The Night Itself

by Zoe Marriott

  “Where did it go?” I muttered.

  The platform shook, sending me to my knees. With an eye-watering shriek of rending metal, the section of the catwalk behind us – the hatch we had just climbed through, along with a chunk of the welded metal ladder below – ripped away. I flung my arm up to shelter my face as brick dust and sharp scraps of metal the size of coins rained down over us.

  “Goodie, goodie. Now I have you just where I want you.”

  The platform shook again as the demon landed in front of us. Through the haze of dust, I saw its terrifying, smug grin. All nine tentacles were back in place and waving vigorously.

  Shinobu stepped forward, flanking me where I knelt. We exchanged glances. I could see he was thinking the same thing as me: All that running away was a blind. It lured us up here.

  “My Mistress scolds me for playing with my food,” the demon said. “But I think playing is what makes life worthwhile, and I can’t help my nature.” Its voice was smoother, richer now, more like a purr. And it was bigger. Much bigger.

  Hikaru had been right; the thing had gorged itself. But it was more than that. The Nekomata was drawing on its Mistress’s powers – whatever they were – and turning the old power station into a portal to the Underworld. It had created a rupture here that would probably only close with its death. We weren’t in the mortal realms any more.

  The monster was in its element.

  I climbed warily to my feet, keeping the sword at the ready.

  “Tsk.” It shook its head at me with mock sadness. “Nothing to say? So disappointing.”

  My hands clenched around the grip of the sword and I willed the blade not to waver. “If you’re waiting for me to start crying and quivering with fear, you’ll have a long wait, Tibbles.”

  “So you are not frightened at all?” it asked. “Not even a little? Not even for your precious friend?”

  “What?” I snapped suspiciously.

  “In a few moments, the illusion that I made for her will fade away, and then she will come looking for you and for her sister,” the demon said dreamily. Its pale, pink tongue ran over its fangs. “All of this exercise has made me hungry again. Perhaps I should have a little nibble…”

  One of its tentacles wormed up to point at a section of the wall above its head. At first I saw only a patch of shadow. As I blinked, the shadow faded, and I let out a tiny, involuntary gasp. The Nekomata’s deep, gloating chuckle rolled through the air.

  Rachel hung helplessly from the wall above the ripped-out section of the platform, wrapped round and round with thick, sticky black strands that stretched away from her body like a spider’s web. The only parts exposed were her upper face and dangling feet in their pink slippers. Her eyes were huge, staring and blank with horror.

  “It has been many long years since I had a pair of sisters,” the Nekomata said. “No, I do not think I shall eat her just yet. She and your friend will be a special treat for me. Once you are dead.”

  The tip of my sword was making juddery figures of eight in the air. I couldn’t speak. Jack was down there, desperately trying to wake an illusion that would disappear and leave her grieving and alone in the shadows. The Nekomata had set that up on purpose just to torture us. To torture her.

  “You – you—” Hatred strangled my voice.

  Shinobu stepped forward, dragging the Nekomata’s attention to him with a slash of his wakizashi. “Enough talk. If you want the katana so badly, come and take it.”

  “So kind of you,” the monster purred. “I do like an invitation.”

  Tentacles unfurled, blurring through the air. A wall of deadly, black daggers. I hurdled one that shot at my feet, sliced through one that came at my face, ducked, rolled and came up behind the monster. I brought my blade round in a whistling, two-handed overhead strike, aiming at what I hoped was the thing’s heart.

  Three tentacles jumped out at me, forcing me back. The Nekomata’s head spun 180 degrees to grin at me. “Try again!”

  On the demon’s other side, Shinobu let out a shattering battle roar. The flash, flash, flash of his swords was like distant lightning – he cleared a path through the tentacles and arrived at my side just in time for a deadly new tangle of black talons to shoot at us. It was as if neither of us had bothered to lift a blade at all.

  I spun away, jumped, struck, and cried out as one of the claws sliced across my collarbone. The long, deep cut welled with blood and the demon laughed. I threw myself into the fight again, fury rising up inside, hot and dark, trying to take over. I fought it down as I fought the monster. I had to use my head here if I wanted to win. I had to think.

  Shinobu and I whirled and slashed, cutting through tentacle after tentacle, deflecting attack after attack. The Nekomata opened more cuts on my arms, stomach, upper legs. Shinobu took a blow to the head and blood splattered down his eyebrow and flew out, streaking the side of my face. Slowly, the Nekomata forced us back, back, until we were defending the jagged, ripped-off edge of the platform, with the rail to our right and a fifty-foot drop at our backs.

  I had tamped the anger down, but now despair began to seep into its place. No matter how many tentacles we cut off, no matter how many slices we managed to open on the vast mantle of the demon’s body, it simply regenerated. It was holding us off almost lazily, playing with us, just letting us tire ourselves out. We weren’t doing enough damage.

  It was too strong.

  A high-pitched, terrified wail echoed off the walls. I jerked away from the Nekomata, my back hitting the broken safety rail as I looked up.

  The black, gummy substance was peeling away from Rachel in thick hanks. Her upper body and arms were already free. She was struggling desperately, tearing at the web wherever she could reach it, uncaring of the fact that it was the only thing preventing her from falling off the wall to her death.

  “Rachel, stop!” I shouted. “Stop! We’re coming to get you – you have to stop struggling!”

  It was as if she couldn’t hear me. Her eyes were rolling in their sockets, her body convulsing with terror.

  “Oh, she will not listen to you, dear,” the Nekomata said. It drew back a little, to enjoy the scene. “I’ve told her all about my plans for her, you see. She would rather break her neck.”

  A choked sound of rage echoed from my throat. I couldn’t find any words that would express the fury I felt.

  “Awful, isn’t it?” the demon said in a tone of mock sympathy. “You cannot win, you know. You never could. Simply give me the sword and I will fix her there, safe and sound. It would only take a moment…”

  “It lies,” Shinobu warned softly.

  Rachel screamed again, struggling harder than ever.

  This is it.

  It was here. The moment when I was supposed to prove myself. But prove myself to be what? A hero? Or a human being?

  In a split second of forever, the future unspooled in my mind, and I saw my choices, all the actions that I could take, the endless possibilities, spinning out from this instant.

  I could keep my promise to Jack. I could dive forward and try to catch Rachel.

  But the katana was in my hand. If I caught her, I would spear her through and kill her.

  I could drop the sword.

  But the Nekomata would snatch it up the moment it left my grasp.

  And then we would all die.

  First me and Shinobu, probably quickly, under the monster’s talons.

  Rachel and Jack, slowly and horribly.

  The Kitsune, our allies who fought for us beyond these walls, who had followed me in trust with no idea of the terrible battle they would face.

  Then a wave of others, innocent people who had no idea this battle was being waged, who had never even heard of a Nekomata. Anyone, everyone, who came the monster’s way.

  And once the demon was sated, it would hand over the sword to its Mistress.

  Shadows and blood.

  The end of the world. The end of everything.

  All my fault. />
  With a sharp snap, the last thread holding Rachel in place gave way. Rachel plunged downwards, towards the gap in the platform…

  Shinobu dropped his swords and threw himself into her path.

  He sailed over the gap in the walkway, his arms closing around Rachel’s small form in a perfect rugby tackle. The pair of them landed on the other side of the walkway with a crash that made the entire structure shudder. The broken sheet of metal tilted, and they skidded, sliding inexorably towards the edge.

  One of Shinobu’s hands shot out and caught the safety rail, jerking them to a stop just as their feet zoomed off the metal platform.

  The Nekomata and I both stood frozen, staring in disbelief.

  Shinobu turned his head towards me. “Help?”

  Relief and exhilaration set my body on fire. He did it.

  I began to run towards them, intending to make a flying leap over the gap, force the tilted section of walkway back down, and then haul them away from the edge. With my body’s new strength, reflexes and instincts, I knew I could make it.

  But I wasn’t fast enough.

  One of the Nekomata’s tentacles whipped past me. It caught the broken section of safety rail that Shinobu hung from and snapped it off as easily as I would snap a plastic school ruler.

  My own scream deafened me, enveloping me in roaring silence.

  I saw Shinobu fling Rachel away from him as he plummeted from the walkway, his long hair and torn clothes flying around him. I saw Rachel land in a mound of rubbish, bounce, and roll safely to the floor. I saw Shinobu land in the tangle of metal wreckage below, mouth opening in a shout of agony as the scaffolding pole broke through his chest, blood bursting out around the wound like a red flower. I saw his eyes search for me. I saw them go dull. I saw his body slump and his head fall back.

  I watched him die again.

  Again.

  Peaceful eyes, full of the sky, not afraid…

  It should have been me. I should have tried to save her. It should have been me.

  Laughter, rumbling and beautiful, and a crooked smile…

  I didn’t hold onto him.

  Arms around me, sheltering me, the smell of smoke and pine…

  I let him go.

  A green blade flashes down in the red light…

  I should never have let go.

  The shadows writhed around me. Darkness crept up the walls as the wind moaned through the power station again. The clouds slowly swallowed the moon. Below, everything was silent except for Rachel’s ragged sobs.

  “All alone with the big, bad cat. Poor thing, so sad,” the Nekomata purred mockingly in the black. Its voice took on a falsetto, singsong note. “Oh, who will save me now?”

  “No one,” I forced the words out between my lips like shards of broken glass. “No one can save you from me now.”

  The katana burst into flames.

  Light bounced from the walls, showering rainbow-white sparks like an arc welder. Brilliance flooded the derelict building as cold rage flooded me. I let the anger take over without a fight, let it surge through every fibre of my body and soul, banishing the howling pain that I didn’t dare examine, banishing fear and doubt, everything. It no longer mattered if I lost control. Shinobu was dead and I didn’t care any more.

  I didn’t care.

  Not about right or wrong, or what would be left of me when this was done, or even saving the big, stupid, clueless world. Nothing mattered. Nothing except killing this thing.

  I disappeared in flame and fury.

  Now… the katana whispered, its metallic voice gentle in my mind. Now, you are ready for me.

  CHAPTER 23

  THE NIGHT ITSELF

  The Nekomata’s smile widened as I walked towards it. Its eyes were fixed on the sword. “Oooh. Pretty, pretty.”

  Tentacles shot from the demon’s mantle, surrounding me with vicious, black talons.

  I went from walking to leaping in a breath. As my feet left the walkway, I spun, blade flashing and blurring faster than I could follow with my own eyes – a whirlwind of white fire setting everything near me alight. A moment later I landed in a crouch, arm fully extended to the right. In my hand, the katana’s flames spat and fizzled as they ate the black substance coating the blade.

  The Nekomata drifted backwards, surprise and the beginnings of pain distorting its face. Then it cried out.

  Blood spurted everywhere, spraying the pitted walkway. Nine tentacles dropped away and landed with a drumroll of meaty thuds.

  I had disarmed it.

  The Nekomata fell, thrashing and screaming.

  The heavy mass of its mantle twisted in on itself, struggling to regenerate from such a massive amount of damage inflicted in such a short space of time. The wounds, which had been cauterized by the katana’s supernatural fire, smoked and bubbled like slugs sprinkled with salt.

  Slowly I straightened up, bringing the blade forward. The monster whined, its shadowy flesh slithering away from the pale flames. I took a step towards it.

  “No! Wait!” it cried.

  Another step forward as I located the centre of the mantle – and the demon’s heart – in my mind’s eye. I lifted the katana.

  A thin tentacle ripped itself free of the Nekomata’s creeping blackness and wrapped around my forearm. It wrenched me from my feet, shook me like a ragdoll, and flung me away with all the strength the monster had left.

  I went flying, hurtling towards the wall. In one second I would be a smear on the brickwork.

  Not a chance.

  I snapped my arms out to slow my flight and, with an effort that made every muscle scream, forced my body to twist, and flipped head over heels in midair.

  My feet hit the wall with an impact that made the bricks buckle.

  I pushed off.

  The katana’s pearly flames streamed around me, propelling me down towards the walkway like a shooting star. My body burned with the furious cold of its energy. I no longer knew if I wielded the blade or it wielded me. We were one form, one will, one desire with a single cutting edge.

  We were death. Vengeance. Power.

  We were the night itself.

  An uncanny, high-pitched cackle, like a hyena’s laugh, burst from my throat as I plunged into the centre of the Nekomata’s mantle.

  My blade penetrated the demon’s heart with a wet pop and punched straight through the metal platform beneath. The Nekomata convulsed, contracted; its shriek of pain filled the chamber.

  I knelt on the beast’s congealing body, feeling its death throes tremble through the hilt of the sword into my arm.

  “She is coming,” it gurgled. The needlelike fangs were bathed in blood again. Its own blood this time. “My Mistress. She will take – the sword. Kill you. Kill everyone.”

  I eased to my feet, planting one foot on the walkway and the other firmly on the Nekomata’s chest, and pulled my sword free. It screamed again. I watched dispassionately, unable to summon up the slightest tinge of pity or remorse, as the mantle knotted up on itself, its glossy surface turning dull and hard, like rock. Its shape was changing, becoming smaller, more catlike.

  “She will – kill you – all,” it hissed.

  I reached down and grabbed a handful of the lank, black fur on its head, putting myself nose to nose with the monster. I waited for its eyes to focus on me. “Not if I kill her first.”

  With one stroke, I cut off its head.

  Under my foot, the demon’s body solidified, cracked and crumbled into a thick heap of something like ashes. My arm sagged a little as the head I held hardened to stone. I stared into the dead eyes of the monster. Then I dropped the head and let it roll away.

  The katana’s flames flared up with new brilliance, rolling down the hilt of the sword to engulf my arm. They tickled faintly as they sank under my skin.

  I have decided I like you. We’re a good team, you and I, it sang in my mind. Let’s make a little deal. You give me what I want, and I will give you power. Limitless power. The kind o
f strength that mortals have dreamed of since the dawn of time. I will tell you all of my true names. All you have to do is help me.

  “What do you want?” I asked dully.

  What all sentient beings want, my beautiful, simple child, it breathed softly. Freedom…

  I nodded. Then I rammed the blade, fire and all, straight into the saya. The flames snuffed out as if I’d dumped water over them. “Piss off.”

  The moon burst through the clouds in long fingers of silver. I staggered and crumpled bonelessly onto the blood-splattered metal, clinging to the safety rail as the walkway seemed to quake beneath me. Sharp bubbles of rust nipped at my skin, reminding me that I was, most unfortunately, still alive.

  A few minutes later, I heard movement below, and then voices.

  “Mio?” Rachel called unsteadily. “Mio, are you – are you all right?”

  “Stay still, Rachel. Mimi! Do you need me to climb up to you? Mimi?” That was Jack.

  I took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths.

  “Mimi! Say something! Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” My voice came out flat and dead. It was the best I could do.

  I forced myself back up onto my feet. The demon’s head was a dull, grey lump against the safety railing. If I wanted to take it down with me – and instinct said that it would be a dick move to leave it rolling around here for anyone to find – then I was going to have to tuck it into the front of my kendogi and tie it in place with the sash. And that meant carrying the katana and climbing one-handed.

  Because the world just hasn’t screwed with me enough today.

  Making sure to touch only the saya of the sword, and with the demon’s head crushing my chest painfully, I located a section of intact scaffolding and climbed, very, very slowly, down the wall of the power station. Jack and Rachel watched nervously, shouting out encouragements and advice. They weren’t helping, so I ignored them.

  My muscles twitched and spasmed. My joints clicked. My head pounded, and the vertebrae of my back ground against one another with each movement. I felt a hundred years old and I decided that being ancient was not as easy as the Kitsune made it look.