Vampire Hunter D: Dark Road Part Three (4 page)

The burning murderess raised a right hand reduced to bone. What did she intend to do with the poison in the jar? Turning, she aimed the container at the village fence. The contents of the jar were a virulent toxin that would become an odorless and colorless gas the second it made contact with the air, suffocating every living creature in a six-mile radius.

“Just watch. Here is my final gift to the world!”

The doctor threw it with all her might, but she was now nothing but a skeleton. As the jar limned a gentle arc that would carry it over the fence, a white light followed it. A rough wooden needle deflected the jar without breaking it. As it fell toward the ground, a hand in a black glove caught it. Though his glove and coat were both shredded, D's hand demonstrated untold force and power. When she saw him put the jar away in his coat, Dr. Gretchen's skeleton chattered its largely melted teeth and jaws with regret, and then it lost all cohesion and clattered to the ground. The bones quickly lost their shape, turning to dust. Yet her voice could still be heard.

“How did you . . .”

“Someone told me what you'd done,” D replied.

Did he pity the woman in her frustration? Or had her tactics been so utterly inhuman as to garner a certain respect?

“Who . . . was it?” said the one bone that remained on the mound of dust—the skull. Its vocal cords and tongue had long since turned to dust, yet it seemed to produce the voice from sheer tenacity.

“It was Rosaria,” D answered.

To be precise, it had been the
other
Rosaria—a spirit or a doppel-gänger that had appeared before D as he watched the preparations for the execution before dawn from a tree, and had told the Hunter that Dr. Gretchen had made the four of them drink poison.

“You used the same trick once on a certain Greater Noble. I remembered that.”

“Impossible . . . Why, that was . . . ten thousand years ago! Besides . . . how did you make an antidote?”

“I didn't.”

The skull's teeth came to a dead stop. “What I did to you . . . would burn a Noble down to the bone. Because it turns you into the sun . . . no one can withstand it. Yet how did you manage this . . . without any antidote? Why . . . the only one who's ever endured that was our Sacred Ancestor . . .”

Her voice petered out there, and then came back again. This time it was so faint, it didn't seem it would even reach human ears.

“Now . . . I finally see . . . D . . . your face . . . I've seen it somewhere. It can't be . . . You can't be . . . Your highness is . . .”

After watching the last remaining bone lose its shape and turn to dust, D headed for the main gate on foot. Two foes he needed to deal with still remained in the village.

When D was about six feet from the gate, a flash of black light angled up out of the ground. Taking D through the solar plexus, it came out again though the back of his neck. Not making a sound, D kept his left hand in his pocket as he grabbed the long spear with his right and tried to pull it out through his back. Just then, a second spear burst from the earth. D grabbed that with his right hand as well, but its steel head slipped through his hand, tying his solar plexus and neck together again.

Laughter rose from the ground. And as it rose, black earth flew away to reveal a gigantic exoskeleton. Roland, the Duke of Xenon.

“I was watching your battle all along from underground. As Dr. Gretchen herself said, that poison wasn't terribly potent. And as I watched, I noticed something. D—you can't see, can you?”

—

Their wagon was indeed in the warehouse. And its cargo was still loaded. The only reason they thought it wasn't a trap was because this village had had so much trouble lately, and the pair decided the townspeople hadn't had time to break down the load yet. They were half right. Thanks to the accuracy of their deduction, all their hardships had been banished from the brains of the two men, and that was where the danger lay. Yes—it was a trap. The pair did a quick yet thorough investigation, but there didn't seem to be any problem. Nor was there any sign of anyone in hiding.

“All right,” Juke said when he was sure they were in the clear. Sergei was overjoyed.

Silence had returned to the darkness outside. What kind of unearthly battle was D locked in with their foes?

With D, their decoy, coming right up to the front door, the pair of transporters planned to make off with their wagon and cargo while the Hunter kept the villagers occupied. The plan was a simple, tried-and-true classic, and it seemed it would come off perfectly. They were concerned about D, but he'd told them to take off as soon as they'd done their part.

Juke climbed up onto the roof, and Sergei got in the driver's seat.

“We're gonna tear straight out of here!”

But as soon as Sergei took up the reins, a fourteen-foot-tall figure came in through the warehouse entrance.

“Holy crap!”

“What the hell is that?”

That was all they could say as the giant's smooth movements placed it in front of the wagon. When its enormous face turned in their direction, Sergei started to draw the rivet gun D had procured at the neighboring village.

“Don't,” the face told him, and he froze. After all, the face was more than double the size of any person's.

“Just who are you?” Juke, who was tougher than Sergei, asked. He had his firearm out on the roof.

“My name is Grand Duke Mehmet—I'm one of General Gaskell's guests. Come now—if you fire that, the villagers are sure to come running. What's more, shooting me won't do any good.”

“Then what do you want?” Sergei asked from the driver's seat. He was getting used to the large face. No longer afraid, he was puzzled.

“Nothing in particular. I don't care about the two of you. Ordinarily, it wouldn't matter to me whether I simply let you go or if I smashed you flat. Which shall it be?”

“I'd have to go with the one where you say, ‘On your way, guys.' ”

Juke nodded at Sergei's reply.

“However . . .” Until this point, there'd been something humorous about the grand duke's expression, but suddenly it became that of a merciless Noble. “I can use the two of you—to slay D. Gretchen, that sly minx, tricked me, and by the time I'd woken up, Roland had also, so perhaps it was fortunate that I noticed the two of you out in front of this warehouse.”

“I'm not sure exactly what you're talking about, but you'd best hurry up and go. You're just gonna fall further behind at this rate.”

“Oh, I don't mind. No matter how impressive Dr. Gretchen or Roland may be, I don't think either of them alone is a match for that Hunter. With his swordsmanship and his bearing—I'm afraid to say I don't believe in the least that I can face him on my own.”

The huge face twisted into an evil grin. Eyes as big as fists reflected the faces of the two transporters.

“Yes, I'm going to need an edge over him.”

—

III

—

The Duke of Xenon's assertion had been correct—D remained blind. Robbed of his sight in his first encounter with Madame Laurencin, he now faced one fearsome opponent after another on the final day of his recovery. And the foe before the eyes he kept shut had not only been ordered to fight the Hunter for some mysterious reason; he also burned with hatred over having his beloved daughter taken from him. D had been able to destroy Dr. Gretchen because all her preening about the trap she'd laid had given him her position and allowed him to follow her movements—even as she threw the jar, she'd kept talking.

Raising the skewered D ten feet off the ground, the Duke of Xenon shook the spears in both hands with relish. A cry of pain came from D's mouth, and in addition to the lifeblood that dripped from the spearheads, the other blood that sprayed from him fell like a crimson rain.

“This isn't the way I ordinarily do things, D—but the fury of a father who's had his daughter taken is a bloody fury.”

This Nobleman had always been rather cheerful in battle, but now his behavior was dismal and cruel. Skewered from the solar plexus to the neck by two spears, D appeared unable to do anything about his torment.

“But it's funny,” the Duke of Xenon said, his brow crinkling inside the massive exoskeleton. “The first time I fought you, you'd already lost the use of your eyes to Madame Laurencin. However, it didn't seem like the fight of a blind man, and until this very moment I'd forgotten all about it. So, just how did you find me out, I wonder?”

“You'll see—” said a cold voice that fell on the duke from above like moonlight.

“What?”

“—soon enough.”

And as he spoke, D moved. Upward? No, downward. Not even bothering to pull out the spears that ran through him, the gorgeous Hunter did completely the opposite, sliding down to the Duke of Xenon's hands as if he wished to have the weapons driven even further into him. New flesh tore, and fresh blood spurted out.

“D—damnation!” the Duke of Xenon exclaimed, but before he could let go of his spears, the sword D had raised high above his head described a mesmerizing trail of exquisite light as it sank into the head of the exoskeleton. Pale blue sparks shot out, and the night air was rocked by a cry of pain from the Duke of Xenon.

“D! Who on earth
are
you?”

Still staggering, the giant swung its massive right fist. The wind whistled. Though D blocked the blow with his left arm, the difference in their weights was so great the Hunter was knocked thirty feet, smashing against the village gates. The two long spears still jabbing through him kept him from moving his body freely.

Sparks flew from where the arc had met the Duke of Xenon's head, staining the darkness blue, but he didn't fall.

“It seems like your strike has left something to be desired, D! And now I see why. What happened to your left hand?”

D's left arm had come out of his coat—and it was cut off from the wrist down.

—

“Sergei, we might as well give up,” Juke said, lowering his gun. “There's no point in throwing down with that monster. As long as we're still alive, there's a chance. Climb down from there.”

“Sure—I'm just supposed to skulk away like some lover boy when his woman's husband comes home?” Sergei said, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of the reins.

Grand Duke Mehmet's enormous face pulled away. At that instant, Juke raised his gun with just a movement of his wrist and fired his weapon from below his waist.

The roar tore a black hole below the nose in the enormous face. Having taken the shot at close range, the gigantic puppet was left staggering.

“Yahoo!” Sergei exclaimed at the top of his lungs, slapping the reins. The horses whinnied, and the wagon sped forward, reaching sixty miles per hour in half a second.

The giant made a reflexive move for the door. Sergei aimed for his right leg. They were going to plow straight into it—but a split second before they did, he cut the wagon to the left. Its leg hit by the front right corner of the vehicle, the giant was thrown wildly off balance, landing on its left side on the floor. Encouraged by the thud it made, Sergei sped on.

“How should we get out of here?” Sergei yelled.

“Take it out the main gate,” Juke shouted. His eyes were turned back toward the entrance to the warehouse. Its roof blew off. A black shape shot up, extending its arms and legs in midair.

Juke's firearm barked time and again. The stock pressed to his shoulder kicked hard enough that it should've broken the bone. The penetrator rifle D had procured could even punch through the armor plating on a flame beast. Ordinarily it would be mounted on a tripod to steady it for repeated firings, because the average person couldn't carry it around. When he'd accepted it, Juke had been completely despondent, but just now it'd saved him.

The high-caliber penetrator rounds he slammed into the giant's temple, shoulder, and side threw the attacker off balance in midair. The leap had been calculated to bring it down on the roof of the fleeing wagon, but the hands it desperately extended barely missed the edge of the vehicle, and the left half of the machine man slammed into a nearby barn. When the giant rose again, three-headed chickens, giant rabbits, and cow-pigs that had been roused from their peaceful slumber were running everywhere.

“You bastards!” the grand duke snarled, the gigantic eyes in his enormous face seeming to shoot fire. “My patience is at an end. Off to the great unknown with you!”

The machine man's mouth snapped open, and what should fly out of it but a space eater. It soared right at them.

The way it flew at precisely the same speed as them seemed a fiendish stroke meant to strike fear in Juke and his compatriot, but rather than cower, Juke raised his left hand. It almost looked as if he was stretching his arm out further than it could possibly go as he leapt up and grabbed the space eater—which had just halted over the racing wagon, formed a ring, and begun to devour itself.

Although Grand Duke Mehmet had seen it himself, he didn't really understand what had happened. Even if someone had caught it, the space eater should've bored its deadly hole through space.

When he realized nothing was happening, the grand duke started after them with earth-shaking footfalls. As he ran, he released another bug, for he'd decided that something must've been wrong with the first one. This one would perform its duty in front of the wagon. It flew far higher and faster than the last one.

But damned if Juke didn't jump up a second time. Fifteen feet he leapt to once again catch the insect in his extended left hand. And in the palm of that hand an unmistakably human mouth opened to swallow the second bug.

Once again Juke landed as beautifully on the roof as if he'd been pulled right down to it, at which point the left hand lauded him, saying, “Good job.”

There could be no mistaking that hoarse voice. With an unfazed expression as it followed Juke's hand into his sleeve, it was none other than D's left hand.

On sending the two transporters into the village, where Nobility could be waiting for them anywhere, D had given them his left hand as backup. It was clear why the Duke of Xenon had finally noticed the Hunter's blindness when he fought without the use of his left hand.

“Is that the last of it?” Sergei shouted.

“Not yet,” Juke replied.

The great black figure was now within sixty feet of them, and he was rapidly closing the gap.

Taking a sharp turn and crossing a bridge, they ascended a slope.

“The front door!” Sergei exclaimed on seeing the gates off in the distance.

—

Peeling himself from the spot where he'd been slammed into the gates, D held his sword in his teeth while he used his empty right hand to pull out the spears that skewered him. He'd probably calculated that the Duke of Xenon would have to stop attacking long enough for his exoskeleton to perform repairs, allowing D some time. Dizziness assailed him. Though part Noble, he'd lost enough blood that he should've long since died, after having been impaled and had every inch of his body burned—and he didn't have his left hand to supply him with more energy. It was surprising that he could even stand. His sword rose.

The blue light vanished from between the exoskeleton's eyes. At the same time, the duke pounced. Making a vertical leap, the exoskeleton hurled a long spear.

Tracing an elliptical path, D's blade batted it away. The Hunter's follow-up stroke should've cut the duke from one shoulder to the opposite armpit, but it met only air.

The Duke of Xenon was behind D. He'd moved with unbelievable speed.

D spun around. A third spear pierced his chest.

Landing on the ground, D was driven to one knee.

As the Duke of Xenon touched down safely, he had a new spear glowing in either hand.

Having been pierced by three spears already, D had a nearly bloodless complexion.

The Duke of Xenon raised his right hand high. The first would be a feint—the second the coup de grâce.

“This one will be through the heart.”

At this point, D flowed off to the right.

Crashing through the gates, the cargo wagon appeared.

“D's compatriots?” the duke exclaimed, suddenly letting a long spear fly.

The wagon made a miraculous turn to the left, but it wasn't because of Sergei's skill at driving. He hadn't even seen the spear. But when they'd smashed blindly through the gates, there'd been an armored monstrosity right in front of them. The horses had cut to the side instinctively.

Not only were they saved, but they also reaped an unbelievable windfall. A scream rang out on the other side of the gates. What staggered into view was the enormous figure of Grand Duke Mehmet. The Duke of Xenon's spear was buried deep in his chest.

“Duke of Xenon—how could you . . .”

“Wait. This is all a terrible mistake.”

While the Nobleman made a frantic apology, the gigantic Mehmet pulled the spear out of himself and hurled it back at his colleague in the exoskeleton. It pierced the Duke of Xenon through the abdomen and poked out through his back.

“Of all the stupidity—have you forgotten what we're trying to do here?” he bellowed at his colleague, but Grand Duke Mehmet kept closing on him. The machine man's mouth opened.

Just then, the giant exoskeleton began to spin like a top. For a second it kicked up dust—and then the massive form sank into the black earth.

“Taking to your heels, eh? Yes, I suppose we can't very well go about killing our own, can we?”

With nothing left to direct his rage at, the gigantic figure looked all around. The wagon was dwindling in the distance, and there was no sign of D. Presently Grand Duke Mehmet, too, vanished.

The remaining darkness was deep. Having been ordered by the mayor not to go outside, the villagers wouldn't break that prohibition until dawn, but that was a long way off, and the night was cruel and cold and choked with the reverberations of the deadly conflict.