The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters (16 page)

“There you go with the violent stuff,” Hosuke said, unimpressed.

“It makes things so much easier, don’t you think?” Iba said, standing up.

“Much appreciated.”

“Shall we go?”

“Can I at least put on some clothes?” Hosuke got off the bed and bent down to pick up his shirt from the floor. The man with the gun walked to the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes trained on Hosuke.

“Don’t try anything funny,” he spoke for the first time. In that moment his legs buckled and he collapsed backward. There was a smart, painful thud as the back of his head smashed into the wall.

“What the fuck?” Iba screamed. A man stood up from the other side of the bed, not the man with the gun. In his place was a man with pretty, almost feminine features, smiling elegantly. His hair hung in gentle waves over his forehead. It was Biku. He held the gun that had been in the other man’s hands. “You!”

“Long time no see,” Biku said coolly.

4

“Couldn’t you have been a little more careful?” Hosuke complained to Biku from his position on the bed.

Biku was playing with the gun. There was a hole through the shirt in Hosuke’s hands. He sighed loudly, poking a finger through it. The man managed to get off a shot as he collapsed; the bullet had gone straight through the fabric.

“Sorry, it’s not so easy to do this stuff from under a bed.” Iba and the gunman were sat in chairs facing them, feet bound to the legs of the chairs. Their hands had been wrapped behind them, tied to the backs of the chairs. They sat in silence, expressionless. The man that hit his head on the wall as Biku swept his legs from under the bed appeared to be concussed. “Where should we start?” Biku said.

“It’s pretty obvious that these are the guys responsible for blowing up the Psyche Converter,” Hosuke said, tossing the shirt away. “How did you know we’d come here?” Iba asked.

“Honestly, we didn’t. We just had a hunch, that’s all.”

Iba looked stunned.

“So, let’s see... You were worried we were going to get some useful information from your guy, so you destroyed the power room. He died from shock as you had hoped, but it was too early to rest on your laurels. Naturally, you would want to find out exactly how much information Mr. Kumon here had retrieved during the dive. Natural, again, that you would attempt to make contact some point after the job was done.”

“So you set a trap.”

“We even went to the trouble of bringing in a girl for Mr. Kumon to create the appearance that he had finished his contract, but to have it go this smoothly! We couldn’t have hoped. Even better that we get to see a familiar face such as yours.”

Iba bit into his lip.

“We have so many questions. Let’s see: where is the item, why did you steal it, what is your organization, why do you require Mt. Kumon’s services? How about we answer those in order.”

“What
item?”

“Oh come now. You don’t look like the type to have been kept in the dark.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’ve been told by the mountain not to go blurting this out, but I’ll make an exception in your case. The item in question is the mummified body of Kukai.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It would be inconvenient for you if you hadn’t. The mountain would most surely punish me if they found out I’d let that slip to someone that knew nothing.”

Iba pinned his mouth shut. It wasn’t that he was sulking, he had likely been forbidden to talk about it. The man’s silence turned out to be formidable; his resolve greater than that of a normal person. From that point forward he remained totally silent, regardless of Biku’s line of questioning.

“It seems we have no alternative. To paraphrase you from earlier, we need to implement a more
direct
approach.” Biku smiled as he spoke; he removed the bullets from the gun and emptied the powder out of the cartridges with practiced technique. The gunpowder collected into a small mountain on the table. Biku walked around to the back of the chairs and freed one arm of each man. “Put your hands out,” he said. The two men silently rested their free hands on the table. “Your nails are the longest,” Biku said to the gunman, still smiling. There was something nightmarish about the tone of his voice. He bound Iba’s hand back to the chair and turned to face Hosuke, who until now had enjoyed watching events from his place on the bed. “Mr. Kumon, could you please hold this man’s hand firmly to the table?”

“Uh huh.” Hosuke tipped his head to Iba and the man in turn before getting off the bed, as he would to friends. Then he used both hands to clamp the man’s hand to the table, as Biku had asked. The man clenched his fingers tight, forming a fist. Biku slammed the butt of the gun down. There was a dull crunch, the sound of bones breaking.

“Spread your fingers.” The man slowly opened his fingers. The pain was making it hard for him to move them properly. The top of his hand was red with blood. The man stifled an agonizing moan in the back of his throat. Thick beads of sweat collected on his forehead.

“That is what happens if you don’t comply with my requests.” Biku began to pile gunpowder onto the man’s fingernail as the others watched on. The man already knew what Biku was about to do; all color had drained from his face. Biku finished and pulled a lighter out. He lit the flame with a look of anticipation. “Still don’t feel like talking?” Biku asked, beaming as he held the flame before the man.

A pimple-sized bead of sweat glistened at the crest of the man’s nose as Biku inched the flame toward the man’s little finger. A red flash burst from the tip with a loud pop, the flame went out immediately. The man let out a wail, unable to hold back. The room filled with the sharp tang of gunpowder smoke and burnt flesh. Biku grabbed the man’s finger and began to bend it gradually back toward the top of the man’s hand. There was a thin sound like the snapping of dried twigs under cloth. The noise was repulsive.

“We will do them in order until we reach your thumb; do let me know the moment you feel ready to talk,” Biku said, his voice soothing.

Biku looked ravishing, he stood there without a single drop of sweat on his features. He was like an innocent young girl playing with a doll, as though he somehow lacked the empathic ability to feel the man’s pain. Blood trickled from the man’s mouth; he had bitten his lip from the pain. His face was a mask of agony, in stark contrast to Biku. It was appalling.

“Shall we move onto the next one?” Biku asked coolly.

Someone called out when he finished with the man’s middle finger. It was Hosuke, he had released the man’s hand and was frowning. “It’s no good.” He scratched at his scalp. “I don’t mean to complain to my benefactors and all, but I don’t dig this approach.” Hosuke’s eyes returned to the man’s hand on the table. Three of his fingers were singed purple; they had been snapped back until they pointed upward. It was grotesque.

“I thought it was pretty sound,” Biku replied.

“Can’t we just do it like regular punks?”

Biku extinguished the flame. Iba, silent until that point, suddenly opened his mouth. “You, Biku.”

“What can I do for you?” Biku turned to face him.

“There was a girl in and out of your place, right?”

“A girl?”

“The little girl, not even 20.”

“You mean Yuko.”

“Do you know what she’s doing now?”

“Not particularly,” Biku answered. Then, seeming to remember something, he continued. “Now you mention it, we haven’t been able to get in touch for a few days now. Your people have done something to her.”

Iba grinned, snake-like. “She screams well, that kid,” he said.

Biku smiled, as though he had put together the parts of a puzzle. “So that’s why!”

“If you let us go, we could give her back to you.”

“Such a shame. She was a nice girl.” Iba ground to a halt. “It seems like you’ve gone to a lot of effort, but I’m afraid there’s no deal. If you were to answer all of my questions first, of course, things would be different,” Biku said flatly.

Iba clicked his tongue in frustration and looked away. Just as he did, something sharp and metallic sparked through the room. Biku ducked instantaneously. Something grazed the air above his head; a narrow-bladed knife impaled the floor. Knives continued to flash through the air.

Iba had fallen backward, taking the chair with him. Hosuke took refuge in the shadows of the bed. One of the knives struck Iba in the shoulder. The other man remained still. Another knife had buried itself in his throat, his jaw hung slack. The four knives that had flown through the window had fanned out in a clean arc, each targeting one of the four men. Something moved outside the window, a massive black shadow; they were 80 meters above ground level. It streaked upward, vanishing off to the right.

Hosuke raced to the window and peeled his eyes in the direction it had gone. An oddly formed black shape adhered itself to the building’s wall. It advanced with a crawling motion, spider-like in its movements. It left a sinister-looking black smog in its wake; the gas caught in the wind, buffeting Hosuke’s face, 80 meters above the cityscape of the night. The surface of the building wall was meshed with small grooves, the blocks jutting a few millimeters out. The edges were the only means to gain purchase against the wall.

“Is it him?” Biku asked, poking his head out after Hosuke. The black shadow was heading toward the roof another 30 meters above them, moving with almost preternatural speed.

“Awesome!” Hosuke could not help but smile. “Do me a favor and wait here,” he said to Biku, “I’m going after it.”

Hosuke climbed out and took hold of the wall. The night wind ruffled through his hair as it blew up in eddies from the ground below.

“It’s about time I had some fun,” Hosuke called out excitedly, like a kid that had discovered some exciting game. He shuffled up, following the contours of the wall, giving chase to the dark shadow.

5

The dark shape ascended the wall like an oversized, venomous spider.

It moved with free-flowing, sinuous gestures. Hosuke followed behind, just five meters below it. The slightest lapse of concentration would send him plummeting 80 meters into the concrete below; he would explode like blood-soaked mincemeat. Instant death. Fall headfirst and it would be near impossible to distinguish even a parent and child from the resulting mess--not a pleasant way to go. The block-shaped protrusions in the wall lent the only grip, and they projected no more than three millimeters. No-one could scale the wall without extraordinary confidence and reserves of brute strength.

Newspapers often run stories of practiced climbers scaling skyscrapers in New York, Tokyo, and other cities, but in almost every case the climbers kept tools they could use in an emergency or to rest with. They also wear purpose-built climbing boots with spikes. Hosuke was barefoot and bare chested to boot. And he had no climbing gear.

But the same was true of the dark form that moved ahead of him. Its bulk was greater than Hosuke’s; it would need even greater strength in its arms. It was hard to conceive of such power. World-class climbers can support their entire bodyweight with two fingers on just a few millimeters of jutting rock. Hosuke and the dark shadow were exhibiting equal, or greater, skill. The feat necessitated huge reserves of strength and, moreover, an almost exquisite sense of balance.

The wind pounded against Hosuke’s naked chest as he hung 90 meters above the ground. It felt good, his first taste of freedom in a while provided him with a thrilling surge of adrenalin. At the same time, he was managing to close the gap between himself and the creature, albeit gradually.

The creature came to a sudden halt. It had picked up on Hosuke’s pursuit. It peered down, regarding him over its shoulder. Hosuke saw its eyes flash briefly, piercing through the darkness. The creature looked back up, as though disregarding Hosuke’s presence. It began to pick up speed. In the time the creature had been still, Hosuke had narrowed the gap between them to less than two meters. He was positioned horizontally aside it, a body’s width apart.

They were even closer together by the time they reached the lip of the roof, but neither was in a position to attack. Being close enough to attack meant they were close enough to grab each other. The first to loose their footing would grab the other and they would both fall, smashing into the concrete together. Whoever reached the roof first would gain an overwhelming advantage. That was what they were both aiming for.

They touched the edge of the rooftop with almost perfect synchronicity. The dark shadow swung in like a pendulum, one of its long legs soared up toward Hosuke from below. Hosuke silently kicked off the wall. The creature’s attack shot through the space between him and the wall like a tornado. From his swinging position, Hosuke used all the strength in his arms to vault up, he somersaulted once and landed feet first on the roof.

The creature loomed before him as a red light flickered above, a flashing reminder of the building’s height. The two bodies were bathed in its glow. Hosuke was naked from the waist up; the black creature was in dark gray clothing fit tightly around its frame. An animalistic ferocity swelled from its enormous bulk, visceral enough to almost tear through its clothes. The feeling was like a swarming cloud of deadly insects.

The black creature launched a series of attacks in quick succession. Its technique was peculiar, belonging to no particular style, more animal than human. The timing and angles of attack were warped somehow, they flowed with unnatural rhythm. Each attack brought with it the visceral sense that the creature was something human that had been forcibly perverted; the feeling punched at him like high-pressured pockets of air.

A number Chinese martial arts schools are built around the movements of animals and insects like the monkey or the praying mantis--but even then the schools maintain a fundamental regard for the natural structure and rhythm of the human body. The black shadow’s technique was in clear violation of these principles; it fought like a beast.

So far Hosuke had managed to dodge each attack successfully. The creature was unable land a single blow. Hosuke had yet to launch a single attack.