Two to Tengu (Secret Magent Book 2)

by F. A. Bentley

  Turning her gaze to me, I realized that while she might pass for Human to Mundane eyes or a careless wizard, she was far from Humanity. My mind raced to recall the races of Japanese Supernaturals. Just what was I dealing with? How did it even come to this?

  The short woman paced around thoughtfully, staring into my eyes. At last she tore the duct tape from my lips.

  “You can’t be a fox demon. Otherwise you’d charm me instead of tie me up,” I said. “If I had to guess, I’d say Tengu.”

  The girl stood transfixed before shooting me a suspicious glare.

  Definitely Tengu. Her hair was practically feathery. Lots of shiny colors on her and sharp piercing gaze too. Her voice in particular was a give away.

  “Oh ho? Looks like I’ve snatched someone with half a brain to pick over. So desperate they’re hiring foreigners to bolster their numbers?” the Tengu mused.

  She must think I’m with the gunman. Which means that it was her limo that made roadkill out of me. Quite the coincidence. Unless she had been tailing them and just saw an opportunity to grab us both.

  “This is a misunderstanding, Miss Tengu. I am not with that guy you just killed. I was actually chasing the bastard when I was run over. By your limousine. Thanks for that.”

  “Miss Tengu?” she scoffed, incredulously. “I am none other than the fair Lady Momodara. Ah, now surely you understand the peril you are in, you dumb monkey.”

  I pursed my lips. “Not really.”

  The fair lady Momodara grit her teeth, her face reddening with anger. “Momodara. Daughter to the grand Tengu of Mt. Fuji? Who holds domain over the Supernaturals of Tokyo? And who has vassals numerous and--”

  “I’m all out of damns to give right now. Could you set me free, please? My wrists are really chafing,” I replied.

  I know she’d just killed a man in the last thirty minutes, but I couldn’t help the insolence that crept into my voice. She was playing with fire, and I only have so much patience to spare.

  “Nope,” she insisted. “Even if you aren’t lying through your dumb monkey teeth and have nothing to do with that Yakuza thug I just slaughtered, I have no intention of letting you go free. You just stepped knee deep into a war, and I can’t have you going over to the Oni and blabbing. So that means you die.”

  The Tengu drew back a hand, sharp nails aimed right in the middle of my chest. It was around the same time that I had a sudden epiphany.

  “Ah. So you’re the ones I was sent to deal with,” I replied dryly.

  “Eh?” she asked, stopping mid killing blow.

  “I am Charles Locke, a--”

  “From Nine Towers?” she demanded suddenly.

  I blinked in surprise. My reputation preceded me.

  “The very same. You know me?”

  The Tengu fetched a trio of brightly colored professional envelopes from a nearby desk and spilled the contents out onto a coffee table before retrieving a page with a picture attached to it. It was me, stepping out of a bar.

  Not exactly something I’d feature on my resume.

  “You. This is you. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  As soon as I confirmed it, Momodara wasted no time blurring into action. With a flick of her wrist the magic holding the shackles together entirely dissipated, depositing me onto the floor of the room with a grunt.

  As I rose to my feet rubbing my wrists, the Tengu ushered me to the coffee table, sat me down, poured me a damn coffee, put too many sugars in it, and then simply said, “Mister Locke, I wish to hire your services.”

  “I’m not a mercenary,” I almost managed to say before she opened a fat green envelope and proceeded to dump a cool million yen in front of me. Only about ten thousand dollars, but it’s the thought that counts.

  “Vile Oni; Demon Ogres as you call them, have been Crossing Over from the Netherworld with evil intent. They have hampered trade and ruined the peace for innocent, Mundane mortals and Tengu alike. Pure chaos Mister Locke. I want to hire you to defeat them. With our aid of course. I ask that you cut them down to the last man.”

  I eyed the money suspiciously. Momodara chipped in, “There’s a thousand more envelopes like this in a private vault at my bank. Take as many as suffice.”

  “No. Thanks for the coffee and goodbye.”

  “Wait, money is no object!” she fired back.

  “I’m not interested in the money.”

  “If not money, then you can have me instead,” Momodara cried out. “Cherry on top to seal deal.”

  The word cherry made me gulp.

  I paused, watching as Momo suggestively tuck her fingernails beneath her top and pull, revealing milky white flesh. There’s no such thing as a perfect girl, but Momodara was hard to find fault in. Extremely feminine, beautiful, and perfectly groomed on top of all that. I might have thought badly of the fact that I just watched her kill a man before my very eyes, but hanging out with Lis over the years has somehow lessened my fear of having insanely dangerous soul sucking fiends on my team.

  “Please, Mister Locke. The Tengu have only ever wanted peace. I’ll do absolutely anyth--”

  I sighed, holding up a hand to stop her. “I need to go link up with my contact and get the specifics. Depending on what those specifics are, I might just help you.”

  Momodara’s eyes glowed with joy. “Oh, Mister--”

  “No money. No cherries.”

  A mixture of surprise and something else marred her face. “You sure?”

  “Believe it or not, I am actually a charity. Now can you tell me how I can get to here?” I said, showing her Taro’s address on my cell phone.

  If my contact couldn’t be bothered to set up a reliable meeting place then I’ll just have to visit his home. Nine Towers was so kind as to provide me with the location of his usual haunts. Just in case.

  The Tengu nodded enthusiastically. “I can do one better Mister Locke. I’ll drive you there myself.”

  Chapter 4

  The limo that ran me over earlier pulled up in front of a large lush valley amid the urban cityscape. A bridge extended in the distance, and just a short walk down I could make out the river side. If I couldn’t find my contact here in his natural habitat, I wouldn’t be able to find him anywhere. I got out of the limo and straightened my collar.

  “Got yourself a new play thing already, Charlie?” asked a familiar voice.

  “Lis,” I spoke.

  Just at my side, where once there was empty space, now sat Lis on a park bench. It was terrifying how she could appear almost at will. She was dressed in pitch black running shorts and a red tank top. Beneath, I could just make out frilly bra straps the purest white. It took every ounce of willpower to not stare.

  “Complications?” Lis asked.

  “It’s never not complicated,” I replied. “I think I know the sort of mess I’ve been called to clean up, at least. The trouble is that some of the Supernaturals want to pay me to pick sides.”

  “Did you take the money?” she asked.

  “And make leading me to damnation easy for you?” I shot back.

  “It wouldn’t be fun if it were easy Charlie Locke. You should go have fun with your little friend Taro, I still have an errand or two to run,” she said.

  I perked an eyebrow in surprise. “What, you don’t want to come with?”

  Lis shot me a dirty look. “Me and guys like Taro just... Don’t get along. It’s an oil and water, lion and tiger, spaghetti and milk kind of thing.”

  “Fine. Just stay out of trouble.”

  “I’m just too busy to cause trouble for you right now, Charlie,” Lis said, a fanged grin splaying her lips apart. “I still need to swing back by this shop I found three streets over and see if they’re done making me my custom Charles Locke body pillow.”

  “Go straight to Hell!”

  Lis all but cackled at my reaction. Lasciviously, she crossed one long, smooth, sexy leg over the other. “You’re so much fun to tease. Oh and by the way don’t think I forgot.”r />
  “Forgot what?” I muttered.

  Hellish heat suddenly exuded from her molten yellow eyes. Sharp predatory teeth peeked past her lips as she grinned wide, her voice coming out low and baleful. “You owe me your life for that little tug in the church. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what that means.”

  Cold sweat stained my back. A thrill of terror wriggled all the way up my spine. I closed my eyes and slowly shook my head. “Not now, Lis.”

  When I opened my eyes again, she was gone. It took everything I had to push the thought out of my head and make my way down to the riverside. It took less than half a kilometer of walking before I found Taro.

  From a distance you could probably mistake him for an old man. However, even Humans would be able to tell what Taro was from a close distance.

  Extremely green skin. Leathery shell. Water dish for a skull. Taro was a genuine legendary Kappa. and at that moment he was busy absentmindedly threshing his legs back and forth in the river shallows and staring up at the clouds.

  “Taro,” I called out to him.

  “Ahh, mister Nine Towers agent. You got my memo huh?” he asked, before his nose scrunched up.

  “Ugh. Don’t tell me there’s a Devil around here. I can smell the brimstone from here, those bastards.”

  I blinked in surprise. Oil and water indeed.

  “What do you have against Devils?” I asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Taro asked, flying into a rant. “They try to muscle in on Kappa territory all the time. With their clever words and dirty lies. Trying to cherry pick the best ones before we even get a chance to snap em up. They’re jackals. Poachers!”

  “Territory? Cherry pick? What could Devils possibly steal from you?” I wondered, genuinely concerned.

  “Our food! How’s a Kappa supposed to nab a Human by the waterside if they get their insides all corrupted by those foreign bastards?” Taro demanded.

  Understanding replaced all sympathy I had for the tortoise man. He was mad because both he and Lis preyed on Mundane souls.

  “What are my orders you damn turtle?” I asked.

  “Tch. I don’t expect a Human to understand our noble plight,” Taro retorted before crossing his legs together and stroking his green chin.

  “Nine Towers told me to tell you that the Oni are acting up. They all live in the Netherworld, but for some reason they’re all Crossing Over in a huge migration. Or invasion. It’s hard to tell which. They’re causing havoc, crime, turmoil, murders, thefts, and just about everything else that’s bad for business. Lots of instability.”

  “As I thought,” I said. “What toys have you got for me?”

  “Ah, they said you’d want magic items didn’t they? But these ones are scary, are you sure it’d be okay if I just gave them to you?” Taro asked teasingly.

  “I’ve heard Japan is famous for hot pot turtle stew,” I replied with a dangerous smile. “Know any restaurants that serve it?”

  “Don’t be like that Mister Nine Towers. It’s tradition to hassle newcomers around here,” Taro said, brushing off my words. “Tide Jewel and my old Lantern. Only the best.”

  “Tide jewel?” I asked.

  Taro chuckled wickedly. “The sacred tide flowing jewel. An artifact of incalculable power. Fundamentally indestructible. By holding it in your hand, you will have total dominion over the flow of water.”

  “You sound like a door to door salesman,” I replied.

  Taro produced a dull blue jewel with an equally dull copper embossment. It looked ancient and worn, yet the second I took it into my hand my palm began to sweat from the sheer weight of magical potency writhing within.

  “It works when you hit it. The heavier the hit, the more water it produces. See?” Taro said, flicking a finger at the jewel.

  As he did, a small trickle of water began to pour out of it. After a few seconds, it swiftly dried up. Somehow I felt disappointed.

  “Not impressed,” I told him.

  “No take backs. The Lantern is magical too. They say that objects that have lived for a hundred years grow a soul of their own, you know. This lantern is just such an item.”

  Taro handed me a miniature lantern dangling from a key chain. It was about three inches tall and had a little receptacle in the middle that could fit a birthday candle. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it had Taro not warned me ahead of time. Looking at it a second time I saw the curvature of the candle’s rest resembled an open mouth. A depression in the crinkled material near the top looked a lot like eye sockets too. It was unsettling to say the least.

  “What does it do?”

  “It reveals weaknesses,” Taro replied.

  “Specify.”

  “Weaknesses. That’s all. Bye bye Mister Nine Towers agent. If you don’t know what to do next just look into your heart and ask yourself, ‘What would Lord Taro do?’ and the answer will be clear.”

  I grimaced. “Are there any limits on how I go about my mission?”

  “None that they told me. Do as you please. Oh, and good luck,” the Kappa replied, diving into the river and disappearing into the depths.

  Do as I please?

  Behind the Kappa’s words were dangerous implications. If I was truly off my leash here then that meant that things were more dire than I thought. I’d have to be careful, because the only time Nine Towers doesn’t care about how I handled something is when that something has gotten completely out of control.

  I returned to Momodara’s limo and got in.

  “So? Mister Locke?” she chirped.

  “It seems we’re on the same team for now. It’s almost evening. Where can I find your Oni buddies? And while we’re at it, where can I get a drink?” I asked.

  “Lucky winner,” she replied. “I know where you can get both of those things at once.”

  Chapter 5

  With a spring in my step, I walked into a small building hidden among a slummy neighborhood about a half hour drive from Taro’s riverbed. I don’t always enjoy my work, but when I do it’s because it involves me sampling exotic liquor to get to the bottom of things.

  I sat down at the bar and eyed the heavily tattooed bartender. Tall, thick built, and remarkably bald. The bartender and regulars stared at me with surprise and hostility alike until I said the magic words.

  “Shochu, please.”

  The bartender, wearing a tiny cap on his head, grunted angrily at me before a young woman about half his size dug a sharp elbow into his ribs. She quickly poured me a cup of the distilled liquor while the man shuffled off into the back.

  “You lost?” she asked, her tone friendly despite the bluntness of her words.

  I smiled kindly. Hard to fake it, but I’ve been practicing. My sudden appearance must at first have been a rude surprise to the very thinly disguised Yakuza gathering, but looking like a lost foreigner wanting a stiff drink? Anyone would think that I was downright harmless.

  “Very lost. I’ve been going around in circles the whole day,” I replied, downing the cup of Shochu.

  The bartender snorted with disdain.

  “Don’t mind him,” the young woman said, hooking a thumb in the bald brute’s direction. “He doesn’t get along with anybody.”

  “Tell me about it. I can barely talk to someone below an angry scream unless I’ve had some quality drink to take the day’s edge off,” I said.

  She laughed. I laughed The roughs around me laughed. The oppressive aura of imminent danger completely evaporated.

  There’s no such thing as a perfect girl, but this bartender was shaping up to be a worthy rival to Momodara’s beauty. She was roughly dressed with dark red hair tied up in a plain yet elegant bandanna. Her hands confidently and dexterously handled the bottle of alcohol as she promptly poured me another cup. She had soft earthy eyes, a very attractive smile, and smooth tan skin. She also happened to have large breasts.

  Wait. I’m afraid that you just imagined she had a big set of boobs and left it at that. Let me expand: In my bu
siness I meet a lot of women that are remarkably good looking. Slender, well endowed, delicate, prim and proper. However, the red haired woman’s breasts were spectacular. A hypothetical eleven out of ten. Not just size wise but in their curvature and their perkiness as well. She wasn’t even wearing anything revealing and I could tell they were a work of art.

  “How’s business?” I asked at length.

  “No complaining,” she replied. “Much movement among management. Signs that business will pick up. You know how bosses can be. If they smell blood they jump on it. Boys.”

  I nodded solemnly, knocking back another cup. “Risky business.”

  “No such thing as business that isn’t risky. What brings you here anyways, foreigner man? Maybe we can help?” she asked amicably.

  “Maybe you can. I’m looking for Ogres. Seen any?”

  “Ogres?” she asked, chewing the word over in her head. “What’s an Ogre?”

  “I think the word for it in Japanese is... Oni.”

  I finished the last of my Shochu in utter silence. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the stunned expression of a dozen men as they slowly realized that I came here to clean house.

  A whistling in the air was all the warning I got. Hooking my legs underneath my stool, I leaned back just in time to avoid the swipe of an almost comically large cudgel coming from my right. It was the barkeep, his immense muscular arms in plain view, his face contorted in rage. His cap fell off the top of his head, revealing a pair of crooked horns.

  “Looks like I’m in the right place,” I managed, before all Hell broke loose.

  I felt like I’d just been thrown into a Western movie. Barstools were being picked up, bottles were being broken into makeshift stabbers, and a wild assortment of knives, chains and metal pipes practically manifested in the grips of the encroaching thugs.

  Good thing I came prepared. Before the Yakuza had a chance to swarm me, in through the front door burst a trio of Crow Tengu. Momo might look like a girl with feathers and a long nose, but these Tengu were more like crows with opposable thumbs. They had sleek modern submachine guns in their grips.