“N—no!” The troll took a step back. “I’m not going anywhere—Bird man! Where are you?”
Tristan made a flamboyant sweeping motion to the creature’s back as it continued to yell for this “bird man”. “There you have it. He doesn’t want to leave.”
“Bloody right,” Desmond grunted and tugged his claymore free.
“All yours, Leonidas. I’m sure you can handle just one troll by yourself.”
The vampire glanced down at Akane then gave Tristan a cynical scowl. “Oi, is that all you fooking got?”
“You know, it’s really not my problem if the kitsune don’t like having a troll around.” He looked down to the fox at his feet when she spit at him. “If the troll doesn’t want to leave, I’m not going to force him. Besides, I know this whole thing was a fucking lie. I’m only here because Ash wanted to get Yuki alone.”
Desmond stopped and turned to look at him completely dumbfounded. “What bloody good is yew if yew won’t take a shot or two at the enemy?”
“I told you before, I’m a vampire hunter. The rest of the shinwa and heikō are off the docket.” Even as Tristan was saying it, he wondered why. Every single race of shinwa and heikō were powerful in their own way, all stronger than humans. Who was there to police them if the humans couldn’t? Maybe, once, that was the Uruwashi’s original goal but they’d been decimated by the vampire too much to keep up and had to focus on just one out of the fourteen.
Not liking where his thoughts were taking him, Tristan let out a huff and took a step back. He was watching the troll continue to yell at the woods as he said, “I’m serious Desmond, I’m not okay with this. We don’t even know if it’s done anything wrong. And by wrong I mean hurt humans.” The shinwa could beat on each other all they wanted for all he cared.
“Fooking pussy,” the Scot grunted.
“Yeee-up,” Tristan answered with a big, contemptuous smirk.
Desmond snorted a laugh before letting out a war cry, darting forward. Akane echoed Desmond’s cry with a fox-born howl/scream and joined the big vampire. The troll answered with his own call and shot forward. Despite his larger-than-blimp size and ridiculously short tlegs, the troll moved fast and with precision.
Content to just sit and watch the show, Tristan took a seat on the temple steps. His ass hadn’t even had time to register as cold before there was a commotion behind him in the temple. Someone screamed and wood cracked. He was just twisting at the waist to look back when Simon came soaring out. On instinct Tristan tried to catch the fae and got himself banged up for it.
He took a hit to his chin that blacked out his vision and a jab to the ribs that took his breath. When he came to a few seconds later he was at the bottom of the stairs in a tangle of limbs with the fae.
“Fuuuuck,” he hissed, touching his sore jaw. That was going to leave a mark. “Hey, you okay?”
Simon managed to sit up and frowned at Tristan, the blood from his scalp making him squeeze one eye shut. “Ye-yeah.”
“You’re hurt.” Tristan stumbled to his feet, dragging Simon up with him.
The fae swayed and his eyes lost a little focus as he looked up. “Huh? Yeah, no, it’s okay. I’m fine, I bleed all the time. Happens a lot with vampires.”
Yep, a vampire.
Tristan looked up the steps to the man silently taking in everything. Average in height, slender in build, the vampire held himself with an air of nobility. Tristan was betting the guy was the strong silent type, kind of like Ash. On the trail of his thoughts, Tristan scrutinized the man’s appearance more closely. The dude looked like a dude, but if he was old enough and of the right bloodline, he could put up an aura like Ash. And while the vampire was pale skinned, his hair was stark raven black where it fell over his face to hide half of it. Inside, Tristan’s blood knew what his eyes were telling him, that this guy was a vanilla. The vampire had no powers—well, no seikonō anyway.
Lucky for Tristan.
Despite seeing Ash with one all the time, Tristan was surprised to see the vampire holding a katana. Only just though since the sleeve of his top was so long that it nearly fell to his knee. The other sleeve was folded back to reveal light grey silk lining to the strangely modern mix of Japanese and Chinese attire of his long, form fitting robe—you know, one of those kinds with long tails that split into four pieces and stopped at the ankle. The mandarin collar looked like it might have been stiff and rubbed if it weren’t made out of velvet. Plain black slacks cut straight and loose finished off the outfit. But it was the boots that ruined the whole look.
The vampire must have notice Tristan staring and shifted his stance. “You like my boots?” the vampire asked, his one visible eye full of amusement though the rest of his expression was stoic. “Kitsune hide makes wonderful outwear.”
The realization that the vampire’s boots were made of kitsune made Tristan pale a little because, fuck, that had to hurt.
“Who the hell are you?”
Before the vampire could answer, the troll shouted, “Wren!”
Tristan spun towards the voice, careful to keep the vampire in his line of sight. The troll was shouting at the vampire, trying to avoid Desmond’s and Akane’s attacks. “Wren, they’re trying to hurt me!”
“Aye, that we is! Hold still!” Desmond shouted angrily as he took another swing at the big troll.
The vampire, Wren apparently, let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tristan was a little startled of how much he reminded him of Ash in that moment. Then he cursed himself for letting the thought, no matter how quick, distract him. This was exactly what Desmond had been talking about.
Wren looked up, half his expression impassive, the other half hidden behind his long hair. “Oogui, I have told you not to address me further.”
Desmond burst into laughter and Simon snickered. Even Tristan couldn’t help but snicker a little himself as he looked at the troll. “Wait, your name’s Ugly? Man, you got the short end of the stick on that one, pal.”
The troll screamed a roaring cry and leapt, jumping high into the air. Tristan and Simon gasped, scrambling back as the troll landed at the base of the temple steps, driving both huge fists into the ground. The first two rows of steps crumpled and broke open and a wave of wet snow crashed outward.
Tristan was faster these days and managed to grab Simon and jump away before getting covered in snow and broken stone. When it was all settled, Tristan was five feet back and to the right. And Wren had moved to stay in line with him at his place on the top step.
As Oogui slammed another tantrum-born fist down into the pummeled step, Desmond was cracking up where he’d been left, laugh-talking about how the troll’s name was “Ugly”. Damn vampire was laughing so hard he was crying red tears. Might have pissed his pants too if he weren’t dead.
“First off,” the troll started in rough English, a rough smoker’s sort of voice. “My name is Oogui. Oo-gu-ee.”
Simon snickered hard enough that a clump of clotting blood shot out of his nose.
“Second. I’m a not a ‘pal’. Thank you very much.”
Simon’s laughter doubled and he fell forward, hand on his thigh for support, the other holding onto the hem of Tristan’s jacket to keep himself tethered upright. Blood poured from his busted nose but he was too busy laughing to care. “Ugly... oh god,” the fae sputtered, “that’s good. Ugly, ha!”
“So,” Tristan said carefully to keep from bursting into pants-wetting laughter too. “You’re…” He had to clear his throat. “You’re a girl?”
More like a dinosaur with a puggle’s face, he thought loud enough for the vampires to hear. That did it for Desmond and the vampire fell over, nearly asphyxiating he was laughing so hard. Even Wren made a noise that might have been a choked back laugh.
“Yes, you cretin. I’m a girl.”
Tristan was snickering now. “So wait. Your name is Ug—Oogui, and you’re a chick? You’re half naked.”
Oogui palmed one of four large folds on her
chest. She gave the flab a good jiggle and let go so that it flopped against her chest. “It’s our culture, you beast.”
The laughter that he’d been holding back finally burst from Tristan and he had to swallowed it back down quickly to speak clearly. “Okay, sorry. Oogui. I just—” He lost to the laughter for good. He was trying so hard not to, but with Desmond and Simon letting lose, it was impossible to fight it anymore.
Tristan found a sudden inspiration to stop laughing when the whiz of a sword cutting air resonated right in front of him. He jumped back, his own sword coming free of the sheath. He may not have liked the sword as much as his gun, but dammed if he couldn’t weld it above average.
Thank you, Ash.
Instinct made Tristan drag Simon back with him. The fae yelped and fell to his ass in the snow. At the other end of the sword Wren looked at him with some consideration. That’s when Tristan noticed the half mask à la Phantom on the right half of his face that his hair had hid before.
“What gives?” Tristan asked. “You got a beef with me?”
Wren looked away from where he was watching Desmond tussle with the troll again and considered Tristan with a raised brow, head tilted to the side. “Are you the one?”
“What?” Tristan spat back. “You asking if I’m the Gatekeeper? ’Cause I’ll tell you right now, I’m not.”
The vampire scrutinized him again. Whatever he saw, maybe he didn’t like it because he harrumphed and advanced. Simon was shoved aside to fall back into the snow again as Tristan blocked a less than serious blow. Wren was just giving him a test drive. Guess he really didn’t know what Tristan was. So, whatever this was all about, it wasn’t him—for a change. How… refreshing.
“If you just want to dance, I’ve got to tell ya, my card is a little full, pal.”
Wren’s face was disturbingly stoic as he took a swing at him, but there was a world of thoughts behind his brown eyes. No, brown and blue, the one behind the Phantom mask was blue. The vampire gave Tristan one last jab for good measure, this one a little more serious as it grazed Tristan’s arm and nicked the back of his hand.
He hissed but refused to look at the cut. It didn’t feel deep, just a light warning. “All right,” Tristan said carefully and gave Simon a little shove to stay back when the fae tried to move around him. “You have my full attention.”
Wren lifted his chin. “Do I?”
“Wren! Wren!” The troll was hollering again.
The vampire visibly tensed, his face showing only the slightest shift into annoyance. Ash could take lessons from the dude, he was so dry. Then again, Tristan hadn’t really seen much of stoic Ash since she’d come out woman. Since she started being herself.
“You repulsive, vulgar insult to the senses,” Wren mumbled and then raised his voice. “I have told you on numerous occasions, Oogui, not to address me. I am not your Master nor your friend.”
“But, Wreeeeen,” Oogui whined in that deep, manly timber.
“Enough!” Wren shouted, and yet, strangely, his expression never changed with his raised, angry voice.
Desmond had moved up behind the troll and let out a growl. Oogui gave a surprised cry when Desmond sprung, landing on Oougi’s back, clinging to him like a monkey. The troll cried out in anger and spun so hard it sent Desmond flying. He landed, only to jump to his feet immediately.
Wren moved, making Tristan flinch and turn to face him again, focus only on him. “Disgusting beast, really. She seems to have taken a liking to me and calls me Master.” His brow knitted. “I’d never keep such revolting company.”
A sudden shout from the temple steps drew the group’s attention. “Uruwashi!”
It was one of the kitsune, bleeding and panting in her human skin. Tristan cringed when he saw the surprised look on Wren’s face, the look of recognition at the careless shouted word. Simon, feeling nervous, grabbed ahold of Tristan’s sleeve. Dammit, did she have to call him that?
“That one is the vampire in the news! He is the one who drinks and drowns the humans!”
Tristan felt himself go cold. That was the reason why Desmond had showed up in Greece. Tristan couldn’t read the article himself, but Mamoru had given him the cliff notes. A string of human deaths had been ruled as murder since not only were they obviously drowned despite no presence of a water source, but they were also drained of blood. It had the signature of vampire all over it. He hadn’t heard a thing about the case since they arrived back in Japan and frankly, had forgotten about it.
But, no matter his Master’s House, this vampire was only a vanilla. He had no water-based powers. He wouldn’t be able to drown the victims. Not unless there were two of them…
“Uruwashi?” Wren said looking startled. “They died out circa 950.”
That’s right, they died out during the Heian period. Interesting enough, that was right about the time Yuki was made a vampire. Was it a coincidence that the Uruwashi were all murdered around that same time? He wondered some nights.
Tristan ground his teeth. “Hey kid,” he said in a low voice to Simon. “You need to find someplace else to tremble.”
Simon shoved Tristan. “I’m not trembling and I’m not a kid. I’m older than you!”
He made a face, attention still fixed on Wren watching the show quietly, a tiny smile on his lips. “That might be true, but you still have to get the fuck out of my way.”
“Fuck you!” he shouted. Surprised, Tristan tore his gaze from Wren and looked down to Simon. He was positively fuming, cheeks brightened with soft blush that wasn’t the cold. The look in his eyes said he’d surprised himself with the outburst as he had Tristan. “I can fend for myself. Just because you’re an Uruwashi doesn’t mean I can’t help. I probably know more about them than you do.”
Dammit, where was the off switch on this kid? Between him and the kitsune, all of Tristan’s secrets were being given to the enemy.
There was a soft clapping, muted by gloves, and Tristan shot Wren a dirty look.
“I don’t deserve your help, Simon,” he muttered. He didn’t know if Simon heard him, but he wasn’t about to tell the poor kid right then that he’d had a part in his brother’s (probable) end and felt guilty for it even if it was inevitable. “Please, just go.”
“But I—”
“This is all very riveting,” Wren said. “But, if you don’t mind, you and I have business to discuss.”
Tristan barely had enough time to take his next breath before Wren shot forward. A splattering of snow pelted Tristan’s face and he gasped, jumping back. Wren’s hit was easily deflected and Tristan gave an angry cry, realizing the vampire was just toying with him again.
Every time Tristan tried to counter the vampire’s blows, he was driven further and further back, forced to maintain a defensive. It wasn’t until he noticed the sounds of Desmond and the troll growing distant that he realized what was happening.
Wren let up long enough to allow Tristan an offensive swing, but it was already too late. Swords crossed, the vampire smirked at Tristan’s obvious revelation and shoved him away, jumping back at the same time.
“Son of a bitch,” Tristan groaned. He’d been lured away from the others. He was facing down a vampire alone.
6: Tea
SILENCE from the ancient vampire was usually a much welcomed respite. In this moment though, it was beyond irritating. Thankfully, with more than mild persuading, Ash had convinced Yukihime to place that thing outside, away from her. She could still hear Malik from this distance, but he was content with quietly listening to the tense silence between the two Masters. As if he were poised to snatch up a carelessly spoken word and use it against Ash, make her pay for his death and ultimate confinement.
Ash shuddered, too aware of the third presence. Jaw tight, unwilling to give shape to her words, she bit out, “It was all a farce, was it not?”
Yukihime looked up slowly. She was in her trance again. Curse these episodes. The woman was all but useless during these spells. Hopefully she would
recover quickly because Ash had no time to waste and even less patience to give. If she had to tear through every bit of this house to find her book, then she’d do it. Anything to get that book back. Anything to better things between her and Tristan.
“Nani?”
“Come now, Master,” Ash said with a sarcastic tone, trying to pull her back. “I may not be able to read your mind, but I know you. Why do you think I agreed to stay? I am never want to waste my time.”
The ancient vampire smiled, almost looking herself again. “Yare yare, there is a troll.”
Ash raised her eyebrows in question. “Who?”
“Oogui.”
“Oogui? Isn’t she—”
“Hai, hai,” Yukihime interrupted. “Desmond’s orders are only to relocate her.”
Relocation? Well, Ash wished the others luck if this was the same stubborn Oougi she’d crossed paths with some years back. Oogui was not a danger in any sense of maliciousness, but she was rather dumb and a troll’s size made them more than clumsy. “And the true objective of today’s farce?”
The older vampire didn’t even bother feigning innocence. “Oogui was squatting… but only because there was a vampire there.”
“Yukihime,” she chided.
“Don’t get yourself all bent out of shape, dear, it’s unsightly. He’s only a vanilla, even our virgin Uruwashi can handle a vanilla.”
“Who?” Ash pressed.
“Uh,” Yukihime floundered a moment, bit her lip and then blurted, “Wren.”
Ash flinched. “To—Toshiro? Does… does Desmond know?”
“I doubt it.”
“I see.” Ash paused for a moment, watching Yukihime silently study her. There was more, much more, to this story than said and Ash just hoped it didn’t mean putting Tristan in danger. “Then he is going to be very angry with you. And I am as well, for your information. Wren is a good man and you know it.”
Ash wasn’t worried about Tristan and Wren together—in fact, she thought they just might get along. Besides, she trusted Wren. He wouldn’t do anything rash. Tristan on the other hand…
White Lies: (The Uruwashi Series #4) Page 6
