The Name of the Blade, Book Two: Darkness Hidden

by Zoe Marriott

  My eyes prickled. I stepped forward to give him a quick, hard hug. One of his hands hovered above my back, then patted me awkwardly. Some things hadn’t changed. Dad might be a different person than I had believed, but he still wasn’t the huggy type. Oddly, this was the most comforting thought of all.

  “Let’s go into the kitchen,” he said, as I stepped back. “Obviously we have a lot of talking to do, and I haven’t had a decent cup of tea in three days.”

  “Um … are you sure you want to go back in there?” I asked.

  “I can handle it.” As he turned away, he muttered under his breath, “as long as I remember that it was either you or the table…”

  In the kitchen, I sat down on one of the stools, glad to get the weight off aching legs. The food and the painkillers had helped a bit, but my entire body was still painfully stiff, and my muscles felt like Play-Doh. I was weak. Dangerously weak. I couldn’t let either of them realize that.

  The sword sent a beguiling vibration of energy snaking down my back. I could practically hear its voice whispering: Free me. Give into me. I can make it all better…

  Shinobu leaned against the end of the breakfast bar next to me, while my dad filled the kettle and put it on the boil, then started washing the things from my meal earlier. Shinobu spoke up over the sound of splashing water. “Mr Yamato, I am more than thankful that you arrived when you did, but I cannot understand how you were aware that Mio-dono was in trouble.”

  My dad glanced back at us over his shoulder. “Rachel didn’t tell you that she got through to me, then.”

  I gasped with outrage as I suddenly remembered what he had said earlier. “That sneaky— I told her not to!”

  “Yes, she made it clear you didn’t want me coming back,” my father said, skewering me with a look. “It’s a good job she ignored you, or you might be dead. We both owe her some thanks for that.”

  “But – I – oh, fine,” I grumbled, knowing he was right. The moment my annoyance disappeared, guilt and anxiety rushed in to fill the gap. Oh, Rach, where did you go? Where are you?

  “She was understandably a bit leery of telling me all the details. In fact, she promised me three times that she wasn’t drunk or doing drugs. But as soon as she mentioned the katana, I knew I had to get back here. I was packing while she was still on the phone.”

  “And … Mrs Yamato?” Shinobu asked delicately. “I’m surprised she agreed to stay behind without you. From what Mio has told me, she is a strong-willed lady.”

  “Hmm. Yes. Well.” Dad fixed his eyes on the plate he was polishing dry. “I tried to convince her to stay. I wasted an hour arguing. But she was having none of it. So I waited until she went to the bathroom and I … stole her passport. And her wallet, and her return ticket for the train. Then I ran for it.”

  My jaw dropped. I stared at him, speechless.

  “I left her some money,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “And I paid for the room and full-board at the hotel for another week.”

  “She is going to kill you.”

  “I couldn’t risk her putting herself in danger. Until she can get the British Embassy to sort out replacement ID, she’s safely out of this.” He sighed. “But yes. Yes, she is.”

  Shinobu turned away, putting his hand over his face to hide an amused smile.

  My dad lifted the teabag out of his mug, put it in the bin, and then added milk. “From what Mio tells me, most people can’t even see you, Shinobu, is that correct? But I spotted you in the road without any difficulty.”

  Shinobu nodded slowly. “You also saw the Shikome. My guess is that contact with the energy of the katana alters—”

  I shifted in my seat to reach into the pocket of the jeans for my phone. It had been switched off since our disastrous attempt to hide from the Shikome, and now I was worried that my mum might have called me, freaking out. I should at least text her and let her know we were OK…

  Five missed calls stared at me from the screen. They had all come in the last hour, from a number that I didn’t recognize. Rachel? Or … the hospital? We’d given them my mobile as an alternative contact number. For emergencies. Frost breathed down my spine. I pressed call back.

  The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

  “Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was stressed and her uneven breaths made rough, gasping sounds into the receiver.

  “Um, I’m returning a call from this number. Five calls, actually. My name is…” I thought for a second. “Rachel Luci. My sister, Jack, is there in your ward.”

  My dad and Shinobu had stopped talking and were looking at me.

  “Oh, Miss Luci, of course.” The woman was making an obvious effort to calm down, but there was a strange note in her voice as she went on. “You’re your sister’s guardian, aren’t you? We’d – we’d like you to come down here as soon as possible. I know the advice is for everyone to stay in their homes, but—”

  Her voice was cut off by an alarm sounding in the background. Someone shouted, and I could just make out the words: Another one’s in arrest. Where’s Doctor Singh? Someone help me, for Christ’s sake!

  I got to my feet, my fingers clenching around the phone’s case. “What is wrong with Jack?”

  “I have to inform you that your sister’s condition is giving us cause for serious concern. She’s slipped into an unresponsive state. We can tell you more when you—”

  Another alarm went off. A new voice yelled: What’s happening to them all? What is this? I can’t—

  “Oh God!” The nurse’s voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, I have to go. Just get here as quickly as you can. If you can. You – you might not have much time.”

  There was a clatter and the phone went dead.

  The deserted Tube carriage rattled around us. Our three faces, reflected in the darkness of the window opposite, were pale and dark-eyed, like ghosts’. I huddled into the faded grey sweatshirt that my dad had loaned me to go over my jumper and the katana.

  “A non-responsive state isn’t the same thing as a coma,” my father said from the seat on my left. His fingers were clenched around a fold of his long, black overcoat, which concealed the hilt of the sword attached to his belt. “It could mean any number of things. You mustn’t panic yet.”

  Shinobu’s large hand clasped my right one, but I felt no warmth from the contact, no comfort. All I could feel was scared. “What if we don’t make it in time? What if she— God, we shouldn’t have left her there by herself. We should have gone back for her. Done more. Done something.”

  “It was the only way to keep her safe,” Shinobu told me firmly. “We had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “Perhaps.” Shinobu met my eyes. “But there is not always a good one.”

  I looked away first.

  Keep fighting, Jack. Hold on. Just keep fighting it. Don’t let go.

  I had to be able to work something out – find some way to do what needed to be done without losing anyone. The blade had so much power. It had eradicated the taint from my body without even being unsheathed. What if I called its second true name while it was in the saya? Would that muffle its energy enough to make it controllable? Maybe then I would be able to channel it, the way that Mr Leech had said and use it to heal Jack – heal everyone – the way it had healed me.

  But what if it didn’t work? Mr Leech had definitely implied that the explosion of power the first time one of the sword’s names was called – when the seal was broken – was a one-shot deal. I had to get it right because there wouldn’t be another chance.

  The blade … it wanted me. It wanted the chance to control me, and it wanted that badly. So maybe I could bargain with it. I could talk to it – promise it … whatever I had to. Make some kind of deal. Anything, so long as it would fix this. So long as it would just fix Jack.

  If I can’t do anything else, at least let me save Jack…

  The Tube pulled into a station and the doors opened. A single passenger shuffled o
n-board. I had a vague impression of a sort of human mushroom, greyish brown all over, with a straggling beard and ragged clothes. He was muttering to himself, snorting and grumbling as he – inevitably – took the seat opposite me.

  I fixed my eyes on the floor in front of his ratty trainers.

  “See ’em everywhere!” he said as the train pulled away. “Try to tell ’em, but no, no one listens. Laughing and chattering like nothing’s wrong. Never listen. Chattering away. All mad as hatters!”

  The next stop was ours. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds.

  “See ’em everywhere. Flapping over the roofs like pigeons!” The old man’s voice rose. “Monsters! Monsters in the air!”

  Monsters in the air? My eyes snapped open.

  A bright, sharp grey gaze met mine, young eyes that were out of place in that wrinkled, dirty face. The man winked at me. “That’s right, lovey. I can always tell, me. You’s one of ’em as knows. You just watch yourself, lovey. You stay out of sight till theys gone!”

  I nodded at the homeless man. “I’ll try.”

  “Mio,” my father said sharply. “Don’t—”

  “It’s all right, Dad,” I interrupted. “He’s all right.”

  The man grinned at my father, revealing a mouthful of empty gums and a single brilliant white tooth. “She’s a knowing one!”

  The Tube lurched. A metallic squeal rang out. The lights flickered off, on again, off, on, and then died, leaving us in pitch-darkness. I grabbed at the armrest as the carriage shuddered violently, nearly flinging me out of my seat. Shinobu’s arm shot across my body, holding me in place.

  The Tannoy came on, its recorded words slurring oddly as it announced our stop. The lighted platform jerked into view outside the windows; the carriage jumped, shuddered again, then slammed to a halt, nearly sending the homeless man flying this time. “Whoops-a-daisy!”

  The doors groaned, squeaking only partly open. As I dragged myself to my feet, my dad ran to the exit, braced himself against one side of the doors, and pushed. Shinobu joined him. Working together, they forced the doors open just wide enough for the three of us to squeeze through. At the last second, the homeless man slipped out too and joined us on the empty platform.

  The train let out an echoing shriek and lurched away. It disappeared into the tunnel, rails rattling, almost … chittering. Icy forewarning stabbed my spine. I whipped round to stare into the tunnel we had just emerged from. Something flashed in its black, gaping mouth.

  I shouted, “Shikome!”

  Two Foul Women hurtled out of the darkness.

  The homeless man stood on the edge of the platform, his face frozen into a rictus of terror. I lunged at him clumsily, tripping over my own feet. We hit the floor together with mutual sounds of pain. The first Shikome sailed over our heads, towards Shinobu and my dad. I heard glass breaking, then the hungry gasp of fire.

  The Shikome burst into flames. Shrieking, it shot straight up and crashed into the ceiling. Tiles fell from the walls, shattering like gunfire. The burning monster plummeted onto the platform with an impact that shook the ground. Its thrashing body was a wall of deadly fire between me and where Shinobu and my father stood.

  The second Foul Woman gave a piercing cry and dropped down directly at me where I knelt. Its landing shook the platform a second time. I just had time to shove the homeless man aside. Then the monster attacked.

  Natural as breathing, the katana was unsheathed and in my hand. I slashed wildly at the leathery grey paws that reached out to grab the blade. My stiff muscles screamed in protest. I couldn’t move fast enough. It was like being in a nightmare, weighed down, my arms and legs made of lead. Black hair and dead feathers boiled around me. Yellow eyes glared like spotlights. I rolled and heaved upright and found my back against the tiled wall. Nowhere to go. I blocked a swipe of the monster’s left paw – amber blood splattered across my face – too slow, too slow – jerked the blade free – and saw the right paw coming at me, vicious, yellowing claws aimed at my gut.

  With a hoarse yell, the homeless man jumped into the way.

  The Shikome’s talons hit his chest with a heavy, wet thud.

  The green blade flashes down in the red light—

  The old man gasped and staggered back against me. The smell of unwashed hair and skin filled my nostrils as he slid down my body to crumple at my feet. Blood bubbled out of the frayed folds of his clothes.

  The Foul Woman’s wings spread in a rattling stretch of triumph, teeth bared in its monstrous, eyeless face. In the tunnel there was the sound of another train approaching. The echoing clatter of wheels drowned out the creature’s cry as it lunged at me.

  A furious howl ripped out of my throat. I struck with everything I had.

  The monster’s head and the top half of its left wing fell away in a crisp, diagonal line.

  The massive body toppled backwards. It rolled, twitching, off the edge of the platform, right under the wheels of the train as it shot out of the tunnel. Amber blood fountained upwards, splashing across the train windows and showering the platform like rain.

  I slid down the wall, my fingers clenched and shaking around the katana’s hilt. I stared at the shining silver blade, drenched in blood. Too slow.

  I could make you faster, the sword murmured sibilantly in the back of my mind.

  “Be. Quiet.”

  Jerkily, I wiped the blade on the front of my sweatshirt, and rammed the katana back into its saya in the harness. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. But he was waiting.

  His grey eyes were blank and staring. There was no fear in his face. He’d acted too fast for fear.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Mio!” My father’s voice made my head jerk up.

  The train had passed by. Dad and Shinobu had climbed down onto the track – the only way to get past the smouldering bonfire of the Shikome that was belching black smoke on the middle of the platform. They clambered back up to where I knelt.

  “Are you all right?” my father demanded as he approached. He caught sight of the old man and blanched. “What happened?”

  “I’m OK,” I said, dully. “He tried to help me. He threw himself between me and the Shikome.”

  Shinobu knelt next to me and gently slid the old man’s eyes shut, laying his palm on the wrinkled forehead in a gesture that might have been blessing, or thanks.

  “Poor old man. He never stood a chance,” my father said sadly. “What happened to the Foul Woman?”

  I gestured to where the remains of the Foul Woman – the part not liquefied by the train – had fallen. My dad’s face went slack with shock. “You did this?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t think he really wanted me to.

  “I wonder who he was…” I said, touching one of the man’s dirty hands. His skin still felt warm.

  “We know who he was not. He was not a coward. He was not a poor old man,” Shinobu said sternly. “He was a warrior. A hero in waiting.”

  Shinobu helped me to my feet. I stumbled against him, the surge of battle adrenaline wearing off to leave me stiffer and shakier than before. It was a miracle I wasn’t dead.

  I looked down at the homeless man again. Already he was less like a person and more like a jumbled old pile of rags. Whatever bright, sharp spirit had lit those eyes, had driven him to act with such amazing, irrational courage to save a girl he didn’t even know, had fled now. There was nothing left but skin and bones.

  “He made his own choice, and died well,” Shinobu said. “That is all any of us can hope for.”

  The green blade flashes down in the red light—

  I shuddered, clutching Shinobu’s coat for balance as the memory flashed into my head, stronger than ever before. And as clearly as if he was whispering in my ear, I heard Mr Leech’s words:

  What are you prepared to sacrifice?

  CHAPTER 18

  THE SWARM

  My fingers tightened into fists in Shinobu’s coat. I forced the
memories and the choking sense of panic down, deep down inside. I won’t let go.

  My father reached out tentatively and touched my hand. “You’re like ice. Are you really OK?”

  I drew in a slow, deep breath. “I am. I have to be.”

  I opened my eyes again and uncurled my fingers from the coat fabric, straightening my shoulders with an effort. “Anyway, we can’t go back. What if there are more Shikome in the tunnels?”

  My father muttered a swear word.

  “How many of those firebombs do you have left?” Shinobu asked him.

  “Not enough.” Dad’s hand moved to my shoulder. His eyes searched my face. Finally, he nodded. “OK. Let’s go.”

  I tried not to let them see how much worse the desperate fight with the Shikome had made me, but it was hard. My body still wouldn’t move the way I needed it to. The sensation of being in a nightmare was growing. But there were no nightmares for me any more. The things I dreamed were all real now.

  Shinobu put his arm around my shoulders, taking some of my weight. “You are not all right,” he said softly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, just as softly. “She doesn’t have time for it to matter. We have to get there. I can’t leave her there alone to…” I cut myself off before I could say the next word. I didn’t even want to think it.

  His worried frown deepened, but he didn’t argue. He knew the truth as well as I did. Yes, in any ordinary situation I’d be a liability. But I was the sword-bearer. The not-so-secret weapon. Without me, there was no point in going anywhere. In its saya on my back the katana was throbbing gently, content to wait. It knew soon I would be down to zero choices again. Soon I would be faced with my dying friend, and I would have to decide…

  Would the seal break if I called the sword’s second true name while it was sheathed?

  Could I possibly control its power, command it to do my bidding, if I unsheathed it?

  Did I have the strength to resist it long enough to save at least Jack before it took control of me?

  Would Shinobu be able to stop me before the blade used me to kill someone – maybe even someone I loved?