A Reason to Live: A Shadowdance Variation

by Mark Wooden

  Illyana’s contact had given her the name of the Initiated Okimoto enforcer—Keiko Kitsune. Judging by this woman’s flashy entrance, Illyana had found her.

  Keiko stepped forward, skipping to a position directly in front of Illyana. She used her foot to raise Illyana’s head up so she could look her in the eye. Illyana fought back the pain arching through her body. She had no contempt for Keiko. This was going exactly as she planned.

  Studying Illyana, Keiko turned her head slightly to one side. “You don’t look so tough,” she said. Then she pressed Illyana’s head up with her foot. Keiko spun around and slammed the heel of her foot into the side of Illyana’s face.

  The vampire launched away from Keiko, falling flat on her chest a few feet away from the Japanese girl. The side of her face kissed the market’s concrete flooring. She stared into space, getting a horizontal view of the ground.

  A moment later, Keiko’s expensive-looking boots walked into Illyana’s blurred line of sight. The girl squatted down, hugging her knees with her arms. “Master Okimoto worked very hard to provide a safe haven for those with addiction,” Keiko said. “Other clans may think he’s weak, thanks to you.”

  Keiko paused, staring at Illyana, trying to figure what she was about.

  Illyana continued to bleed.

  “My master is curious as to why you targeted him,” Keiko continued. “He wanted me to get the answer out of you however I could.” She stood, leaving only her lower legs in Illyana’s view. “I honestly couldn’t give a shit.”

  Suddenly, Illyana felt the men lifting her up so that she was back on her knees. One of the men grabbed a swath of her long blonde hair and yanked her head back.

  Illyana blinked, fighting back the pain. She saw Keiko standing a few feet away, her back to Illyana and her men. She held her left hand out to her side as if she were holding something. A burst of black mist surrounded her hand, and then the shape of a sword handle formed.

  The mist extended away from the handle like liquid metal, forming a slightly curved blade . The black mist danced around the sword. The blade ended in a deadly, pointed tip.

  Its work finished, the black mist dissipated.

  Keiko looked over her shoulder at Illyana.

  “Bodies drained of blood,” she said. “Could you be any more obvious?”

  Keiko turned fully to face Illyana. “My master and his rivals don’t like it when Eurotrash vampires try to stake a claim here.” Keiko giggled, raising her hand to cover her mouth as she did. “See what I did there?”

  Illyana didn’t give Keiko the satisfaction.

  The Japanese girl walked to Illyana’s side. “I know the bullets won’t kill you.” Keiko moved her enchanted katana so that the edge of its blade rested on Illyana’s throat. “This will.”

  The man holding Illyana’s hair forced her head down so that she stared at the ground. He let go of her hair so his arm was clear for the blow that would sever Illyana’s head from her spine.

  Her only regret was that in all these years she had earned neither Adriana’s understanding nor her forgiveness.

  The men’s grip on Illyana’s arms loosened unexpectedly. Both men fell forward, taking her with them. Once on the ground, Illyana got a good look at one of them. The back of his throat had a gash straight through his spinal cord; it was a wonder that his head had remained attached. Blood flowed readily from the wound, a wound Illyana calculated was made by a three-inch-wide blade.

  She knew she’d find the same wound on the other man.

  Illyana remained where she lay. She closed her eyes, having seen this scenario many times since the mid-1990s. Several Daughters had held the responsibility for carrying out Fatale’s curse on Illyana. Her recent watcher was particularly efficient.

  “This woman is under my protection,” came the Daughter’s voice from behind Illyana. She spoke in Japanese so Keiko would understand. “I like seeing her in pain, but she can’t be killed. Not by you, anyway.”

  “And who the hell are you?” Keiko asked.

  “Not that it’d matter to you, but I’m Geisa.”

  Geisa Barros.

  She was a dancer from Brazil, tall and lithe, in her late teens when turned. She kept her skin a pleasing, sun-touched bronze through many daily feedings. Geisa had no pangs of morality in using the Uninitiated as cattle.

  Under the tutelage of the Daughters, Geisa had mastered the art of capoeira, a Brazilian fighting style that included dance-like movements: flips, handstands and other acrobatic maneuvers coupled with deadly strikes.

  The Daughters had commissioned for Geisa a pair of boots with retractable daggers in their soles. That’s what had caused the wounds on the Yakuza thugs who had held Illyana.

  Illyana heard Keiko’s expensive shoes scuffle away from her and stop. She would not flee in terror. Oh no. From what Illyana had learned of the girl through her research into the Japanese underworld, Keiko was too proud for that.

  Or too obstinate.

  Illyana heard the swoosh of air as Keiko swung her katana about. If her intent was to intimidate., it wouldn’t work. Geisa routinely killed little girls like Keiko with a single swing of her foot.

  Finished showing off, Keiko said, “I always love a challenge. Will you be a challenge, Geisa the Brazilian supermodel?”

  Daughter of Lilith assassins were beautiful as a rule. It caught their targets off guard. Insults such as Keiko’s were never paid any attention.

  For Geisa, it just pissed her off.

  Illyana heard a subtle shuffling of feet near her. She recognized the sound as Geisa gently rocking back and forth, preparing for her deadly dance.

  It wouldn’t be long now.

  “If you were so brave, little girl,” Geisa began in a tone of finality, “you would have left your friends at home.”

  Illyana thought back to when she had entered the market. She imagined all those Yakuza who lay in wait as bloody piles of flesh, slaughtered silently by Geisa without knowing from whence their death had come.

  In the silence that followed Geisa’s statement, Illyana imagined Keiko weighing her options in light of the information that all of her lackeys were dead. Would Keiko trust in her skill, or find self-preservation more rewarding?

  “You only took out the first wave,” Keiko said.

  What?

  Illyana opened her eyes. Geisa stood directly in front of her, her back to Illyana. She was indeed rocking gently back and forth. Keiko stood several yards away from Geisa, her katana hanging lazily at her side.

  Keiko raised her free hand and waved it dramatically in front of her. Six beams of black light appeared behind Keiko. Each beam solidified into the form of another Yakuza soldier, armed with katanas similar to Keiko’s.

  To her credit, Geisa continued her rocking, seemingly undeterred by this new development.

  Keiko smiled as if she thought she’d already won this battle. “Your move, vampire.”

  “Guess I won’t be getting to the club in this outfit,” Geisa replied, an air of sadness in her voice. “I’d imagine they don’t let in people covered in blood.”

  Keiko’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a seer. She pointed her enchanted katana at Geisa and shouted a fierce battle cry.

  The six swordsmen took up the cry as they charged Geisa.

  The Daughter of Lilith assassin moved into action, performing a spin and duck maneuver that brought her underneath the swing of a katana. Geisa flipped in the air. One of her daggers sliced through a Yakuza soldier from shoulder to stomach.

  Illyana closed her eyes. She’d seen this dance before and knew how it would end.

  But then, something she didn’t expect happened.

  Illyana felt herself rising.

  Snapping her eyes open, Illyana looked through a haze of ethereal blue mist. She was two feet above the ground, moving down the aisle and away from the action. Looking back at Geisa, Illyana realized the girl saw her predicament, but was too occupied dispatching the remaining Yakuza.
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  Illyana looked at her hands and the blue aura surrounding them. Presumably, the same aura surrounded her entire body. This was magic holding her aloft—but who wielded it?

  And why?

  Keiko frowned.

  Geisa the supermodel had made too quick a work of her men. No matter. With a flick of her wrist, she could summon more.

  “I can do this all night,” she said. Keiko started to raise a hand—

  “But I can’t.”

  Geisa put her left foot on the head of a fallen Yakuza and pulled out the blade on the end of her right boot. It made a sucking sound.

  “I don’t have a problem with you,” the assassin said as she wiped the blood from her blade on the back of the dead man’s suit jacket. “At least, I won’t if you leave right now.”

  “You think you can take me?” Keiko asked.

  The Brazilian sighed. “That’s not important. The Russian who was spirited away is.”

  Keiko dropped into a slouching stance unfit for combat. “You know, you’re really bumming me out.”

  Geisa gave Keiko a sideways glance.

  “What’s she to you, anyway? Why’s she so special?”

  “She’s the only thing keeping you alive right now.”

  Keiko opened her mouth in surprise, but then her frown returned. “Well I don’t have any real problem with you, either.”

  She waved a hand. The dead men at Geisa’s feet flickered and then disappeared in a flash of black light. Even the blood from their wounds that had soiled Geisa’s boots and clothing vanished.

  Geisa looked suspiciously at Keiko.

  “Tell our mutual friend I’ll forgive and forget if she stays out of Tokyo,” Keiko said.

  “We will. But if she should return, leave her be. Or we will have a problem.”

  Keiko exchanged a long stare with Geisa. She broke the stare with a shrug of her shoulders. “We’ll see, little supermodel.”

  The assassin’s eyes narrowed. Living shadows merged around her, shrouding her from Keiko’s view, then shrank back beneath the shelves.

  Geisa was gone.

  Keiko nodded approvingly. “I can make a hell of an exit too.”

  She waved her hands. A black mist rose up from the ground, surrounding her, obscuring her. When the black mist dissipated, Keiko was gone.

  In her place was a fox with fur painted in colors exactly like Keiko’s hair. The creature scurried away from the scene.

  Illyana found herself outside the market at the Seika Gate. She wasn’t at all surprised that the gate was open when, at this hour, it should be locked tight.

  The blue-tinted magic surrounding her set Illyana on her feet and then evaporated like steam. Still reeling from her wounds, Illyana fell back against the concrete wall surrounding the gate. She slumped to the ground, making no effort to use what little blood remained in her system to heal the bloody pulp of her body.

  “Dying on the street in Tokyo won’t help Adriana,” a female voice said in an authoritative tone.

  Illyana looked up with her eyes, the muscle tissue on her neck too far gone to raise her head.

  An African woman stood a few feet away. The woman wore earth-toned clothing, but nothing in a style that would make her stand out in a crowd. She was in her middle years, though physically she could easily compete with women half her age.

  The woman’s dark eyes cut into Illyana as if she had sized up the vampire and found her wanting. Yet, the woman’s demeanor made Illyana believe she had a purpose.

  “Adriana?” Illyana wheezed through shattered lungs.

  The woman knelt beside the vampire, careful to avoid her spilling blood.

  “If you don’t get off your ass right now there will be no chance for us to save her.”

  The vampire closed her eyes. Blood flowing from her wounds suddenly stopped. It drew back into Illyana and disappeared entirely. As the vampire’s flesh grew pale, the wounds fracturing it repaired themselves.

  A minute later, the only signs of the damage were those to Illyana’s clothing.

  “If I don’t like what you have to say,” Illyana began, “I’ll force you to finish me off.”

  “If you don’t like what I have to say,” the woman replied, “there won’t be a reason to keep you alive.”

  The woman extended a hand to Illyana. The vampire accepted it, but still had trouble rising. The woman grabbed Illyana’s elbow with her free hand, successfully getting Illyana to her feet. She then started to lead the vampire away.

  Illyana pulled against her. The African woman glared at her.

  “Unless you want our conversation cut short,” Illyana said, “you’d better knock me out. ”

  The African woman studied Illyana.

  Geisa reached the open Seika Gate minutes after leaving the Japanese girl. She saw the stain of Illyana’s blood, but nothing trailing away from the scene.

  And yet, Illyana was gone.

  This wasn’t the first time the woman had slipped away from Geisa. It probably wouldn’t be the last. Geisa would find her, as she always did, and remind Illyana what happens when she causes this much trouble.

  Geisa closed her eyes, concentrating. When Fatale had assigned Geisa as Illyana’s watcher, she had undergone a ritual bonding through the blood with Illyana. Geisa allowed her blood to call out to Illyana’s blood. She couldn’t track the woman, but she could become one with her, interact with the world through Illyana’s senses.

  Unfortunately, the link wouldn’t work if Illyana were unconscious.

  Illyana woke to the feeling of a strong wind on her face. She felt the smooth granite beneath her. Pushing up, her hair whipping about her face, she saw a ledge nearby. She was on the roof of a building. Forcing her battered frame to its feet, she walked to the edge, mindful to work against the intermittent gusts of wind but nearly losing the battle.

  Looking beyond the ledge, Illyana saw a few other skyscrapers challenging the building she stood atop for supremacy. The rest of the city was some forty floors beneath her, stretching out to the Tokyo Bay several blocks away. Shimmering lights gave a false sense of tranquility to the darkness that lay underneath.

  “Standing at the ledge isn’t the wisest decision,” came a woman’s voice, shouted against the winds.

  Illyana turned from the magnificent view and saw the African woman she’d encountered at the market standing several yards behind her. The rooftop extended back a few hundred feet. An elevator pressed up from the granite in the middle of the roof.

  She walked over to join the African woman. Closer to the center of the rooftop, the winds wreaked less havoc.

  “What trouble is Adriana in now?” Illyana asked.

  Over the last century, Illyana had kept tabs on Adriana but had fallen short of actually contacting her. The girl had made mortal enemies of just about every Initiated faction within the Shadowdance. It was a wonder she was still alive at all.

  “No more trouble than usual,” the woman replied, confirming Illyana’s own opinion.

  “Then what do you want with her?”

  The woman laughed.

  Illyana tilted her head slightly. “What is so amusing?”

  “You’ve trusted me to transport you while you were unconscious, and yet you haven’t asked me who I am, or what I’m doing. All you care for is Adriana and her well-being. Even though she couldn’t give a damn about you.”

  The truth in the woman’s words stung Illyana. A silence passed between the women, interrupted only by the sound of the wind.

  “We don’t have much time,” Illyana insisted. “I have a shadow who is probably looking at you right now.”

  If Makeda knew what Illyana was talking about with her shadow, she made no mention of it. “My name is Makeda Arsi,” the mystery woman revealed. “I need Adriana to help me end the Shadowdance.”

  Illyana thought on this. She looked suspiciously at this Makeda Arsi. “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

  “The less I tell you, the less
chance someone will compromise my plan.”

  Illyana studied Makeda. There was an earnestness to her words that made Illyana believe she wasn’t lying, but she was definitely unwilling to reveal her hand. Illyana turned from Makeda and walked toward the ledge. Without looking at Makeda, she said, “I just badgered the Yakuza into attacking me. In hindsight, this is so much easier.”

  Illyana stepped up on the ledge. A gust of wind caught her tattered clothing, her hair. Illyana struggled to remain standing while looking down to the street below.

  Makeda made no move to stop her other than to say, “The fall won’t kill you.”

  “It will do,” Illyana replied.

  Silence fell again between the women, the wind pressing at Illyana. It almost took control of her, but the vampire maintained her balance.

  Makeda stood her ground.

  “If you see Adriana,” Illyana said, “tell her I’m sorry.”

  Illyana took a step forward.

  At first, she thought a powerful gust of wind had caught her, arresting her descent. She quickly realized that it had not been the wind, but Makeda’s magical blue shroud. It carried Illyana back across the rooftop and landed her in front of Makeda. The African woman’s hand was raised next to her face; it glowed with the same ethereal blue magic that embraced Illyana.

  Then the glow disappeared, as did the shroud about Illyana.

  “I see why you turned Adriana,” Makeda said. “You’re as stubborn as the legends say she is.”

  “Turning her was a mistake,” Illyana replied, her eyes drifting away from Makeda. “One I deeply regret.”

  “Help me, and perhaps you can make up for that.”

  Illyana thought for a moment.

  “You’re right,” Illyana said. Makeda’s expression lightened.

  Illyana’s eyes turned back to Makeda. They held suspicion. “I may know your name, but not who you truly are.”

  “If someone is watching, telling you my name was too much,” Makeda said.