Two to Tengu (Secret Magent Book 2)

by F. A. Bentley

  “Is that all or do you have more to add?” I asked with the petulance of all sixteen of the years I’d lived.

  My mother’s face scrunched up in anger. Not even her chic sunglasses could hide her scowl. “How dare you? You drag the Locke family name through the fucking mud, cut my vacation short, and then expect me to feel sorry for you?”

  I flinched at the curse. Not that it was particularly rare.

  “This is why I don’t like being around this dump,” she said, spiraling into a full on rant.

  By dump, she was referring to the medium sized estate I was currently kept in. It reminded me of a really fancy zoo.

  “If your attitude wasn’t so shit then maybe we could have dinner once in a while. But oh no. You’re so selfish. You don’t ever think about what I want, all you ever do is start shit at school and you know what your school’s gonna do, don’t you?”

  “Make you actually do your job?” I asked.

  I went too far. There was of course only one reaction in my mother’s arsenal suitable for such an insolent child. She drew her hand back and--

  And then a knock on the lavish living room door stopped the palm mid air.

  My mother recovered herself admirably. “I care about you Charles. Enough to pay for only the finest.”

  No amount of money can replace familial warmth. The only warmth I’d ever felt was when Vicky pretended to love me. Just Hellfire licking at my soul.

  “The finest what?” I asked, drearily.

  “Oh hello, is this the young Master Locke?” spoke a tender, feminine voice.

  We both turned to regard a woman with big glasses, a pair of dun books held to her chest, and wearing a shy smile and very conservative attire. She looked only a little older than me, but carried herself very maturely.

  “Miss Freida will be your tutor, care giver, and governess from here on out,” my mother declared in the same voice she used whenever she outsmarted someone. “Someone closer to your age will fit you better, right?”

  Curiosity. Eagerness. Friendliness. These words were the exact opposite of how I felt towards my new ‘governess’. The fact that she looked all of a day older than me only added insult to injury. I’d habitually gone through one every year or two in my youth. This one won’t be any damn different.

  “Let me guess,” I began, glaring at the young woman, “You’re--”

  “Skilled in subjects up to and including university level philosophy, physics, economics, and everything in between. She might not look it but she’ll be overseeing your education in sports as well,” my mother proudly said.

  “I supposed she also has the patience of a saint, and can shoot fireballs out of her eyes?” I muttered with a grimace.

  Miss Freida grinned at my words, but that only made me grimace harder. She was trying to build a good rapport with me. It wasn’t going to work.

  “I’ll leave you two to get to know each other better. If there’s any problem, call Mr. Cropp at the usual number and he’ll tell me all about it after the golf match. Bye bye darling,” she said, and walked out.

  She was my mother in the loosest sense of the term. I used to miss her when I was young, but all I felt was relief when she left now. Finally, I can return to ruminating on my misery.

  My eyes darted to the prim looking governess. Just one loose end to tie up.

  “Well Master Locke, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve been very much looking forward to--”

  “Shut up.”

  “Pardon me?” she asked, horrified.

  “Do you know how many people she’s gotten to try to tell me what to do? You look like a nice girl, so I’m going to tell you right here and right now. Make up an excuse and beat it.”

  Miss Freida stared in surprise, but a determined look solidified on her face a moment after registering my words.

  “Is something bothering you, Charlie?” she asked.

  “Call me Charles.”

  “I was just trying to be friendly,” she replied meekly. It made me groan.

  “It’s not going to work. The only reason you’re doing this is for money. Or worse, some kind of sick messiah complex You don’t give a goddamn about me or anything that’s happened to me. It’s all a cynical cash grab from my shitty mother.”

  “I think we can all agree on your mother being subpar, Charlie,” she replied. “Probably a blessing in disguise that she lets others take care of you.”

  I blinked. Utter contempt for my mother? This was new.

  “Hey now. What’s with the bewildered look?” she asked anew.

  It was hard to stare her in the eyes for long.

  “Go to Hell,” I spat back.

  Freida tittered, her hand covering her mouth. “Well, if there’s something hassling you, you should tell me about it. Even if I can’t fix it, you might just feel better after getting it off your chest.”

  A wicked grin spread on my lips as I realized the rare chance I had. If I told her the truth, she might flee of her own accord. She might hate me or become disgusted. Demons? Murder? Fire flying out of me? Sacrificial cults? She looked like the type that thought books about magic and witches were inappropriate for impressionable young men.

  Perfect.

  “Two weeks ago I killed somebody.”

  Sharp black eyebrows rose high on Freida’s forehead. I had her now.

  “That’s right. I used magic. They were going to sacrifice me to summon a demon, but I broke free and wiped them all out. They deserved it. I’m stained by the mark of evil. Of Hell itse--”

  I had to stop, because Freida had started laughing so hard that I could hardly hear myself speak.

  “Is that what happened? Oh no, I didn’t realize I was dealing with an almighty lord of darkness. That would certainly explain why your mother is such a witch!” she laughed.

  It was enough to nearly make me blow a gasket.

  “It’s true,” I declared.

  “Sure, sure, no, I believe you,” Freida replied, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.

  “It is! I’ll prove it.”

  So I did. I did just like that terrible Devil told me to. I reached deep into myself, gathered up every ounce of rage the idiot woman awoke inside me, and then I let it all out.

  I’d intended it to be a puff of fire. Enough to scare the crap out of her. I was such a fool.

  Fire erupted from me in huge gouts. Just like the night in that warehouse I nearly got killed. Fed by rage and hatred and yearning for someone to actually give a damn about me, I briefly turned the room into a crematorium, the blast of magic fire incinerating the furniture in a flash.

  When I opened my eyes. The living room was caked in cinders and scorch marks. It was a miracle the house didn’t catch fire.

  Freida was not quite as fortunate. I stared in horror at the woman’s charred body. Oh God. I’d done it again. I’d been provoked by that poor woman like a mean spirited twelve year old, and now she was worm food. Tears poured from my eyes. My hands trembled.

  Then I heard a voice both low and dark.

  “Not bad, you’re a pretty quick study.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Freida charred and ashen form rose up, dusted herself off, and in the tattered remains of her clothing, took a monstrous step towards me.

  Recognition thrilled through me. A fear I had thought forgotten gripped my heart tight and squeezed.

  “Oh no. You. You’re--”

  “That’s right, Charlie. I’m… your very own live at home tutor,” answered the very same Devil I`d met in the warehouse. “I’m Lisistrathiel. Charmed beyond mortal reckoning.”

  Conjured from beyond by a misguided summoning. Bound to the very scapegoat that was meant to be her sacrifice. Standing before me, garbed in nightmare and leering with eyes of molten bronze, Lisistrathiel bent her heavy head down to my ear and whispered, “You ever read Paradise Lost, Charlie? It’s one of my favorites.”

  Chapter 12

  I opened my
eyes to a quaint wooden ceiling over my head. The smell of grass and greenery in my nostrils made me think of a good bit of woodland that’s been left relatively unmolested by modern machinery.

  My chest eagerly reminded me with a blinding throb of pain that I was not quite dead and in Hell yet, and therefore that I was almost assuredly in some flavor of trouble.

  Where’s Lis when you actually need her?

  With a groan, I managed to raise myself to a sitting position and took stock of my location. It looked like a quaint old school Japanese home. Entirely made of wood. Thin walls. Sliding doors. Not a chair in sight. There was even a tea table within arms reach of where I’d woken up.

  Sudden motion caught my attention, and I suffered through another painful pang as I whirled around to face my captor.

  “Awake at last. I could tell there was trouble coming the minute our thugs didn’t return from the church hit.”

  I stared in shock as the young bartender girl I’d met at the Yakuza pub demurely shut the sliding door behind her with a bare foot. She laid a tray of humble clay cups on the table before me and tucked her legs beneath her as she knelt opposite to me.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, I only know a little bit about tea ceremony etiquette,” I managed.

  The barmaid offered a wry grin at my words. That’s when I noticed it. On the wall behind her, next to a trio of others much like it hung a familiar demonic mask. My eyes widened in recognition.

  She was the swordsman that nearly killed me, and the interloper that surely saved me.

  “I’d have gone to beat you up myself but churches weird me out. You have a name?” she asked, itching at her head.

  At least I thought it was her head. What she was actually itching at was a tiny horn almost completely obscured by her dark red hair. I could just make out another one on the other side of her skull too.

  “You’re an Oni. And the one that saved my life,” I said, before sighing. “Things just keep getting better and better. Charles Locke. Charmed.”

  “I’m Anzuki. Nice to meet you. Do you know your position, Charles Locke?”

  I grinned weakly, taking one of the tea cups and guiding it to my mouth. I sipped fragrant green tea. Plain yet sublime.

  “I am a prisoner of the Ogre Demons of the Netherworld. I imagine torture for information is in my near future, with being either killed for sport or eaten alive being slightly further down the line. Am I wrong?”

  “Depends on if you press your luck. I don’t really wanna torture you so I’ll ask you questions instead. Answer what you can.”

  I perked an eyebrow in surprise. “Refreshing.”

  Anzuki eyed me questioningly. “What do you mean?”

  “The last time I was caught by a Supernatural woman of exceeding beauty I was chained up and watched a man get slaughtered ‘to set an example’ for me. Nice to have a change of pace,” I said.

  Anzuki flushed bright red, raising a hand to her face. In anger she retorted, “Exceeding beauty? Don’t you flatter me. It’s not gonna work.”

  I got the sudden notion that flattery would get me very far with Anzuki, but I kept my lips strategically shut.

  “What sort of questions do you have for me?” I asked.

  My mind was teeming with questions of my own. If I played my cards right maybe I could sneak in a few of my own and get a straight answer from her.

  “How about this. We’ll trade questions,” I said.

  Anzuki scowled. “Huh?”

  “You ask me one question and I answer it honestly. Then I ask you one and you answer it honestly too.”

  No sane interrogator would accept such a terrible deal, but if taking the fight outside of the bar worked on that huge Oni, maybe this will work on Anzuki.

  The Ogre-girl let out a condescending laugh. “What kind of fool do you take me for, Charles Locke? You are my prisoner. That means you must answer two questions for each one you ask me.”

  I was beginning to understand the exact flavor of narrowmindedness that Oni suffered from.

  “I have no choice but to accept your unfair terms,” I said. “Ask away.”

  “You are working with the Tengu?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “I knew it. How much did those bastards pay you?”

  “Not a damn thing. Where am I?” I shot back.

  “Mount Jinba. Half hour drive from Tokyo. Do you hate Oni so much that you’d kill us for free?”

  “No. As I understand it the hostilities are because the Oni invaded from the Netherworld.”

  The Oni nodded her head. “I get it. Why did the Tengu try to get you killed?”

  I blinked in surprise. “They didn’t.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Anzuki retorted. “That man who nearly cut you down. Who was he?”

  “That’s three questions,” I replied solemnly.

  This must be what Lis felt like all the time when dealing with me.

  Anzuki downed her entire boiling hot cup of green tea and slammed the cup onto the tray hard enough to make the whole table clatter. “Damn it. Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

  I very nearly asked her bra size. How the hell did I ever mistake her for a swordsman? Thankfully. I am a professional vagabond, not some rank amateur.

  “Why did the Oni kill Nodara Nisemo?”

  “Who?” Anzuki asked.

  “The Tengu who was dead right by where you found me fighting the Demon Slayer.”

  “We didn’t kill him. Demon Slayer?”

  Didn’t kill him? Either Anzuki was lying to me, or the list of suspects was populated now by a single man.

  “The Demon Slayer, he’s the assassin you saved me from. The one you think is working for the Tengu. He’s not.”

  “I don’t understand. What--”

  “You already asked two questions,” I politely informed her.

  Anzuki paled. “No way.”

  “Way. You asked me who the Tengu was and about the Demon Slayer.”

  Her fist slammed down on the table again. She yelled a word in Japanese very loud. One of their more potent curses if I had to hazard a guess.

  My green tea was very soothing.

  “One last question from me. If you really didn’t kill Nodara Nisemo, then why were you there that night?”

  “Eh? Ah, obviously,” Anzuki managed with redness in her cheeks, adding in a voice so soft I could barely hear it, “It’s because I was following you.”

  Before I had a chance to perk an eyebrow, Anzuki had knelt down facing me, her body hunched over until her forehead nearly touched the floor.

  “Charles Locke. I actually have a favor to beg of you,” she said with enough intensity to make babies cry.

  It caught me completely off guard.

  “A favor. From the guy you kidnapped?”

  Anzuki launched herself from her position, her hands wrapping around my own as she stared me dead in the eye.

  “Become my Demon General, Charles Locke!”

  If I raised my eyebrows any higher they’d have gone flying off into the wide expanse of my forehead.

  “Anzuki. Are you by any chance proposing marriage to me?” I asked.

  “What?” The Oni woman gasped. Her face went blank with confusion and then red with embarrassment. “No! Of course not, that’s not what I meant. I meant you should uh, you know. Help me? Please?”

  Whatever a Demon General was, I’m sure it involved corrupting me with dark powers until you couldn’t tell me apart from the next monstrous Ogre. I’ll have to politely pass on that. Her plea, on the other hand, peaked my interest.

  “Why would I help you?” I asked coyly.

  “I want to set things right. Someone is trying to trick us and I don’t know who. The others think I’m crazy but if I can’t figure this out, bad things are gonna happen. I’m sure of it. Charles Locke, you’re strong and smart and clever. I will do anything to--”

  “All right. I’ll help,” I replied without missing a beat.

&nb
sp; “Just like that?” Anzuki asked, incredulous.

  “Of course.”

  Chapter 13

  At the end of the day, it’s all about making the right choices. People make choices, and those choices make us.

  Lis was always very adamant on this strange point, and insisted that it was the only way to truly judge someone. A man might think that he will do one thing in a situation, but end up doing the exact opposite when it was time to show your hand at the poker table.

  I just hope I made the right decision by choosing to help both Tengu and Oni. When all was said and done, the truth was that I didn’t think that I could live with myself if I hadn’t.

  Not that it made things easy for me. I was walking on eggshells now. If the Tengu discovered I’ve fraternized with the Oni, they’d skin me alive like they did that Yakuza thug. And if Anzuki realizes that I have no intentions of leading them to victory against the Tengu, she might change her mind about the whole Demon General thing too.

  Deep thoughts. It was always about deep and dangerous thinking. What was different this time was the place I was doing the thinking from. The back of Anzuki’s beat up pickup. If I didn’t see Japanese street signs every now and again I could easily be convinced I was somewhere in Texas.

  The wind blew through my hair, the chatter of cicadas almost drowned out all else. Country roads turned to paved ways quick enough. And paved ways to highways and swerving routes up and around the shining city of Tokyo.

  Anzuki pulled her beat up truck to the curve and turned to smile at me. She only got honked at twice for the maneuver. “Talk more soon. See if you can find out about anyone trying to pull our strings.”

  “I’ll do what I can. Regards, Anzuki.”

  “Do your best Charles,” she called out cheerfully, then cut off a semi as she screeched into the slow lane without checking her blind spot.

  As the Oni disappeared from sight, my smile turned into a scowl, and I dug for my phone. Leaning against a stone wall, I tried to marshal my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a sign with a swanky margarita cup on it, and decided to have a seat and a drink while I thought it out.