John let out a gentle laugh and then dug his way into the kitchen. Every week for the past three years he had chipped away at the hoarder’s mess. After a year, he had cleaned out the space that led to the front entrance. Where once a mountain of junk stood, empty space now resided. It was a slow road, but he’d do what he could to help. In exchange for the manga, Yamada—san allowed him to take two or three bags of refuse without question.
After his work was done, he gathered the debris and left, not bothering to say ‘ja mata’ to the old man. He’d see him again next week. Kenny’s apartment was across from Yamada—san’s, so he unlocked the door and tossed his packages on the couch before taking the garbage down to the refuse area.
Good deeds done for the night, he made his way back to Kenny’s apartment. The door was ajar but he thought nothing of it, thinking maybe he forgot to shut the door. He closed and locked it behind him and then sat on the couch.
He figured he and Kenny would probably spend the night playing video games and drinking before conking out in exhaustion. John debated calling the waitress at the diner who had forgiven him enough give her number, even though they hadn’t been formally introduced. He’d wait to call her tomorrow since Kenny was still trying to get over Aoki-kasan’s death. They both were.
A tear threatened to leak out, but he cleared his throat and picked up the book he’d retrieved from the library.
He flipped to the page he bookmarked earlier and studied the photograph. Kenny’s ancestor gazed out from the page among the others men standing there. The more he read about these particular men the more he— A black clawed hand covered his face in a blink of an eye. John screeched in terror and pain as the talons sunk into the soft side of his chin and lifted him into the air. His body jerked like a fish on a hook, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind as he tried to assess what was happening. Blood gurgled from the back of his throat, filling his mouth with the coppery salty taste. Blindly he lashed out, hitting the arm of whatever it was doing this to him.
His head banged into the ceiling and he came face to face with his attacker.
Glowing eyes set in the hooded figure. A musty, animal-like smell emitted from the adversary. A low hum grew louder and turned into a snarl. The talons dug deeper, puncturing into the base of his tongue. Strangled though he was, John still found enough courage to kick his feet out and clutch at the cruel weapon attached to him.
“You are not Rhychard’s seed!” The creature’s grip sank in further, a near threat to ripping off his jaw.
With his last ounce of cognizance, John gushed out, “No, I am not.”
“Hmmmm,” the attacker growled. “You know of who I speak.”
The talons withdrew their hold from his chin and he dropped back to the ground. His body shook in agony, and rivulets of blood streamed down his neck and drenched his shirt. Cold washed over him as the heat evaporated from his external extremities. Clutching at his throat, he watched as the hooded figure descended to the floor. In an almost graceful movement, it rose fluidly to stand several feet in the air above him.
“Are you of the line of Gilon the Great?”
John lay mesmerized as the attacker bent down, eyes glowing iridescently into the darkness. He stared unable to move, losing his breath every second that passed. He shivered as the being inhaled.
“No, you are not. Yet if you know of Rhychard, then you must know of—”
He was wrenched up once more, held in midair. “Where is the blood—”
John used the last vestiges of his strength as he felt his life seep out of him to draw his head back and slam into the face of his enemy. This was the end, and he’d rather die fighting, even if it was futile.
His skull cracked an audible crunch that mixed with the roar of whatever it was that held him. The last thing he saw was the large black clawed hand reach for his face.
Vibrant streaks of red met Ken’s eyes as he stepped into his home. It marked the cream-colored carpet, beautiful in the seemingly haphazard way it sprayed and dotted the floor. But the smell did not detract from what the red stain was…blood. Fresh, pungent, and foreign.
The briefcase dropped from his nerveless fingers. He took a step forward and felt something under his feet. Bewildered, he glanced down and froze.
It was a hand.
Moonlight mixed with the room’s low light landed on a body. Dull green eyes glazed upward from the face of his brother. Lines of drying blood flowed from puncture wounds under his chin. His neck bent at an awkward angle.
Bile and acid rose at the back of Ken’s throat. He grabbed his stomach in hopes to stay the contents of the food he and John had eaten earlier. A harsh sob erupted from his mouth and he staggered to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him upright.
“John!” he screamed, anguish filling every part of his frame as the second most important person in his life had been torn from him in just four days. But this was different. Okasan’s death had been long in preparation. But this…this…
Who had done this?
The thought sparked the electric current in his brain and he got up again. Who did this? he asked himself the question again. Why would anyone do this to John? His heart, which had slowed in reaction to the vision of his brother in death, sped up. He took in the room, realizing that whoever had done this could still be here.
But if they were, they would have attacked him by now.
A sigh escaped as logic reasserted itself and he patted his body for his cell phone to call emergency services. Despite his rationalization, he glanced around the room. It was mostly dark in the corners except for the lamplight illuminating his friend’s corpse. He studied all around him, searching for any sign of activity.
Then, he saw something move above his head.
A shadow-like form was in the upper corner. As he eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the form was man-like and hanging upside down, like a bat. A black cloak swung, and gloved hands pressed against the wall. The head moved and gleaming blue eyes, too shiny to be human, stared back at him.
Ken’s heart jumped in his throat.
Rhychard, at last. A deep raspy voice filled with an unholy satisfaction echoed in his head.
Before Ken could even ponder that, the thing moved. One second Ken was standing; the next sent him hurtling into the refrigerator door. A cry escaped his mouth as pain coursed along his body. The thing stirred from the crouched position and rose in one movement. The cloak billowed about its frame, towering easily at seven feet. Heavy, raspy breathing filled the room.
It came at him again with the same lightning speed, but Ken darted to his left and fell on the floor before it reached him. Scrambling backward on his hands and feet, the blood chilled in his veins as a ferocious howl reverberated in the room. Large gloved hands smashed the refrigerator, leaving a fist imprint. Ken rose to his feet and ran into the living room. The thing followed. It moved like a blur, but Ken jerked back before it could touch him. He raced down the hall.
A guttural roar sounded behind him, but Ken focused on getting to the bedroom. The soft glow of the lamplight from the interior illuminated the hall. He ran in, slammed and locked the door. It splintered. Through the slits the glowing eyes narrowed on him. His eyes searched for a barrier and landed on the massive chest of drawers. Quickly he grabbed and hefted it in front of the door. The drawers fell out and littered the floor with clothes but he didn’t care. A thud sent the piece of furniture teetering toward him.
He had to get out of here. He rushed to the window and opened it.
A crash exploded behind him. The barrier fell to the floor. A swift glance showed the door broken to pieces. Next a jean-clad leg kicked the chest of drawers, breaking it into splinters of wood.
Ken faced forward to jump out when he was grabbed by the throat and thrown away like rag doll. The wall stopped his momentum. More pain shot through his body, but he didn’t scream out. Instead, he seethed. A raw coil of rage burned him on the inside. He didn’t know why this was
happening, but he wouldn’t stand by and allow this…whatever it was to take him down without a fight.
The thing towered over him, the glowing eyes so full of hate it seared him clear to his soul.
Rise, Seed of Rhychard.
It spoke in his mind once more, but he refused to analyze that now. Wincing, he stood and faced his attacker.
Sweat beaded his brow as they confronted each other. He throbbed with discomfort but met his opponent’s gaze. If he were to die this night, then it would happen with him on his feet. The soft light of the lamp on the other side of the room wasn’t strong enough to show the face of his enemy, but it showed him the long, tattered, black cloak. The shadow it cast landed on the far side of the wall.
What was it? Why did it come here?
A thousand questions tumbled over themselves in his mind but he shut down that part of his brain. If he survived this night, he might not want to know the answers.
The temperature of the room climbed until the place felt like an oven. Droplets of salty sweat rained down into his eyes, stinging the cuts found there. He blinked the moisture away. The thing gazed at him, unmoved by the heat. Soon, the stifling warmth grew hotter. Blisters formed along his exposed arms and he fell to his knees. His heart thumped frantically in his chest. Saliva dribbled down his mouth as the temperature rose. As the oxygen disappeared from the room, his lungs fought for air.
Then things got bad.
A cloud of sulfuric, hot steam came at him. In slow motion, Ken noticed it streamed out in two lines of attack from the vicinity of the glowing eyes. From the nostrils?
Ken screamed as the steam scorched his face. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the room. He held his face instinctively and then howled again at the pain. He attempted to get away, clumsily rising to his feet, but he was lifted into the air and thrown across the room to once more hit a wall. This time, his elbow landed hard, with a distinct crack. His body clattered to the ground, his feet and legs crashing against the night stand with the lamp falling over. Agony surged up his injured arm and he cradled the useless limb. The thing grabbed him by the throat, its hard hands so large it covered his mouth.
It leaned in, the eyes bright as miniature stars, hypnotic. Where is the blood gem?
Ken swallowed. “What are you talking about?”
Rhychard gave it to you. Where is it?
“I don’t know what you talking about.”
The thing came nearer and the light from its eyes cast an illumination on its face. Dark, porous skin gleamed under the rays emitting from its eyes. His resolve failed him. How could he have even thought he could conquer something like this? John was dead after being accosted and now he was well on his way to following his brother. Ken’s heart fluttered, a bird trapped in a cage. Foreign, alien power emanated from the creature. It dipped its head, bringing with it descent, more heat.
I will peel your skin layer by layer until you tell me where the blood gem is.
“Is that why you killed John?” he yelled. “Because of this…this…blood gem?”
No. I killed him because I thought he was you.
His muscles went slack. Shock drove away the pain as one thought came to the forefront. John had died…because of him.
It laughed, and the roar of it hurt his head as it released him.
The creature stared down at him and pulled the gloves off. It raised its arm, the hand-like appendage tipped with talons.
This was happening. This was really happening.
John died because of me.
Tears swelled in his eyes and scalded his burned face but he didn’t care. All he could think was that somehow, he’d lost his brother. Sorrow forced a moan from him.
You have one last opportunity to tell me where the blood gem is. If you do, I’ll take your life quickly.
Ken watched as the talons of one hand glowed a dull red. Then the creature punctured his shoulder and he hissed as it burned. The scent of charred flesh and blood wafted around him. His flesh, his blood. It hurt even more when the talons withdrew to stab him repeatedly across his chest and sides.
The metallic taste of fear sickened him. John’s death and its cause were pushed aside as Ken realized he was going to be tortured for something he didn’t even know about. For few seconds his breath wheezed through his bruised body. Was it going to end like this?
Keep moving.
Okasan’s voice.
Don’t just sit there. Keep moving, man.
John’s voice.
Why was he just sitting there, waiting to die? That wasn’t his way.
Keep moving! Both their voices cried out.
Ken felt something awaken inside. A tingling sensation cascaded over him. His muscles hardened to steel-like tenacity. He reached out with his good arm and touched the lamp. Something sparked against his fingertips. The tingling sensation strengthened as he held on to the lamp. The light flared and cast shadows along the wall. Now the feeling changed to that of being stung by millions of hair thin needles. It inched along his skin, warming him. With his last ounce of strength, he threw the lamp at the thing.
“Burn in hell, whatever you are!”
Something went wrong.
A force exploded from him. Spasms of electricity blasted forth from the lamp as it connected with the creature. In a wave-like movement, the electric force collided with the being. A wail of pain rumbled from its mouth as the electricity dug into its body. Ken gasped as the glowing talons reached down, gripped him by his hair and threw him out the window. The stars flew by. Cool air traveled along his weightless, torn, and heated flesh.
Then he landed in something that made him dance and spark. His body shuddered, jerked, and sizzled. The scent of charred flesh once more lifted to his nose.
As he fell to the ground, he saw John and Okasan waving from a field of flowers.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rin’s eyes were glued to the spectacle as the man’s body crashed into the electric gird several feet in front of her. She along with the rest of the group gasped in shock as the body jerked in a wild dance as the electricity flowed through him. The eerie absence of a human scream made the sight all that more strange.
Soon his body fell to the ground.
“Is that the Descendant?” Skepticism laced Donvar’s voice, his stocky frame rigid in disbelief.
A frown creased her brow at the question. Surely Rhychard—sama’s seed would be more powerful? Wouldn’t he be able to defeat Ludovicus?
Her heightened sense of awareness was sensitive to every sound and sight around her. Although the lights flickered momentarily, they remained on. That was good. She hadn’t stepped foot into a city for quite some time, but she knew if the lights stayed on the less chance someone would browse for answers and discover them.
She drew her attention back to the prone figure on the ground. It was unlikely that any man among the millions in this city would fly out of a window in the near dark of night because of a random burglar. It could then only mean one thing.
“Ludovicus is here,” she muttered.
“Yokatta!” the nasally voice of Luke, her rear guard, exclaimed. “We can take him out now before the Spear takes form.”
“Hai,” Alderic growled in agreement. He flexed his arms, the bulge of them illuminated under the meager light. “Let’s see if he can stand up to me.”
“Iie! Stand down,” she ordered. “If that is the Descendant, then he’s out there on the ground because Ludovicus threw him there. We are not ready for a confrontation of that sort.”
“We could all be dead like him,” Odin, practical and pessimistic to a fault, chimed in.
“We should go to him and see if he’s still alive.” Donvar bounced up and down on his feet. The man was always ready to sally forth for anything. Life, death– it didn’t matter. His rule of thumb: act now, think later.
Rin agreed. Time was of the essence. If indeed the burned figure on the ground was the Descendant, they had to retrieve him, and fast. Especially if
Ludovicus still lingered about.
She stood from her crouched position. “I’ll go and determine his condition.”
“I’ll go,” Alderic interjected, puffing up his chest. “I am the strongest.”
“And the stupidest,” Donvar quipped in a low tone.
Alderic scowled. “Look, pebble. I could crush you with one hand.”
The short man bristled like a cat on edge. “Say it again, Alderic—kun.”
“I’m glad you have time for these little squabbles. Really I am. It’s just the Descendant over there that may be dead. Ludovicus could come and rip our heads off. No problem, right?” Her voice dripped with acidic sarcasm. In the dim light, she saw their faces drop in chagrin. Except for Alderic’s, who looked affronted.
Silence reigned among the group. Rin waited a few more moments. The city, wired, lit, and noisy still had moments of darkness and isolation. When no one came into the vicinity, she trotted to where the man lay.
Rin bent and studied the still body. By some miracle, he was still breathing. Charred clothing covered a body stained with blood, blisters, and seared flesh. His face was an artwork of singed hair, cuts, and scrapes.
He was in a bad way, but still alive. She knew then only the seed of Rhychard—sama could survive such an attack. She raised her hand and gave the signal. The group shuffled around her, whispering urgently the best way to carry him so as to not cause further injury. Her ears were attuned to their surroundings, so she didn’t miss the steps of pedestrians coming close to their position.
“Someone’s coming.”
Luke moved to the edge of the building and peeked around the side. Then he cursed. “A couple with a dog.”
“A dog?” Rin said slowly, tasting the words. “Alderic, you and Odin figure out the best way to handle the Descendant. Luke and Donvar, cover me. If this doesn’t work, then you’ll have to knock them out.”
“Ha,i Uchida-san,” they both said.
She ran to the edge of the building. The couple, a man and woman, strolled languidly with the dog in front of them. Crouching down, she placed her hand on her wrist guards studded with gems, and concentrated on the animal.
The Druid's Spear (Ascent of the Gem Bearers Book 1) Page 6