didn't hurt now, anyway.

  'You're finally a real girl, Pinocchiette.'

  She sighed, dreamily, as she drifted.

  Across the hall Tset was considering going for pizza when he fell asleep still sitting on his ma
ttress.

  The next morning he had a crick in his neck.

  Interlude

  Chapter Eight: Separate Ways

  Another month scudded by and Tset found himself growing on Japan. There was the food, and there were the quaint-but-near-regal bath houses he attended with Yoto-Oro and the others twice a week, putting showers to shame.

  He also found himself getting soft, mentally - he was relaxing and it felt good. He was considering even getting himself a Japanese wife, save for their quiet and cowed demeanor he probably would have been married. That and what he was truly there for.

  Jacqueline spent a lot of time in bandages in her room.

  She had made herself out to be much better off than she was - the contusions continued to bleed for two days until she was submitted to a doctor's care.

  On top of multiple blood clots, internal blood loss and pooling, and hairline strains and breaks to her vertebrae, her ribs were fractured, not separated, as the original, now deceased, physician had said.

  She nearly lost a lung.

  Tset was actually the one ordered to kill the medico who'd originally come to give Jacqueline a check up, which he did as a matter of course.

  And from there on, he would visit her when not on the job, and he would bring her foods and gifts and talk to her while she simply mended. Hiroshi, normally very protective, let him come and go from Jacqueline's chambers as he pleased and Jacqueline's recovery was speeded greatly by his company - though he insisted it was the hot chocolate.

  Yoto saw a pattern Jacqueline and Hiroshi paid no mind.

  On a day precisely a week and a month from her rescue, Jacqueline was released by Yoto-Oro's doctors and surgeons. She had finished her physical therapy. She was given some clothing and sent to Yoto-Oro.

  She stood in his private parlor, on the priceless Iranian rug and waited for him, visions of Dargent's excitement at her arrival - though she knew he wouldn't react, she liked to imagine him beaming at her and possibly giving her a hug.

  She hummed.

  Yoto came in behind her and cleared his throat.

  She watched him cross past her, "Oh, hiya Dad. Did you need me?"

  "Yes... I needed to discuss with you... Dargent."

  Her eyes brightened for a moment before she quelled them, "What about him?"

  "Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but he's been doting on you quite heavily."

  "Yes." She hadn't. She nodded, her eyes narrowing, "So?"

  "I thought you'd be more pleased to hear this, but he's requested your company."

  Jacqueline's universe creaked, "What?" She croaked, "What do you mean?"

  "He's requested you to join him in his chambers tonight. As a geisha would."

  Her universe shattered.

  Tset was nibbling on a shrimp puff and watching his favorite JapAnime on his issued laptop. His legs were up against the wall and he was curved almost to a J, just his aching shoulders on the mattress.

  Having minutes ago come back from Yoto-Oro's gym, he was only wearing his tank top and a pair of loose jeans. His sunglasses were near at hand.

  A knock came and interrupted his nibbling - a light, shaky knock.

  "Who could that be?"

  He shifted his laptop, knocked his snacks on the ground and almost stumbled to the door, crushing a puff under the ball of his foot. "Fuck."

  He opened the door to see Jacqueline standing there. He was jarred.

  "Er... hello?" He said.

  She glared at him, fearfully and tearfully - she was dressed in a distorted red Kimono. It exposed the pleasing, semifirm flat of her stomach, and her budding breasts were pushed up by a sequined brassiere-like fitting, her lovely hair was piled atop her head with ornamental sticks through it, artfully arranged.

  Her deep, black eyes were looking out from a literal cake of white powder. Her deeply olive tone was entirely obscured. Her breathing, though fast, hitched repeatedly past ruby lips.

  She smelled like pleasant jasmine.

  Tset swallowed, then felt himself flush - his skin remained white, but his temperature went up, "Why - just."

  After a moment's struggle he stopped and stood aside, she walked past him into his room, carefully avoiding the spilled chips.

  "Go. Right now. Bathroom. Wash that shit off your face." His teeth, as seemed normal, were pressed together into one pearly bar.

  She bowed, lightly, almost invisibly and shuffled quietly where he'd ordered.

  The door closed with a slight click.

  "And take that damned uniform off!"

  He didn't hear anything more than the rushing water, and her trying to keep her soft crying beneath its volume.

  He dug around in his drawers until he came up with another, smaller a-shirt (the only thing he had clean, he found, with a rasping sigh) and his burgundy PJ pants.

  The water was still running and he knocked on the door.

  She pleaded, "I'm not ready."

  "The hell you're not, put these on." He pushed the clothing through the crack that appeared, almost hitting her in the face.

  Tset could feel the consternation emanate from her side of the door as she shivered, naked, trying to figure out what he was doing. And if he managed not to kill her, he might get to the bottom of why she came to his door dressed as a prostitute.

  A few minutes later the water turned off. He heard her sniffling behind the door and felt saddened, 'So pure a creature put to such material rigors.'

  He scoffed at his own thoughts, "Way to go, Shakespeare."

  Louder, "Use my towel. Get out here."

  Another minute and she came from the bathroom door. She was looking at the floor again. Her face was streaked with makeup and her hair was still done, though a few strands hung over her face. The PJ pants were cinched tight at her thin waist and the cuffs dragged. The a-shirt was disquietingly fitting. Her hands were behind her back.

  "Get my towel."

  She backed into the bathroom to comply and he plucked the sticks from her hair. Her raven locks tumbled down her back and around her face, framing it, they shimmered.

  Tset got angrier in viewing Jacqueline in this state - she was obviously beautiful already, and strong-willed, 'A womanling to be reckoned with.' But she was still young, however intelligent, and being denigrated by those others in her life who were supposed to guide her. He also directed some of his rage to Hiroshi herself - could the woman do nothing to save her daughter?

  She came back in a moment with his towel. He took it and wiped the final streaks of makeup off her face, then threw the towel around her shoulders.

  While he rolled up her pant cuffs he said, "Sorry I couldn't get you a better shirt. If you want to dig around in my hamper, I'm sure you can find something without any obvious stains."

  She didn't laugh or smile.

  "Level with me." He said, sternly, looking her in the eyes. He'd taken a step back and crossed his arms.

  She looked up, "Level with you?" Her tone was sharp.

  His temper peaked, his voice rose, "You came to my door dressed like Natalie Portman, crying, with ludicrous makeup splashed on your face, and you take a tone with me? You wanna put the uniform back on and take a damn hike?"

  Her lip trembled and she slogged through the implications, then, hopefully, "You didn't know?"

  "Know what?" His teeth clicked.

  Something thudded behind her and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his middle. She cried loudly against his stomach, "I'm so sorry! I wasn't sure you... but... but..." She broke down again.

  He patted her back, mildly amused by the small knife she'd dropped, "Square one, honey, take it from there."

  She took a step back and wiped her face with the towel again, smearing makeup back off of it, "Look at me. Wow, I'm a kid."

  "Yes, I don't mind," His voice was trying to be soothing, though to anyone besides this little girl, it wouldn't be, "Tell me what happened. I'll hear you out."

  She shrugged and blinked back further tears
, now feeling outrageously embarrassed, "Well, Yoto-Oro told me you wanted to, uh, see me."

  "See you?" One of his eye brows rose above his lenses, "Like you mean 'sleep with' sans sleeping, necessarily." He made air-quotes.

  "Yeah."

  "Jacqueline." It was a sentence of its own, it spoke worlds.

  "I guess, I just, thought..."

  "Finish a damn sentence. You're not a stammerer."

  "Okay." She smiled when she saw him grinning.

  "Good. You're fourteen. I told you you had some game in your future if you wanted it, but not now. Yoto's gross. Eugh. Not to insult you, of course."

  She was blushing, furiously blushing and she wished she could stop, "No. I'm not insulted." She beamed to cover up.

  "Good. Just understand the inherent wrongness in what your head midget suggested."

  She laughed, winningly and prettily.

  He patted her head, "You wanna go back upstairs and report mission failure?" He stood up and scooped his shrimp puffs into a pile with his bare foot.

  "I don't think they'd live through it."

  His sardonic laugh, throaty and loud, boisterous, gave her goose bumps.

  She rubbed her arms.

  "You wanna watch anime or something? I'm watching one I've seen a thousand times but you might dig it."

  Before Jacqueline could answer her thoughts went wild - the same circumstances as Yoto had put her to, but now, sweetly, poetically, with this wonderful, knightly hero. She couldn't think straight for a moment, the nos and declarative yesses clamoring in her mind to be heard.

  "You have a short?"

  She shook her head of brilliant images and looked back to him, "Huh?"

  "You were just standing there, like a neuron synapsed or something. You okay?"

  She swallowed, for the first time admittedly admiring Dargent's musculature. A month ago she'd been shocked at his door, but now she felt herself warming to how well his clothing hung and clung on him.

  He snapped his ringed fingers, "Hey. If you're having a breakdown, I'm gonna to kick you out. Your mom will stab me, you know it."

  She laughed, and swallowed again, her throat felt parched, "Just need some hot chocolate."

  "Good idea. You turn on the DVD, it's in there and you can restart it. Get another comforter out and get comfy, I'll be there in a minute."