by Cole Gibsen
Two lines pinched the bridge of Kim’s nose as he frowned. “Rileigh, it doesn’t work like that.”
I jabbed a finger into his chest. “That’s what you want me to believe.”
He took a step back, not bothering to mask the hurt on his face. “Rileigh, I would not lie to you about such things.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh yeah, then why am I so out of control when this girl takes over? Why does she do things that I wouldn’t normally do? Is that what’s going to happen when I transcend? Is Senshi going to be completely in control, and Rileigh just … disappears?”
“You won’t disappear.” Kim took another step forward, but stopped when I almost tripped over the tub in an effort to back away from him.
I had to keep distance between us. It was the only way I could think. When I was near him there was only the scent of sandalwood, the heat of his touch, the velvet of his lips … How did I not see it before? Kim was infecting my head just as much as the spirit!
“There is no other girl in your head,” he said. “I know it may feel like that, but there is only one you, just different layers. The voice you hear, the actions you do, that is all you.”
I shook my head.
“Rileigh, you are worried about being taken over?”
I nodded.
“Well, in a way you are being taken over—but by the real you. Your mind is locked right now. The person you are, the real you, is shut away. The person you think you are now is only a fraction of who you are, and she’s holding you hostage. Rileigh, you will lose nothing by transcending, but gain everything.”
I ran a finger along my temple, unable to think through the forming headache. “I’m so confused,” I whispered.
“I know,” Kim answered back. His hands hung loose at his side.
“Look, about all this—”
Kim lifted a hand to stop me. “I understand. This is not our time. No need to discuss it further.” He motioned toward the door. “Please stay here tonight.” I started to argue, but he cut me off again. “As my guest. You can stay in the bedroom, and I’ll take the sofa. Later, we will find you somewhere to stay where you will be more comfortable. At least until I discover who is after you.”
I tugged at the bottom hem of my shirt, partly to mask my trembling and partly to keep my betraying fingers from reaching out to him. “But what about Senshi’s katana?” I asked. “What if we can’t get it back?”
Kim shifted awkwardly. Meeting his eyes, I caught that unmistakable look of guilt that I was growing all too familiar with.
I narrowed my eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing.” He gripped his elbow and studied a spot on the ceiling.
“Kim Gimhae,” I growled. No longer afraid to close the distance between us, I took a step forward and poked my finger against his chest. He looked down, surprised. “I know you aren’t telling me something, and I’m in no mood for any more of your secrets.” I jabbed my finger against him one more time for emphasis.
He ran his hand through his hair. “Senshi’s katana was not stolen.”
I crossed my arms. “What are you talking about? I saw it slung across Devil-boy’s back!”
“Devil-boy?”
“That’s what I call the scary guy with horns tattooed on his head.” I shook my head. “But don’t change the subject!”
“Right.” He swallowed hard. “The katana I gave you was stolen.”
I tapped my foot against the floor. “You better start making sense and fast!”
He sighed. “Senshi’s katana is in my bedroom, mounted on the wall with my nodachi.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the golden-hilted katana braced against the larger sword. “What? If that’s Senshi’s katana,” I turned back to him, “what did you give me?”
He dropped his gaze to the floor. “A decoy.”
“Excuse me?” I took a step back. “You lied to me!” Anger coursed through my body, burning through my veins like acid.
“No!” He reached for me, but I stepped beyond his grasp. He let his hand fall to his side. “I mean, yes, but it wasn’t intentional.”
I glared at him. “You knew it wasn’t Senshi’s katana, but you told me that it was. Are you sure you know the meaning of the word ‘intentional’?”
Kim closed his eyes and leaned his head against the door frame. After a deep breath, he said, “I did lie to you, but I did not do it to hurt you. I did it to protect you. You must understand that.”
“Go on.”
He continued. “There is a Noppera-bō after you, Rileigh, and we do not know who this person is. It could be a friend, a teacher, or the mailman. I thought that if whoever was targeting you thought that you had your katana back and had completed your transcending, they would move on. I never meant to hurt you.”
“How many times are you going to say that to me, Kim? How can I trust you when you don’t trust me?” I hugged my arms against my body, remembering the feel of his hands pressing me against him. I shivered. How could I have been such an idiot?
He moved closer and raised his arm to cup my chin with his hand. I didn’t move, but clenched my teeth under his fingers.
“In order to have the Noppera-bō believe it,” Kim said, “I needed you to believe it—and with the theft of the decoy, it looks like it worked.” He frowned and dropped his hand to his side. “It is only a matter of time before the Noppera-bō realize they have a fake and come looking for the real katana.”
My head ached from the emotions twisting within. Half of me wanted to pull him against me and curl against the warmth of his chest—the other half wanted to dropkick his face. “How do you know the Noppera-bō won’t believe the decoy is real?” I asked.
“Rileigh, did you not even unzip the bag?”
“No. I was afraid to touch it.”
Kim sighed and tilted my chin up with his thumb so that our eyes met. “If you had opened the bag, you would have seen the answer to your question spelled out plainly on the handle.”
“What’s that?”
“Made in China,” he said. Then he turned off the bathroom light.
30
Japan, 1493
Now that the smoke was gone, Senshi could clearly make out the approaching figure. What she saw made no sense to her.
“Zeami?” Senshi used her katana as a crutch to push herself back on her feet. It was unusual to see him alone. Zeami had fought side-by-side with Yoshido for as long as they’d been samurai. They were practically brothers. But now, Yoshido was nowhere in sight and Zeami was not dressed in armor. In fact, the red silk robes he wore were spotless and far beyond the reach of a samurai’s pay. The pieces fell into place.
“You!” Senshi failed to keep the rage from grinding her voice into a growl.
Zeami laughed. “Your magic tricks are always amusing. Toyotomi was a fool to have you trained as a samurai. What a waste of talent. You would have made quite the entertainer. I doubt, however, you would have been as gifted as your mother.” He licked his lips.
“I have no mother!” she spat.
“Oh, that is right.” He nodded, his small black eyes glittering. “She would not claim you.”
Rage boiled through Senshi’s blood, and before she realized what she was doing, she’d raised her katana to attack. She took a step forward, but a hand from behind grabbed her shoulder and stopped her advance.
She twisted to face her oppressor, who in turn spun her back to face Zeami with an arm protectively blocking her chest. Senshi blinked, the furious fire extinguished by Yoshido’s cool gaze. She shivered as his fingers brushed down her arm when he dropped his hold on her. She could think again.
“Ah, Yoshido, why do you bother with her?” Zeami sneered. “She is the daughter of a courtesan. Surely you could have done better.”
Yoshido turned slowly, giving Zeami the weight of his full stare. “Hold your tongue, Zeami. If not, I will gladly remove it for you.”
“Yoshido, that is why I have always liked you.�
� Zeami put his hands on his hips. “So direct. You are absolutely right, of course. The time for talking has passed. These walls are surrounded by ninja and you will soon be defeated.”
Senshi felt the tingle of tension creep along her shoulders. Dozens of samurai lay slain around her. The garden stank of sweet copper from the blood glittering on the grass like midnight dew. Only a handful of ninja joined the dead. Where was the rest of the army? Captured? Dead? Were she and Yoshido the only ones left? She pushed a trickle of her ki energy outward, searching. She only found ninja—too many to count—waiting in the darkness.
Yoshido shook his head. “I do not understand. Why, Zeami? We fought side by side for years. We were family.”
Zeami snorted. “Family? You are disillusioned, my friend, if you think that we were ever Toyotomi’s family. A samurai is nothing more than a glorified slave.”
Yoshido’s eyes widened. “That is absurd!”
“Is it? Slaves have no choice but to serve, and neither do samurai. What happens if a samurai chooses not to fight? Are they not executed?”
Yoshido narrowed his eyes. “Why would you not want to serve? There is no greater honor.”
“Bah!” Zeami threw his arms in the air. “Honor means nothing if you are dead, and death is of no interest to me, Yoshido. In case you have not noticed, the invasions have increased. We have been successful in stopping them, but each battle has been worse than the one preceding it. It was only a matter of time before we were defeated. I was not going to stay and wait for death.”
“You disgrace yourself!” Yoshido screamed, his nodachi trembling in his hand. “You disgrace your ancestors! You swore an oath of loyalty!”
“I am loyal, Yoshido … to myself. I have enough money now to own land. I am my own master and will never have to fight someone else’s battle again. Toyotomi could not give me that.”
“Maybe not,” Yoshido said, “but he treated us like family. Few daimyo treat their samurai so well.”
“Wrong again,” Zeami said. “My current employer paid me not only in money, but power. I have been bestowed the gift of dark magic. Toyotomi was always so proud of Senshi and her gift. Well, her power cannot stand against my new strength. My only regret is that Toyotomi did not live long enough to see me, Zeami, defeat his two favorite warriors.” A giggle escaped his throat before he could clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle it.
“Toyotomi is dead?” Yoshido’s face folded into lines of disbelief. “You lie.”
Senshi held back a sob and placed her hand on Yoshido’s arm.
Startled by her touch, Yoshido’s eyes widened as he searched her face for the truth. Her silence told him everything. “No,” he whispered, turning back to face Zeami.
“Do not be so sad, Yoshido,” Zeami sneered. “You will join him soon.” He held his arm out and a ninja appeared to his right. “But first, a surprise.”
“Cheap ninja magic,” Senshi muttered under her breath.
“Ah-ah,” Zeami scolded. “Do not spoil the surprise.”
The ninja strode toward Senshi and Yoshido, a bundle of something, masked by darkness, hanging from his hand. He stopped a few yards away.
Yoshido drew his sword, and Senshi readied her own.
“Go ahead.” Zeami nodded at the ninja. “Please give my gifts to my old friends.”
The ninja nodded and threw the objects into the air. They fell with a wet thud at the feet of Yoshido and Senshi.
At first, Senshi’s mind refused to make sense of the horror of the severed heads at her feet. As she stared at the milky eyes before her, the puzzle clicked into place, one anguishing piece at a time. The twins, Kiyomori and Yorimichi. The two young boys had not quite finished their training under Yoshido. They spent most of their days following Senshi around like starved puppies, convinced they could learn the art of ki manipulation if they watched her every move.
The third head Senshi had trouble making out, as it was bruised to a plum purple. Then she saw the identifying birthmark half-hidden under a swollen gash—Yoshido’s brother Seiko. Her body trembled from the strain of holding back tears. She would not give Zeami the pleasure of seeing them fall.
Yoshido was unmoving, his chest not even rising in breath. “No measure of pain can describe what I am going to do to you,” he growled through bared teeth. His eyes burned with feral rage, and Senshi, terrified, no longer recognized him.
“You do not like your present?” Zeami asked in mock disappointment.
Yoshido roared. “Enough of this! Enough of your games! We finish this here, and we finish this now.”
“As you wish, Yoshido,” Zeami said, no longer smiling. He bowed his head to the ground. When he lifted it up a moment later, his pupils had dilated to encompass his entire eye, making his sockets appear empty.
The air in the garden prickled with hot energy that pulled at the hair along Senshi’s arm and neck, giving her the sensation of a thousand daggers digging into her skin. She grimaced in pain. “What is this?” she asked.
“I have told you, my lovely Senshi,” Zeami replied. “I have been given great power, power even you cannot comprehend.”
Wide-eyed, Yoshido turned to her. “What is going on?”
Senshi shook her head, a feeling of helplessness weighing her down. “This is no magic that I know.”
Zeami smiled. “What did I tell you? So much for the great powers of Senshi.” He turned his attention to Yoshido. “Come, old friend, let this be done.” Streaks of blue electricity snapped around Zeami’s body in hissing and popping rings. He held his arms out, laughing as he embraced the power.
Zeami was right. Never before had Senshi seen or felt anything like it. Her own magic was a cool wind that blew out from her center. Zeami’s energy was sharp and hot, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Zeami turned back to Senshi. He raised his arms and reached for her, lightning raining from his fingertips. Her shoulder was struck, and she marveled that Zeami’s energy felt like a physical blow before she realized Yoshido had shoved her to the ground.
She screamed his name, watching her lover’s eyes widen in surprise as he took the hit meant for her. His neck snapped up, pulled back by the lightning coursing through his body with sickening cracks. He jerked upright, twitching like a puppet shaken on its strings, before he crumpled into a heap on the ground, his eyes never once leaving her face.
The smell of burned flesh mixed with the scent of blood already hanging in the night air.
31
I woke with a start and had to shield my eyes from the sun glinting off the two swords mounted above the headboard. With my eyes closed, I was even more aware of the scent of sandalwood coming off the comforter I had wrapped around myself. I jerked the covers off, but I could still smell Kim’s scent on the clean T-shirt and boxer shorts he’d given me to wear.
I flopped onto my back and tried to fall back to sleep, but the nightmare was too fresh inside my head. I tried to push the images from my mind, but that only allowed my earlier conversation with Kim to slip in. He said I had nothing to lose by transcending, and everything to gain. Was he right? Was the real me being suppressed and held captive?
Even more distracting were the memories of how his arms felt. They made my heart trip and my blood uncomfortably hot. If I thought about it, I could almost feel his lips beneath my ear, rising higher and higher … I sat up with a gasp.
Dropping my legs over the side of the bed, I grumbled the entire way into the bathroom. I knew Kim wouldn’t mind if I took a shower; I just hoped he wouldn’t realize how cold I intended it to be.
After my shower, I picked up my soiled workout clothes and held them up for inspection. They were spotted with the blood from my torn knuckles and smelled like sweat—but I didn’t care. Anything was better than having Kim’s scent sinking into my skin. I slipped my clothes on and left the bedroom in search of caffeine. Kim sat at the kitchen bar, studying his laptop. He looked up at me when I entered.
“You didn’t sleep long. Were
you not comfortable?”
“I’m not very tired,” I lied. “Care if I use your phone? I need to call work and tell them I’m not coming in today.”
“What about your mom?” he asked. “Do you think she’s worried?”
I made a face. “I doubt she’s noticed.”
Kim frowned, but kept quiet. He inclined his head toward a phone on the counter. “It’s all yours.”
After I called, I returned to the counter opposite him. He looked like hell. I smiled. It was nice to see I wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep.
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.” I gave him my best innocent look. “You got any coffee?”
He returned his focus to the computer. “The coffeepot is behind you, and coffee is in the cabinet directly above it.”
“Thanks,” I said. I hesitantly grabbed the pot and filled it with tap water. I’d never made my own coffee before, but I’d watched Debbie do it enough that I thought I could wing it. The tricky part was deciding how many scoops of ground beans to use. Eight seemed like a good number. After snapping the filter compartment shut, I glanced at Kim. “What are you doing?”
“Hmmm?” Kim finished typing and closed the laptop. “Just finishing up some things with the Network. I’m trying to track down our thief. Nobody has heard anything yet, but it’s not uncommon for these things to take time.”
“The Network … ” I set the pot into place under the dispenser. The name alone was enough to make me distrust it. “Exactly what is it, again?”
Kim shrugged. “It’s an agency like any other—we just keep a lower profile.”
“Okay. But what does the Network do? Who’s in charge?”
He cleared his throat. “The identities of the higher-ups are kept classified for security reasons.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I can tell you that the sole objective of the Network is to keep watch over people who have transcended or show signs of transcending.”
