“Complimenting me? At this rate I might just slap cuffs on you and send you to butt pounding wizard prison for life,” I replied.
“You misunderstand my dismay. Without you, all would have played out smoothly. I wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice Lady Momodara to the police. Countless lives would have been spared. All would have been perfectly poised had you not brought a chainsaw to the surgery table.”
“Of course. How dare I try to oppose your villainy. Listen to yourself Kuroshi. What kind of man kills two fathers that trusted you with their lives and with the well being of their empires?”
“A hero,” Kuroshi’s voice whispered in luxuriating tones. “A savior to this dying world.”
“Is that what you told the Demon Slayer too? How old was he?” I asked, mounting the top of another stairwell. How many did this make? I’d lost count.
“A young man clad in sin. I didn’t have the heart to tell him there was no cure for his sickness.”
I felt a pang in my heart. How much different was I from the Demon Slayer? Had I found a Kuroshi instead of a Nine Towers, would I have been just another pawn in a game run by kings? Was I a pawn already and just didn’t realize it?
No way Charlie, my mind replied in a voice worryingly similar to Lis’, you’re more like a rook or a knight at the very least.
“You used him like a tool,” I said.
“When you strip a boy of his hHmanity, what else is left to judge by but usefulness?” came the response.
His voice was louder now. Crystal clear compared to the echoing whisper I first heard. I was very close.
At the top of the latest stairwell stood an ornate double door carved out of mahogany. As I pushed it open, I knew I’d found the right place.
It was a throne room, for all intents and purposes. Anzuki’s ancestors sure knew how to make a necromancer feel at home. Giant skulls quietly blazing in blue fire hung by chains suspended from the ceiling. The incense came from them. The whole floor was so thick with the mist that it looked like the whole place was built upon a cloud.
At the center, on a rise of stairs, sat a man in reserved business attire. Black overcoat, black tie, white undershirt, and golden cuff links. On his face was a gnarled mask much like the demonic faces of the Oni. Power radiated from him.
“Kuroshi Ro.”
“Once again I bid you welcome, Charles Locke. It is a shame to have to kill a man like you, but I have to look at the bigger picture. Now, go to Nirvana.”
Chapter 36
The Demon Priest raised a hand caked in dark magics high, and crushed the wispy flames in his fist. The shattered magic flashed balefully, then fell to the misty floor like shooting stars.
Something stirred from beneath the mist. Many somethings.
“I see,” I said, my eyes glued to Kuroshi as the skeletal remains of Oni rose up around me from their hiding places in the fog. “The mist isn’t an anti Supernatural priest trick. Why bother with something so roundabout when you can just sit on top of the largest font of fire and death magic this side of the globe?”
Kuroshi stood motionless, “The very magics of my former liege. So much in one place would make any Human that learned how to tap it a respectable arch mage.”
“Humor me,” I said. “Why kill the Kunshu? The Grand Tengu? Why kill the fathers of two girls that must have looked up to you?‘Uncle’ Kuroshi.”
The Demon Priest flinched at this. He balled his hands to fists as the skeletons encircled me, jaws opening in mute snarls.
“You brats don’t understand. You never bother looking beyond the here and now. If I don’t do what I have to do, then all the world would be in peril. This is not a coup d’etat, agent. This is divine ordinance. Cut him down.”
I drew my wand-sword in a flash, piercing the skull of the closest skeleton and slashing the spine of the one beside. Drawing Cho from my rear pocket, I held him next to my wand.
“Hands on advice. Now.”
Cho hummed in concentration. “Weakness: Fire, exorcism, rot and--”
“Not theirs. The one in the business suit,” I corrected, cutting through another skeleton.
“Same as that other Human’s, Charles.” Cho replied.
Other Human?
I blinked in surprise. The Demon Slayer. Of course. A wide sweep of my blade of hardened arcana saw the closest skeleton sneaking up behind me cut down and its brethren pushed back to prowl in wait for an opening.
“The means justify the ends then, Kuroshi?”
“They are monsters. Yokai, Charles. How can you weigh a human life against that of a demon?”
“I was just about to ask you the same damn thing. Do Tengu not bleed? Do Oni feel no pain? Can’t they cry? Be overjoyed by the same things that make Humans happy? Answer me!”
The Demon Priest cursed in fury. Fire balled up in his hands, raising it high over his head. “They are not like us. I, of all people, would know.”
I had just enough agility in me to evade the first fireball. Leaping to the side, I narrowly avoided being burnt to a crisp. The floor and surrounding skeletons were not so lucky. It wasn’t a traditional fireball. Instead of exploding, it splashed like a glob of acid onto the ground, evaporating bone and wood like it was nothing.
The second, I wasn’t so lucky with. Searing pain burned into my ankle. An unlucky splash. Sprawled on the wooden floor, I felt skeletal limbs grab me and diligently hold me in place.
As I turned my gaze up, I saw Kuroshi with both hands raised high, a huge ball of grotesque blue fire growing up above him.
“With the Oni eradicated, I will have control over their powers and will use it for good. This is what you don’t see. What are the lives of the ants you step upon your journey compared to the good that the journey’s end can bring to bear?” Kuroshi asked.
I grinned ruefully. “What’s the point of acquiring power if it costs you your own Humanity?”
Just one chance. As the immense blue and yellow flame was thrown at me, my fingers worked together to trace a circle in the air. A split second before the ball of blue fire turned me into the world’s most charming bowl of gruel, the shield popped into existence.
With a sound like a pop can getting hit by a baseball bat, the fireball bounced back towards Kuroshi’s pedestal. My heart soared as the ball of acid soared towards the Demon Priest, missed him by exactly one inch, and sailed up to mash against the roof.
Kuroshi turned his gaze to me. I could feel the shit eating grin that spread behind his mask.
“You miss the point, Charles Locke,” the Demon Priest said. “At the end of the day, your words are nothing more than the whining of the weak and the incapable. What is Justice without the strength to enforce it?”
Kuroshi Ro extended a hand, a fresh globule of bale fire focused on it, and aimed right at my head.
“The hard truth of this world is that there is no real justice. The strong will do what they will. So what if those Yokai trusted me? In the end, mankind ought to care about nothing other than itself. There will be no repercussion to what I have done. That is the truth of my justice.”
The purple light of the Netherworld shone down through the pagoda’s new sun roof. I grinned ruefully.
“I can think of at least one repercussion,” I said.
Kuroshi scoffed, poised his hand for the killing bolt of fire, and then noticed that his shadow looked somehow odd when cast from the light above.
Black metal suddenly pierced Kuroshi’s chest, the blow struck from high above as Anzuki and Momo, dropping down like a sword of Damocles, guided the Demon Slayer’s blade right into the priest’s torso.
Kuroshi shuddered, looked terribly surprised for a moment, and then toppled down the throne stairs. Skeletal limbs went limp, the mist faded, and Kuroshi came to a stop face down on the wood floor.
I turned to see Momo and Anzuki rise, their gazes filled with fury and vengeance.
“Sow the wind. Reap the tempest,” I said.
Anzuki, on weak le
gs, reached Kuroshi first, kicking him over and stepping on his neck as the man gagged.
Momo fell on him too like a vulture, hot tears in the corners of her eyes.
Both had death in their gazes, but I’d seen more than my fair share of mortal wounds. Kuroshi Ro was already dying. I stumbled to them on my burnt ankle and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
“It’s already over. Isn’t that right, Demon Priest?”
The man coughed up blood, curling up in a painful ball as he slowly bled to death.
“Kuroshi. How could you?” Momo asked.
“The big picture. You must understand. You know not what you’ve done here. Foolish girls. Foolish man!”
“The big picture?”I demanded.
“An Angel came to me. Cloaked in fear, Death grovelled at his feet like a beaten dog. He showed me visions of the coming age of ruin. An empty hollow earth.”
“Bullshit.”
“The only way to stop it is to separate the Mundane from the Supernatural. The divine from the terrestrial. Permanently. Please…”
“That’s why you used us?” Anzuki demanded, her fist trembling. “Like tools and pawns and…”
When I turned my head back to Kuroshi, I saw trails of tears beneath his broken mask.
“Please forgive me…”
Kuroshi Ro died. Beneath the demonic mask was the face of a graying man like any other. I wondered how many people would have made the same choices if they’d been put in Kuroshi’s position.
Two pairs of hands embraced me. I pretended not to notice the girls seemed on the verge of tears.
“You two really saved my life back there. Great thinking. How did you--”
“Easy to guide the blow. Momo came up with the idea though.”
“Idea?” I asked.
“Duh,” the Tengu replied. “I wasn’t getting sick from the incense, which meant that Charles Locke was dumb and wrong about it. Kuroshi was probably sapping Oni magic from their throne. Would make him hard to kill with mortal weapons. However--,”
“However,” Anzuki echoed, “When you take something’s power, you become more like the thing whose power you took. Which means--”
“Which means Kuroshi became just enough of a Demon Ogre by consuming the gathered magic to make him register to the Demon Slayer blade.”
Momodara nodded. “Super lucky winner.”
“What will you two do now?” I asked.
“Rebuild our empires,” they replied in unison.
I smirked. “I forget that I’m among a new generation of Supernatural empresses. Please forgive me, your majesties.”
“We won’t,” they said. Again in unison.
I perked an eyebrow at that.
“In exchange for your life, dumb monkey. We want a straight answer from you,” Momo said.
“Yes,” Anzuki chipped in. “You’ve avoided it admirably, but you won’t escape us now.”
“Escape what exactly?” I asked.
“Which do you like more, Charles? Peaches?” Momo asked, pointing to herself.
“Or delicious apricots?” Anzuki piped up.
Momo glared at the Oni swordswoman. “My peaches?” she asked, hitting me with her gorgeous hips.
“Or, my apricots,” Anzuki added, leaning her spectacular breasts against my arm.
“Why does it always have to feel like bomb disposal with you two?” I asked.
“Pick,” they commanded.
I grinned wickedly, and gave them my answer.
Chapter 37
Jagged eyebrows rose high as infernal eyes closed. A fork still between her predatory teeth, Lis savored the taste of her dessert.
“I can’t believe you’re putting me and my wallet through this crap. Maple walnut apple cobbler. Fresh pomme gateau avec extra, extra whipped cream. Amish apple dumplings. And let’s not forget the crumb topped--”
“Keep whining and I’m going to start suspecting you of being tsundere for me, Charlie,” Lis chided, taking a spoon full of the applesauce laced whipped cream.
“It’s not like I want you to damn me to eternal suffering or anything,” I shot back, taking another fearful look at the reservation-only high scale restaurant’s menu. Between the desserts and the main course, the bill would top a thousand dollars easily.
Of course we had to dress up, and of course, Lis wore a luxurious apple red dress.
“Once again, just to make sure I didn’t mishear you. This evening out is your idea of repayment for saving my life?”
“Mhm,” she mumbled, mouth full.
“That’s it? That’s all? What about my soul dammit? Do you really think I could just earn it back with an evening dining out? It can’t be this easy,” I said.
Lis shook her head and produced a list from between her breasts. I gulped at the gesture, grabbing the list in as big a huff as I could manage. It read as follows:
To do list
- Children’s hour local library, Toulouse. x6
- Burn ward Bible time, Toronto General Hospital. x6
- Little Readers club, Downtown New York. x6
The list went on and on. I turned back to Lis with a shake of my head.
“What the Hell is this happy horse crap?”
Lis let out a low chuckle, building it up into a full on cackle. Her forked tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth and fire danced in her molten eyes.
“It’s called community service brokering, my dear sweet Charlie.”
Sweat began beading on my brow. “Explain.”
Lis’ grin widened further. “As you know I am…”
“A pain in my ass. Also a Devil,” I supplied.
“And I’ve supposedly done rude and nasty things in my day, right?”
“Still in the process, I’d say,” I shot back.
“Well, the thing is I’m not much of a people person, Charlie, so I’m always left in a sour mood when I end up having to do nice things for people. That is, of course, until a great idea popped into my head.”
My eyes widened, my stomach churned. “Oh no,” I whispered in horror, looking back at the list of sickeningly good deeds.
“Oh, Charlie. You should really save all that emotion in your voice for when you’re reading picture books to the little kids.”
“I can’t. I’m not good with children. Just let me donate money to these places instead, surely--”
“No dice. It’s your soul so you’re the one that needs to pay the pied piper.”
I was a fool for thinking Lis would let me off easy. I buried my head in my hands and groaned. “When does this start?”
“I took the liberty of booking you at the English learning center in downtown Tokyo for tomorrow morning. Should be three or so hours every day for about forty days or so hence. You really got a bargain for your soul Charlie. You should thank-- oops,” Lis exclaimed.
A dollop of cream fell from the side of her spoon and came to rest atop her chest, threatening to slowly slide down her dress.
“Hands full. Care to get that for me?” Lis asked.
“Straight to Hell,” I retorted, tossing her my handkerchief.
“Thank you Charlie. Why ask for a napkin when I can needle you like this?”
The word needle jogged my memory. My eyes narrowed and my shoulders stiffened. Lis noticed the change immediately.
“Angel,” I said.
“Who, me?” Lis asked.
I ignored her.
“Kuroshi Ro. The puppet master. He said an Angel told him that an age of ruin was coming. That if the Supernatural and the natural worlds were not separated entirely from each other, then both would be eradicated.”
Lis daintily chewed on an apple slice without so much as batting an eyelash. “How ominous.”
No reaction at all? A false alarm then.
“Just the ranting of a dying man, desperate to deflect fault none other than his own. Forget I said anything at all Lis.” I said.
Raising a hand up, I signaled the waiter. Bill p
lease.
“You shouldn’t worry so much Charlie,” began Lis. “I mean about that. You should be worried about how to teach little boys and girls how to love reading and learning. Because if you do an unsatisfactory job, I’ll be sure to take a hefty pound of flesh for the hassle.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” I said, dropping my credit card and paying the exorbitant cost of Lis’ gluttony.
Lis smiled, letting me put her pitch black coat on. “You should be Charles. Because by my reckoning? Things are going to get awful interesting for you awful soon.”
Thinking back on her words. I’m not sure if she hadn’t been talking about Kuroshi’s mysterious Angel all along.
###
About the Author
For the latest news and updates regarding the Secret Magent series, not to mention freebies, sneak peeks and cover reveals, check out my Blog.
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All throughout my formative years I’ve been inspired by great authors like Tolkien, Lewis or even Le Guin. The fact that my work doesn’t very much resemble their heavy handed epic fantasy in any way shape or form is one hundred percent my fault.
Like a teenager in the throes of rebellion, I’ve gone to the shiny and smooth, hard and fast world of action-y urban fantasy without a single regret. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t add a dash of old school fantasy into things.
Take our be-shadowed protagonist for example. Charles Locke might seem like a fairly stock character as first glance, but he’s a far cry from the soulless suaveness or sheer gratuitous violence that usually passes for a main character in stories like these. He is a character in desperate search of redemption, unable to forgive himself, let alone imagine others might accept him for his past failings. It’s precisely this feeling of inability, or perhaps even incapability, to redeem oneself that I’ve always loved in stories.
Two to Tengu (Secret Magent Book 2) Page 15