Eternal Samurai

by B. D. Heywood

  Groans of dismay and a “What the fuck else is new,” from someone followed the announcement.

  “Seems like the goddamn system oughta be blown up. We’d be better off using fekkin’ pigeons,” Bana grumbled.

  “You said it, Mick.” Phoenix said.

  The Major sighed, wishing again that the cash-strapped Seattle Telecommunication Designate could find the money to upgrade its ancient system with proficient Chinese equipment. A useless hope. He cleared his throat above the clatter of chairs as men stood and moved toward the door. As one they stilled, all eyes turned in his direction.

  “Oh, by the way, Mr. Galloway or Mr. Bell, our newest recruit needs some suggestions on a firearm. Please see to it. And, gentlemen, watch out for civilians. Dismissed.”

  In the armory, Tatsu helped load packs with ammunition and medical supplies. He could not resist a sideways glance at Passebon as the big man bent over to slide a serrated combat knife into his tanker boot. Shimatta! That was one gorgeous, mouth-watering hunk of a man. Against his better judgment, Tatsu admired the outline of the tall man’s awesome glutes, the line of thigh, the curve down to long calves. Then he caught Galloway staring at the Cajun with look of such naked hunger that Tatsu turned away strangely saddened.

  Bana interrupted Tatsu’s distraction by offering him a Beretta. Tatsu shook his head. For him the best weapon was the razor-sharp steel he carried. He risked another quick glance at Galloway now hiding any sign of his need.

  Tatsu knew his best defense against that kind of need was fulfilling his quest. Still, he had no armament against the longing that haunted his dreams. He locked those concerns behind his rising excitement as he climbed into the Hummer with Bana. There was no doubt he’d be facing kyūketsuki tonight. And perhaps by fighting alongside these men, he’d be able to execute his blood debt.

  Then doubt colored the edges of Tatsu’s golden certainty. What if Saito Arisada was his enemy? He realized with a sick dread that he might never be able to bring himself to kill this gorgeous creature even if his quest demanded it.

  .

  Eleven

  Arisada detested bars and nightclubs especially Club Belladonna with its pervasive reek of human sweat ladened with pheromones, adrenalin and desperation. Tonight, though, he suppressed his distaste. Tonight, he hunted his own kind, several kyūketsuki who had abducted three girls. For that vile crime, the rogues would forfeit their lives to Saito Arisada.

  Dozens of humans milled around looking for sex, drugs, gambling, punishment—any kind of high. They were oblivious to the vampire hidden above in a dark recess of the loft.

  Suddenly, Arisada’s body thrummed with heat. He caught scent forever imprinted in his brain. Tatsu Cobb. The sweet aroma was accompanied by the clatter of booted feet in the stairs. Arisada faded farther back into the darkest corner and watched Tatsu and the older, black-haired man at a table next to the balcony rail.

  The vampire’s groin filled, cock pulsing heavy with desire and excitement. He leaned subtly forward, wanting to catch every nuance, every movement from the adorable boy. Á, sō desu ka, Tatsu Cobb had joined the covert mercenary group. All vampires knew about them. Hated them. Feared them.

  Arisada experienced a deep dismay. Tatsu was now a hired killer. And that made them mortal enemies.

  The energy from too many people high on booze and who-knew-what-kind of chemicals assaulted Tatsu’s senses the second he entered the club. Although only a couple of hours past sunset, the place was packed. Elbow-to-elbow, patrons jostled against the two bars lining each side of the room. Gyrating people jammed the floor. The music’s thumping beat reverberated through Tatsu’s chest. He sensed no vampires, but the sweat-stink of fear ran neck and neck with the heavy musk of human sexual arousal.

  “This bar is one o’ the most dangerous places along the Pipe.” Bana bellowed over the noise. He slapped some change on the bar and scooped up a couple of bottles of fake beer before leading the way to the circular stairs to the dark loft. They chose a circular table against the balcony that gave them a view of the front door.

  Tatsu sighed with relief as the band abruptly finished their set, and the head-splitting metal beat changed to a softer rock.

  Bana’s voice dropped about five decibels. “We’re just a hundred feet from the border. Bar’s owned by vampires. Ya can get every kind of entertainment of the depraved sort, know what I mean? Lookit them idjits, getting stoned. They’re cruisin’ fer bloodsuckers. Hope ta get hawked. Some assholes even wanna catch the virus and turn. Think they’ll be fuckin’ immortal.”

  Bana took a long gulp from his bottle, plunked it down with a thud. “Ya keep sketch now, boyo. Gotta earn our keep. I can hear ol’ tightwad Cooperhayes howling about the hundred dollars jist to get into this joint.” He jabbed a finger toward the crowd below. “Looks like we may get some action. This place always draws the bloodsuckers. Always happy to oblige the ijits who come here to get hawked.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Tatsu chaffed with impatience. So far, Bana hadn’t said a word about how they were going to find the missing girls.

  The Irishman took another gulp of his drink. “Simple, boyo. Bloodsuckers and humans mix here to get their little blood-fuck fix. We spot a likely suspect, lure his fanged ass outside and me and Fiona will get him to talk.” He smirked and patted the holster that held his newest weapon—a Taser Shockwave modified by Wyckes to deliver an electrical jolt guaranteed to fry a vampire’s eyeballs. Bana had named it Fiona the Instant Agonizer after one of his ex-wives. He turned his gaze from sweeping the floor below to check his partner and caught Tatsu’s frown. “Okay kid, out with it, what’s got yer knickers all twisted?”

  “Fornax. You said nothing about working with a vampire. Neither did the Major. You were hot to recruit me but I feel like I was deceived.”

  “Sorry, boyo. Fornax is one of our biggest secrets. If the wrong ones find out he’s with us, he’s dead meat.”

  “Why is he working for the Lepers?”

  “Only the Major knows, and he ain’t telling. It’s how we operate, boyo. We trust him, no questions. He’s never let us down, not once in the years I’ve been with him.” Bana leveled a dark look at Tatsu, a look that said he’d better not ask either.

  “So, he’s an informant?”

  “More’n that, boyo. He’s one fatherfucking, hell of a fighter. He’s mum on a lot of stuff. But if anything affects an operation, he’s got our backs.”

  “Anything else I should know about?” Tatsu, feeling ashamed of his outburst, let his anger fade. It was pointless to fight with the irascible Irishman.

  Bana shook his head before taking another swig of his drink. “See anything down there yet?”

  Tatsu turned his eyes back to the crowd, “Nani mo. Nothing.” He shrugged. The movement reminded him of the absence of his swords. On Bana’s order, he’d stashed them in the Hummer. Unarmed, he felt naked.

  “Nearly midnight, usually the time bloodsuckers come in. We got it in the bag if a fem shows up. She ain’t gonna resist when she sees a face as pretty as yours. You just turn on some flirty boy charm, waggle yer arse, and make her think you wanna get shagged.” The Irishman leered and wiggled his bushy eyebrows up and down.

  Tatsu blew out a huff. His looks. Every gay man’s wet dream according to some. Nothing but trouble according to Tatsu. He was never sure whether to be grateful to his Japanese mother for giving him her delicate beauty or curse the genes that damned him to look like a perennial teenager—a pretty perennial teenager. And now Bana’s latest target.

  “Course, the way you blew off them girls, maybe a bull might be more up yer alley, eh? I seen several dudes eye you like you’re the cherry on top of a sundae, and they want to lick it off. Or lick something else off,” Bana slurped his tongue around the rim of his bottle then grinned. “Bet every one of ’em got chubbed up thinking about doing it with ya.”

  Tatsu hid his irritation behind a swallow of his drink. Wyckes had warned him during his physi
cal about his new partner. In addition to the booze problem, Bana would rag a newcomer without mercy. Nothing was sacred, especially sex. “Sorry Cobb, the way you look, he’s gonna be a real asshole for a while. Ignore him. He’ll get tired of it or you can knock him on his ass like Passebon did,” Wyckes had advised.

  But Tatsu hadn’t expected it to happen his first day on the job. “Shimatta. Damn it, Murtagh stuff it. I don’t have time for that bullshit.” Inexplicably, he recalled that first moment when Arisada’s golden eyes caught him in a gaze full of want. The press of the vampire’s need against his. Those soft lips. That tongue chasing its knowing way into Tatsu’s mouth.

  His cock stirred. Jigoku, where was the obnoxious, ear-shattering and equally distracting band when you needed one?

  “Hell, I bet Galloway would fuck ya in a heartbeat. Cept he’s so in love with the Cajun, I don’t think he’d do anyone else. They’d sure make a pretty couple, don’tcha think?”

  Tatsu felt warmth of a blush spread across the tops of his cheeks. “Huh, he and Chain are…?” A picture of Galloway and Passebon—strong bodies pressed tight, hands rubbing, mouths devouring—flooded Tatsu with a smoky heat.

  “Not on yer life, laddie. The Cajun’s straight, married once. But for someone as smart as he is, he doesn’t have a sodding clue. But me nose knows,” Bana slid his thumb down the side of his nose with a sly wink.

  “You know, you’re asking for it. I heard Passebon already took your head off once.” Tatsu figured there was only one way to shut the Irishman up. “Hell, the way you keep talking, maybe you’re into men.”

  Not the least bit perturbed, Bana chuckled. “Nah not me, got drunk once and let a dude blow me. Not too bad, but a pair of nice tittles and a good piece of minge … umm, now you’re talking.” His eyes softened with a dreamy look as his imagination took off along lust lane.

  Tatsu jumped at the loud clatter of chairs as Passebon and Galloway sat down. Kuso, that too-graphic picture of the two men kissing danced in Tatsu’s mind again. Again, the heat crawled up his face as he looked from one man to the next.

  “What’s up Mick? Ninja boy?” Galloway smiled and winked at Tatsu. The smile took the sting out of the new nickname.

  A waitress materialized by Chain’s side. Her eyes fastened on his face. “Can I get you something?” she purred. Her nipples visibly hardened under the thin fabric of her blouse.

  Although Galloway was used to women going dewy-eyed and flirty over him, he loved to see his partner’s effect on them. He grinned at the Cajun’s slow, sexy smile mesmerizing the waitress.

  “Sure thing darlin’. Cervezas for me and my partner. And bring a round of whatever they’re having,” Passebon waggled his forefinger in the direction of Tatsu and Bana. The waitress backed away, eyes still on Passebon’s face.

  “Ack, ye got the luck o’ the Irish with the lassies.” Bana thickened his brogue for a moment before his voice lowered into a territorial growl. “What are you two doing here anyway?”

  “Don’t sweat it, Murtagh,” Passebon snorted. “We’re finished. Found the missing boys jacking off to porn flicks in a Sixty-Nine skin house about two klicks from the Mall.” They stopped talking while the waitress placed their drinks on the table.

  “Yeah, easy pay for us,” Galloway grinned as he and Chain clicked their bottles together. “We just thought you may need backup.”

  “Don’t need ya. Me and boyo here got it covered.”

  Just then Tatsu spotted a likely target coming through the bar door. No mistaking that arrogant crowding or constant predatory movement of the head. A tall, beefy vampire on the prowl. Some humans scrambled to get away from the creatures, others jostled closer.

  “There.” Pleased to be contributing so soon to the mission, Tatsu grinned at the other three men.

  “Big bull. Can’t mistake that arrogant, arsehole walk.”

  “Avec une femme, c’est bizarre.” Passebon added nodding his chin at the small female trailing her hand down the bull’s muscular back.

  Galloway smirked. “Looks like you’re gonna need a little backup after all, eh Mick?”

  “Don’t call me Mick.” Bana glared at Galloway before shifting his gaze to Passebon. “It’s only two of them. Won’t even need you guys.”

  “Are you both armed?” Tatsu could see no sign of weapons on either man.

  “Couple of knives. K-bar in my boot. Bow’s in the Hummer. Knew the dickhead bouncer wouldn’t let me in with it. Cochon.” Passebon muttered without taking his eyes off the quarry. Galloway just grinned as he flipped back the lapel of his hip-length leather coat to show his Colts snug in their shoulder holsters.

  “Let’s do this.” Passebon started to rise.

  “Half a mo, got an idea. Boyo, take off your jacket,” Bana leaned close to Tatsu who waved his hands in protest. “Just do it, ya git,” Bana barked.

  “What are you thinking of Mick?”

  “Them’s vampires, right? We all know their horny and stupid. Way I figure it, the kid here is gonna sashay up to them, wiggle his cute little arse, and lure them outside.” Bana sniggered as if he were about to pull the ultimate, killer of-all pranks.

  “Me, why me? Shouldn’t Galloway do this, he’s the actor. No offense.” Tatsu slapped ineffectually at Bana’s hands suddenly everywhere tugging on his tee-shirt, practically yanking it off his body.

  “Galloway’s face is still seen on the telly. Vamps watch movies, same as us, might spot him. Besides, you look like you’re jailbait. They’ll go for that. Now, get this off, ya idjit.” Bana continued to paw at Tatsu’s tee.

  Tatsu glared as he pulled off his shirt. He blushed at Galloway’s low whistle at his bare chest.

  Bana ripped off the bottom half of the black tee with his combat knife then handed the ragged garment back. “Now, you’re gonna saunter over there like you’re on yer first hawking date,” Bana winked at Galloway and Passebon. “He’s cute, ain’t he? Look at them cute abs and that little belly button. Don’t think I’ve seen one this cute in a long while.”

  Passebon shook his head in amusement. Merde, no denying the boy was pretty.

  “Mick, you keep talking like that, and I’d think you’ve gone queer.” Galloway grinned, but couldn’t take his eyes off Tatsu’s naked flesh. The kid was more than cute. He was a total prickteasing turn-on.

  “Just shut the fuck up.” Tatsu squirmed feeling ridiculous in a ripped tee-shirt that revealed half his chest and the ridges of his abs. Then Galloway told him to take off his belt and undo a couple of buttons of his brown, cargo pants.

  “Hell no.” Tatsu clutched the top of his fly with an ineffective desperation.

  “Stop whining like a girl, this is a mission,” Bana grinned.

  Swearing in Japanese, Tatsu undid the first two buttons exposing his navel and a tantalizing hint of curling hairs trailing below.

  Not satisfied with that, Galloway popped two more buttons. He pushed Tatsu’s pants further down to reveal the jut of his hips and the beginning those sexy dips curving down under his jock. At the warm brush of Galloway’s fingers, Tatsu felt his blood pool into his cock.

  “That’s better.” Galloway’s prick woke up to the answering heat in that same satiny skin.

  “Alright, boyo, go over there and give ’em a chubby.”

  Tatsu flipped them off. Dammit, the three were having way too much fun with this.

  His hands twitched as he trotted down the winding stairs. He felt naked without his swords. Hell, he felt even more naked with his ass hanging half out of his pants. Still, his gut fluttered with anticipation. This was his chance to prove himself, even if it did mean posing as sex bait. He moved toward the vampires leaning on the bar.

  The two fanged predators had just become the prey.

  Although his eyes remained on Tatsu, Arisada sensed the two rogues the moment they entered the bar. His lip curled over his fangs in a silent snarl. He watched the Lepers readying themselves for the action. A preparation that looked more like a f
orced strip tease than men arming for combat.

  The older hunter, with much leering and profanity, forced Tatsu to remove his tee-short. Arisada sucked in his breath at the sight of Tatsu’s chest, the ripple and bunch of defined abs as the shirt was pulled off. Creamy honey-kissed skin, only a smattering of hair traveling down to the navel. Something dark—a large bruise perhaps—covered most of the mounded pec above the right nipple.

  The groping and grappling as the blond tugged the boy’s tight pants down over his jutting hips sent a deep pulse of want into Arisada’s prick. One button lower and the tip of Tatsu’s semi-hard cock would be exposed. A frission of jealousy stabbed Arisada as he imagined the blond man’s knuckle brushing the silky roundness of that cockhead, perhaps coming away wet with a slick of precum.

  The kyūketsuki could not tear his gaze from the boy. He followed the mercenaries down to the main floor. Saw them split up and weave their way through the crowd, shifting closer to their quarry. Arisada admired how effectively they used the cover of jostling throng to mask their movements.

  Tatsu’s approach to the bar, however, was an aggressive strut, a cocky, shouldering aside of people, deliberately calling attention to himself.

  Hidden by the crowd, Arisada was still close enough to Tatsu that even over the thick reek of human pheromones, he sensed the boy’s rising excitement, the blood simmering, the adrenalin pumping high with the eagerness of a hunter.

  In what he hoped was a good imitation of a horny, thrill-seeking teenager, Tatsu swaggered across the bar floor, hips swaying He elbowed his way through the press of groupies clustered around the vampires. In a voice pitched high and nervous, Tatsu ordered a beer. The harried barkeep shoved the bottle at him and scooped up his money. Tatsu picked up his drink, and deliberately brushed his arm against the bull. The momentary contact made his skin feel as if it was crawling with ants.