Eternal Samurai (42 page)

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tatsu unsheathed the sword and shifted his weight forward, battle-ready.

The vampire ignored the deadly length of steel as he stared down Tatsu’s glare. “Be calm, Cobb-san. I mean no harm.”

“
Neh
? You enter my place uninvited through the fucking balcony door? I’d hardly call that a polite way to visit.”

“As I said. I am not your enemy,” the vampire reiterated with a slight frown.

“So why the hell are you here?”

“It is imperative I speak with Saito-san.”

“You forget how to dial a phone?” Tatsu recognized his animosity was unreasonable, fueled by his jealousy that the creature had been by Arisada’s side, possibly in his bed.

“My information is for him alone. Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.” No way would he reveal his harsh words drove Arisada away. Tatsu placed the sword on his bed within easy reach. He turned his back on Fornax, dropped his towel and started to dress. “How did you know he was here?”

“I can smell him. His spunk is all over you.”

Tatsu’s careless nudity caused a shiver of desire in Fornax, something that had not happened to him in years. The sweet curve of Tatsu’s spine above taut buttocks with that intriguing valley, the heavy scrotum dropping between strong lean thighs as he bent over to step into his jock. All the things Fornax loved about the male body. All the things forever denied him. Greedily, he watched the lithe, athletic body disappear beneath the layers of clothing. Sometimes, the covering of delectable parts was as erotic as the revealing of them.

“What’s between us is none of your concern.” Tatsu’s growl interrupted Fornax’s reverie. He glared at the vampire.

“I helped Arisada-sama care for you after the explosion. I know how much he loves you. And you are in love with him.”

Fornax brought out his cigarettes, tapped one from the pack and lit it. His eyes flared gold with a painful brilliance in the flame. He exhaled a curling stream of pale smoke. “Arisada belongs to the Daimyō. We all belong to the Daimyō. To do anything else is to be branded a traitor. Sadomori knows about you, who you really were. He will never permit Arisada to leave his side.”

He gave Tatsu a cold, level look before taking another drag on his cigarette. “Sadomori has sent one hundred rogues to destroy all Lepers. Before they left Tendai, he allowed each one to feed from him. His blood turns us into monsters, mindlessly obeying his last commands. Make no mistake, he will find you and Arisada. He will torture you both for weeks, letting you watch each other suffer. Do you understand?”

Tatsu grunted. He sensed Fornax was hiding something. “Sadomori should watch out for his own ass. I’ll kill him. And no one, not even Arisada can stop me.”

“
Baka!
Foolish boy. Saito Arisada is oath-bound to the Daimyō. Do not underestimate that. Your lover will be unable to cast that aside. He will protect his
Seisakusha
even knowing Sadomori will kill him.”

“Arisada makes his own choices. And no matter what you or anyone else thinks, he no longer belongs to Sadomori.” He’s mine! The realization burst upon Tatsu, as solid and real as the Ikkansai lying on the bed. He’s mine!

He stepped forward, the demand that Fornax leave hovering on his lips.

With a mirthless smile, Fornax glanced down at the cum-splattered sheets. “Let me tell you why I ally myself with Major Blenheim. Years ago, I smiled at Arisada. I was flirting with him, not for the first time. He is my
Seisakusha
, and I love him. Before I drew a second breath, before Arisada-sama even responded, Ukita Sadomori threw me to the floor. With one hand, he tore off my clothing. He was laughing as he told me I would never flirt with another again because I would never fuck another again. Then he ripped off my testicles.”

The shock of the confession reverberated through Tatsu’s senses. He stepped back his eyes wide, the demand to leave lodged in his throat. “Fornax-san.
Gomen, gomen nasai
. I … I had no idea.” He fought the urge to drop to his knees in the ultimate gesture for forgiveness.

The vampire shrugged, a rueful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Now you do.” Casually, with no show of the pain his confession caused him, Fornax flicked the cigarette butt over the balustrade.

“I will kill him.”

“There is no
killing
the Daimyō. He has survived countless wars, assassination attempts, even rebellion from his own kind. Only one instance when he came close to death.”

“How? What happened? Tell me, you owe me Fornax.”

The vampire took out his pack again, offered it to Tatsu who shook his head. “I do not know the story. I only know his spine was nearly severed. Even his incredible healing ability could not prevent scars from deforming his back.”

“When did this happen?” Tatsu’s mouth felt like it was filled with grit. A sick foreboding crawled over his skin and coiled into his guts.

Fornax shrugged. “Thirteen years ago.” Light flared for an instant inside his cupped hand. He drew a deep drag, then exhaled the smoke in a lazy, curling stream.

“Where?” Tatsu’s eyes were jade-ice, the hard look filled with nothing but death.

A small shiver rippled over the vampire. Not so much fear, more like respect, as he recognized the warrior within this boy. “Arisada and I found the Daimyō in an abandoned farmhouse outside Nagasaki. I do not know how he managed to survive until we arrived. We hid for weeks on one of the Ryukyu Islands fearing discovery. After Sadomori recovered, he kidnapped the most-skilled
horishi
in Nipon and forced him to tattoo his entire back to conceal the evidence of his failure.
Mochiron
, of course, Sadomori killed him afterward.”

Tatsu froze. Ukita Sadomori had murdered his family. Suddenly, Tatsu’s vitals heaved not with fear but a sick shock. Arisada had lied, denied knowledge of Sadomori’s scars. Despite his professed love for Tatsu, Arisada had protected his Master.

Fornax interpreted the boy’s stillness as fear. The reaction reassured him.
Wakatta
, Tatsu would wait for the Major’s orders. Without another word, the vampire slipped over the balcony rail into the wet night. He was unaware he had just delivered Tatsu’s death sentence.

“
Fakku!
” Tatsu raced across the room the balcony door. He skidded in the puddle of rainwater, mute proof the vampire had indeed been there. “
Fakku
!” he spat out the invective again. Arisada—liar and traitor. A cold rage burned through Tatsu’s grief, turning his love for the vampire to ash.

Tatsu paced his living room and fought to remember the discussion between the Major and Arisada. Tatsu had been so tired, letting the conversation lull him into a drowsy state, he’d missed part of the discussion. What had Arisada said? The Space Needle. That Sadomori was obsessed with the edifice, loathed it as some sort of symbol of human superiority.

The fucker was there, Tatsu just knew it. He yanked on his tactical gear and slipped the
tanto
into the sheath on his belt, tossed his dog collar on his bed. Didn’t need it where he was going. He sheathed both weapons in his harness and strapped it on. Caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes stared back, frenzied and wild with hurt and fury.

“Su-kun, before you face your enemy, give thanks for all there is.”
Ojii-san
spoke at the back of his mind. That calm voice halted Tatsu’s bolt out the door.

He turned to the small
kami-dana
, the narrow shelf that held the few spiritual icons from his family. Drawing in a deep, shuddering breaths he stilled his mind, brought everything into focus. With hands folded together, he knelt, perhaps for the last time, before the tiny Shinto alter. He called upon every
kami
revered by his ancestors for the courage and wisdom to defeat his enemy.

“The way of the samurai is found in death” he intoned. “The way is found in honor, loyalty, benevolence, courage.”

It was many minutes before he reached his
tanden
, that place in his heart where the rightness of all action dwelled. His anger and despair over Arisada’s defection melted. The purity of his purpose, washed with a clear brightness through him.

Without another thought, he dashed down to the rain-swept street. He threw his leg over the bike, stomped on the kick starter and cranked the throttle wide open.

The motorcycle’s angry roar reverberated in the narrow street. The back tire skidded once on the wet pavement before the bike leapt in the direction of the Space Needle.

.

Twenty-Two

T
atsu squatted Asian-style in the jagged shadow of a large concrete slab, the Ikkansai a comforting weight across his knees. A few steps away, the wreckage of the Space Needle reared up into the sky.

He felt alive, vibrant, as if the dawning day promised the excitement of a childhood adventure not the very real possibility of death. He took a sip from his canteen, barely noticed the water, licked his lips, craving a cigarette.

He continued to crouch, immobile, eyes sweeping in from perimeter to the base of the edifice and back. He filtered each moment with the patience of a lion stalking a herd of gazelle.

Beneath the crescent moon, the long shadow of the tower marked off the night. Tatsu cast his eye up to the top of the Needle some five-hundred feet above his head. During the volcanic eruption, the methane torch at the top of the tower had exploded. For several minutes, the massive fireball and the erupting volcano were twins. The fire had immolated the top spire, raced down the elevator shafts before consuming the entire structure. Windows had exploded. Flaming lumps of glass rained like black hail over the city, killing hundreds.

The tower swayed and many feared it would collapse. Somehow, it remained upright. Now, it listed, a slight bend of two legs mid-center caused the dome to cant downward. Long metal spines—all that remained of the sundeck—cast an bizarre web of shadows over the weed-choked ground.

Tatsu took a long, deep breath, filtering out the scent of effluvia, decomposing vegetation, crumbling concrete, rusting metal. No human presence. No coppery blood signature of the vampire. Still, his nerves thrummed. Something evil was in that tower. Something he planned to destroy without mercy.

A tremor of anguish shook him. Where had the real Tatsu gone? The young boy who once dreamed of becoming an artist, the young man who believed he could help better the world. Would killing Ukita Sadomori truly restore his father’s honor? Balance the scales of justice? Unbidden, Arisada’s warning about the soul-destroying consequences of revenge echoed in Tatsu’s mind. Arisada, who had experienced eight-centuries of suffering, said there was no place in life for vengeance. Said it destroyed all who touched it. Destroyed love.

Tatsu’s heart lurched as he recalled his last cruel words to Arisada. How could he have rejected their love so easily? The pain of Arisada’s lie went deep, as deep as
Ojii-san’s
death, deeper than Sage abandoning him. Still, Tatsu’s heart wanted the vampire with a burning intensity. Strange to have found love in the midst of this insanity. Stanger still his choice.

With considerable effort, he shook off his foolish, stupid, yearning. Who the hell was he kidding? Arisada was eight centuries old, probably would live another eight centuries. He had what? Maybe a day if that long? He might die today but that did not matter as long as he took the monster Sadomori with him.

Perhaps Arisada would mourn him. Tatsu hoped for that much.

A breeze caressed his cheek, cooling it. Tatsu snapped out of his reverie. Pink tinged the tops of the Cascades. As the light increased, indistinct shapes took on substance. It was time. He picked his way through the black molten glass that littered the blistered ground like so many rare jewels. Slipped inside. Thin pale shafts filtered down through the broken ceiling illuminating the piles of smashed concrete and twisted steel covering the floor. He saw only the tracks of rodents in the dust. Tatsu stilled, learning the creaks and groans of the tower. Heard nothing unusual. Still, every instinct warned him that the deserted feel of the place was a lie.

With the silent tread of a samurai, he moved across the floor to the stairwell and peered down into the deepening dark. Dank air wafted up over his face. He heard nothing, smelled only the ubiquitous mildew and mold. Every sense reached out for the most miniscule hint of danger as he descended into the bowels of the tower. He checked each floor. Nothing. Then he caught the incongruous scent of wax coming from far below.

Although the lowest sub-basement was pitch black, Tatsu easily made out the entrances of three massive utility tunnels. He crouched for several minutes, letting the area speak to him. Caught the scent of wax, stronger now, coming from the central opening Nothing. Just that out-of-place smell.

He stepped into the black-on-black hole. Rows of thick, mold-covered pipes and conduit snaked across the roof. Condensation dripped down the walls making the floor slippery. He reached a junction, listened, sniffed. The slight waxy scent came from the right-hand tunnel.

He only took four steps into the narrow branch when something slammed into his temple. Pain exploded through his head.
Kuso
, ambushed. He staggered then dropped to one knee. A second blow crashed behind his ear, tearing through the lobe. Hot liquid flooded down his neck. A kick from the side caught him in his belly flinging him over onto his back.

“Well, well, what do have we here? A nasty little
nezumi
,” an oily voice slithered out of the black. “Little rat, you shouldn’t be crawling around where you don’t belong.”

“Daimyō, it is the one with two swords.”

“
Â, sō desu ka
, the boy who thinks he is samurai.” the oily voiced hissed. “You shouldn’t play with sharp objects, little
gaki
.” A shrill laugh accompanied a driving kick into Tatsu’s abdomen, spinning him through the air. He crashed against a curved wall.

Bright lights danced through Tatsu’s vision. His ears rang. He rolled onto his feet, staggered upright with his back against the wall. The sudden whoosh of air gave him no warning as another blow thudded into the side of his head. He turn toward the movement and slashed his swords upward in a crisscross. The impact of the
wakizashi
through flesh reverberated along his arm. He lunged, missed as the enemy spun to one side with inhuman speed. Tatsu cut left then right, heard a horrific scream ending in a strangled sob.