by Eden Crowne
After much gravel crunching, we arrived at the main entrance, stopping to wash our hands in the traditional manner at the stone fountain lined with bamboo water scoops.
“You should rinse your mouth, too.” Julian pointed at the scoop.
I looked up at him as I dribbled the clear, cold water over my fingers. “I beg your pardon?”
“Rinsing your mouth is part of the purification process.”
I stared at him doubtfully, “Do the germs know this? These are communal scoops.”
“Don't be a baby. And you don't put your lips to it anyway. Just dribble a bit of water in your left hand and rinse with that.”
Rinsed and purified, reluctantly on my part and sure I could taste flu germs mixed with the flavor of bamboo, we made our way through the massive main gate and into the actual temple grounds. Here I saw several young women dressed identically to the thing clinging to the torii gate – minus the fox face. I pointed and waited for Julian to explain. He was like my own supernatural Wikipedia.
“Shrine maidens. Very sought-after position. Brings honor to their families.” He led the way towards several low-standing boards covered in little wooden tablets about the size of my hand. In front of them sat a table with markers, a rack of plain tablets and what was obviously an offering box.
Julian took one of the tablets and carefully covered it in curling, interconnecting symbols. Not Japanese or Chinese characters, something else entirely, I thought. Much like the symbols he had written all over me.
While he scribbled, I pulled out my camera and snapped a few photos. The shrine was everything I thought it would be and I could kick myself for not coming sooner. The complex construction of interconnecting wooden pillars and beams was simple and unadorned, giving the large main temple an almost organic feel. Leafy green trees on either side of the courtyard set off the subtle gradations of brown from the bleached wood of the buildings and the gray paving stones of the courtyard.
Julian tugged at my sleeve. I tucked my little digital camera away. Together we moved forward to what must be an offering box. Julian reached into one pocket, removing a smooth, green stone and dropped it in.
I couldn't help it, I had to ask, “Do the priests want your rock in their offering plate? Um, box? Most churches I know prefer money.”
“The rock, as you call it so dismissively, is a portion of rare jade, and it is not for the priests. The energy the mineral sends out is a signal for one of the gods of the shrine. Alerting him to my presence. I am asking him to give me a word. A very powerful spell that I cannot possess without his help. If I have that word, I can call forth its power with my own alchemy. We are going to need something extra for the coming battle with the Soul Eaters.”
“That sounds ominous and also incomprehensible since I don't know how you can possess a word. And just what battle are you talking about?”
“We will have to fight eventually for your soul. I thought you understood that.”
“What kind of fighting?”
He didn't answer. Instead, he reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. Was he trying to reassure me? Julian? The world had become a very scary place of late. Julian was my only anchor on the shore of sanity as the tides of reality headed out to sea. At least he seemed to have a plan, and that was reassuring in itself.
Still holding my hand, he pulled me with him as he walked purposefully to the last row. Unlike the others, this section held only a handful of tablets. Carefully counting the number of hooks up and across, he settled on one. It didn't look any different from the rest of them to me. Julian placed the little piece of wood covered in squiggles just so. Adjusting it several times until it hung at the angle he wanted.
He indicated we should bring our palms together and bow towards the tablet. “Ask the kami to give us the word; say, I know where the mirror is.”
“Does he/she speak English?”
“Honestly, I thought you must be catching on by now.”
I shrugged.
He sighed.
“Words have great power no matter what their spelling or pronunciation. 'Hate,' 'love,' both resonate with energy in every language found in this world and more importantly the next. Are you familiar with the work of Japanese scientist and philosopher, Masaru Emoto and his experiments with human consciousness and water crystals?”
I looked at him blankly.
He rolled his eyes. “Why do I even bother to ask? Just add your plea for help to mine. The kami will understand.”
Doing as he said, I bent my head and chanted a little mantra of, “Please give Julian his word, he knows where the mirror is...whatever that means.” I got tired of chanting after about ten times and looked up. The leaves og the massive tree sheltering this section of the shrine courtyard began to toss and sway as the wind picked up, setting the wooden tablets clanging together like wind chimes. Glancing at Julian, I saw his eyes were still tightly closed, his face set into a stern mask of concentration. Pulling out my camera, I snapped a couple of pictures.
Julian looked up, frowning. Taking my hand, he pushed the camera down and back into my pocket. Without a word, he turned and walked towards a side gate a few yards away. I trotted after like an abandoned puppy. The gate led to a side courtyard surrounded on three sides by a thick growth of trees. Julian walked over to the wall, paused to give me another severe glare, and disappeared.
Oh crap.
“Julian?” I called, trotting over, my shoes sinking in the loose gravel. “Julian...ack!”
A hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed me.
“Do be quiet, we are trying not to draw attention to ourselves.”
He pulled me back against the wall. We were inside a shadow. If you can be or do such a thing. Other people walked out the side gate. No one even glanced in our direction. We sat down, our backs against the wall.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
The coming and going of worshippers and priests gradually grew less and less, the evening drawing in around us, quiet and close. Still we waited.
When there was nothing beyond the very dim sound of traffic from busy streets on the other side of the temple grounds, Julian stood, waving the shadow away in a puff of smoke.
“We are not the only ones with a quest. I have met the fox spirit you saw before. She told me others like her are searching for an enchanted object. The supernatural is just as full of intrigue and political back-stabbing as our own world, if not more, since most of that involves actual stabbing.” His manner was more relaxed than I had seen him in our short time together. Perhaps he felt safe here on sacred ground. “Whether by chance or design, I have stumbled upon information about where the object they are searching for is being kept. It concerns a sacred mirror of legendary power. Hopefully, my information is a worthy enough exchange for the word I need.”
The grounds were lighted, though only sporadically, with strings of overhead bulbs here and there. The ability to see in the dark seemed to be one of his skills because Julian pulled a strange little leather-bound book from one pocket and immersed himself in its pages as we waited.
And waited.
My stomach started to growl.
Watching Julian, I tried to back up and think things through. His face had momentarily lost its tense look, the fine mouth relaxing as he read, brows only slightly furrowed. In repose like this, I could see he really was only a little older than me. Though the past few years added lines around his eyes most boys his age didn't have. It was a handsome face with much symmetry. I compared him to Savan, though my heart constricted ever so tightly to do so. Savan was beautiful. Maybe not inside, as I was learning. Outside, though, he was gorgeous. I stared harder at Julian. Savan was definitely more handsome at first glance. Julian, however, had a depth behind his beauty, a strength I never felt from Savan. He looked up and caught me staring. Instead of frowning, he flashed a smile. One that reached up to the corners of his eyes, softening that brittle, crystal green clarity.
&n
bsp; “Can I trust you?” I said very quietly. “Can I, Julian?”
As swiftly as it appeared, the smile was gone. He looked at me soberly. “Recapturing those three pieces of your soul is important to me. My mission is to bring down the Club. Lucky for you, those two projects are compatible. At least at this point in time.”
“Tell me about the Club,” I asked. “I need to know more about what it is I am fighting.”
“We are fighting.”
It was funny how my nerves jumped as that pronoun slipped into 'we.' Were Julian and I a 'we'? Not really. Not yet. It was still more of a me and him. I knew I needed Julian way more than he needed me.
Speaking softly, he told me of a world I could never have imagined.
“The Club maintains cells in different cities around the world. Each cell is headed by a Captain. The cells are very fluid. Changing and recombining. Moving from one place to the next.”
“Like viruses mutating.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “And just as difficult to track and kill. Believe me, I am not the only one to seek vengeance for its victims. There are other hunters. Do you remember the masks? Or is their glamour still hiding that memory?”
I hadn't thought about the carnival masks at all. Not since the brief nightmare of the Club members gathered around my bed. With a rush, the memories came at me so hard and fast, I think I ducked, as though they were solid projectiles. At the Chateau each person had worn a colorful mask that changed into a grotesque animal, transforming their features. Then, the night of my party, the masks had reappeared. Savan's face morphed into a wickedly grinning wolf.
“Ritual,” I gasped out. “Savan said they were part of the Club's ritual.”
“Only one of many. Rituals are meant to bind members to a single purpose, unite them in shared conspiracy. Initiates receive their mask and a ribbon upon taking their first soul.”
“The ribbons mean souls? Some of them had a lot of ribbons.”
“Indeed. So many lives lost. By accepting the mask, the initiates agree to obey the laws of the Club. Though such pledges mean little in reality. Ritual or not, danger lurks just as much from within.”
“You mean they would attack each other? Why?”
“Pure souls needed for the Club's purposes are extraordinarily rare. Members are greedy. Once tasted, that power is desperately longed for. There is always the possibility they will fall upon each other, cannibalizing themselves to steal the souls they crave. Think about it. What could be more powerful then the engorged soul of a Soul Eater? The captain polices them and can call for help should any – or the entire cell, which happens from time to time – go rogue and start killing each other off.”
“Then why do they have to be in groups, if, like you say, they are each so hungry for souls?”
“Simply that it takes the combined power of several sorcerers, sometimes many, to wrest a fresh soul from its body.”
“Ah,” was all I could manage to croak The images his words conjured were just too frightening. I remembered my dream; the Club members gathered around me, their eyes jet-black and their masked faces ghastly. Wait, Julian said he'd killed Club members and taken souls. By himself. “Not you, though? You can do it alone?”
He just gave me one of his half smiles that seemed to be hiding a lot of information, if I could only figure it out. Everything was happening so fast. It was like being only barely strapped into a roller coaster and heading unstoppably for that big corkscrew turn. A fall seemed imminent, unavoidable.
“Have you ever been to the Duomo in Siena?”
The sudden change in subject threw me off track.
“Wait, what?”
“The Cathedral in Siena, Italy. The Duomo, have you been there?”
I had, actually. Though what Tuscany had to do with anything I could not even guess. Dad was on assignment in Rome, when? I thought back over all the moves in between. Maybe five years ago. Uncharacteristically, he took several days off and we traveled through Tuscany, including the breathtaking city of Siena. Winding up, over, and around the Tuscan hills, the city's narrow streets were crowded with aged, red brick buildings. Up and down the streets we wandered, occasionally stumbling into an open square, blinking at the sudden change from shadow to bright sun. The Duomo, Siena's main cathedral, was unforgettable with its massive Gothic exterior patterned in black and white marble. How very different from the quiet and composed symmetry of the Shinto shrine where we sat now. Dad and I spent hours wandering around the interior studying the famous mosaics in the cathedral floor and I told Julian so.
“Good, then you have seen the mosaics. I am speaking of the one at the center, near the entrance. A giant compass and at each point a different animal representing the guilds of Siena and its environs: Swan, dragon, unicorn, hare. The Club certainly pre-dates that compass however it serves as a perfect illustration of the organization.”
Yes, it made such an impression on me, that particular mosaic, though it was much simpler in design than the others. Was that prophetic somehow? To be asked that question by a Soul Eater after having my own soul ripped out? And to have the picture committed to memory. That was Discovery Channel paranormal documentary scary. Maybe there really were no coincidences, just like Julian said. Destiny chasing after me on soft, silent feet. I didn't want to believe that my path to this point in time had been predestined.
“Alexandra, are you listening?”
“Sorry, pondering predestination.”
He gave me one of his searching looks. “As I said, the organization of the Club closely parallels the mosaic. Each cell is traditionally named after animals. The name reflects where and when the cell was formed: Greece, Gaul, Rome, Babylon, Celtic England and Ireland.”
“What about Asia?”
“Asia is new territory for me.” He shrugged. “I do know neither the kami nor the demon clans of Japan like the Club and its practices. They make it difficult for cells to operate in the organized manner they maintain elsewhere. Of China, I know nothing at all. My own efforts have been focused on Europe and the cells in place there. About a year ago I was surprised to learn of this gathering in Tokyo. It is more difficult for non-Asians to be anonymous here and so I came on a hunting expedition. I am building a database of Club members. At least, that's why I thought I came.” He gave me a look I couldn't read, before abruptly turning away.
Jumping down from his perch, he walked restlessly back and forth, hands thrust in his deep coat pockets. “The database could prove invaluable. For me and the other hunters.”
“Though none of them are as dangerous and accomplished as you.”
“That's a given,” he said confidently. After a moment he stopped pacing to growl out, “You were mocking me.”
I shook my head and put a fake innocent look on my face. “No, me? Never. Julian Lake, the biggest, bad ass Soul Eater, um, uh, hunter on the planet. Oh yeah!” I flashed him two thumbs up.
He gave a little snort and carried on in his lecturing style. “Members move between each cell. The cell has a Captain, elected to serve in that position. To join the cell, Club members apply to the Captain, who has absolute power to accept or decline.”
“If he declines?”
“They must find another cell in another city. Only members of that cell can participate in the lottery for souls. The Soul Eaters form temporary alliances as the situation dictates. There are never enough souls to go around. Usually there are two or three games going on in the same city over a number of years. Once a ceremony is completed members generally move on to a different city and a different cell to try their luck in the lottery again and keep boredom at bay.”
“The Captain stays?”
“Yes, the position runs for ten years.”
“That seems like a long time.”
“Not when you're immortal.”
“Guess not.”
“He or she alone knows all the members in the city at a given time. At least, those that have declared themselves. If we can
find the Captain, I can force him or her to tell us which members have taken your soul.”
“Would I have met him, or her?”
“Possibly, though Captains are forbidden to take part in the hunt. They must remain impartial, in case there are complaints to settle.”
“So what's in it for them?”
“At the close of their tenure, they are insured one portion of the next soul in whatever cell they choose.”
We were silent for a time as I thought on everything Julian told me. I hadn't realized how big the Club was, how frighteningly deep magic lay embedded and festering under the skin of our modern world.
“You must leave him soon.” Julian spoke, interrupting my pondering.
“Who? Savan?” I don't know why I said his name. My subconscious just shot it out and into my mouth.
“Savan?” Julian's expression changed lightning fast, his mouth flattening into a hard line. “Don't tell me you still have feelings for that creature? You meant nothing to him. He used you and for that deserves only your contempt. I'm talking about your father. Though the Soul Eaters prefer to remain in proximity to you since that speeds up the process, the enchantment works from afar as well. I'll be honest, I seriously doubt we can get all three Soul Eaters at once. Whoever survives our attack will scatter overseas and we must give chase.”
“We means I have to go, too?”
I saw the answer looking back at me from those emerald eyes. Only his power stood between me and a swift disintegration to dust.
I was about to protest anyway, when he put his hand over my mouth.
“Hush, the gods are coming.”
Chapter 25
Divine Intervention
One moment we were alone, the next we were surrounded. White foxes sat in the courtyard, circling us, staring with unblinking eyes, their tails curled over their front paws. They were so large I thought at first they must be wolves. Trying to think through the rushing sense of panic rising in my throat, I saw the sharp, narrow features and cruel upturned grins that marked them unmistakably as foxes. There was a strong musky odor. Not bad, just wild. Some had more than one tail. I saw one with three and another with more than that. Great. Giant mutant foxes.
