STEAMPUNK ROMANCE: An Innovative Clockwork Steampunk World Adventure: The Complete Collection Boxed Set (Mystery Suspense Romance Short Stories)

by Haven, Rose

  The hunters who’d killed his parents.

  Chapter Three

  Daiki’s arms trembled as the hunters made their way to our table. I tried to push comfort and safety through the link, but I didn’t know how much was getting through. He didn’t react to anything I was thinking. His eyes were narrowed and glowed gold as the hunters joined us.

  “Hamada Daiki-kun,” the man said, nodding to Daiki and taking a seat at our table, speaking in rapid Japanese as Daiki glared at him. His shoulders shook with barely suppressed emotion. The woman took a seat on the opposite side, boxing Daiki and me in. Both she and the man had wrinkles at the corners of their eyes and white strands through their hair.

  I didn’t understand a word the man was saying, and I wasn’t getting anything from Daiki through the link, so I cleared my throat.

  “Excuse me,” I said, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. Daiki was so startled by me speaking up that his eyes went back to their usual warm brown. “Terribly sorry, but I don’t speak Japanese. Would you mind speaking in English please?”

  The woman looked sharply at me. She had a scar over her eyebrow and a dragon tattoo circling her neck. “You are human,” she said with a strong accent. It wasn’t a question.

  “And you’re a hunter,” I replied. “Is there something you wanted?”

  They looked startled, but they rallied quickly. “I am Minako,” the woman said. “This is my brother Hikaru. We are of the Ootori family.”

  “Never heard of them,” I said, ignoring the voice in my head – the one that sounded like Mama – that told me I was being rude. I could feel Daiki’s distress bleeding through the link as he practically vibrated in his seat. Now wasn’t the time to be polite. “I’ll ask again, is there something you wanted?”

  The man, Hikaru, chewed on his lip and turned back to Daiki, speaking in the same rapid Japanese and ignoring me completely. Daiki had recovered, and suddenly I could hear a translation of the words Hikaru was saying in my head.

  The Gregory brothers missed their check-in. You were a fool to think that we would not investigate.

  Daiki responded in Japanese: They killed a human girl. They tried to kill us. We were defending ourselves.

  The human was collateral damage.

  “Collateral damage?” I snapped, turning their attention back to me. “Terry Malcolm was my friend.”

  The hunters looked startled. “You speak Japanese?”

  “I told you I don’t,” I replied.

  I didn’t elaborate. The hunters shared a look and Minako licked her lips like a snake tasting the air. “Definitely human,” she told her brother.

  “The Gregory brothers kidnapped me and used me as bait,” I went on. “They seemed to think that they were doing me a favor.”

  Hikaru bowed his head briefly and spoke in an accent so heavy that I had to strain to understand him. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  “That’s a line from Star Trek,” I hissed at him.

  Daiki stood up, knocking his chair backwards so that it landed with a heavy crash on the floor. He tossed a wad of cash on the table and strode around to take my hand, pulling me gently to my feet and leaving the café without another word to the Ootoris. They watched us go.

  I kept a tight hold on Daiki’s hand as he practically galloped away from the café. The electricity between us was almost painful as I pushed warm thoughts through to Daiki. Eventually, when we were about a block away, Daiki slowed down and sent me an apologetic look. Thanks, he replied, sending warm thoughts tinged with alarm and fear back through the link. I realized that we were heading in the direction of Sakura no Yūshoku. I could only imagine how Ichiru would react when he found out that the hunters who’d killed Daiki’s parents were in New York.

  “They’re here to kill you, aren’t they?”

  Daiki didn’t answer. He sent some sorrow and affection through the link. I felt my heart fall into my knees.

  “We’ll think of something,” Daiki said.

  I remembered the night when we’d made love and fallen asleep in each other’s arms, when he’d promised that he wouldn’t leave New York. That the hunters wouldn’t scare him away from me. But I was starting to see just how dangerous it was for him to stay in the city now that hunters knew where he was. If the Ootori family, the family who’d cut down Daiki’s parents when he was a child, had been confident enough to reveal themselves to their prey, then maybe New York wasn’t the safest place for him right now. Maybe he needed to get out while he still had time?

  Daiki led me by the hand towards Ichiru’s restaurant. It was dark inside and smelt of sweet sauce and frying chicken. I could hear Ichiru humming in the kitchen.

  “Oji-san!” Daiki called. He spoke in Japanese and translated for me through the link: We need to talk.

  One moment!

  Skye is here.

  Ichiru appeared, wiping his hands on his apron, and smiled at me. It wasn’t as bright as his usual smile. It was reserved, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was happy to see me. I had to remind myself of Daiki’s romantic history so that I wouldn’t feel terrible about the sudden change of attitude. Ichiru didn’t share an empathetic link with me. He had no reason to trust that I had good intentions.

  The Ootoris are here, Daiki said in Japanese, translating through the link as he spoke.

  Ichiru’s reaction was instantaneous. He reeled backwards and put his hand on his chest. “You saw them?” he said.

  They spoke to us, Daiki replied.

  Ichiru’s cheeks went red. I was reminded of the night the hunters took me, when Daiki had been injured in the fight and Ichiru had let out an inhuman screech. It still made me cringe to remember it. The look of blind fury on his face had been so unbelievably different from his usual kind smile that I’d been convinced that I’d imagined it. Now, looking at him in the dim light of the restaurant as he listened to Daiki explain our encounter with the Ootoris, I knew that I hadn’t imagined it.

  … And then we left, Daiki finished in Japanese. He squeezed my hand and I took comfort in the soft hum of electricity as Ichiru began pacing the room.

  We will need to leave immediately, Ichiru said. Daiki’s translation was slow on that one, as if he hadn’t wanted to send the words through the link and into my mind. Ichiru made eye contact with me and asked in English: “Did they threaten Skye as well?”

  “They seemed mostly confused by me,” I replied. “A human with a shifter.”

  “It is not as uncommon as hunters would like to think,” Ichiru said.

  I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be in class. The lunch breaks at the Institute were usually very short, but I’d been gone way too long. I cast the thought aside; Daiki’s problems were more important than a class I would have hated anyway.

  “We can’t leave, Oji-san,” Daiki said. His voice burned like the fire running through his veins. “The Ootoris should pay for what they did.”

  I thought I must have heard him wrong. I tentatively pushed at the link between our minds but he didn’t respond. It was as if he’d erected a barrier between our minds. He’d completely shut down the link – I couldn’t feel anything coming from him. “Like revenge?” I asked.

  “They destroyed my family,” Daiki replied. “And not just them. They’ve slaughtered hundreds of shifters!”

  “Killing is a last resort,” Ichiru said firmly. “We do not kill for pleasure.”

  “The best defense is a good offence,” Daiki insisted. “Are we going to sit around and wait for them to torture and kill another human – torture and kill Skye – before we decide to act? Or run away and keep living in fear?”

  “Do not pretend that this is anything other than vengeance,” Ichiru said.

  I watched them, my eyes darted between their angry, sad, horrified expressions, like I was watching a volleyball match. I understood where Daiki were coming from – if I’d watched my parents fall to their deaths in a blaze of fire, I would want reve
nge too – but I agreed with Ichiru. I remembered watching him dispatch the hunters who’d kidnapped me and feeling nothing but relief at their deaths. Ichiru had killed them to protect Daiki and me. If Daiki actively sought out the Ootoris with the intention of killing them, then that would be murder.

  “I will not run away,” Daiki said. “Not this time. I can’t keep running, Oji-san, I can’t keep living like this.”

  Ichiru sighed sadly. He looked almost guilty. “This is how our kind lives, Daiki,” he said. “I am sorry,”

  “I won’t leave Skye,” Daiki said firmly.

  I felt a blush rising in my cheeks as Ichiru’s eyes turned to me.

  “I am sorry,” Ichiru repeated. “But the longer you stay, the more Skye is at risk.”

  “Not if we take the fight to them!” Daiki said. “If we attack now, while they’re still planning –”

  Ichiru snapped at him in Japanese, his voice burning with intensity: They have already planned. They have been hunting shifters since before you were born. You cannot outsmart them!

  I can outfight them! Daiki shouted back. I’m stronger now, I don’t need you to carry me anymore!

  Ichiru held up a hand, silencing Daiki as effectively as if he had cut his vocal chords.

  “Enough,” Ichiru said in English. “We will not discuss this further. I am sorry, Skye,” he added, turning to me.

  I couldn’t feel anything from Daiki. It made me feel almost hollow. We’d been sharing our thoughts for less than half an hour and already I felt the loss when Daiki cut the connection. How would I survive if the hunters silenced him permanently?

  “We must leave,” Ichiru said. “If we do not, more death will come to us.”

  “But Oji-san –”

  “You brought this danger down on us,” Ichiru snapped. Daiki blinked rapidly as if to keep himself from crying. “You chose to put your own desires ahead of this family’s safety, and now we must all suffer the consequences.”

  It took me a moment to realize that he’d included me when he said that all of us were suffering. Daiki spun on his heel and left the room, heading for the stairs behind the counter which led to the apartment above the restaurant.

  “Daiki!” I called. Daiki!

  He didn’t respond. Ichiru shook his head sadly at Daiki’s retreating back and turned to me: “I am sorry, Skye,” he said again. He kept saying that he was sorry. Maybe this life of hiding and running was as hard on him as it was on his grandson. “I know that you and Daiki have become close. If there was any other way –”

  “I understand,” I told him.

  He nodded, fixing me with a shrewd gaze. “Perhaps you should speak to him,” he said, giving me a significant look.

  He wanted me to convince Daiki to run. The thought of Daiki and Ichiru packing up their things and leaving town left me feeling sick and lost. My only other friend had been murdered. Without Daiki’s sweet, nervous text messages, his warm touch, or his cheerful smile, how would I survive this city?

  I’d known Daiki for over a week, but he was already indispensable.

  Despite my feelings, or maybe because of them, I nodded to Ichiru and went up the stairs behind the counter. It occurred to me that I had never actually seen Daiki’s apartment. He’d always come over to mine.

  The apartment above the restaurant was sparsely decorated, with a few pictures with Japanese calligraphy. I admired the brushwork and color schemes – the characters seemed to leap off of the page. I couldn’t understand the letters, but I felt the artist’s passion in the strokes and dashes. I followed the sound of Daiki’s pacing footsteps to a room down the hall.

  I knocked on the door. “Daiki?” I called out.

  There was a pause. “Come in!” he said.

  I let myself into the room, which was just as sparsely decorated as the rest of the apartment. There weren’t even pictures on the walls, just a rolled up futon in the corner and a cupboard for his clothes. This was the décor of a family ready to leave at any moment.

  When he saw me, he flung himself across the room and wrapped his arms around me. I held on tight, dreading the moment when we would need to let go.

  “It’s not fair,” he muttered into my shoulder. I ran a hand soothingly through his hair. “I just found you.”

  “You won’t lose me,” I said. “There’s email, text, Skype, the link – there are a thousand ways we can stay in touch.”

  He buried his face in the crook of my neck. I pressed against the link, sending a question and an offer for comfort if only he would let me in. He didn’t.

  “It’ll be okay,” I told him. “We’ll be okay.”

  “He’ll take us back to Japan,” Daiki said. I chewed on my lip, glad that he couldn’t see my expression. “The Ootoris are in America, so he’ll think it’s safe to go back. He’s always wanted to.”

  “Aren’t there more hunters in Japan?” I asked.

  “There are hunters everywhere,” he replied. “But the Ootoris are the ones to watch out for.” His voice came out like a growl when he said their name.

  “But they’re so…” I didn’t want to say ‘old’, but that’s what they were. The hunters who’d kidnapped me were young and vital. The Ootori siblings had salt and pepper hair and crow’s feet – they were probably as old as Ichiru. They were certainly older than my parents.

  “And you know how a hunter gets old?” Daiki said wryly. “By killing monsters quickly and efficiently.”

  “You’re not a monster,” I said.

  He pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine. I felt his feverish heat seeping into my skin, his nose touching my nose, and his eyelashes against my cheeks.

  “I thought I was for a long time,” he said. He was whispering like it was a secret. “A monster. I thought all humans would be afraid of me, and they kept proving me right. Then you… you wanted to paint me. Oji-san can’t really expect me to give that up.”

  “I told you, you’re not giving me up.”

  “You could come with us.”

  I pulled away so that I could look in his eyes. I saw hope in them, and a little bit of excitement. “What?” I asked.

  “Japan has great art schools,” he said, holding onto my waist and pulling me in so that we were chest to chest. “In Kyoto especially, but there are others. Art schools that’ll actually let you paint.”

  “I –” I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was asking me. “You want me to come to Japan? I don’t speak the language,”

  “I’ll teach you,” he replied excitedly.

  “But –” I needed to think. There were no chairs in the room for me to sit down on. “I can’t just go to Japan, Daiki – I’ve wanted to go to the Art Institute for my whole life.”

  Never mind that I wasn’t enjoying the classes, or the solitude, or the fact that I didn’t belong in New York City with its fancy hairstyles and pretentious professors. Never mind that the Art Institute wasn’t all I’d hoped that it would be. I’d fought long and hard for my parents to let me come to Manhattan and I would be damned if I let the little things keep me from following the dream I’d worked so hard for.

  “Life isn’t always what you expect it to be,” Daiki said harshly.

  I almost snapped back at him but the image of his parents falling from the sky and burning together stopped me. I ran my hand through his hair again, feeling him lean into my touch despite his anger, and said: “We’ll get through this, I know we will,” I said.

  He kissed me then. It was a slow, burning kiss that tasted like goodbye. I took his head in both of my hands and kissed him back, hard. I poured everything I was feeling – all the hopelessness, the frustration, the sorrow – into that kiss. He met me blow for blow, gripping my waist so tightly I thought he would leave bruises. He kissed me like the world was ending. In a way, it was.

  Chapter Four

  I left Daiki and Ichiru to pack their bags. I’d given them my support and assured Daiki that this wouldn’t mean our relationship was over, but I c
ouldn’t hold onto my feelings any longer. Especially after Daiki had blocked me out of the link. Even after we’d kissed and held each other, he still wouldn’t let me in. I tried not to take that personally.

  “He’s hurting,” I told myself as I made the long trek back to my apartment, ignoring the fact that I had afternoon classes and a midterm coming up. I didn’t have the strength to pretend to be interested.

  His offer to go to Japan with him had thrown me and I’d answered without thinking. But of course I couldn’t go to Japan… could I? Mama would throw a fit if she found out I was even considering it. The thought of being separated from Daiki made my chest hurt, but I couldn’t just pick up everything and run away with him.

  I got back to my apartment and let myself inside, pausing at the half-finished portrait of Daiki in my bedroom. It showed his back and the side of his face, with his huge black wings extended. I’d filled in some of the color over the weekend and now I was trying to decide how to incorporate fire. The sight of that picture, the memory of running my hands down that back, and the knowledge that I might not get the chance to do that again for a long time, made me want to take the canvas and smash it to the ground. I didn’t. Instead, I threw myself onto the bed and let out of huff of frustration.

  Rolling over, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Mama. It was about time I told her that I was seeing someone. I was dreading her reaction. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Daiki was white, but Mama – bless her – was a walking Texan stereotype. Daddy was just as racist but he was quieter about it.

  I held the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.

  “Skye Louise?” Mama said, raising her voice slightly as she always did when she answered the phone.

  “Hey, Mama,”

  “Bless you sweetheart, it’s so good to hear from you,” she said. “Hang on, I’m making jam. How do I put you on speaker?”

  I explained and waited until the tell-tale sound of white noise told me that she’d switched me over. “How was your day?” I asked.