by Young, S.
“Because our scents have mixed.”
“Exactly.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Oh, just her usual threats. She’s getting a bit boring, actually.”
Kiyo didn’t look so amused as he leaned in to steal a kiss. He settled back into his seat but didn’t let go of her hand. “It’s good to know she has no clue about Osaka.”
“None whatsoever. Which means we have a head start on finding that pendant.”
* * *
Following Google Maps’ directions to Nakamura Izakaya, they found themselves wandering the streets near the port of Osaka Bay. Niamh hoped they found the jade pendant fast because from what they’d seen of the city as they drove through it, she was beyond excited to explore. Maybe it was because this was where Kiyo was born. If it wasn’t too painful for him, she would like to return to the area of his birth. To imagine Osaka as it had been when he was a boy. She did sense uneasiness from him about being in the city, but his strongest emotion was urgency. He wanted to find that pendant. So did Niamh. Tourist shit could wait. Leaving the car behind, they began to walk in search of their destination.
Kiyo explained that an izakaya was a kind of bar that sold drinks and snacks. Nakamura Tavern was apparently hidden in amongst a bunch of commercial establishments a few yards ahead.
Feeling a hum of energy the closer they got to their destination, Niamh asked Kiyo if he could feel it.
“Yeah,” he answered, his face hard with thought as they neared the alley that led down to the bar. That hum became a cloying warmth on their skin as they walked down the alley toward the entrance.
It stood before them, a black-fronted building with a brown, ragged awning over the door. One small window covered in peeling black paper allowed some light from inside to peek through.
It looked as welcoming as a morgue.
“That’s a spell,” Niamh whispered, referring to the hum of energy.
“To keep nonsupernaturals out.” Kiyo raised an eyebrow. “The travel blogger and her sister walked right through it … they can harness magic and they don’t even know it.”
“Latent witches. That’s how they got past the spell.”
“Looks like it. I think we should be grateful they don’t know. If someone can mutilate the English language with words like ‘goosebumpy,’ imagine the horrors she’d commit with magic at her fingertips.”
Niamh let out a bark of laughter as Kiyo’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You’re funny.”
“You don’t need to sound so surprised.” He gestured to the door. “Ladies first. I’ve got your back.”
“Let’s do this.” Niamh strode in front of him, pushing open the door to the tavern and blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness. All she got was an impression of the interior—dark wood everywhere, low-lit lanterns, framed photographs cluttering every inch of the walls. A bar ran along the back of the room.
What really had her attention were the vamps and werewolves that made up the clientele.
Holy crap.
She heard the not-so-subtle sniffing noises from the patrons as Kiyo followed close at her back.
Niamh ignored the flashing silver eyes of the vampires who stared like they wanted to suck her dry.
Damn her fae blood and a vamp’s weakness for it.
Hurrying toward the bar where a small, middle-aged human woman with long salt-and-pepper hair glared from behind it, Niamh was halted when a tall vampire popped up in front of her.
“Oh.” She stumbled back into Kiyo.
The vampire licked his lips as he zoned in on her throat. He asked something in Japanese.
Whatever it was, Kiyo took a distinct dislike to it. He demonstrated this not by words but by thumping his palm against the vampire’s chest.
The knock sent the vamp flying across the tavern into a table of werewolves who immediately pounced on the vampire as if it had been his fault he was now their table decoration.
Niamh raised an eyebrow at Kiyo.
He was too busy issuing a silent warning at every supe in the tavern to notice.
She shivered, feeling hot and tingly in her southern region. Niamh shook her head at herself, not quite used to the idea that as much as there was a primal side to Kiyo’s territorialism, there was an equally primal side of her that reacted to it physically.
A stream of Japanese hit their ears from behind the bar.
Kiyo turned to the woman and replied in English, “We’re not here to cause trouble.”
Glancing at Niamh, the woman sneered. “The mahoutsukai has a troublesome blood scent.”
“And a human would know that how?” Kiyo stepped up to the bar. “You’re a miko.”
The woman glared. “No more.”
“We’re here about an ancestor of yours.” Niamh sidled into Kiyo’s side. “Your—”
“Mizuki.” The bartender rolled her eyes. “Tourists. They all want to know about Mizuki. Do I look like tourist guide to you?” she snapped. “You want to know things, you go to museum. They took everything from my family. It all there.”
“Who took everything?” Kiyo asked.
“The state. Of great cultural importance, they said. And we have no money,” she relayed, the bitterness clear in her eyes. “So we sell to state and now they charge tourists to view my family’s things.”
“I’m sorry,” Niamh offered sincerely.
The woman frowned, studying her carefully. “You mean that.” Heaving a sigh, she grabbed a napkin and a pen and wrote characters on it. She slid the napkin to Kiyo. “The address. It in what used to be Mizuki’s home. There is whole room of her things.”
“Arigatō, miko-san.” Kiyo gave her a grateful nod as he took the napkin.
“Why do you want to know?” She leaned over the bar. “You are not just tourist, are you? Strange mahoutsukai and her werewolf.”
“I’m fascinated by women like me,” Niamh replied with a smooth lie. “Mizuki is one of the most famous miko in Japan. I talked my boyfriend into taking me to Osaka just to learn about her.”
Kiyo plastered on a comical expression of said beleaguered boyfriend and shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?”
Mizuki’s descendant bought it. “Fine. Now go before the vamps decide your boyfriend is worth the fight to get to your blood.”
She didn’t need to tell them twice.
Kiyo placed a claiming hand on Niamh’s lower back and led her out of the tavern. She exhaled in relief as soon as they strode out of the alley and back onto the main street.
“Where to next?”
Kiyo raised the napkin with the Japanese characters on it.
“You really need to teach me how to read Japanese.”
“Which language?” he answered sardonically.
Remembering there was Hiragana, Katakana, and Kanji, Niamh shrugged. “All of them.”
“Is this before or after we’re saving my ass?”
“After. But first we need to save the world. Then you can teach me Japanese.”
“If we save my ass and then the world’s, I’m not celebrating by teaching you Japanese.” He gave her a pointed look that made her hot and needy.
“You can’t give me that smoldering-sex look when we’re smack bang in the middle of a mission.”
Kiyo looked far too happy about her description.
“I feel like you’re not taking this seriously at all.” She snatched the napkin from his hand. She stared at the alien characters. Fionn’s voice filled her head: The only limitations to your magic are the ones you place upon it.
Holding tight to the napkin, Niamh stepped closer to Kiyo’s body. He instinctively put his arms around her and she smiled up at him as she concentrated on the symbols on the napkin. Her magic pulsed and the characters began to leave the napkin, slithering into her hand and melting into her skin.
Kiyo’s expression was blank but she felt his shock.
The knowledge on the napkin became a part of her.
“H
old on to me.”
A momentary darkness, a slightly off-kilter but familiar feeling surrounded them, and then they were there.
She’d traveled to the address on the napkin.
Kiyo looked up at the house he told her was of the Minka style, much like the one from her dream. Minka was a blanket term now for traditional Japanese architecture. It was large and stuck out on the residential street crammed with modern homes.
Thankfully, no one was on the street when Kiyo and Niamh popped out of nowhere.
Her mate took hold of her hand, turning it over and finding only the scar left by Sakura’s bracelet. “How?” His eyes flew to hers. “Have you done that before?”
Niamh shook her head. “It was something Fionn said. The only limitations to my magic are the ones I place upon it. I think he meant I’m capable of almost anything. Cool, huh?”
Kiyo shook his head, his expression veering between awe and exasperation. “Try to leave me some things to do that make me useful.”
Niamh gave him a saucy smile before turning to climb the steps to the museum. “Oh, there are parts of you that are incredibly useful to me.”
“You’re going to pay for that.” He hurried to catch up with her.
“How?”
“Where’s the fun in telling you?” He winked before guiding her inside.
Despite their current reason for being in the museum, Niamh couldn’t help the happiness that filled her. Every day, Kiyo grew less and less brooding. And she knew it was because of their bond. Even here in Osaka, somewhere he hadn’t returned since being cursed, he was lighter than before.
She made him happy.
She made an immortal werewolf who hadn’t known true contentment in over a hundred years happy.
That was cooler than any magic she could ever hope to do.
While Niamh was woolgathering over their bond, Kiyo paid their admission into the quiet museum. Renewed urgency seemed to have taken over him now that they were in the large home with its tatami mat flooring, wall scrolls, and shoji screens. Small plaques written in Japanese and English were placed on the walls next to scrolls and photographs. Other objects were encased in glass.
Kiyo read signs above doorways and led them with quick efficiency into the largest room at the back of the house. “This is it.”
They separated, taking one side of the room each. Niamh scoured old newspaper clippings and eyed beautiful kimonos, vases, and stones that were considered objects of power for Mizuki.
Then she stumbled to a stop upon an empty glass stand.
The plaque beneath it read:
The Nakamura Jade Pendant
Mizuki wore the Nakamura jade until the day she died. Despite requesting the jade be buried with her ashes, the request could not be fulfilled by the Nakamura family as the stone belonged to the next generation of miko. Rumors that the jade could not be borne, however, by anyone else but Mizuki spread through Osaka when Sayuri Nakamura, her successor, was killed trying to use its power. It was locked away in the family Tamaya (memorial altar dedicated to deceased ancestors) and never seen again, until now.
“Uh, Kiyo.”
“Yeah.” He hurried across the room. “Did you find it?”
“Sort of.” Niamh pointed at the empty glass, trying to quell the tears of frustration burning in her eyes. “It’s gone.”
She was confused as Kiyo abruptly strode away, though not so confused when he returned with a concerned-looking staff member who went a ghostly white when they showed him the empty glass case.
A rapid-fire conversation in Japanese ensued, the man growing more distressed as Kiyo’s anger swelled.
“What’s happening?” Niamh interrupted impatiently.
“He doesn’t know how it got out of there,” Kiyo snapped just as the man fled the room. “He’s checking the security cameras.”
“Kiyo …” She placed a hand on his arm. “Who would know?”
“Astra?” he growled in question.
“She made it clear she didn’t.”
“Or she’s trying to throw you off the trail.”
The thought of the pendant in Astra’s hands scared the shit out of Niamh. Kiyo pulled her into his embrace. “It’ll be okay.”
She nodded, pressing a kiss to his throat.
They waited like that until the museum guy returned ten minutes later looking flabbergasted and freaked out. He and Kiyo had another conversation in Japanese.
“He says the pendant was in the case last night. At 2:04 a.m., it disappeared. No one in the room. Just gone. He says you can clearly see it popping out of thin air on camera.”
“It just disappeared?”
“Yeah.”
Magic, she said telepathically.
He nodded, expression grim.
Astra.
33
Kiyo sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bent as he stared at the floor in serious contemplation.
Never in Niamh’s life had she felt this kind of all-consuming fear and worry. All because of how much she bloody loved this man.
Loved.
What a pitiful word to describe how she felt.
“Kyōka suigetsu,” she whispered unthinkingly from her spot near the bathroom door. Kiyo brought his head up to stare at her with that heartrending intensity of his. He’d taught her that phrase this past week. Something that is visible but can’t be touched, like the moon’s reflection on the water. Or an emotion that can’t be described with mere words.
That was her love for him.
And she was terrified of losing him.
“Komorebi,” he murmured and held out his hand. “Come here.”
Niamh shook her head. If she went to him, she’d again beg and plead with him not to go to this fight. But Kiyo had already shut her down.
“It’s too dangerous,” Niamh had complained that morning.
After catching the bullet train back to Tokyo and traveling to the hotel so as not to alert the pack, Niamh had exhausted herself trying to connect to Astra. If it was possible for Astra to invade her mind with visions and dream-walking, then surely Niamh could do it to her.
She’d tried so hard, she was pretty sure she’d burst a blood vessel or two on her forehead until Kiyo had demanded she stop before she hurt herself.
Despite all the worries consuming her, she’d fallen asleep in his arms and awoken to his glorious lovemaking.
It was after as he got up to get ready for the day that she remembered the fight.
“I made a promise,” he’d thrown over his shoulder as he walked his remarkable naked arse into the bathroom.
Niamh marched in after him. “The pendant is missing. Astra could be anywhere with it. A chaotic, crowded fight in the middle of the city leaves you vulnerable. It’s stupid and we should get the hell out of here now.”
Kiyo’s expression darkened as he stepped into the shower. “I can look after myself.”
“I’m not saying you can’t,” Niamh huffed in exasperation. “But I don’t understand why you can’t just walk away when things are this uncertain.”
“Last time, I made no promise to fight. This time I did. I honor my promises. Without my honor, Niamh, I really am just a soulless bastard.”
She flinched. “How can you say that? We wouldn’t be mated if you didn’t have a soul. You couldn’t feel anything for me.”
“Right now, I’m feeling impatience. I fight, I win, and then I’m entirely free from the pack.”
“And if Astra attacks during the fight?”
“Then we fight back.”
“This is idiotic!” Niamh had hissed in outrage. “What about the promise you made to Fionn to protect me? Is that less important than your promise to Sakura?” She’d known it was jealous and childish as soon as she said it, but Niamh was too frightened to care. She’d hurried out, slamming the door behind her. She fought back tears as she glared out the window at the city beyond.
The bathroom door opened seconds later.
&nbs
p; He didn’t say anything.
Just pulled her back to his chest, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed a tender kiss to her temple.
“I didn’t mean that.” Her tears leaked as she covered his arms with hers. “I’m angry at myself. I’m supposed to be one of the most powerful beings on this bloody planet, and I can’t even protect my own mate.”
He squeezed her. “That’s not your job.”
“She’s stronger than me, Kiyo. I can’t find her, I can’t get into her head—”
“Shh.” He turned her in his arms and she sank into his embrace, uncaring that his skin was damp from the shower. “We’ll find the pendant and then we’ll get out of here and go where she can’t find us.”
Hours later, it was time to leave for the fight and Niamh felt no more reassured than she had this morning.
“Come here,” Kiyo repeated, his hand still held out to her.
“No,” Niamh said. “I’ll fall apart.”
Anger flashed across his face as he stood. “So, your plan is to punish me for going through with this.”
“If you think that, then you don’t know me at all.”
He cut her an exasperated look before striding into the sitting room. “Then the problem is your faith in my skills as a fighter.”
Ugh, men.
“I know you can kick the arse of every supernatural who’ll be at that fight tonight. Except for one.”
“Astra.” Kiyo shrugged into a leather jacket, looking way too handsome and distracting in it. “We’re on our guard. We go there expecting her to turn up. It’s better this way than her catching us completely unaware.”
Niamh felt irritated that there was a kernel of common sense in his words.
“Fine,” she huffed, striding past him to their breakfast table. Lifting her hands over the surface, she gathered her magic to the fore.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. I’m concentrating.”
Seconds later, three pure iron blades gleamed atop the table. Lethargy crawled through her.
Kiyo crossed the room to peer down at them. “What’s wrapped around the hilt?”
“A protective covering. I can handle it without burning myself. I’ll still feel weakened by it, but it won’t leave me with any scars if I wield it.”
