Pilgrimage of the Sacred and the Profane (23 page)

Stopping for a second, they checked the number plate above one of the doors, and then
the whole group headed down the hall to the
right. The door down by the first corner was their destination.

When they were a few steps shy of their goal, they all heard a
woman’s voice shout, “What are you doing?! I told you I’m not going for that, you
lousy pervert!” At the same time, the door
swung open from the inside. Along with the sweet smell of spices,
something pale flew from the room. It was a half-naked woman,
clutching her clothes to the front of her body.

“You bastard!” the woman shouted. Her sensuous face twisted
into a demonic phiz, and she swung her right hand. Something shot back into the room,
there was a dull thud, and then a cry of pain.

“Take that, you fucking deviant!” the woman roared before she growled to the group,
“Out of my way!”

Watching the woman stalk away indignantly, the men were
grinning at each other when they heard someone say, “Damn, that hurt! Where’d you
run off to, bitch?!”

Spewing curses and groans all the while, a powerful form
appeared, clad only in a pair of briefs. His right hand was pressed
against his forehead, and he had a high-heeled shoe dangling
loosely from his left. A pendant of two interlocked rings swayed
against his hairy, muscular chest.

“I paid you a good chunk of change. The least you could do is indulge me a little.
I’ll grab your sorry ass and—” At that point, he noticed the men and said, “What the
hell do you want?”

“Been a long time, hasn’t it, Toto?” the man who’d spoken with
the bartender said with nostalgia . . . only his eyes weren’t smiling.

Staring intently at his face, Toto broke into a nostalgic grin, too. “Well, spank
my ass, if it ain’t Peres! This is some coincidence. Are you still doing the roving
bodyguard routine?”

“Looks like neither of us has changed,” Peres replied. “When I
heard about what happened at the antique store, I knew it was
you. Seems you’re as good as ever with that trick of yours.”

Toto was playing down his abilities as he reached for his chest, but his pendant jolted
away right before his hand.

Staring thoughtfully at the rings he’d torn free, Peres forcefully suggested, “Let’s
talk inside.”

Still rubbing the back of his neck, Toto replied, “First, I have to get that bitch
and—”

But as he attempted to go out into the hall, there was a dull thud
against his solar plexus. Doubling over with a groan, he was shoved
roughly back inside by the man who’d just punched him.

As he fell in the center of the medium-sized room, Toto groaned,
“What the hell . . . was that about?” His Adam’s apple bobbed
madly as he tried to take a breath.

“Check his clothes,” Peres ordered one of his compatriots as he bent over Toto.

The room had no decorations, save a bed and an end table—the
latter of which had Toto’s clothes strewn on top of it. The glass
window above the bed reflected the neon lights outside.

“You stuck your nose in a hell of a place this time,” Peres said in a sinister tone.
His eyes were laughing. “Though I don’t figure you ever dreamed things would go like
this. Without me around, Mr. Gilligan wouldn’t have ever known about you, or the fact
that you like this place more than three hots and a cot. Too bad, eh?”

“Who the hell is
that
?” Toto asked in a tone that was somehow calm, suggesting that his pain had subsided.

“Why, he’s the big boss who runs everything here in town. That
was a serious mistake, making a move on a curio shop he’s connected
to. I hear there’s something unbelievable all tied into this. The
boss went completely nuts and had us grab not just you, but the girl who brought
it here to have it looked at, too. Hey, now,” Peres cautioned Toto, “don’t try and
slip away. I know all your tricks. I know how tough you are, too, but these guys do
this for a living. You don’t want them taking you apart alive, I bet.”

Having said his piece, Peres then turned toward the end table.

“It’s not here,” said the man searching through Toto’s clothes.

“Where’d you stash it? Your hotel?”

“Yeah,” Toto replied with a pained nod.

“All right, then. We’ll all go get it. But I’m warning you—if I find out you’re jerking
us off to buy some time . . .” Peres said, lifting the corner of his coat. A sheath
with a broadsword hung against his
leg. They were convenient items, and depending on what your
needs were, they could be used for anything from butchering a fire dragon to skinning
a man alive.

“Do whatever you like,” Toto said as he stood up.

“Give him back his clothes,” Peres told him compatriot, adding, “But only after you’ve
torn all the pockets out.”

A few seconds later Toto’s garments were thrown back to him, and
he quickly put them on. “What happened to the girl?” he asked.

“You worried about her?”

“Yeah . . . I know what a scumbag you are and how you like to
get your kicks. You don’t exactly take it easy on women or children,
do you?”

“You’ll just have to wait until we’re in Mr. Gilligan’s basement to see about that,
I guess.”

“Fine with me,” Toto said, his body sinking.

Catching a vicious shoulder attack in the stomach, Peres flew
toward the table.

“You little bastard!” the other men snarled, although the reason
they all charged Toto immediately must’ve been because they
knew he was unarmed. Perhaps that was all they had in mind as they attacked.

A metallic clink sound rang out.

Peres watched in a daze as his compatriots completely ignored their forward momentum
and turned around sharply a mere foot shy of Toto.

“Where the hell did you have ‘em ?!” he shouted as his right
hand raced to his broadsword. Then suddenly his eyes went wide with a second surprise.

“Right here!”

The flash of silver that shot forth with Toto’s words answered
both of Peres’s questions simultaneously.

Hacking half-way through the man’s neck with his own blade, Toto spit something out
of his mouth for the other man to see as
his old acquaintance fell to the floor gushing blood: a pair of
metal rings.

“Never showed you that before, did I? Don’t go thinking things
never change,” Toto lectured Peres, whose head flopped to one side.
He then dashed over to the window, threw it open, and leapt out.

He landed on the street along the left side of the saloon. The
moon was now out. He crouched down momentarily when he hit
the ground and then started running. To the rear there was a
concentration of eateries. Avoiding them, he quickly turned right instead. The alley
was full of shadows. He knew if he kept going straight, he’d come out at the grain
storehouses.

As he began to put his strength into his legs, a crisp sound
reverberated behind him. It was whistling. Toto became a statue. It had that sort
of ring to it. Nevertheless, Toto managed to slowly turn around.

At the entrance to the alley he’d just gone into, a figure in blue stood illuminated
by the moonlight. He was tall and wore a cape. A sword hung from his left hip, and
the handle and sheath were both covered with exquisitely intricate carvings. Both
hands wore leather gloves, and they hung naturally by his sides. And yet it was perfectly
clear that they would flash into action in response to any
possible movement. It was infrequent to encounter people like
this. Perhaps he was one of the men after Toto, waiting outside as a precaution.

“What do you want with me?” Toto called out, his voice sur-prisingly calm. Surely
he hadn’t exactly led a normal, peaceful
existence, either. “Are you with them?”

“Come with me,” a gorgeous voice said. It was as clear and fresh as the moonlight.

“What for?”

“Because you’re the suspicious character I saw break open a
window and run away. I’m taking you to the sheriff’s office.”

“Spare me. C’mon, pal. From the looks of you, you’re no more than a step or two removed
from my world yourself. Just let me go, okay? As a favor to another guy.”

His reply: a whistle.

A certain feeling suddenly filled Toto’s heart. It was that sort of
melody. And the instant it completely filled his ears a flash of white
mowed through Toto’s abdomen, and his body was blasted by a lust for killing.

Toto somehow managed to jump. However, as he hung in the air,
blood spread from him like smoke. When he landed fifteen feet
away, a grotesque mass of intestines spilled from his belly with a gush of blackish
blood.

Toto couldn’t believe it. The distance between him and the man
with the drawn blade in his right hand was at least fifteen feet.
Now, there was less than six feet between them. How had his
opponent closed the other nine feet?

Something hot welled up within him. No longer able to bear it, he began coughing.
More than just gore splashed out in the alley. Even covered with dark blood, the sphere
retained its dull shine as it bounced once on the ground and then gingerly rolled
across the alley.

Just behind the bead, Toto finally noticed another alley to his
right that lay wide open. However, he never had time to see this new path as an escape
route. Pinning him to the ground with the
sheer ferocity of his will to kill, the gorgeous man calmly drew
closer with his naked blade. There was no doubt in Toto’s mind that any movement now
would only invite a deadly blow. With
desperate eyes, he gazed down at the puddle of blood at his feet—
the pair of interlocked rings was in there somewhere. He heard
whistling. When it stopped, the moment of fate would come. The melody flowed on .
. . and then faded away. The blood seemed to drain from every inch of Toto. And then
there was nothing left.

Toto looked up at his foe, but his opponent wasn’t looking at
him. His gaze was concentrated on another alley.

Following the other man’s eyes, Toto found it was now his turn to be astonished. There
was a man’s face so gorgeous it could make
even someone caught in hellish agony lose himself. He saw some-
thing darker than any ordinary darkness—a darkness given human
form that hovered at the entrance to the alley. It was a vision of
beauty. That was the only way he could describe it. The face
beneath the traveler’s hat melded with the darkness, but had he been able to actually
see it, the sight might’ve left him breathless with sheer envy. He wondered if perhaps
it was some spell that the night put on him that caused these two gorgeous men to
appear before him in that narrow alley.

The second figure bent over and picked up the bead. He left
himself so wide open to attack that it looked like a mere child could
cut him down. Gazing at the bead, he asked, “Is this yours?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say,” Toto replied. And as he spoke, he took the intestines lying
in the road and began stuffing them back into his abdominal cavity. “See, someone
gave it to me. You know, I
hate to do this, but I have a favor to ask of you. I have to be
running along now, but I was hoping you could help out the bead’s
owner. And I’ll let you keep that as payment. Seems it’s really
worth a hell of a lot. Although I do have to warn you, I’ll be along later to take
it back from you. You’ll find her in the basement of the house that belongs to a scumbag
by the name of Gilligan. I’m counting on you, pal.”

And saying that, Toto leapt away to the rear. While it wasn’t clear exactly what the
secret of his physiology was, his strength
was unbelievable. The whistling figure didn’t follow him.

“What will you do?” he said. It sounded as if the moon had asked the question.

There was no reply.

“You plan on going?”

“We’ll see,” the new arrival said, responding for the first time.

The whistling figure continued, “You’re even better looking than
I am—and I’ve never met a man like that before. What’s more, I
believe I know your name: Vampire Hunter D. I may as well introduce
myself. The name is Glen. I’m a seeker of knowledge.”

He received no reply.

“Once again, I’d like to know if you intend to go or not.”

D’s outline melted into the darkness.

Glen looked up at the sky. Dark clouds were blindfolding the
moon. When they cleared, there was no sign of D.

“I guess you went,” Glen muttered in a low voice.

After a while, the melancholy whistling faded off into the moonlit
distance.

Hideyuki Kikuchi was born in Chiba, Japan in 1949. He attended the prestigious Aoyama
University and wrote his first novel
Demon
City Shinjuku
in 1982. Over the past two decades, Kikuchi has authored numerous horror novels,
and is one of Japan’s leading horror masters, writing novels in the tradition of occidental
horror authors like Fritz Leiber, Robert Bloch, H. P. Lovecraft, and Stephen King.
As of 2004, there were seventeen novels in his hugely popular ongoing Vampire Hunter
D series. Many live action and anime movies of the 1980s and 1990s have been based
on Kikuchi’s novels.

.

Yoshitaka Amano was born in Shizuoka, Japan. He is well known as a manga and anime
artist and is the famed designer for the Final Fantasy game series. Amano took part
in designing characters for many of Tatsunoko Productions’ greatest cartoons, including
Gatchaman
(released in the U.S. as
G-Force
and
Battle of the Planets
). Amano became a freelancer at the age of thirty and has collaborated with numerous
writers, creating nearly twenty illustrated books that have sold millions of copies.
Since the late 1990s Amano has worked with several American comics publishers, including
DC Comics on the illustrated Sandman novel
Sandman: The Dream Hunters
with Neil Gaiman and
Elektra
and
Wolverine: The Redeemer
with best-selling author Greg Rucka.