The Name of the Blade, Book Two: Darkness Hidden

by Zoe Marriott

  The Foul Woman screeched in victory. She dragged her prize upwards with an almighty sweep of wings, and hurled the huge chunk of shredded wood directly at us.

  “Now!”

  We rolled out of the path of the missile, both of us grunting at the impact as we slammed against the wall. The balustrade smashed into the bank of windows next to us.

  The glass shattered.

  Shinobu didn’t need to tell me to move this time. I scrambled to my feet and flung myself towards the gaping wreckage of the windows. He was right behind me. The Shikome swooped down on us.

  The white blinds rippled and snapped in the vile-smelling wind of the Shikome’s attack. The creatures screamed desperately. Wicked, yellowing talons slashed amid streaming flags of pale cloth. I felt something soft gently brush the back of my neck.

  Fire seemed to brand the skin there. Then numbness took its place. I jerked forward, out of range of whatever had touched me, and lost my balance.

  I landed inside the ruined apartment. Trapped outside, the Shikome were ripping and rending the blinds and wrecking the terrace garden in their frenzy. Inside, books, pictures, ornaments and tides of broken glass flew everywhere, crashing and surging around us, caught in the crazy whirlwind of the Foul Women’s wrath.

  I tried to roll over. To get up. I couldn’t. The numbness was spreading across my neck into my throat, into my skull, arrowing down my spine with terrifying speed. My limbs shook and flailed but wouldn’t bend; shooting cramps ripped through me as I tried to force them to obey me. My teeth clamped together. I tasted blood. I had bitten my tongue or my cheek but couldn’t tell which because there was no feeling there. No feeling anywhere. Nothing except the agonizing cramping sensation attacking every cell of my body. Words bubbled into my mouth with the blood and were trapped behind my teeth. All that I could squeeze free was an agonized moan.

  Shinobu was shouting at me. He rolled me onto my back in the middle of the chaos. His hair brushed across my face. His hands cupped my cheeks and then grabbed my hands and tried to hold me still. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn’t focus. My vision was shaking and shaking; my eyes rolled in my head. I caught a fleeting glimpse of my own shuddering hand clasped in Shinobu’s. There was a dark purple rash spreading across the back of it.

  They got me. The bitches got me.

  It hurts.

  Oh God, it hurts, oh God, oh God, it hurts so much…

  The room tilted and wobbled crazily around me, then blurred. Shinobu was swinging me up in his arms, running for a white door. There was a jolt. Another. I heard a crash dimly through the roaring of the Shikome’s wind in my ears. The white door disappeared from in front of my eyes. Shinobu had kicked it down.

  Then we were in a corridor. The pale gold walls swam before my eyes. Shinobu’s hands were fastened on me like steel vices – my seizure was getting more violent. He could barely hold me. The pain in my limbs and my head was increasing. A scream raged in my throat, but that same strangled moan was all that would come out.

  I’m not getting better. It’s getting worse. I’m not coming out of it like Jack did.

  What does that mean?

  What’s happening to me?

  Shinobu laid me gently down. A thick, soft carpet cushioned my body. Shinobu held my head.

  “Please, please,” he repeated, over and over. “I can’t. Please, please, no. I can’t lose you. Mio, please…”

  “Oh my God!” a strange voice cried out. There was a blur of movement from somewhere behind Shinobu, but I was trying, trying with everything I had, to focus on Shinobu’s face. I wanted to see it. I had to.

  “I’ll call an ambulance,” the strange voice said. “Hold her head like that. Hold her still. She’s bitten her tongue, don’t let her choke.”

  Shut up. Shut up. Let me listen to him. I want him to be the last thing I hear.

  “Please, Mio,” Shinobu whispered. The light glinted off his cheek as if it was wet. He was crying.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry…

  The pain was unbearable, like hot metal stakes driving through every muscle. My heart was stuttering, skipping; its pace impossible. My body couldn’t keep this up. It was too much strain for any human to bear. I tried again to say Shinobu’s name. It came out as a thin whine that made him flinch.

  I love you. I love you. I love you. I love—

  The hammering inside my ribs stopped. My back arched up off the carpet. My spine let out a series of terrible cracks as my body contorted against the hard shape of the katana. My heels drummed on the floor. Shinobu’s face disappeared from above me – everything disappeared from all around me – and for a moment everything was still and quiet and white and pain, pain, pain…

  Very faintly, an inhuman, metallic voice seemed to whisper in my head: Oh no you don’t. I still have plans for you.

  A stake of crackling energy speared through me and nailed me back to the earth, back into my body.

  Thump.

  My teeth popped apart and I gulped a cool, delicious mouthful of air.

  Thump.

  White ceiling. Yellow-gold walls. Pain gently draining out of my body as if each fiery cramp had been bathed in cool water.

  Thump.

  Shinobu’s face, eyes huge and dark, lips parted in an expression of relief so extreme that it looked like agony.

  Thump.

  It was my heart. That was what I could hear. Slowly other noises began to seep in. Shinobu’s deep, shuddering breaths, and my own fast, rasping ones. A woman’s voice, high with anxiety.

  “I’ve never seen anything like… It’s coming off. The rash is disappearing. Just disappearing on her face. It’s fading away like it was never there. No, no, she definitely still needs an ambulance. There’s been some kind of accident here – they’re covered in blood, both of them. I don’t know what happened. We need the police—”

  “You were too strong,” Shinobu whispered, cupping my face. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and another tear streaked down his face. “It could not take you from me. It could not take you where you did not want to go.”

  I drew in another shallow breath, the thick iron taste of blood making me grimace. “Police? Ambulance?”

  “I was too busy to stop her,” Shinobu admitted.

  “Should…” I cleared my throat. “Should go?”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?” The woman peered over Shinobu’s shoulder. She was quite young, with untidy blonde hair and bright green glasses askew on a button nose. She looked freaked out, and I couldn’t exactly blame her. “Is she saying something?”

  “Don’t. Want. Ambulance,” I said, as clearly as I could.

  The young woman gaped at me. “W–what?” she squeaked.

  I must look even worse than I feel. Shinobu shook his head, then slid his arms under my limp body and scooped me up from the floor in one fluid movement. “Thank you for your help. We will be leaving now.”

  “Wait! You can’t – come back!”

  Shinobu carried me swiftly away, and the woman’s voice faded behind us. At least she wasn’t trying to follow. Loopy and disoriented, I was tempted to smush my face into his shoulder and enjoy the princess moment, but I woke up enough to point out the lift when he would have marched right past it.

  Inside the elevator, I made him put me down on my own two feet. If I had been wiped out after the katana’s mood-altering stunt, I was wrecked now. My legs were like Super Noodles and my hands didn’t even have enough strength to hang onto Shinobu’s coat for balance. He had to wrap both arms around me to keep me upright. The mirror on the back wall of the lift showed a bruised, grubby, wild-eyed girl with hair that not even a mother could love. There were purple-grey bags under my eyes, deep hollows under my cheekbones, and…

  “I grew again, didn’t I?” I mumbled.

  “A little, I think,” Shinobu said, his lips pressing gently to my crazy hair. “Just a little.”

  “Easy for you to say. I’m the one that’s going to end up as a gi
raffe if this keeps on.”

  The lift reached the ground floor with a cheery pinging noise. We stumbled out into a small lobby. There was a posh reception desk recessed into the back wall, and the front wall and door were made of glass. The receptionist – or security guard – that should have been sitting there was AWOL. Probably huddled at home with the doors and windows barricaded.

  I wished I was too.

  Shinobu peered out of the glass wall. No suspicious shadows flittered across the pavement outside.

  “I know where we are,” I mumbled, squinting. “This place is, um, maybe five minutes from the house.”

  “Five minutes in the open is too long,” Shinobu said flatly.

  “The city’s locked down; there won’t be any taxis about. And even if the buses are running, we’re not on a bus route. I can’t think of any way to get home from here other than to run as fast as we can.”

  “You cannot run. You can barely walk,” he pointed out.

  “We can’t hide here, Shinobu. It’s not safe for us or anyone here – and that woman asked for the police, remember? They’ll probably arrive any minute.” I gestured to my dirty, ripped-up clothes and the splatters of blood, both human and Shikome, decorating them. “I’m pretty sure they will have some questions for me. We have to be gone before they get here.”

  “What if Foul Women attack us as soon as we get outside?”

  I stared through the glass. Still nothing to see. The icy, prickling sensation down my back was absent too. The sword lay quietly between my shoulder blades. “We could prop the door open? The second you catch sight of a feather we can retreat.”

  He nodded reluctantly. I sat down on a leather chair by the reception area as he made a fat wedge out of some papers he had picked up from the desk, eased the door open, and shoved the papers under the edge so that it was stuck half-open. The movement made the torn arm of his coat gape open and I realized with a jolt that I’d completely forgotten about his injury.

  “Jesus, Shinobu, your arm! How – you’ve been dragging and carrying me around like it was nothing!”

  “It was nothing,” he said, straightening up. He kept his back to me. “There is no need to worry.”

  “Is it still bleeding? We need to find another bandage—”

  His shoulders jerked a little as if he was shrugging something off, then he turned back and walked towards me. He helped me up off the leather chair and held me against him so that I couldn’t see his face. “It has already healed.”

  He said the words the way you would say, It is incurable.

  I didn’t need to see his face to realize that instead of being happy he wouldn’t lose his arm or any more blood, he was miserably convinced this was more proof that he wasn’t human. That he didn’t belong here. Didn’t deserve to stay.

  I clenched my jaw. Save it for later.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  We slunk out like a pair of cat burglars caught in a floodlight. Both of us craned our necks, staring at every inch of sky visible between the buildings. I directed him to a narrow, shadowed alley. We scuttled down it as quickly as my stumbling footsteps would allow. Shinobu fixed one arm around my waist as I hung onto his side. His other hand sat on the hilt of one of his swords under his coat.

  We crossed a road and ducked down a passageway behind a row of shops. My shaking was getting worse, and my breath came in short, shallow gasps. Surviving the Foul Women’s taint had taken everything I had. The sword had only saved my life. It hadn’t fixed my other injuries: the torn muscles and strained joints, the exhaustion. Of course it hadn’t. That would be counterproductive. I had no reserves left to draw on now, and that was just how the blade wanted it.

  Every time I tripped or lagged, Shinobu just tightened his grip and hauled me along with him. At last we turned the final corner, and there was my street. Quiet, wide, and completely open to the skies. To get to my house – to sanctuary – we had to walk right down it.

  Without asking me, Shinobu stopped and stepped back into the shadowed gap between two buildings. I slumped down onto the cold pavement and put my head on my knees. My skull was throbbing so badly that I could actually hear it. If we didn’t get to shelter quickly, I was going to pass out right here in the open.

  The sword buzzed against my back, demanding my attention. Me, me, me…

  No way, I snarled back mentally, shaking my head to try and clear it. It only made the throbbing worse.

  “We have to go now,” I said, my voice coming out like an echo from the bottom of a deep, dark hole. “I’m going to hang onto you and you’re probably going to have to drag me. Just get us there.”

  I dug my house keys out and clenched them between finger and thumb, ready. Shinobu pulled me to my feet and put his arm back around my waist, while I fixed my other hand onto his coat with as much determination as I could. We both stared up at the sky for a long, tense moment.

  Then we ran.

  Or Shinobu did. Within two steps, I lost my balance and my grip on his coat. It didn’t matter. Shinobu caught me, swept me up into his arms without breaking stride, and sprinted towards the house.

  Ice spiked my spine. I didn’t wait for the telltale sound and stink of wings. “Get down!”

  Shinobu dropped. I hit the ground hard on my hip, grunting as I rolled away from him. He was already on his feet again, ripping out both blades in a blur of silver.

  A Shikome swooped into the road. There was nothing here, in the centre of this broad, deserted street, to foil her attack. The chittering noise of feathers filled the air as two more Foul Women appeared over the rooftops. Too many. Could even Shinobu survive being torn to pieces by their claws? Would their supernatural disease have the power to kill him? I had no way of knowing.

  Our choices had just narrowed down to zero.

  I struggled up onto my knees and reached back for the katana. It buzzed and rattled eagerly against my back.

  Shinobu slashed at the first creature. It whirled away into the air. Another – the one who had injured him before – dived down on top of him. He stabbed it in the gut. It shrieked with a sound like a huge, enraged seagull, its massive limbs tearing the air. Shinobu wrenched his sword back, but it was too fast for him again. The monster’s talons raked his face. This time its shriek was one of triumph.

  Shinobu dropped to his knees silently, blood streaming down his cheeks. I screamed. My hand closed over the sword grip, lips opening to say the sword’s first name.

  A man appeared in the road in front of Shinobu.

  I had no idea where he had come from. One moment the road was empty except for us, the next he was there. He stood with his back to me, less than a pace from where Shinobu had fallen. A tall, motionless figure dressed all in black.

  A katana glinted in his right hand.

  The injured Foul Woman, Shinobu’s blood still on its claws, turned on the new enemy fiercely. The man didn’t raise his sword as the monster plummeted at him. His other hand came up and a missile flew, smashing into the centre of the monster’s chest. Dark liquid splattered everywhere.

  The man ducked fluidly into a crouch.

  The dark liquid burst into flames.

  Rearing up above the stranger, the Shikome was a black silhouette against the white sky, clawing at the fire as if it thought it could beat the flames out. With a dry whoosh, its wings caught fire too. The creature sailed over me in a cloud of sparks and half-burned feathers and ploughed straight into the tarmac in front of the house. Its massive body flopped and contorted on the ground as the fire consumed it. The agonized seagull cries deafened me.

  The other two creatures hovered jerkily over the street, the yellow eyes on their wings staring down at their sister’s agonizing death. The strange man had straightened up again. He made an inviting gesture with his sword. His relaxed posture telegraphed supreme confidence.

  The Foul Women turned in the air and fled.

  The burning Shikome fell silent at last – bu
t the fire that had killed it raged on. The heat was overwhelming. Clouds of dense black smoke and glowing orange sparks billowed down the street. I pulled my hoodie up over my mouth and crawled slowly towards where Shinobu sat. As I reached him, he finally lifted his head. His face was streaked with drying blood. My stomach lurched. The creature’s talons must have almost ripped out his eyes. But those eyes were fine now, and fixed on me.

  He reached out his bloodstained hand. I grabbed it. Together, we looked at the man who had saved us. The orange light of the fire and the dancing sparks made weird patterns in the black smoke that swirled around him.

  “Who—” I began, then choked on a mouthful of the vile-smelling smoke.

  “Sir, where did you come from? Who are you?” Shinobu asked.

  The stranger seemed to stiffen. He sheathed his blade with an abrupt movement, then slowly, as if forcing himself, turned to face us.

  No. It’s impossible. It can’t be.

  I whispered: “Dad?”

  The front door slammed behind us with enough force to shake the house. My father released me, sliding my left arm off his shoulder and letting Shinobu take my weight. He stalked away from us down the hall, got to the kitchen door, then jerked round and marched back.

  “What in all the gods’ names is going on?” he demanded.

  I blinked at him, dazed. “Dad – what are you doing here? Where’s Mum?”

  “She’s in Paris. She’s safe. Which is what you should be. Why were you out there, Mio? Running around in the middle of this – this insanity – fighting – my God! What were you thinking?”

  Shinobu’s arm tightened protectively around me. “Yamato-san—”

  “I don’t even – who the hell are you? Are you the one that dragged her into a fight with Shikome? She could have been seriously hurt! She could have died out there!”

  “Dad, don’t,” I began weakly. “It’s not his—”

  “No excuses, Mio,” my father said, holding up a hand that shook with anger. “We left you alone for three days! Three days and London has literally gone to hell. And not a word from you! Why didn’t you call us? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”