I swung the hilt around, offering the sword by its pommel.
Her hand gripped the hilt.
I let go.
Escaping, the blade thinned to black mist, then nothing.
“It only stays in this world while I touch it,” I said.
She nodded. “That makes sense. The sword of a god wouldn’t be easily possessed, nor left laying around for just anyone to run off with.” She looked me in the eyes. “I’m curious, how did you bond to the sword? What are you, exactly?”
“You know,” I said. “We’re in a lot of Japanese legends.”
She breathed the word, “Kitsune.”
“Half,” I said.
“You must tell me all about it!”
I smiled. “Sure, but not tonight. I’m a little tired.”
“Oh, all right.” She tilted her head to the side. “There’s a Jacuzzi in the private bath, and a fluffy white bath robe on the back of the door. Go relax. I’ll find you something to sleep in.”
“Cool, I’ll just do that.” I started toward the bath and got several feet before she added an afterthought.
“By the way, I always sleep with one eye open … and a gun under the pillow.”
I half turned. “Oh, good to … know...” I stared past her at the bed, my face freezing into a mask of surprise.
Crunch lounged there, black leather pants all glossy, a white leather vest on but no shirt. His arms were chiseled muscle, his chest hairless. My eyes trailed down his abs and back up to his face and the wavy blond locks spilling to the side. He grinned—smug in the knowledge of his masculine appeal—and waved at me.
“Hey!” I pointed an accusing finger at him.
Crunch popped out.
Ryuuza spun about, staring at the dents and wrinkles of an empty bed. “What?” she said.
“Uh, which side do you like sleeping on.”
She shrugged. “Right, I guess. Is that a problem? Mess up your feng shui or something?”
“Uh, no, that’s all right.” I backed into the bathroom and shut the door. Using a stage whisper, I called to Crunch, “Pull yourself together and face me, you jerk.”
White mist curled and condensed over the toilet. Crunch solidified, leaning forward, hands o
“As if! I want you out of here, now, and don’t come back.”
“Why,” he said. “It’s not like I owe you any favors. Last time we met, you were pretty hard on me.”
I glared through slit eyes. “Do you want to die … again?”
Ryuuza knocked on the door. “You alright in there?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry if I was being too loud.”
“Talking to yourself?” she asked. “I do that sometimes too. Hey, I’ve got a nightshirt on the bed for you. You want anything from room service? I’m feeling like celebrating, maybe Rocky Road or Fudge Brownie ice cream.”
“Either,” I called, “but get a jar of fudge sauce too.” I thought of something to deal with Crunch. “And get me a shaker of salt.”
“Salt? On chocolate ice cream? Is that a kitsune thing?”
Crunch yelled, his singer’s voice booming, “Nah, she wants to use it on me.”
The door was hauled open at warp speed, but by the time Ryuuza burst in, Crunch had pulled a fade again.
I sighed and sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi. I’d barely infiltrated the enemy camp, and now everything was going sideways on me. “Okay, the truth is, I’m being haunted by a ghost. That was him you just heard. Guy won’t leave me alone.”
“Wow,” Ryuuza said. A long silence followed.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you. You’re kitsune. Kitsune don’t lie. It’s just … wow!”
“You want me to go?”
“Hell, no. We were looking for an opportunity to try out the Sword of Susanoo. This is it.”
The sink and bath faucets turned by themselves. The sound of pouring water filled the room. The Jacuzzi’s bubble bath dispenser spewed foam into the white, triangular tub with its rounded corners. The full-length mirror on one wall cracked top to bottom, as Crunch returned, fading in on top of the commode, this time standing on the lid, looming over us. His eyes flamed emerald, same as the ghost fire blurring his edges.
His arm extended, as he pointed a finger at me. “That’s why you wouldn’t go back to Michiko’s place. You’d already stolen the sword I wanted you to steal.”
I crossed my arms. “And what if I did?”
He screamed, “You bitch, that sword is mine!”
“Yeah, in some parallel universe you’ll never see.” I looked to Ryuuza. “You still want me to blast him to itsy-bitsy pieces?”
She didn’t answer, her eyes fixed on Crunch, devouring his rampant maleness, as he stepped off the toilet into mid air and didn’t drop an inch. He stopped in front of me—his crotch way too close to my face for comfort.
Ryuuza dipped at the knees and waved a hand under his floating feet. She waved a hand through his knees, making them ripple. She straightened. “Yep, that’s a ghost alright.”
Crunch shifted his angry face toward her. “Do you mind,” he said. “I’m ranting here. Hey…” His face softened, loosing its scowl. “You’re kind of cute.”
I rolled my eyes. The fingers of my right hand curled around cold shadow as the shadow sword returned. I slashed at his neck.
But Crunch popped out. Again.
I growled in total irritation. “I hate that guy.”
“You just don’t know how to handle guys,” Ryuuza said.
“You looked ready to handle him.”
She shrugged. “It would certainly be a first. My usual boy-toys are at least breathing.”
I turned off the faucets. “I need to call my mom. She’ll know how to deal with this.”
“I’ve got a better idea. I know someone who knows someone. I can have a miko here in an hour.” She headed back to the bedroom, and on to the living room. I followed, keeping an eye out for Crunch in case he returned.
I let the shadow sword thin away. “What’s a miko?”
“Shrine maiden, a Shinto priestess who deals with kami: spirits and elemental forces of nature. In anime, they’re the girls wearing white blouses with red skirts. Broom in hand, they’re often shown sweeping the steps of a their temple, or praying before dancing flames, chanting and throwing paper charms at assorted demons and ghosts.”
Excitement skittered down my spine. The miko sounded like the woman who’d stolen Tukka from me in the dream world. I needed to get a good look at this miko, then I’d know for sure.
“So, there are really people like that,” I said.
“Sure.”
“I mean, here in Texas?”
“Yeah, my mom has a miko traveling with her. I’ll just call her hotel and—” Ryuuza stopped. She stared at the bar, at an unused electrical outlet. “My phone … and charger … they’re gone. They were right here.” She screamed, “Aimi, Seiza, get out here.”
In seconds, they burst from their bedroom, gripping assorted weapons, scanning the room for any sign of threat. “What’s wrong,” Aimi demanded.
“Ghost,” Ryuuza said.
Seiza lowered her gun to her side. “You’re joking.”
“No,” Ryuuza said. “It’s got my phone. Where are yours?”
The guards patted themselves. “That’s funny,” Aimi said. “I know I was wearing it.”
“Me too,” Seiza said.
“He’s trying to cut us off,” I said.
“Then we’ll leave.” Ryuuza stormed toward the door.
The couches, tables, and chairs moved faster. Shoved by an unseen force, everything piled up against the door to the hall. A loose throw rug made like a magic carpet, slapping me across the face. I beat the thing out of my face. The rug fell and flopped on the hall tiles like a floundering tuna. Seiza shot it, twice. The reports echoed loudly, yellow-white muzzle flashes searing the air.
The carpet lay still, exhausted and spent. From everywhere and
nowhere, male laughter danced in the air.
I summoned the shadow sword, and yelled, “Come out and fight, you coward!” I could have gone into the ghost realm after him, but he didn’t have to materialize there for me either. I thought I’d better to stay close to the girls.
The front door shivered, jolted.
Aimi kicked the wounded rug, her face lined with disapproval. “Not smart. We’re about to be neck deep in overzealous…”
The door fell out into the hall, sliced right off its hinges. The blocking furniture bucked toward us, shoved inward by a small army of black-clad women bristling with swords. With no sign of Crunch, and me being the only stranger around, the kunoichi clambered over the barricade, launching themselves at me like a cold wave of death.
EIGHTEEN
CAMINEERING: a change in engagement,
shifting the threat, or the line of attack.
I watched the bodyguard posing as Aimi slip on an air of authority, speaking imperiously to the kunoichi, “Teishi shi, watashi no gesuto ha mondai dehanai!”
The wave of death caught itself, freezing like black ice, but numerous pointy weapons were still trained on me. That Aimi and not Ryuuza gave the order told me the foot soldiers weren’t in on the impersonation; they didn’t know who the real Aimi was.
Isn’t that carrying paranoia a little too far?
In the back shadows of my mind, sleepy yellow eyes half-opened as Taliesina commented. Paranoia can never be too deep, and a secret can only be kept by one person.
I gave her a mental shrug. As long as I don’t have to fight for my life against an endless horde. Just because it happens a lot doesn’t mean I like it.
Ryuuza and Seiza fell in behind Aimi. All three marched toward the door. The kunoichi flowed out of their way, creating a gauntlet to the hall. Aimi called back to me. “Are you coming?”
I hurried to catch up. “Where are we going?”
“The piano lounge on the first floor,” Ryuuza said. “We’ll send for the miko. After she banishes the evil spirit and puts up spiritual barriers, we’ll return.”
“Is the lounge going to be open this time of night?” I asked.
Aimi said, “They will open it for me. They know I like to play the piano at odd hours.”
I whispered to Ryuuza, “Is she good?”
Ryuuza answered in her normal voice, “No, she is excellent. Had Aimi less pressing duties, she would have followed her heart and debuted as a pop idol years ago.”
Denied a life in the limelight, no wonder she’s a cranky bitch.
The kunoichi closed in, guarding me as well as everyone else. We packed the hallway, waiting for elevators to come. Several kunoichi broke off, taking the stairs. They’d no doubt get the lounge opened and swept for threats before we got there. Ryuuza borrowed a cell phone from a guard and made a call, speaking in fast-paced Japanese. The call finished and she kept the phone.
The elevator cars arrived and we piled in them. I was thankful; Crunch didn’t seem to be following, no one had stuck a sword in me yet, and that there was no elevator music—that last might have truly broken me. The cage dropped, taking weight off my feet like I was crossing over, only I wasn’t. The doors dinged open and two kunoichi stepped out, glaring around suspiciously before waving the rest of us out.
The desk clerk didn’t seem surprised by female ninja slinking around her lobby. The same overly-cheerful smile stayed plastered on her face as we paraded into the lounge, past a red velvet rope on brass stands, and went through a heavy, double oak doors with stained glass windows. One of the doors stood open, a kunoichi just inside. We went in and I saw more of them lining the walls. The last two kunoichi didn’t come in, but closed the door, taking up guard position outside.
Recessed lighting barely dented the gloom, as we moved past modest tables with pale gold tablecloths. The chairs, champagne and gray, had high-backs that were rounded hourglass shapes. Across the room, an island of brightness waited. The light was magenta, slithering over the ivory gloss of a baby grand piano. The piano occupied a square dais that was sided by foot-high champagne valances. Beyond the piano, drapes covered a whole wall, and were a rich ochre.
Aimi went straight to the piano, seating herself. Ryuuza and Seiza settled at a nearby table. I joined them. The kunoichi guards weren’t crowding us, but I kept my voice low, “Ryuuza, not that I’m complaining, but why are you trusting me to know who you are, but not the people keeping you safe?”
“I keep me safe,” she said. “Besides, these kunoichi serve my mother and father ahead of me. My secrets are shared with those pledged to me alone,” she smiled at me, “and to kitsune that cannot lie. You would never do anything to hurt me, would you?”
“Not if I could help it. I’d like to be friends.”
Seiza rolled her eyes, as if to say, “Spare me this maudlin crap.”
Heroically, I resisted the impulse to kick her under the table. Distracting me, piano music filled the air. The playing was classical but a little pop as well, with sudden leaps and rushes. The sound system wasn’t on, but each crisp note carried well, as did Aimi’s vocals.
An iron sky’s demon moon,
Haunts this dream where I run—
Barbwire coils around my heart;
I’m Love’s bitch and then some—
“Cheerful,” I said.
Seiza glared at me. “I wrote that for her.”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? It’s, uh, different.”
The centerpiece on the table caught my eye. A hand-blown glass cylinder with tiny bubbles, holding miniature yellow roses surrounded by slim branches tipped with tiny lights. The chocolate brown of the fake branches reminded me of Tukka. Thinking of what he must be going through put pressure around my heart, flooding it with sadness.
“What’s your problem,” Seiza asked, “someone kick your puppy?”
I looked her in the eyes. “Yes.”
The piano music stopped. Aimi had gone perfectly still on the piano bench, hands in her lap, head down. The echo of her voice died and we were left in a foreboding silence.
Sticking to English for my benefit, Ryuuza called out, “Aimi, are you all right?”
As if recovering from an epileptic mini-seizure, Aimi picked up where she’d left off, giving no sign anything was wrong. But I froze in shock. Her precise but passion-challenged playing transmuted to a lush, sweeping cascade of piercing beauty. Mercurial nuances infused her returning arpeggios. Her left hand added a ponderous heartbeat quickening toward a passionate crescendo. I’d have melted inside, but my heart froze over as I noticed her eyes shining like emerald stars. Were I to cross over, I knew what I’d see; Aimi with a ghostly green aura that smothered her own.
Seiza voice was tinged with awe, “I’ve never heard her play so well.”
“Crunch is possessing her,” I said.
Ryuuza looked at Aimi and back to me. “You’re sure?”
“Very.”
Aimi stopped playing and stood.
There were murmurs of disappointment from some of the kunoichi. Aimi had fans among them. She came to our table, snatched a tiny golden rose from the vase, and leaned across the table to offer me the flower. The green fire of her eyes brightened. She smiled and whispered so only those at the table could hear, “You will give me what I want, Grace. I promise you.”
I smacked her hand, and the rose flew out of my face. It spun through the air, landing on a table off to the side, as I pushed to my feet. Those watching murmured, surprised by my reaction. I heard a few swords begin to slide out of their sheaths. That chilled me further. To the surrounding troops, Aimi was being offered insult for no particular reason. If she hadn’t already ordered them not to mess with her guest, I’d probably be neck deep in swords already.
I shot a c’mon-do-something look to Ryuuza.
She shrugged, smiling blandly. “Aren’t you more qualified to deal with this than me?”
I let my gaze slide over the kunoichi; they’d a
ll come forward a few steps, leaving the walls. “Yeah, but do we want everyone knowing what I can do?”
“Help is coming,” Ryuuza said. “Sit down.”
I lowered myself slowly into my chair, though I’d have preferred crossing over and fire-blasting Aimi, which wouldn’t have hurt her—only Crunch.
“You heard her,” Aimi said. “Sit, good girl.”
I pulled my chair back up to the table, speaking through gritted teeth, “I’m sitting.”
“Good,” Aimi said. “I have a show to finish. One should never let a captive audience go to waste.” She turned and went back to the piano with a swagger in her walk. Having a lower center of gravity didn’t seem to bother Crunch at all. This probably wasn’t the first time he’d used his ghostly powers to pull a gender-bender. In fact, if there wasn’t an audience, I was pretty sure he’d be feeling himself up in Aimi’s body about now, maybe doing grosser things. I had little love for Aimi, but this was an unspeakable violation. I had to do something.
I started to rise from my chair.
Aimi pointed at me and said, “No. Don’t go anywhere. I like you where I can see you. Besides, the show is just starting.”
“I have to go to the restroom.” It was true; from the restroom, I could cross over privately, then come back and give Crunch the epic beat-down he deserved.
“Hold it,” Aimi said; her female tones snuggly wrapped around Crunch’s words. “You don’t want to miss the rest of the show.”
I remained crouched, leaning on the table.
Aimi’s smile was cold and hard like a spike of ice waiting to be buried in my chest. “Would you rather I order the guards to carry you away … in pieces?”
I sat.
Damn. By picking his target so well, Crunch had turned our own security against us. His low, animal cunning was annoyingly impressive.
As Aimi, he played song after song, most of it thumpy rock and roll, sometimes progressive, sometimes metal, all of it accompanied by a voice that gained power and technique until it sounded like an entirely different singer. He sang of empty hearts, soaring heart, chances lost, and dreams forever out of reach. Passion throbbed in his words, weaving an enticing spell.
Tears and Shadow (kitsune series) Page 14
