“That is correct.”
“Great. What the fuck is going on?”
That didn’t take long. Ah, but Ash supposed that Tristan had every right being annoyed. Should have been scared too, only if he understood the very real danger he was in. Ash gave a deep sigh, tugging on the leather barrette at the back of his neck and released all of that long, pale hair.
Tristan’s fingers tingled, remembering the feel of that hair through them, soft and cool. Ash gave his mane a soft toss showing just how much of it there really was, reaching past his waist to brush the top his butt. Again, Tristan wondered if maybe his assessment of Ash was wrong. Because, seriously, who flipped their hair like that?
Girls.
Yep.
Ash slipped out of the cape and folded it over his arm without turning to look at his houseguest again. Under the cape he was wearing a black kimono and hakama, just like a kendo student. A white sash, the obi, around his waist was all that kept the top closed and the pants up—a small consolation, to be sure. Tied to the obi by a deep purple cord was the sword he was dancing around with earlier. Hell, it wasn’t every day you ran into a dude who looked like a chick and thought he was some kinda samurai Dracula character. Just, wow.
Tristan almost laughed at the thought until Ash shifted his hair again—you know, that girly little flip—and he noticed the guns nestled in a custom holster. Ash turned and Tristan made a small sound, taking a step back, unable to stop himself. It wasn’t the actual hardware that bothered him, it was more of the idea of the guy carrying concealed in a country where guns were illegal. So was carrying a real katana. Oh man, what’d he get himself into? He knew he should have just left. If he was smart he’d deck the guy—payback for the bloody nose—snatch his car keys and high tail it out of there as fast as his little car could take him.
Ash scowled at Tristan’s gawking, lips pursed together into a thin line. He tossed the cape aside and pushed past Tristan. “To answer your question will take more time than I can offer at the moment.”
Tristan’s anger flared up in an instant. His hands were already forming into tight fists. He stomped after Ash down a hallway, towards the back of the house. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Ash sighed and stopped to face his guest. “It means, Tristan, that after we have both slept, I will be more than happy tell you what you need to know. Neither of us is receptive to a civil conversation at the moment, do you not think?”
Receptive to a civil conversation? Tristan screwed up his face with a sour expression. “Look, I appreciate you saving me or whatever, but I’m tired, smell like an elephant’s ass and am seriously pissed off. What the hell is going on? What was that back there?”
Ash couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow wondering if Tristan truly knew what an elephant’s ass smelled like. “I have a room with a private bath prepared for you. My servant will see to it that you have everything you need.”
“Do you understand English?” Tristan snapped. “I just said I wanted answers. I—” He stopped, looking at the shorter man perplexed.
“What?” Ash asked, clearly annoyed and growing increasingly impatient.
“Uh, nothing,” Tristan answered. He’d just noticed that somewhere between the car and here, Ash had lost the silly fangs but his eyes were still purple. “Anyway, who says I want to stay here with you? I don’t even like you.” Bastard did hit him. His nose hurt too now that he thought about it. And his arm where he was grabbed before. Tristan scowled, forcing himself not to touch the sore arm.
Ash had to hold back an annoyed huff and started to walk away again. “Whether you like me or not has nothing to do with you staying.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Almost to the end of the hall, Ash stopped and spun, expression and body language screaming annoyance. Tristan only glared back, like the indignant child he was being right then. A distant bark and the click of nails on hardwood sounded behind Tristan and he spun to find a black and white longhaired dog with no tail and floppy ears running full tilt their way. The dog let out another, more exuberant bark at the same moment Tristan sidestepped it, letting it bound past him. He turned back to Ash with a bit of a start. The guy was smiling a real, warm smile. Though it sure as hell wasn’t for Tristan, but for the happy dog at his feet.
And here Tristan thought all the guy could do was frown.
Ash shot him a quick, dry look that Tristan almost missed from behind the curtain of white hair as he gathered the animal into his arms. “Haruka, we have a guest tonight. See to it that Tristan is properly taken care of.”
Tristan turned and was startled to find a small Japanese woman standing behind him. She was dressed in a fifties-style blue and white dress. The cut was petite, showing how impossibly skinny she was. Her long, silken black hair was free to her waist, much like Ash’s. But where Ash was pallid, washed out colors, this woman was rich and dark, save for her ivory skin. Her deep brown almond eyes never met Tristan’s as he checked her out and liked what he saw.
“Hai, wakarimashita.” She bowed low, her hair nearly brushing the floor. “As you wish. Oyasumi.” The little bit of English she spoke was perfect, but her accent was thick and sultry.
Heh, maybe staying wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.
Ash narrowed his eyes at the American and answered Haruka with a soft, “Subarashii. Oyasumi.”
Tristan furrowed his brow in return, wondering why he was getting the stink eye. He was so focused on Ash that he hadn’t noticed that the meek woman had already left. Dog held in his arms, Ash turned away to retire to his own room, the one at the end of the hall hidden behind the double wide dark bamboo doors.
“Now hold on,” Tristan interjected, voice deep and scratchy from being tired, puking and damned annoyed.
Ash heaved a sigh. “I am very tired. You saw what I did to save you.” He put the dog down and she disappeared into the room.
“Yeah, I saw. Lucky I didn’t call the cops on your ass. You know it’s illegal to carry, right?”
Ash’s lips pursed and his cheeks flushed ever slightly, just a hint of pink. “Are you always so… so…”
“Difficult? Yes.”
“Obstreperous,” Ash supplemented pointedly. “If you wish to leave so badly, then here—” Ash threw Tristan’s car keys at him. The American barely caught them before getting smacked in the face. “Leave. But I can promise you that if you do, long before this hour tomorrow, you will be dead.” Ash gave a small, dark smile. “And I do love saying, I told you so, so very much.”
Tristan swallowed hard, staring back at the confident man, unsure if he believed him, but still, he couldn’t hide the anxiety he felt. Seeing the zombie up close and personal made him believe, just a little, that there was something happening to him that he needed help with. God, he hated asking for help. “That’s… I don’t understand.”
Seeing the loudmouthed American sober, Ash took in a deep, calming breath. He didn’t generally approve of using fear as a tool, but it was an all too familiar one. Unfortunately. “I know. However, neither of us is in the position to discuss this now. Rest and then tomorrow we will speak further on the matter.”
“Sure,” Tristan answered. “Okay…”
Seeing him so somber made Ash think that this foulmouthed man wasn’t as bad as he originally thought. He was just frightened. It was wise of him to be frightened. Ash nodded, and turned away, reaching behind the door to a table just inside the room. Having found the bounty, he turned back to the guest with a small pouch on a cord. “Wear this as you sleep. Be sure it touches your skin.”
“What?” Tristan snapped, taken aback. “What the fuck is it?”
Ah, there it was again, that American charm.
Ash’s features twitched in annoyance. “It will aid in your sleep. It will keep...” Ash stopped and blinked up at Tristan, trying to find the right words. “It will keep the nightmare at bay.”
Tristan frowned, but took the weird necklace from him
anyway. “Yeah, okay.”
“Listen,” Ash said and took a step towards him. Despite his size and appearance, Tristan was suddenly weary of the shorter man. He seemed to carry the threat of menace in his pale eyes, in his stiff stance. Tristan couldn’t stop himself from stepping back. “I understand that you do not trust me. And I am not asking you to like me. But you must understand this, I am not the one you want to make enemies with. You do not see it now, but I am your savior. I will be the one to ensure your continued existence in this world. All I am asking is that you believe in me.”
Tristan scowled. Believe in him? How the fuck was he supposed to believe in someone he didn’t even know?
Ash took another menacing step towards him, but this time Tristan refused to give. The other man’s ashy voice was low as he said, “I am only asking that you believe in something for once in your life or you will not have one for much longer.”
Tristan furrowed his brow at the short man. How did he know what Tristan felt, believed in? Who the fuck did he think he was? “Fine. But the moment I deem this all bullshit, I’m out.”
“Very well.” The answer was simple, tone tired, but the emotions bottled up behind them were enough to nearly choke Ash.
“But, hey, before you go—”
Ash held back a perturbed sigh. “Yes?”
“I have to ask, what are you?”
Ash’s entire body stiffened, eyes widening. “Pardon…?”
“I gotta know, because I still can’t tell. Are you a boy or a girl? ’Cause one can have some awesome angry sex with me before turning in, the other can kiss my obstreperous ass.”
Ash made a disgusted sort of growl, turned away and slammed the door shut behind him. Tristan couldn’t help but snicker, but it was short lived. Ah, that wasn’t worth the effort. He was just too tired. God, what a fucked up night. Wonder what could possibly happen next? Despite his outward actions, the whole believe-in-something business really bothered him. He was starting to wonder if he might actually know Ash from somewhere. Stranger things have happened... even if most of them happened tonight.
He let out a long sigh and turned back to where Haruka was supposed to be, finding only a vacant space. She was a quiet one, maybe she should have been named Shizuka. He almost laughed, but then remembered the flesh dripping, death stinking zombiefied Shizuka. He frowned instead. God, he might actually have nightmares about that—not that he didn’t have enough before.
A door was open down the hallway, a band of light illuminating the floor. Tristan slumped forward and shuffled towards it, exhaustion suddenly hitting him now that he wasn’t focused on getting a rise out of Ash. He stopped inside and looked over the bedroom, feeling the weight of the necklace in his right palm like a rock. The room looked comfortable enough, modern and well equipped. There was a king sized bed set in the center of the long wall with a full-length upholstered bench wrapped in navy suede running the length of the foot. Across from the bed was a slate fireplace similar to the one from the Great Room, only not as massive. A tall armoire filled the left wall behind a small glass dining set for two. The windows were full length, running from floor to ceiling with heavy steel blue suede curtains.
Haruka was busying herself silently with prepping the room for him, turning down the bed like in a hotel. And that’s what the room looked like, a high end hotel room. Ash may have been weird, but at least he had a good sense of taste—in furnishings and women. Haruka was cute, but Tristan was starting to understand that she was a little weird too. She made a point of not looking at him, shying away whenever she might have accidentally looked up to see him. Maybe, he wondered, he looked as horrible as he felt. Or smelled, because that stink from the car was following him around like a stray cat. God, he smelled like death. Impressing women wherever he went. Nice.
“Bathroom?” he finally asked, tired of just standing and watching Haruka pretend he wasn’t. The small woman turned to face him, eyes empty. She wouldn’t look him in the face as she pointed to a door in the other side of the room. “Thanks,” he muttered and tossed the necklace to the nightstand on his way by.
“Man, this bathroom is bigger than my apartment,” he mumbled to himself. He turned to the sink and rested his hands on the edge of the counter top, taking in a deep breath past his raw throat. The shocked man staring back resembled him, but he had a hard time believing it. His eyes were blood shot and swollen like he’d been on a three day bender. Small flakes of dried blood above his lip were the only proof that his nose had been bleeding. Well, that and the fact that it still ached slightly. That short dude really could pack a nasty punch. The bit of zombie that had dropped onto his forehead earlier and made him loose his dinner was still there, but had dried into this disgusting, stinking, dark paste of death. His thick, shoulder length black hair looked like a squirrel had its way with it and there was something pasty in the tips that made it stick out in all directions. Looked like vomit. Speaking of vomit, there was some on his shirt. And his jeans from his knees down.
Jesus Christ, what a fucking mess. No wonder Haruka wouldn’t look at him.
He frowned at his dirty reflection. “You disappoint them every day you do stupid shit like this...” He sighed and pulled off the soiled shirt. He washed his face as thoroughly as he could, trying to get the disgusting dried corpse off. When he was satisfied that his face couldn’t be any cleaner and burned just a little from scrubbing too hard, he returned to the bedroom.
“Haruka?” She looked up at hearing her name but didn’t say anything, eyes gazing off past him. Maybe she was just tired too. “It was Haruka, right?” Still nothing. He let out a defeated sigh and held up his shirt. “Uh, yeah, you mind tossing this in the wash? I don’t have any other clothes and this one’s dirty...”
She walked up to him, took the soiled shirt without touching him and pointed down at his pants, dark eyes fixed on his bare chest. He almost smiled, but his exhaustion was too heavy to care much at the moment about her checking him out.
“Pants too, huh? I guess they are kinda dirty. Um, a robe maybe?” He usually didn’t mind stripping down for a pretty girl, but he was so not in the mood right then—an oddity if any. He’d be lucky to get any sleep after the night he just had. Then again, he knew where the house bar was…
Haruka nodded and pointed a single finger behind him. In the bathroom, he stripped down to his boxers and stopped, debating on whether or not to let her have them too. He was only sleeping and his clothes should be clean by the time he woke, that’s if Haruka was up for the day. He shrugged, got naked and found a clean kimono type robe folded on a linen shelf. It wasn’t his style, but it was something. The thought to just walk back out there naked had occurred to him. In the end he decided to cover up—not that he thought Haruka would really notice. She hardly even looked at him. He handed over the rest of his clothing, hoping to see them again, especially his boxers. Nothing like being in a strange place with stranger people, without your own drawers.
“Thanks,” he said, running his eyes over her, taking her all in. In the better light, he could really see her. She was older than he originally thought, older than him, not that that effected his decision in women. But, seriously, she was just a little too strange. Even for him.
Haruka must have felt his gaze on her because her dark eyes flicked up, finally meeting his. He smiled that smile all pretty women got and she gave a small gasp, quickly looked away. Clutching Tristan’s dirty, stinking clothes to her chest, she gave a deep bow and left without another word.
“Wow, what did I get myself into?” Tristan shook his head and climbed into bed. Remembering their strange conversation outside of Ash’s bedroom, he picked up the necklace from the nightstand. He turned it over a few times, looking at it up close. It was simple, like a miniature pillow, sealed on all four sides. One side had a purple star embroidered into the red silk. There was something sweet smelling inside that crinkled like dry leaves when he squeezed it. He knew it was stupid, thinking a silly pouch of leave
s would keep him nightmare free, but he put it on anyway. And there was plenty of naked flesh for it to touch now that his clothes were gone.
He gave a deep sigh, his body instantly relaxing and his eyes weighted down. Despite all the crazy shit of the night, sleep demanded reign. And he was happy to give in to it, happy to finally have an end to the shitty ass day. Though, these days—most days were worse than bad. Every day was a struggle, a force of will to move forward. But no matter how long he lived, no other day could ever be worse than that day. No other day could ever top that waking nightmare. His personal hell.
ASH let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the door. Tristan had turned out to be exactly who Master said he would be. Ash was not entirely prepared to take in one of the last of that dark clan, but one did what one must. Ah, but what now? Perhaps, Master—pardon, Shishō was here to advise... up close and personal as she was want to do.
“You can stop pretending to hide. Honestly, must you play such childish games?” Ash wasn’t one to typically speak so harshly to Shishō, but this was Ash’s home and therefore free to do what one pleased in it. Usually.
The visitor’s giggle filled the room. Ash couldn’t help but shiver. Of course she had intended the reaction. Ash turned to greet the guest—welcome or not, that had yet to be decided. Depended on what she wanted. Ah, even on good days, the want could be more than anyone bargained for. It was just too hard to tell with Shishō.
“I assume you heard most of that then?”
“Hai,” she sang as she strutted to the middle of the room. The dog popped out of her bed and rushed over to investigate the guest’s naked feet. “Pity, I was hoping to see something interesting. But you’re always so sadly predictable, my child.”
Beautiful Death Page 3
