She cut down three in rapid succession as she fought her way across the room, working herself into a corner where she could place her back to the wall and face her attackers head-on. The mindless Nosferatu continued to swarm her as the bodies piled up in front of her position, the unthinking feral beasts intent only on her destruction.
Mitsuro leapt across the distance between them, his eyes glowing red and his blade aimed for Akio’s unprotected head. Akio raised his sword, expecting to easily block the swing, and was taken aback when a shock ran down his arm. He spun away from the next strike and created distance between them to assess his opponent. Mitsuro was stronger than he remembered and moved much faster than he’d anticipated. Akio mentally chastised himself for doing what he had pointed out to Yuko earlier in the day: seeing what he wanted instead of what was there.
He dropped as the blade came toward his face again and swung his katana across Mitsuro’s exposed thigh.
The Forsaken hissed in pain as he jumped back to avoid Akio’s backstroke to his other leg. “You’re better than I remember, traitor. No matter. I will still avenge your betrayal of Kamiko. I don’t care what tricks you have learned since we last met, I am still the better swordsman,” Mitsuro gloated as the blood flowing from his leg wound slowed and then stopped.
Akio did not reply. The faint sounds of battle from beneath the floor concerned him. Bethany Anne had tasked him as Yuko’s protector, and he was determined not to fail either of them.
Nosferatu came at her in a seemingly endless tide, and Yuko used her sword with precision to separate heads and claw-tipped hands as fast as they appeared. She stepped back to avoid a swipe aimed at her eyes and felt her foot slip on something that squished. The odor of rotting flesh assailed her nostrils, the stench causing bile to rise in her throat.
She spared a glance down and saw that she had stepped on a bloated, severed leg. She retched as she realized it was from a young child. Her vision went red with anger that Mitsuro not only created the beasts assailing her but had also killed innocents to keep them fed.
She lashed out with her foot at a large Nosferatu dressed in the remnants of heavy work clothes—the type worn by the men who worked the fishing boats in the area—crushing his chest and knocking him into the group behind him. They fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. She used this small window to step off the scattered body parts beneath her and assume a more stable stance. When the Nosferatu came for her again, she launched into them with a fierce growl. In moments, the snarling hoard was silent, pieces of them scattered about the floor like a child's abandoned toys.
Yuko gagged at the stench as she drew a deep breath and surveyed her prison, her enhanced eyes having no trouble with the dim torchlight. She saw a door on the opposite wall and cautiously approached it, stepping carefully around and over the body parts in her way. She tried to turn the knob and discovered that the door was locked.
A quick twist of her wrist caused the knob to emit a tortured shriek as she twisted it out of the door. She shoved the door hard when she entered the room. It crashed into the wall with enough force to rebound back toward her. As she shot through the opening, the smell of unwashed bodies and fear was so thick she could taste it. She froze, her eyes registering what was there but her mind not wanting to believe what she saw.
She was in a room almost as large as the one before. The main differences were that this one was better lit and it contained multiple metal cages. The cages were stacked two high along the entire length of one wall. Each cage measured five feet long and three feet high and was occupied by two or more people crammed into the tight confines. They all stared at her with looks of absolute terror.
Yuko came out of her mental stupor and slowly approached the cages. The occupants shrank back from her as far as the small cages allowed.
She stopped and addressed the group. “I am here to help you. There is no need to be afraid any longer.”
A gray-haired man with thin and wrinkled skin cowered as she approached his cage. His eyes were wild as he futilely pushed against the back of it, searching for a path to escape.
A disheveled young woman shared the cage with him. She gently placed her hand on his arm. “Sofu, I do not think she is one of the evil ones. She said she is here to help us. You heard the sounds of battle coming from the other room, and she is covered in blood. I think she fought the mindless beasts.”
“You will no longer be threatened by them. They have all found peace,” Yuko assured the woman.
Yuko approached the cage’s door and saw that it was fastened with a simple padlock. She gripped the lock in her hand and twisted until the metal creaked and the lock snapped off. She threw it away in disgust and pulled the door open. As she reached in to help the elderly man, he recoiled from her, his eyes showing white all around in terror.
“She is one of them!” he cried as he looked at the blood-covered blade she still gripped in her hand. “She will kill us all.”
Yuko stepped back and quickly sheathed her sword. Then she slowly moved forward, holding her hands open as she projected a sense of calm toward the man and told him, “I promise you, ojii-san, you have nothing to fear anymore. I will get all of you out of this evil place and to safety.”
The man hesitantly crawled forward in the cramped cage, his eyes darting to all sides. He clearly expected to die at any moment.
The young woman slipped around him and slid to the stone floor, then caught his frail arms and eased him down till he stood shakily on the ground. “Shenshi-sama, thank you for saving us, but we must leave this place quickly.” The young woman whimpered as she spoke. “The four demons were here earlier and will soon return. We must go before they return and kill us all.”
“They will not be back to bother you again,” Yuko assured her.
She stepped away from them and moved along the row, removing the locks from each cage and assisting the captives in the top cages to the floor as she went.
When she was done, there were thirty people in various states of disorder and poor health. It broke Yuko’s heart to see them warily watching in all directions, expecting an attack that Yuko would not allow to come.
Yuko approached the woman who was supporting her grandfather with a shoulder under his arm. “How do I get back to the throne room?”
The former captive pointed to a door. “The stairs leading to it are there, but you can’t go that way. Sho Mitsuro is up there. There is a tunnel that leads outside this way.” She indicated a natural opening opposite the door with her head, her hands supporting most of her frail grandfather’s weight.
“What is your name?” Yuko asked.
“Koda Rii, Shenshi-sama,” she replied with her eyes downcast respectfully.
Yuko put a hand on her arm. “Rii-san, I need you to take these people to safety. I have unfinished business with Sho Mitsuro.”
Koda’s eyes widened. “I can do this, but please come with us. Mitsuro is a monster. You can’t win against him. You will be killed, or worse.”
Yuko raised one eyebrow. “Mitsuro will find that harder to do than he thinks—if he is still alive. My associate did not fall through the floor as I did. I’m certain he will have much to say about that.”
Yuko cringed as she thought of Akio’s response to her attempted attack and subsequent glaring failure. She was sure that pushups would be involved—many, many, pushups, with him sitting on her back while explaining the virtues of self-control in great detail as she did them.
Chapter Seven
Uegusuku Castle, Kume Island, Okinawa Prefecture, Japan
Akio put the sounds of the battle below from his mind and focused on Mitsuro. Yuko was a capable warrior. With her enhancements and training, she was more than a match for a few Nosferatu. She’d defeated the Forsaken earlier with no problem.
Mitsuro flew across the floor, his sword held high as he attacked. Akio brought his katana up and caught Mitsuro’s blow with the flat of his blade and, in a motion too fast to follow, rev
ersed it in a counterthrust. His steel bit deep into the Forsaken’s forearm.
Mitsuro inhaled sharply, twisted to the right, and continued in a full circle with his sword held level, intent on using the momentum to remove Akio’s head.
Akio twisted away from the strike, the blade missing him by a hair as he lashed out again. The Forsaken jerked away as Akio’s razor-sharp katana flashed down, leaving a bloody cut on his thigh. Mitsuro spun to his left and blocked Akio’s strike as he tried to follow up with a thrust to the Forsaken’s chest.
Sparks flew from both blades as they continued to trade blows, Akio intent on killing him quickly but unable to get past the false emperor’s guard.
They attacked and countered ever faster, their forms becoming colored blurs amid the ceaseless clash of ringing steel. Mitsuro took several steps back, retreating from Akio’s deadly sword. When Akio surged forward for a killing blow, Mitsuro reversed direction and slammed his shoulder hard into Akio’s chest.
Akio’s armor protected him from broken bones. He crashed through one of the rice-paper walls and caught himself. Mitsuro leapt after him and received another bloody gash, this one running from his left shoulder down to his waist. He tried to twist away from the deadly blade, only to be sent flying back through the wall by Akio’s booted foot to his ribs.
Akio jumped back through the shattered wall in time to see Mitsuro run behind the throne’s dais. Then he heard a slamming noise. When he arrived where he had last seen the fleeing Forsaken, he discovered a semi-concealed door in the back of the dais.
Without pausing, he thrust-kicked the door, his heavy boot adding to the move’s power. It exploded in a shower of splinters, revealing a dark stairwell that led down to the level below.
Yuko was about to step through the doorway the young woman had indicated when she heard running feet descending the stairs. She stepped back and smiled when she saw a bloody Mitsuro exit while looking over his shoulder. She lifted her sword above her head, her eyes focused on the man and her blade pointed toward him.
Mitsuro sensed her at the last moment and angled away from the blade positioned to penetrate his skull. He turned in a flash and brought his blade toward Yuko’s exposed side.
Her sword shot into the opening, and the sound of metal-on-metal reverberated throughout the space. Mitsuro, his chest covered in blood from Akio’s cut, spun his blade in an arc and pushed Yuko’s up and out. He again tried to take her in the side as he spun in a circuit around her.
“You think you can best me? I will gut you and leave you here as a gift for the traitor,” Mitsuro snarled as he swung.
Yuko bent away from the blade and quickly backed up as she felt the blade scrape across her concealed armor.
Mitsuro grinned maniacally as he saw the blade bite into her side, thinking he had dealt her a serious blow because of the dress she wore over her armor. His smile turned to shock as Yuko’s blade neatly sliced into his arm just below the shoulder, causing him to stop.
Yuko slammed her foot into Mitsuro’s ribs. The sound of breaking bones, followed by his scream as he flew across the floor to slam hard into the unyielding volcanic rock wall, brought a slight smile to her face.
She cautiously approached him where he lay in a broken heap with blood pooling under his body and stood over him, her katana at the ready. She was distracted by a noise behind her and turned to see Akio. She smiled at him and noticed his eyes widen just as she felt a sharp pain in her neck. A strong arm wrapped around her and snatched her against an unyielding body.
“Stop there or I will kill your whore,” Mitsuro snarled, pushing his blade into Yuko’s neck hard enough to cause a trickle of blood.
Akio stopped and eyed the man, assessing his options. “If you kill her, you are dead, Isamu.”
“I told you, traitor, Isamu is dead,” he yelled. “If you call me that name again, I will gut her like a fish as you watch. Just like I did to your lover, so many years ago.”
Akio held his hand up in a placating gesture. “Sho Mitsuro, you will not escape if you harm her. Now, let her go, and we will finish this.”
“You don’t tell me what to do, dog. I am leaving. If you try to follow, she will die.” He pulled Yuko backward as he spoke, causing her to stumble. As he shifted his grip, she slipped farther from the blade at her throat, with the added effect of making him adjust to correct their balance. His blade wavered as he tried to tighten his grasp, then his body froze as the distinctive sound of a Jean Dukes Special rang out.
Yuko stepped away from him as his grip relaxed and turned toward him, her Jean Dukes Special in hand. A bloodstain rapidly seeped into the robe covering his abdomen.
“I told you what would happen if you called me a whore again,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I do not lie about such things.”
She glanced down at her pistol, and with a flick of her thumb, turned it to eight. She then aimed it at his head. His face was slack with disbelief. “Akio, do you need this piece of vile excrement alive any longer?”
“Wait, Yuko.” Akio stepped forward, his eyes locked on the injured Forsaken. “Isamu, tell me who is behind this. I know you aren’t working alone.”
“Isamu is dead,” he wheezed. “I am…”
“Yes, I know. Sho Mitsuro,” Akio grumbled as he approached. “Who are you working with? Who is behind this? I know you did not do this on your own. You never had that much ambition.” He hesitated briefly before adding, “Isamu?”
“I told you, traitor,” the wounded man grunted, “Isamu is dead. I am Sho Mitsuro.”
“Delusional to the end, I see.” Akio sighed. “It’s a good thing you never were any good at shielding your thoughts.”
Akio raised his blade, his lips set in a thin line. There was no shred of pity evident as he looked at the man who had caused him so much pain in the past. He stopped and watched as the Forsaken’s body started to slowly heal from his wounds, the blood flow slowing until it stopped.
Isamu did not have the energy to heal completely due to the heavy blood loss, but after a short time, he stood straighter and glared at Akio. “What are you waiting for, traitor?” he snarled. “Are you too squeamish to kill an injured man?”
“I was only waiting for you to recover a little, Isamu,” Akio informed him with a smile that did not reach the coldness of his eyes. “It will make this much more…satisfactory, if you will.”
“Do you think to frighten me? I know you, and know that you’re too weak to torture someone. What game are you playing?”
Akio studied the Forsaken like he was a bug under a magnifying glass before he answered, “No games here. So, you think you know me? You only knew Akio the vampire, Kamiko Kana’s faithful vassal. That is a large part of who I was. But long before that, I was someone else.”
Isamu laughed. “What does that have to do with anything? We were all someone else when we were lesser beings.”
“There is your problem,” Akio told him coldly. “You are lost in your arrogance. You always thought of me as someone beneath you, but that is only because of your ignorance. Let me enlighten you to the truth.”
“Truth,” Isamu barked. “What truth are you talking about? The truth that you abandoned Kamiko? The truth that you got lucky and found someone with the knowledge to make you a little stronger? The truth…” He paused when Akio shook his head.
“Do you know the history of this land?” Akio asked.
Isamu sneered. “What of it? The humans built this, and when I came here, I liked it. That’s why I had my slaves repair it.”
“Not this structure, Isamu, the history of the island. Do you know it?”
Isamu stood a little taller, his body slowly recovering from the damage. It was not complete, but he was strong enough to bring the hope of escape. “Why should I care about the history of a human place? The only thing I care about now is seeing you dead!” he screamed as he launched himself at Akio.
Akio gracefully slid to one side as the enraged Forsaken came toward h
im. His blade flashed downward and Isamu’s sword clattered to the stone floor, his severed hand still wrapped around the hilt.
Isamu screamed in pain, holding his bloody stump in shock as Akio continued to speak as if nothing had happened.
“As I was saying, Isamu, this island and all the others in the area were once part of the Ryukyu Kingdom.” Akio advanced toward him as he spoke. “Had I not caught the attention of a vampire, things would have been very different for me.”
He casually picked Isamu up with one hand around his throat and pushed him against the wooden door frame, holding the Forsaken effortlessly as he struggled. “Where was I? Oh, yes. I led those who laid waste to the original castle here at the order of my king, Sho Gen, the man I called Father. Had I survived, I would have eventually ruled these islands. Instead, I was turned into a vampire.”
Akio tossed his katana into the air and removed the tanto from his belt. He drove it through the struggling Forsaken’s chest, pinning him to the wooden frame behind him, and caught the katana as it came down. “You think me weaker than you because I do not enjoy causing others pain for the pleasure of it. What you do not know is that I come from a long line of men who understand that there are times when Justice must be meted out.”
His eyes turned red and fangs protruded from his mouth, and his voice took on a deeper, more menacing tone as he pushed fear out all around him—the fear that only a Queen’s Bitch could cause. “I also know that sometimes Justice requires PAIN!”
The Forsaken’s eyes widened at the terrifying visage before him. He screamed as an overwhelming sense of fear slammed into his consciousness, the involuntary shrieks of a being in absolute terror. Those soon turned to unceasing wails of pure agony until eventually, they faded to whimpering moans.
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