by Alexia Purdy
“You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that,” she snickered, bending her fingers to beckon them forward. The guy backed away, heaving hard and bewildered at his broken sword. Did they not know she lived for the fight and would decimate them? This was kindergarten stuff to her. These guys weren’t even immortals. Shame. She had some pent-up frustration to vent off, and this would be over far too soon.
Another Yakuza closed in, his daggers flashing in the fading light of dusk. The streets were quiet, but many people who were passing by hurried to cross the street, away from them, or turned back the way they had come. Funny how people talked about helping victims all the time, but when it came down to it, most of them ran away. There were a few teens from the hostel nearby, perched on its steps and cheering them on. They’d already pulled out their phones and were filming the fight to post on their social media accounts later, or worse, live-streaming the darn thing.
Great. Social media. The plague of the twenty-first century. At least the poor lighting wouldn’t be to their advantage. The sun had set, and the looming buildings above had darkened the streets even further. Still, to her immortal eyes, it was as bright as day. Too bad it wouldn’t help these guys one bit.
The dagger guy missed. She shoved at his shoulders as he sailed by, slamming his face into the nearest wall. The third guy was already on her, beating his batons on her forearm and efficiently blocking her sword strikes. He was good, she had to admit. Where the others’ vanity had done them in, this one was far more cautious, and he’d waited to take her on last.
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to hit people?” she snapped. She found an open spot and kicked at his knee, but it wasn’t enough to knock him down. He hardly felt it. Adrenaline numbed the pain, she knew that, but from the look in his eyes, she was sure he was high on something else. She spun the sword around in an arc, slamming into his wrist with the flat side and sending one of the batons flying.
He didn’t miss a beat, dropping the second baton as he pulled out a short sword which had been strapped to his back. He went on the offensive, bringing the blade down on hers again and again. The metal clanged loudly, ringing in her ears as she grunted, shoving back at her attacker. The guy had brawn for sure, and whatever other enhancements he’d procured. Warriors for archangel sects were known for downing concoctions of all sorts to up their game during a fight. She’d just never run into one that worked this well.
She bunted the man on the chin the moment she saw an opening. He toppled backward, landing on his back, but rolled onto his feet once more and glared at her with dark red eyes. Blood was starting to seep from the corners of his mouth and eyes. Come to think of it, his growing pallor was starting to look less than human.
So whatever enhancement he’d taken before the fight, it didn’t last long. It would literally kill him after his manic rampage. Damn. Ichiro’s men were serious. The Yakuza leader was getting bold now, sacrificing his subpar fighters in one last stand against her. No one could ever tell her their boss was worse than him.
“Was it worth it?” she asked, approaching the fighter as he began to chuckle. His laugh grew louder and louder as his skin began to swell.
“You’re going to die, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Was it worth serving Ichiro to the death? Seems like such a waste.”
Thalia backed up as he continued to laugh hysterically, more blood dripping from his orifices as the swelling continued. The guy was going to blow, wasn’t he? She glanced at the other two warriors; the one knocked out was swelling up too. The one left upright was on his knees, choking on his own blood now that the drug had run its course, his neck bulging out like a frog’s.
“Crap!” she cursed under her breath, realizing this wasn’t going to end well. She side-stepped the man on the ground, scooped up her bag of food, and began to run toward the hostel. “Run! They’re going to explode! Get out of here!”
She waved at the teens nearest the fighters, and they began to scramble to get away. Some dove in through the hostel doors while others ran out into the street and around building. She chose the hostel. She ran in, shoved the door closed behind her, and locked it. Luckily, the lobby had no windows, and the door was reinforced metal, for a moment later, she heard the thwap of body parts hitting the walls and door outside.
Breathing in and out, she groaned. That was going to be a disgusting mess to clean up. Making a mental note to take the back way out, she sprinted up the stairs, avoiding the curious looks of the teens who’d jumped into the building before her and who were attempting to take her picture. Her cover was blown, and she had to get out of there fast.
Once in her room, she scooped up her backpack, thankful she’d packed it before heading out earlier. Her dinner was going to have to be eaten on the go. At least it was nighttime, and she could blend into the evening crowd with ease. She needed to get out of New York City; it was too dangerous, and even though it was a big city, it wasn’t big enough for her and the Yakuza.
Cloaking her sword with magic once more, she headed out into the crisp night air. Matt’s place wasn’t far away, but she took an indirect route, regularly glancing behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
Before getting too close to the forge, she spent a few minutes eating her burgers and scoping the place out to make sure no one was there waiting for her, especially not Ichiro’s men. There were no signs of activity in or near the building. The doors and windows on the first floor had been boarded up due to the fire, but the exterior walls looked mostly intact. The structural damage looked minimal. Fortunately, it was made of hard brick and masonry, which took the heat well and had lasted the abuse of the forges inside. With a good scrubbing and a coat of paint, the place could be salvaged.
Relief breathed through her at the thought that Matt would have something to come home to. It was all still there, just a hot mess otherwise.
She hoped no one had emptied out the building. Looters were everywhere, but the boards across the doorway and windows appeared intact and untouched, probably placed there by the cleanup crew who hadn’t found an owner but couldn’t leave it open to thieves. Hopefully vandals hadn’t made it past those and snuck in to steal any valuables Matt owned. Or any of his tools. Luckily, most his stuff was made of heavy metal, far too heavy to steal.
Seeing no sign of Yakuza, she slid past a gap in the boards, making her way inside. The place felt abandoned, still smelling of soot and smoke, but to her surprise, it was in pretty good shape. Once Matt got better, it’d be easy to repaint and fix the areas damaged by the fire. It’d just take a bit of elbow grease.
She went up the stairs. The fire had not quite reached Matt’s apartment, and she checked it for any damage. The walls were made of fire-resistant red brick, and most of the fire had been contained to the bottom floor, leaving the apartment intact. She did have to pick a lock to enter. Slipping inside, she listened intently, hoping nobody was waiting for her.
Thalia halted, feeling the hairs on her neck stand on end. There was someone already there, waiting in the darkness, but instead of remaining in the shadows, the figure stepped out into the moonlight. Thalia shrugged off her backpack and held her sword in her hand, ready to strike the intruder down. She stepped back as the outline made it obvious the stranger was dressed like one of Ichiro’s warriors. Where there was one, there could be others. She couldn’t rush forward blindly.
Thalia lifted her sword at arm’s length and waited for man to move first. She could now see that the black-clad shape was clearly male. The figure took another step forward and held out a katana. Thalia gripped her sword more tightly as her opponent moved again. Deciding to go for it, she ran toward him, ready to swipe the razor-sharp edge of her sword against his chest. She didn’t want to kill him, not yet. She wanted information. She needed to know what Ichiro was up to.
The guy grunted, bending enough to avoid her swing, and managed to shove at her side, slamming her into the nearby wall. Her breath rushed out from her
lungs and felt like someone had twisted her insides. Blinking back the pain squeezing her chest, she turned, readjusting her hands on the hilt of the sword before lunging and swinging at him again.
This time she managed to slice through the dark material across his chest. He jumped back, groaning, but he didn’t check to see if he’d been cut. If she’d gotten him, he’d be screeching, but it was obvious he’d managed to avoid the edge of her blade well.
“I’m not here to fight you,” the stranger stated in a calm, leisurely voice, as though he was just having a Sunday morning chit-chat over coffee. “You should know by now that I’m not your enemy. I just want to talk.”
Thalia scowled. She’d never heard the voice before, but the silhouette reminded her of someone she’d encountered. “I’m not here to talk.”
“I can see that.”
She swung again, but he blocked her. Again, and again, the blades swiped and matched each other’s momentum. The guy had studied her fighting techniques, of that she felt sure. How did he know what she’d do next? Was she so predictable? Was he an immortal? He didn’t have wings and didn’t appear to have any magic; she would’ve sensed it. One thing was for sure, she would wear him out, for he was nothing but a mere mortal.
Then the moon shined through the tall warehouse windows, hitting his facial features as he came into the light, highlighting dark eyes and a head full of straight, jet-black hair. At some point during the fight, he’d pulled off the mask covering his head and face. Raking her eyes down his silhouette, she knew exactly who it was standing in Matt’s living room. She just didn’t know his name yet.
“You! Why are you following me?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I didn’t follow. I merely waited here for you. I noted it as one of the places you might turn up.”
“But you were following me before?”
“Yes.”
“I could have used some help earlier, you know.”
He broke her gaze, but only briefly. “I apologize. Ichiro called me away on another matter. I am not yet ready for him to learn the truth about me, so I was obligated to obey. When I saw the mess on the street outside the hostel, I knew what had happened and came here directly. I arrived mere minutes before you. I saw you through the window, watching the building.”
She bit her lip, debating whether or not to sheathe her sword. There was no way of telling if he was her enemy or not. Yes, he’d helped her before, but maybe he’d had his own reasons. He couldn’t be trusted; he’d already betrayed his last master. What would stop him from stabbing her in the back if she let him get too close?
He eyed her as well while she waited for his response, his gaze mimicking hers, taking her in. She kept an eye trained on him while reaching to snap on a small hallway lamp to see him better. It would allow him to get a better look at her too, which she thought would be good if he was going to be helping her out; he ought to know who he was dealing with.
She hoped the electricity was still on and felt relieved when the hallway flooded with light. The rear side of the building must not have been touched by the fire either if the wiring was still intact. This knowledge made her wonder if Matt had hired someone to cast anti-fire spells on the building. It would make sense, given the line of work he was in.
“And why exactly have you been following me?” she inquired.
“I thought Ichiro had been lying when he said the key had turned up. But ever since seeing you in the flesh, I knew it had to be true.”
“How so?”
He tilted his head toward her and reached out to place his katana on the small table with the lamp, making a show of disarming himself. He unstrapped another blade from his belt. Once he was done, he held his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. “I grew up in an specialized keep where I was told of a key which could open a fourth realm. From there, one could enter into Heaven, with or without salvation. They don’t have to be righteous or just. They only had to possess the key. I failed to realize it wasn’t just an object, but a person. Once I discovered this, I knew I had to keep the ward safe, but I knew not who she was.”
Thalia listened intently, her eyes widening. “The key is also a person? How do you know who it is?”
“I didn’t know it was you. Not at first. When Ichiro became obsessed with hunting you down, I knew we’d been shown who the ward was. Those in the holy keep were left no choice but to betray his trust and turn against the rest of his warriors to keep you safe. We worked for Ichiro, but we were not under his direct command.”
Thalia didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. How could there be an entire order dedicated to keeping the key safe? Could she be this key? He was joking, right?
“You’ve got to be kidding me. How’s that even possible? I don’t need anyone keeping me safe, but I do want to thank you for helping us out back in Utah. I don’t know anything about this stupid fourth realm or even if the key even works, so how would anybody else know anything about it? How do you guys know about it?”
The warrior stepped forward and kneeled, eliciting a stunned expression from Thalia. She gasped and took a step backward, surprised by his actions.
“Wh—what are you doing? Get up!”
“My name is Isao, and I’m the leader of the Key Protectorate. We have books about the fourth realm from those who’ve been there. We are descendants of those who have sworn to protect the realm at all costs, and many of us have the markings of the maze on our bodies; birthmarks. Some of us are the descendants of servants who were released and returned to Earth hundreds of years ago. We are but half-bloods, for our lineages are not those of immortals. You are the only full-blooded Skein inhabitant I’ve ever met. We are mixed with human blood, so we’ve no magic to use the key to enter the realm. If we wish to return to the mother realm and learn more about our heritages, we must protect the keeper of the key, for you’re the only one who can open the gate and live. It’s prophesied that you’ll lead us all back home. In the meantime, please accept my protection and help in finding the realm. We have a map to it, and I will gladly show it to you, but first I must confirm that you have the relic with you.”
“Why?” Thalia asked, suspicious of his intentions.
“It’s also prophesied that the keeper will display the relic at her chest, to keep the trust of her comrades. Just a formality.”
It sounded like a trick. Thalia was through playing games. “I’ll show you the locket everyone keeps calling a key, but I’m not giving it to you, got it? If you try to take it, I’ll fight you for it.”
“It stays with you at all times, Lady Thalia. It’s only a courtesy to your servants. We have no desire to unseat the locket from the Imperial Keeper.”
“Don’t call me Lady Thalia. Thalia will be fine.” k†1†2
He gave her a curt nod. “As you wish, Thalia.”
His deep, oily-black eyes held her gaze for a moment before she looked away. He made her feel odd and gave her a fluttering feeling in her stomach. No one had ever looked at her as intensely as Isao did, as though he worshipped the ground she walked on. It was augmented by the way he held his body, hunched and subservient. All his movements told her he was not there to fight but to talk civilly. He was clearly not a threat, but he was misinformed. She wasn’t important. Even so, it was nice to think she might have found another person who was on her side.
She reached up to her neck and pulled the locket out from under her shirt, holding it closer to the shining light of the lamp. The metal flashed, brightly enough so that Isao could see she wasn’t bluffing about having it.
A few moments passed before he grinned, which looked unnatural because she’d never seen him smile. There was always a serious, stoic-like mask on his face, just like the rest of Ichiro’s men. It was pleasant, warming her middle as she tucked away the locket, using the movement to hide the heat rising to the surface of her skin. She didn’t know what to say. They were not enemies, and they were far from being friends, so what did this make th
em?
“Is that all you came for?” she asked.
“No. Not just that.”
Of course not, she thought. Things always had to be complicated.
“I’m at your disposal.” He rose and bowed. “Please let me know if I can help in any way. I suggest you don’t return to your apartment. Ichiro’s men are posted there, waiting for you.”
She nodded. She already knew that information but saw no point in discussing it further. Turning on her heels, she headed toward the bedroom fireplace where the journal Matt’s mother had hid within the walls should still be found. Peering around, she spotted a stray mallet that Matt had inexplicably left there. His tools were strewn all over the building. After putting away her sword, she gripped the hammer in both hands.
“What are you going to do with that?” Isao asked, shuffling to catch up with her.
“If you must know, there’s a journal hidden inside the chimney. I need it.” She paused, studying Isao as he watched her curiously. “With all your knowledge of the fourth realm, how do you not know Matt’s mother was a witch who held some information about it?” Her eyes gleamed under the moonlight pouring in from the high, arched windows. Isao pressed his lips together, appearing confused.
“Witches do not associate with the Protectorate.”
“I see.”
That made sense. Of course, they would think it was beneath them to associate with half-breed mortals who had no magic in their bodies. Witches were solitary, elusive creatures. Their history with getting persecuted for their gifts had plenty to do with it.
She prepared to swing, but the mallet slipped from her hands as she lifted it over her shoulder. Spinning around, she found Isao holding it.
“Let me do this.” He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it onto the bed, and stepped forward. “Stand back,” he advised before swinging the mallet hard against the bricks of the chimney.
Thalia crossed her arms but didn’t argue. It gave her a chance to observe just how strong Isao was. It was important to know the abilities of friend and enemy alike. Ereziel had taught her that.
