III
III
"Would you like tea or coffee?" "If you're going to the trouble, tea. Um, with thirteen sugars, please."
The girl in the maid's dress seemed a little surprised by such an outrageous request; however, she diligently spooned out thirteen sugars. Before long, the teacup was placed on the table, its contents giving off a high-quality aroma.
"Here. Sorry you had to wait," the girl said.
"Well, thank you very much. Mm, it smells good. I look forward to this whenever I take business trips to Albion. After all, there's no place like Albion for tea, yes?"
Sipping the tea—or something like tea, considering its gelatinous state—the spectacled priest seemed satisfied. As if the pain from the wound on the back of his head had vanished, he smiled, seemingly carefree. So carefree, in fact, that he impolitely rested his elbows on the table.
The forest surrounding the hilltop villa was visible from the dining hall window. If it were noon, they could have seen the beach and the watercraft; because it was now the middle of the night, they couldn't see anything. From time to time, they could hear the wind carry the sound of Leon's hammer pounding as he repaired the aircraft.
"I'm sorry, Miss Wendy, for suddenly pushing myself on you, and enjoying your tea on top of it."
"No, I'm sorry: Although you took the trouble to come up here, our radio failed. Perhaps when my master comes back, he'll fix it. Unfortunately, I'm a little bit . . ."
"Well, we'll show your radio to Father Leon later. That old man is very handy with such things. It's a pity that your master is out. I would have liked to meet the famous Professor James Barrie. He likes children, according to all accounts."
Placing the empty teacup in its saucer, Abel looked around curiously.
The mansion itself was an extremely traditional version of an Albion nobleman's country house. It was filled with plush animals, dolls, toys, cricket bats, and other small articles that children would enjoy. Clumsy crayon pictures were scattered all around. It was quite a spectacle, as though the mansion itself were a child's nursery.
According to Wendy, Barrieland Island originally was uninhabited. Years ago, Barrie had developed the land. When he'd moved here to retire, he'd brought along a few orphans. These toys belonged to those children.
"When did I read in the newspaper that he'd gotten a medal from Her Majesty the Queen for his research on aging? A doctor and a fairytale author—moreover, a man of character who loves children ... Well, maybe there are people like God here on Earth."
"People like God?" The girl stiffened slightly as she poured a second cup of tea, but Abel didn't seem to notice.
"Well, isn't he? Some parents sell off their own children or take in total strangers to raise them only for they money. . . . He seems to take care of strangers' children without seeking any reward."
Wendy murmured, "Yes, in a way, maybe he is God. Well, at least, he was like God to me."
"Huh?"
Abel narrowed his eyes as the second cup of tea met his mouth. It wasn't because her dark tone had startled him, but because he suddenly wanted to sleep. The long flight had made him strangely tired.
"What do you mean?"
"Just what it sounds like: I'm a child who was picked up by Teacher—I mean, my master—as if picked up by the hand of God."
"Indeed. You're his daughter, as it were?"
"Daughter? No. If I dare call myself anything, maybe I'm his guinea pig. I'm not his daughter."
"Guinea pig"—that's another disquieting expression. Abel wanted to comfort her; but because he felt sleepy, he couldn't think of suitable words. Trying to clear his head, he took another sip of tea.
"Miss Wendy, I think—"
"Rather than talk about me, Father, I wanted to ask about you," Wendy said. In all this time, she still hadn't put one finger on the teacup before her. And the way she spoke now, there was no vestige of the meek maid Abel had met before. She questioned Abel in a tone a queen might use: "Father, where did you come from?"
"Rome. Vatican City's Foreign Affairs—a special detachment from AX . . ."
Huh, what am I saying? Although his body was heavy, his tongue felt strangely light. Abel shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He sipped more tea, but its sweet taste became stale, blanketing his consciousness.
"Yes, it's fine if you drink more. Isn't my tea delicious?"
A dim idea came to him, warning him there was something in the tea.
He quickly clenched his fists. He was trying to wake up by causing himself pain, but Wendy's dainty fingers prevented that.
"Don't think of doing anything uncalled for, Father." As she softly grasped the priest's hands, Wendy put her mouth to his ear. "Please, concentrate on my questions. What is AX?"
"Miss Wendy, it's no use—"
"Answer my question: What is AX?"
"A special detachment of Vatican City's Foreign Affairs. Vampire incidents . . . investigation . . . enforcing of laws . . ." The priest coughed painfully.
Looking down at him with a cold light in her eyes, the girl nodded. "That airplane crash before wasn't a coincidence, was it? Why did you come to this island?"
"Michael Darling . . . child kidnapping syndicate . . . list. Professor Barrie . . . Professor Barrie? Where is Professor Barrie?"
"Heh, I'm amazed you're still conscious, despite the fact that you've had enough of the drug to make an elephant keel over." Wendy sighed, as if impressed. She gently wiped away the beads of sweat forming on Abel's face. "Father, did you come to look for my master? If so, I'm very sorry. As I told you a little while ago, he isn't here. That's the truth. There isn't one adult here."
"What do you mean?"
The kitchen doors clacked open. Countless children's faces peeked in: large children, thin children, boys and girls. They had different features and physical builds, but all of them were staring at Abel with expressionless eyes.
"Missing? Then, this island . . ."
"This is Barrieland." As the priest's eyes began to close, Wendy whispered kindly, "We're an island of children."
***
"Let's see, connecting the vaporizer over there, tightening this bolt like this . . . Good, how's this?"
The propeller began to turn, faster and faster, until wind rippled the surface of the water. Leon looked up in satisfaction at the plane he'd restored to life.
"Ha, easy. Well, next is the radio." He sighed. "Hey, kid, how long are you going to cower like that?" The giant priest turned around to stare mercilessly at Peter, who was sitting on the beach, hugging his legs. "If you're going to cry, go do it somewhere else. You're a pain in the neck."
"I couldn't protect Wendy." Peter's face wasn't clearly visible in the dark, but Leon could hear the boy's sniveling well enough.
"Although I promised Wendy I'd protect her, I was beaten by an old man."
"Ah, don't cry about everything! And who's an old man?" Taking the radio out of the plane, Leon shouted, "As you can see, I'm not yet thirty! It's unreasonable for me to be called an old man. So, what's your problem? Are you mad because you were beaten? You're an idiot. Did you think children could win against an adult?"
"We can't win?"
"You can't win. Children can't beat an adult. That's a fact."
"A fact?"
"Yeah, a fact." Looking down at the charred radio, Leon sighed again. "Oh, no. This is no good." He'd have more hope sending up a distress flare than trying to fix this. "Hey, kid? You remember my companion, the one with the ugly glasses? Go and call him for me."
"The priest with glasses? All right."
"Ah, wait a minute." Leon held out his thick hand, grimacing exaggeratedly. "That rock you threw at me a little while ago? It was very painful when I caught it. There's hope for you, although you're just a kid."
"Really? Can I become as strong as you?"
"Well, maybe you can become almost as strong as me."
Peter's face burst into a smile. "Because I'm a failure, I thought I couldn't become strong. I see now: When I become an adult, I can be a success! Thanks, old man!"
"Failure? Success?" Leon questioned those strange words as the boy ran toward the hill. "Hey, wait a minute! That word . . . 'failure,' you said... Oh, he's gone already."
After he watched the child disappear beyond the faraway trees, Leon scratched his head. "This is why I hate kids. They're a nuisance. And just what is that oaf of a priest doing, anyway? If he's being treated to tea, I'll castrate him."
"Found him. Found him, found him. Found him here."
Tightening his hold on the skeleton of the radio, Leon suddenly stopped wading through the shallows. His twinkling eyes carefully surveyed his environment, looking for the source of the strange voice.
"Boy?"
"No, no, we're not boys."
The snickering voices belonged to several children, but he couldn't tell where they were. It almost felt like they were whispering directly into his ear. The next instant, he thought they were standing somewhere beyond the forest. It was like they were everywhere.
"Where are you looking? We're here!"
"Whoa!" Turning around, Leon threw back his head. Suddenly, his aircraft began to skim the water's surface.
"Ha ha ha!"
There was no time to run. He had no time to wonder about when the plane's anchoring ropes had been severed. The huge craft towered over the priest. He heard the dull sound of something breaking. Black air bubbles rose from the ocean's surface. He went under, crushed.
"Did we kill him?"
"We killed him! We killed him!"
"Sheesh, I wanted to drive. . . ."
Three girls peeked out of the pilot's window. Each child held a cutlass or short spear. They wore striped sailor suits and had put on eye patches and fake beards.
"Well, that was easy."
"He's an adult. No big deal. Before this, somehow, well . . ."
"Come on, let's pull up his dead body. If sharks come, it'll be a bother."
As they carried on such a disgusting conversation in innocent, childlike tones, the three "pirates" lightly leapt down from the cockpit. As soon as they crossed the shallows, they searched in the area where they'd seen the corpse sink.
"Well? Is he dead, Curly?"
"Wait, it's strange. There's no smell of blood." Curly, the girl acting as leader, snorted suspiciously. Her sense of smell—which rivaled that of a great white shark—caught only the scents of the seashore and something metallic.
"Hey, look at this!"
The radio was broken in two. If that was rolling around here, then . . .
"Let's go, ladies. Want a game of tag?" bellowed a fearless voice. The priest, his long black hair buffeted by the sea breeze, was grinning from his perch atop a rock. "Sounds like fun. Can I join in your games, too? Ring toss is my specialty."
With a sneer, Leon let the jingling bracelets on his wrists slip down to his fingers. The ultra-thin silver blades—composed of a molecular silver-deposition coating on single-crystal ceramic— clinked softly as they slipped out.
Abruptly, a violent change occurred in the children. As they gave off low growls, long teeth protruded from their torn lips. On the backs of their coats, which now noisily split open, transparent wings began to flutter.
Leon smirked.
"You've saved me the trouble of looking around for you, fairies!" A sharp hum overlapped the priest's voice as he twirled the chakram on his fingers.
One of the fairies who'd taken the form of human girls suddenly disappeared. The next instant, a silhouette hovered over Leon's head. The descending shadow carried a spear.
"Got you!"
A sharp sound rang out. The spear gouged into the boulder; breaking it apart. The scattered stone's fragments splashed in the water. The priest, who'd been standing on the large rock until half a second ago, was no longer there. Rounding his body like a pouncing cat, Leon landed in the shallows thirty feet away.
"Sheesh, I missed!" The girl glared at her prey.
One of the other children shouted in a high-pitched voice: "Curly, be careful!"
The warning was barely in time.
"Kyah!" Leon cried.
The chakram wriggled, rotating around Curly's short spear; it grazed Curly's cheek before dancing up toward the night sky. Curly tossed back her head, watching as the ring gracefully returned to its owner's fingertips.
"Are you okay, Curly?"
"I-I'm okay. Be careful! This is no ordinary adult!"
The priest was as skillful as a demon. The instant he crossed paths with Curly, not only did he evade her spear's downward thrust, but he put the chakram into orbit around it!
"How dare you? I won't forgive you, you damned adult!"
"Uh huh. What are you going to do, you crappy little kids?" Twirling the chakram on his fingertip, Leon laughed. He sported the nastiest possible expression—using his anger to hide the fact that a cold sweat was soaking his back. These guys are fast!
Even Leon's reflexes, which clearly exceeded those of a normal man, were hard-pressed every time he had to dodge.
He'd managed to survive so far because he faced one opponent; if all three fairies attacked together, he wouldn't be able to avoid injury.
"Uh oh. I don't want to use that yet, you know?" Curly muttered.
The fairies hovered, glaring at Leon.
The priest focused his attention on the white smoke that now crossed his field of vision. "What is this fog?"
Directly below the fairies, the ocean surface rippled with violent energy. There was no heat source, but the water was boiling.
"Could it be? Oh, no, this is..." Fogging phenomenon.
The ocean water, demolished into an inter-molecular combination of high-frequency waves, began to change into steam, despite staying at normal temperature. That was a characteristic of fairies: producing supersonic waves by vibrating their thin wings at high speed.
"Die!" Curly screamed.
It was already too late by the time Leon dodged. Their high-pitched voices harmonized, forming a sonic blade that split the ocean's surface—and headed straight for the priest.