DESTRUCTION AND REBIRTH

CHAPTER 5

-

I

-

Miska was with de Carriole in a certain location. Naturally, she wasn’t there of her own free will—all freedom of mind had been taken from her when she first met him. Her eyes were still vacant even now, and she made no attempt to flee despite the danger, but lay on a table like a lovely doll.

She was in a laboratory.

Surrounded by countless drugs and pieces of glassware, an atomic generator, a forge, and the like, de Carriole was seated in a chair beside her. And sitting there, he looked like some evil old jailer ready to torture the captive beauty with his vile “experiments.” However, the deep wrinkles of the old man’s face drew closer together, and a shadowy suffering seemed to cling to his features like the wings of a bat. In fact, he’d been deliberating this way for nearly a full day. Going through the pile of parchment scrolls he had close at hand, he quickly ran his eyes over them, as he’d done more than a hundred times before, yet still he did it once more. He then banged a scroll against his knees with both hands. For this great sorcerer who was said to be able to call forth the devil himself, such displays of pique were rare.

“This will never do. There seems to be no way at all to remove the Destroyer from this girl. It’s impossible to separate the two of them safely.”

Rising to his feet, he glared down at Miska as she lay on the table. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been strange for his eyes to have held despair, but they were ablaze with malevolence. It was because of this disposition that de Carriole had become a sorcerer feared by even the deadliest serpents, but it did not help him overcome his current obstacle.

“If they are separated, the girl will die. That is unpardonable. What’s more—?”

Just as he was speaking, an odd-timbred voice announced from a circular window up by the ceiling, “Sai Fung is here.”

The black figure was that of a large raven. Its gaze gleamed with purple. Crystals had been set in place of its eyes.

Shooting a glance of displeasure not at the raven but at the distant door, de Carriole commanded, “Send him in.”

Without the slightest delay the door opened and the man in question stepped in. He then informed the old man that Zanus had been slain.

“Zanus?! When was this?” the ancient sorcerer asked, his eyes glowing with a spark far too base to be termed hope, but after Sai Fung replied, the light swiftly faded and the old man returned to the seat he’d been about to vacate.

“No, it’s too late now. At least, to use a dead body. Even for him, it would be too great a load to bear.”

The ring of what some might term obsession in his voice finally prompted Sai Fung to ask with some discomfort, “What are you talking about?”

Although he made no reply, the great sorcerer seemed to suddenly think of something, and he turned an incredibly intense gaze on his subordinate.

“Wh—what is it?”

“What if I were to use you?”

The look in his eye and his tone of voice both defied description. Sai Fung’s hand reflexively reached for the bastard sword on his hip.

Subordinate or not, the deadly determination in the man’s eyes made de Carriole shake his head in futility.

“It’s no use. You wouldn’t last a minute.”

“What in the world have you been going on about all this time? Have you no words to ease the passage of Zanus’s soul?”

“I’ll give you his pay.”

“Well, that’s another matter, then,” the man chortled. “Go ahead and take all the time you need for contemplation. You’ve heard my report. I’m heading back to the manor.”

“Wait,” the old man called out to stop him, and then he rose from his chair, walked over to a large desk that was close by, and grabbed the flask that was warmed by the flames of an atomic lamp. About half an inch of pale purple liquid had accumulated at the bottom of it—the result of his completely focused efforts since learning about the connection between Miska and the Destroyer.

As his master approached with the flask in hand, Sai Fung raised one hand to stop him, saying, “Kindly wait just a second.”

For an instant, the strangest phenomenon occurred. While it was clear he’d only raised his right arm, it seemed to blur into an overlap of countless limbs. However, as de Carriole stopped right in front of him, the old sorcerer’s eyes saw just one image of Sai Fung’s right arm.

“What in blazes do you wanna do with me? Don’t tell me you want me to drink that funny-colored concoction.”

“Correct.”

“Just stop it.”

The baron had counted this man among the three greatest warriors, but Sai Fung grew pale as he backed away. It seemed he’d had more than enough of his master’s potions.

Grinning at the naked fear of his subordinate, de Carriole told him, “Relax. I’m not going to turn you into a purple phantom again. This is a fortifying elixir.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sai Fung asked, his eyes narrowing even further.

“It’s a drug that will turn flesh into steel. Drinking just a drop of it would transform you into a superman capable of smashing through the walls of the manor’s reactor with a single blow.”

“By all means, let me drink it.”

“But in return, your whole body will be reduced to dust in an hour.”

“I retract my previous remark. And why would you concoct something so useless in the first place?”

“In order to make a vessel.”

“A vessel?”

Fluttering his white beard, de Carriole turned to the table where Miska lay and said, “There’s something horrible within that young lady. It slumbers at present, but once awakened, it would destroy everything on the face of the earth.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sai Fung said, as people so often do, but he knew that where supernatural phenomena were concerned, this great sorcerer neither lied nor even joked, so he said nothing more to question his master.

“I sorely desire to have it under my control. But in order to do so, I must separate this entity—which we can refer to as the Destroyer—from the girl by whatever means necessary. However, as things stand now, I wouldn’t be able to control it. Until I can, I need another body—one under my command—in which I might let it sleep.”

A hand dotted with age spots gripped the flask tightly.

“In that case, you have plenty of servants and homunculi in your mansion.”

“Balderdash!” de Carriole bellowed at Sai Fung, crying the word like a man unhinged. “You think any old body, filthy and frail, would serve to confine something that could destroy the world? The Nobility! A Noble’s body would do the trick. The girl is proof of that. However, being pledged to Lord Vlad’s service, I am unable to use Nobles in my experiments. That is why I prepared the fortifying elixir, but, as expected, it simply won’t do. The initial form can’t withstand the energy the elixir produces.”

“Is this Destroyer character really all that strong?” Sai Fung inquired with trepidation. Although his head knew what his master said was the truth, his heart couldn’t accept it yet.

He immediately regretted posing such a rash question.

De Carriole’s lips warped into a smile.

“Want to see?” he asked, his voice practically a whisper.

Based on past experiences, nothing good could come of this. It would be bad, and on an incredible scale.

“Do you want to see?” the great sorcerer asked again. His eyes glowed maniacally.

“Uh . . . sure,” the man replied, unable to refuse.

De Carriole’s highly disturbing smile grew ever more daunting.

“Excellent. Then I shall show you just a little.”

And saying that, the old man tottered back toward Miska, hunched over all the while. As if pulled along on invisible strings, Sai Fung followed behind him.

Before reaching Miska, de Carriole took a summoning bell that sat on the desk and gave it a shake. The crystal-clear peal was swallowed by the air. Setting it back down while its signal remained a mystery, the old man stood by Miska’s side and raised her pale right arm.

“As a result of my examinations, I’ve determined that this is the easiest spot to get the Destroyer to come out.”

Though Sai Fung stared intently, he couldn’t find anyplace odd on the bone-china skin that was unique to the Nobility.

“I can’t see it either. So of course you wouldn’t be able to,” de Carriole said boastfully.

While one hand held Miska’s arm, a silver needle gleamed in the other. The needle was a good twenty inches long.

“However, a machine I constructed indicated that this pressure point served as an entrance and exit for the Destroyer. Allow me to demonstrate a small fraction of the Destroyer’s power!”

Right here and now? Sai Fung thought as a shudder raced through his body, but de Carriole’s needle remained motionless, and the sorcerer turned around.

The same door by which Sai Fung had entered opened again, allowing a colossal figure to enter.

“A golem . . .” Sai Fung muttered.

Awkwardly planting one foot after another on the stone floor, the imposing figure walking toward them was most definitely a humanoid shape sculpted from clay.

Sorcerers often had odd jobs that were impossible for humans, and although there were various means of dealing with this issue, the most widely accepted was the “animated doll.” Formed from bronze or earth, or even from flowers or air, these dolls were given life by the miraculous concoction that made them. Of them all, those shaped from clay were said to be the toughest and most obedient, and sorcerers, necromancers, and Nobles pitted them against each other to test their abilities.

“This is bad news. That’s a combat model!” Sai Fung squeaked in a pathetic tone. “Breathe life into one of these guys when there’s no fighting to be done, and there’ll be hell to pay before you get it back to sleep again. This one in particular is always nasty when it gets up, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” de Carriole said as he raised the needle in his right hand and gradually brought it closer and closer to Miska’s pale arm.

A clang! resounded from the floor.

The golem had clapped its hobnail-studded iron boots together and taken a position there, arrow straight and utterly motionless. Standing eight feet tall, it weighed in excess of twelve hundred pounds. With those proportions, it wasn’t exactly cut out for housework. Battle—it was for that purpose alone the humanoid weapon had been given life.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Staring intently at Sai Fung, de Carriole said, “Kill him.”

“Wha—?!”

Before Sai Fung could even begin to voice an objection, the golem turned noisily and robbed him of any breathing room.

“Hey! Knock it off, boss!”

As the man backed away, his hip slammed into another table, rattling it badly. Even after Sai Fung had stepped away from it, the table still didn’t stop shaking.

Creaking across the floor, the golem rushed at him. It was like a massive steam locomotive barreling forward. Knocking desks and tables aside that must’ve weighed several hundred pounds each, it extended both arms as it closed on Sai Fung. The sounds of bottles and other equipment shattering seemed to go on forever.

The monstrosity closed with a speed and a force that were both inescapable. As its two arms came together in an iron ring, a lithe form leapt out from between them on a course that angled off to the right. It was Sai Fung. But how in the world had he managed that? His bound was made at an angle and with a speed which were both impossible for a mere mortal. What’s more, both his arms were straight out in a rather natural pose, and he stopped as if stuck to the ceiling. Incredibly enough, he was still at an angle.

“The thought of not being able to do anything but run pisses me off, you know. Is it okay if I reciprocate, boss?”

At his question, de Carriole—who’d been watching the whole incident from start to finish from down on the floor—smiled with a strange affability and replied, “Very well, then.”

“I’ve got permission now,” Sai Fung said, his expression filled with a dauntlessness that made his fear up until now seem like a sham. “Have at you, mud pie!”

A black shadow suddenly covered the man’s face. The giant was right in front of him. The tremendous twelve-hundred-pound form had kicked off the floor and sailed up to him, up more than thirty feet. And now it didn’t seem the least bit interested in merely grabbing him.

It was a gargantuan clay fist that ripped through the air on its way to Sai Fung’s face. But the term “clay” was misleading, because de Carriole had kneaded it and mixed in various materials to give it the strength of steel.

However, Sai Fung’s form suddenly disappeared from right under the giant’s nose. He was right behind the golem, hanging from the ceiling, his pose not changed in the least. But how had he done that? He still had both hands resting at his sides.

Without breaking its pose from the hook it’d thrown, the golem began its descent.

Sai Fung made a leap that brought him skimming along the giant’s back. A bastard sword glittered in his right hand.

The golem’s left arm quickly twisted around behind its back. It slammed into Sai Fung’s shoulder—or so it appeared for a heartbeat, and then the man made a vertical descent to the floor. There was no conceivable way he could zip around like that. It was almost as if countless unseen arms and legs propelled his body in any possible direction. As Sai Fung made a light landing, the massive form came crashing down right in front of him. Its own weight plus the acceleration meant a force of over five tons on impact—but the clay colossus took it with just a slight bend of both knees. It whirled around with unbelievable speed.

Humbled perhaps by the sheer power of the giant, Sai Fung stood stock still.

The giant’s right arm was already raised as high as it could go. It came down with an explosive whooosh! Right at Sai Fung’s head.

A strange sound rang out. And an odd scene played out.

The grinning Sai Fung stood there with both arms extended, while above his head—and not more than a quarter of an inch from him at that—the golem’s fist had stopped dead.

“Too bad,” Sai Fung said as he drove the bastard sword in his right hand deep into the giant’s heart.

-

II

-

“That will do.”

Halted by de Carriole, Sai Fung pursed his lips as he stepped back. His bastard sword had already been pulled out of the golem’s chest and returned to the scabbard on his hip.

The giant took a booming step forward. It hadn’t lost its will to fight.

A white flash skimmed through its waist. The light had shot from the hem of de Carriole’s robe. It was almost laughable to see how the giant came to a stop without a second to spare. Noticing how it had halted with one foot extended but still a fraction of an inch from touching the floor, Sai Fung groaned.

Approaching the giant, de Carriole struck its waist. Though it touched the end of its foot to the floor, the giant stopped at that.

“Drink this.”

Taking the proffered flask from the old man’s hand, it raised it to its mouth.

As the clay sculpture downed the mysterious elixir, Sai Fung could only stare in amazement.

“Make good your exit. Even I can’t stop it any longer,” de Carriole said as he dashed over to Miska’s side.

While it wasn’t exactly in character for Sai Fung to remain there, as a warrior he was anxious to see with his own eyes the strength of the giant now that it had quaffed the fortifying elixir.

The golem bounded almost immediately. Its speed was considerably greater than Sai Fung remembered.

“Oh, shit!” Sai Fung exclaimed as the massive form dropped from above, leaving him no time to escape. The sole of a shoe twice as large as his face was about to smash him—and then the giant rolled. It actually looked as if it had been flipped away. But neither of Sai Fung’s arms was in a position to do that.

Leaving a shattered table on the floor, the giant was in the process of getting back to its feet when a voice called out from behind it, “Over here!”

Perhaps it realized that was the voice of its master, but the hatred blazing in its eyes was that of a warrior who’d just confirmed the presence of a new foe. As it got up, the giant twisted its body. Glittering shards of glass and ceramic fell from its back, scattering across the floor.

What the golem saw was a woman with a long needle being driven into her pale arm, and the old man who held said needle. A blue point of light clung to the woman’s wrist where the needle went into her. As it was drawn out again, the room was simultaneously filled with an air of terror.

Was this fear from the golem, de Carriole, Sai Fung—or was it perhaps the very air in the room that was terrified?

The skylight was blown out, glass and all. The wind that came rushing in performed a crazed dance.

“B-boss?!” Sai Fung exclaimed. For some reason, his whole body had been enveloped by a red fog.

In front of the giant—beside de Carriole, to be exact—a pale, mistlike mass had formed. Issuing from Miska’s wrist, it had only stopped growing when de Carriole once again covered the place where the needle had pierced the Noblewoman.

So, that was the Destroyer?

For a few seconds the madness vanished from the crazed golem’s eyes, but they soon blazed with a new and fervent emotion—murderous intent against his foe. And then, with booming thuds, it barreled at the pale mist.

-

When the woman’s story had ended, D looked up at the surface and said, “Time to go.”

Whether that remark was addressed to his left hand or the woman was unclear.

“Kindly wait a moment,” the woman said, stopping him.

Glowing like something out of a dream, her pale hands undid the bosom of her dress. Her breasts were large and beautifully formed. A finger touched the right breast and red blood streamed out like a thread, forming a small vermilion ball about eight inches from her.

“Drink,” the woman said. “In order to safely escape this underground lake, you shall need my permission. That’s what this is. Although as a Hunter, I’m sure you may find it disturbing to drink the blood of a Noble, kindly accept my offer. If not, you have no prospect of defeating my husband, no matter how powerful you may be.”

This avowal was most surely what she truly felt, without any shadow of mistruth.

D said, “I’ve come here to destroy the one who would drink that.”

And then he raced toward the surface. Indications of the form swimming away traveled through the water.

For the first time ever in this underwater world the woman muttered to herself, saying, “So beauteous a man—and so strong. But against my husband . . .”

-

It was thirty minutes later that D arrived at Vlad’s bedroom. The woman had said it’d been located at the north end of the manor’s basement once, and so it remained even now.

Although the woman in the water had informed him that escape from the underground lake would be impossible, D was now at the large and magnificently carved door, dripping wet from head to toe but otherwise completely unharmed. The ranks of fiendishly powerful foes that had once pierced de Carriole’s body stood in D’s path, as did barred doors, but when his pendant glowed, the former fell silent and the latter opened without a sound, permitting the young man in black to pass. Along the way, D had encountered a few of the stag beetles—guards—but his sword had pierced the thick armor of each and every one, allowing him to make his way to the master’s private quarters without falling victim to any of the numerous labyrinths or traps. Never stopping for a second, D pressed forward.

Though the great door looked as if it were opened and closed by an old-fashioned key, it was, in fact, under computer control. A series of three doors opened, each of its own accord, when the gorgeous young man came to them. And when the last of them opened without a sound, D saw a bronze coffin lying on the floor in a vast chamber, covered by a canopy and defended by five canals, one nested within the next. This was the basement, of course, but the windows were still covered by heavy curtains.

In darkness devoid of a single ray of light, D’s eyes glittered with a quiet intensity. His feet were already on the walkway that bridged the canal. Since leaving the underground lake, he hadn’t stopped even once. But he halted when he heard a sound spill from the coffin.

A sound? No, a cry of pain. A curse. Denunciations from the dead on one who would defile his sacred resting place.

“Oh, this guy’s pretty pissed. Looks like he really doesn’t want you opening his coffin. It’s still daylight outside.”

As his left hand had indicated, the cries from the coffin grew louder and more violent as D stepped forward.

Crossing the last canal, D stood before the coffin and reached for the lid. He tore it off with one pull. The locks shattered.

After taking a look inside, it was naturally his left hand that remarked, “Oh, my!”

D’s dark eyes reflected the bloodshot eyes and waxy face of the girl staring up at him quietly. Pale arms stretched out toward the Hunter’s face.

“D . . .” said Taki.

D had made silent note of the abhorrent teeth marks that marred the nape of her neck. As Taki tried to rise, his left hand delivered a blow to her solar plexus, and the girl slumped forward.

A small recording device had been placed in the head portion of the coffin. The masculine cries of pain had issued from that.

A presence formed behind the Hunter. Whoever it was might’ve been hidden quite well, and all five of D’s senses had certainly been focused on the coffin. However, this was still D. Who could’ve deceived his ultrakeen senses and kept their presence a secret?

D didn’t move. He’d sensed that the second he took a step or even so much as lifted a finger, his foe would strike with lightning speed.

“So glad you could come, man known as D,” said the voice from behind him. “I wish we could sit down and have a drink in recognition of your long and wearying trip, but I’m afraid neither of us is in a position to do so. The least I can do is make your death an easy one. Or should I say your destruction?”

A low laugh made the speaker grow tense.

“Death or destruction—that’s a distinction a human would make. Either one is fine, but do you think you can do either to us?”

“A-ha!” the voice behind him said, sounding quite impressed. “So, you’re not alone? How interesting. I don’t know where it is in D that you hide, but I shall send you both to the hereafter. Turn around.”

The second D complied, he would probably be hit with some unknown attack.

D didn’t move.

As the Hunter stood stock still without any apparent tension or fear, the source of the voice seemed to sense something.

“Why do you not face me?” the voice from the darkness asked in a tone far darker and crisper.

“Is that what you really want?” the Hunter asked.

Did he really want D to turn around?

The voice fell silent.

As the young man in black stood there, motionless and defenseless, an aura like nothing on earth swirled from every inch of his body—and any who felt it would never see another peaceful awakening.

“Why, this is . . . You’re just so . . .”

The content of the words that finally spilled from him aside, there was a weight to them equal to the cries of pain that had issued from the coffin a short while earlier. However, the voice quickly regained its ring of confidence and maliciousness.

“So, it is true. You actually are the great one’s—”

The air grew taut, freezing the next word.

A flash of white light streaked toward D’s back, but was deflected. Shifting his back ever so slightly, D had parried the attack with his sheath.

At the same time, the man in black became a bird in flight, sailing backward. What D saw was a gigantic hazy figure shrouded in darkness. No matter what it was, it didn’t seem like it could possibly have a means of protecting itself from the blade of D’s sword.

Putting the speed of his descent and his own weight behind the sword, he brought the blade down. The instant he felt it slice only air, white-hot pain seared through his right shoulder.

-

III

-

D’s body limned an arc with all the speed of a striking bolt of lightning. Leaving a trail of black blood behind him, he touched back to the floor a good ten feet away. His sword had been transferred to his left hand.

“How the hell did that happen?” a low, hoarse voice remarked, speaking volumes about the situation.

Although D turned in the direction from which the attack had come, he couldn’t discern the form of his foe. An enormous shadowy figure towered in the same spot as before.

“Think you can best me with your left hand?”

The chest of the mocking silhouette shook. The needles of rough wood that flew from D’s hand pierced the shadowy figure, imbedding themselves in the wall behind him.

“That’s two of them. We’re still one short, aren’t we?” the shadow said.

D charged. As the shadowy figure moved to the right, the sword in the Hunter’s left hand mowed through his torso. Having gone halfway through the figure, the blade then jerked to a halt.

A thin needle protruded from the left side of D’s chest.

“There’s the third,” said the shadow. “This is simply fate. Now do you see where your bones will lie, Hunter?”

Before the voice had finished speaking, D was down on one knee. The very same needle D had hurled ran through his back and out through his heart.

But how had that happened? At that moment, there had been no one at all directly behind D.

Slowly the shadowy figure circled around behind the Hunter. No matter what kind of attack he might make, it didn’t seem that D could possibly respond. And yet, D braced his blade against the floor and tried to stand. The shadow couldn’t help but admire that.

“Most impressive, being run through the heart like that. You are, indeed, the great one’s—”

It was a heartbeat later that the voice became a cry of pain.

Between the pair, something black scattered like a mist.

Though pierced right through the heart, D had twisted around and slashed through the shadow’s torso with his blade.

“You—you son of a bitch! I can’t believe it!”

Though the reeling shadow retreated, D didn’t give chase. Once again, he was kneeling on the floor. No Noble—or any other creature, for that matter—should be able to live with something driven through their heart. His last attack was not only impossible, it was miraculous.

“Out of respect for the great one, I had thought to dispatch you painlessly, but now that simply can’t be allowed. I shall tear you to bits,” the shadow howled, his voice shaking the whole room.

He rushed forward.

And just then, the world was rocked by a terrific impact. A warning siren resounded. Cracks raced across the ceiling, and then falling stonework and dust enveloped D.

Left with no other choice, the shadowy figure fell back to the door. The fissure that opened beneath his feet released a powerful stream of water.

“What was that?” he bellowed, and then he let out a groan.

Black blood trailed across the floor.

A Noble’s body could immediately regenerate the damage from a simple blade wound. But there was nothing normal about the blow from the gorgeous Hunter.

“There’s been an explosion in Dr. de Carriole’s laboratory,” the raven above him replied.

“Preposterous. Why should a mere explosion be felt so far as my own bedroom—”

“It was no ordinary explosion. It had dimensional repercussions.”

“Dimensional?” the shadowy figure said, looking up.

-

Although Dr. de Carriole alone knew what he had wrought, surely he hadn’t foreseen this result. The instant the mass of blue mist and the golem came into contact, the laboratory had been leveled. The doctor was saved by activating the molecular force field on his belt only a second earlier.

“Sai Fung! Are you there, Sai Fung?” he shouted.

“You betcha,” came the somewhat flippant reply from a great hole that’d been opened in a wall bordering the courtyard.

It appeared the subordinate who now poked his head back in had made a hasty departure from the room a split second before it was filled by the explosion. Only instinct made something like that possible.

“What in the hairy hell—where’s the golem?”

“Right here,” de Carriole said as he knocked the dust off himself. “It seems to have been broken down to its constituent molecules. Gah, I’m choking on this dust. Has the Destroyer vanished as well? Once sucked into the dimensional rift, it won’t be coming back again.”

“You mean to tell me the golem disappeared because of the Destroyer, too?”

“Could anything else have done it?”

“No. But boss, if you were to set that thing free . . .”

“Precisely,” de Carriole said, a smile beginning to break on his pale face. “Your crude brain finally comprehends, does it? What would ensue is nothing shy of the end of the world. You see, it was for that very purpose the Destroyer was created.”

His smile was already that of the devil himself, but then it cut strangely deeper—becoming something that many would find far more intense than a mere grin. And then the great sorcerer blurted out a truly strange remark.

“Something capable of destroying the world could slay anyone. Anyone at all, you know.”

Automated fire-suppression systems were spraying dry ice and extinguishing chemicals when the guard robots raced in, with the black figure of the lord coming just a short time later.

After explaining the situation, de Carriole gestured to Miska and said, “This young lady—I should like to bring her back to my house and examine her once again.”

She alone had lain on the table without so much as a single hair displaced by the massive explosion.

“Do as you wish,” the lord said, not because he was unaware of the fearsomeness of the Destroyer, but because he was confident that no matter how devious the experiments of the great sorcerer became, de Carriole could never betray him. Vlad went on to tell how the Vampire Hunter had paid a visit to his bedroom.

Intense flames suddenly dwelt in de Carriole’s eyes. Ordering Sai Fung to keep Miska safe, he headed with his lord toward the latter’s bedroom. Even the stairs and corridors appeared battered.

Presently the pair arrived at the bedroom, where they were greeted by nothing save the remains of destruction. Not only had the gorgeous Hunter in black disappeared as if he’d dissolved into the very darkness, but Taki had vanished from the coffin as well.

“Am I to believe he escaped on his own?” the lord asked.

As the pair stood there in a daze, cold water soaked the floor beneath their feet.

-

D was in the forest to the north of the manor.

He hadn’t escaped under his own power. With a needle—to wit, a stake of wood—driven through his heart, there was no way on earth he’d be moving around with Taki over one shoulder. The stake had been pulled out of him and he’d been guided in his escape from the manor by the woman in the white dress whom he’d met underground. Where she’d come from he couldn’t say.

Although it was the same woman he’d spoken with underwater, her image was somehow far fuzzier. And it was on account of this that soon after entering the forest, D asked, “Are you the woman in the water?”

Not answering him, the woman said in a crystal-clear tone, “Take care of yourself—”

She then turned her face slowly to the right.

D had already taken note of the cacophony of hoofbeats.

“Your colleagues are coming. I shall take my leave here.”

Before D’s very eyes, her form rapidly lost all definition, and in no time at all it was transformed into water that soaked the grass.

Seemingly giving no thought at all to that bizarre development, D stood up as if to protect Taki, who lay by his side.

The riders who halted a dozen feet ahead of D were the same men who’d paid a visit to the water-wheel shack.

“You look fit as can be,” the leader of the black masks said from horseback. “You’re only the second person ever to go into Lord Vlad’s manor uninvited and come out again alive. I must say, we’re impressed.”

“What’s your business?” D asked bluntly.

“Right after you headed off for the manor, we sent up recon birds to cover this whole area. That’s why we were able to race right out here. We’ve got orders from our boss to do whatever you wish. There was probably no need, but we brought your horse along, too. Just say the word.”

“Can you prepare a hut?” D asked.

Seeing the pale young lady who lay at the Hunter’s feet, the mounted men knew what he was driving at.

“Indeed, we can.”

“Put it up somewhere where your identities won’t be discovered if the one who fed on her should come,” said D.

Through the act of drinking blood, the victim and assailant were connected across time and space. The men probably wore masks more because of the trouble that would ensue if Vlad’s people knew who they actually were than if D did.

“There’s ‘holy ground’ on the west edge of the village. We’ll take you there.” Then the man with the black mask laughed and added, “We’re ready any time. The hut’s already been assembled.”

“I’ll take that horse,” D said.

One of the black masks stepped forward, leading the Hunter’s cyborg horse behind him.

Putting Taki over his shoulder and climbing easily into the saddle, D then took the reins and said, “Lead the way.”

Although the others remained speechless, it wasn’t because the Hunter’s beauty and regal bearing didn’t have the slightest impact on them. To the contrary, there was an air of unmistakable admiration coming from the masked men.

“Come with us—it’s this way.”

The leader’s boots delivered a kick to his horse’s flanks, and the group galloped west in a thunder of hoofbeats.

When they reached their destination, the men seemed to be dyed with the blue of twilight. Ruins that appeared to be the remnants of buildings were scattered here and there in the desolate expanse of land. Eroded foundations, stone walls, a portion of a tower—although it wouldn’t have been unusual for the scene to look like a vision of haunted devastation in this bluish light, the air around this place was instead rather pure and refined.

On rare occasions there were places like this. In much the same way that there were accursed spots on which the Nobility had chosen to build many of their manors and fortresses, there were other places they would never dare approach—locations they could only ignore or gaze at in abhorrence. Tracing back through folklore, it became clear that these places housed the ruins of ancient religions. Apparently something had once existed in them that was diametrically opposed to the Nobility—something that had been held holy. We say “apparently” because almost all of them had been buried or destroyed by the Nobility, to the point where the number of places in the world with anything resembling such ruins could be counted on one hand. In their battle with the Nobility, it was these locations that the human race first thought to use, and the protective charms and icons they discovered there through their feverish excavations played such a vital role in getting a peace treaty with the Nobles that their true value could never be measured.

From the back of his mount, the leader pointed to a domed hut that appeared to be made of synthetic construction materials standing roughly in the center of the ruins. Its surface glistened a dull blue in the twilight.

“How will that do? It’s a ready-made unit we just hauled out here, but it should serve reasonably well.”

“You’re well prepared,” D said, letting a rare bit of admiration slip out as he advanced on his horse.

Leaving the masked men outside, D and Taki alone entered the hut. Inside, there was a smaller room for a caretaker furnished with a table, chair, and simple kitchen, while across from that was a cell ringed by steel bars. It could easily hold three people. There were no windows in the hut, for animate fog was among the pawns of the Nobility.

Laying Taki down on the caretaker’s bed, D put his left hand to the nape of her neck.

Stretching out a bit, Taki quickly opened her eyes. Even after her vacant gaze finally focused on D, it still took a while before it filled with unclouded will.

“D . . . That’s you, isn’t it, D?” Looking around at her surroundings, she added, “Where am I? And what about him?”

“I got you out of the manor. This is a hut for isolating victims.”

Taki’s expression instantly darkened.

“Then . . . I was . . . by a Noble.”

Reaching for the nape of her neck with one hand, she then stopped.

“You’ve received the kiss of the Nobility,” D said coolly. “But I’m going to dispose of the one responsible.”

“You—you’re going to save me?”

D nodded in reply to Taki’s desperately clinging tone. “Someone hired me for your sake. I have to honor that contract.”

“Who in the world would do that?”

“May.”

It was some time before Taki could open her mouth again.

“She did that . . . for me? But hiring you costs money, and—”

“Payment at a later date.”

As Taki stared up intently at D, a glistening something began to well up in her eyes.

“Help me, D—I beg of you!”

“I thought I told you I’d honor that contract.” Turning his gaze to the sky, D continued, “It’ll be the land of darkness soon. That’s when it all starts.”

His soft voice was underpinned by the strength of a warrior who’d slain each and every prince in the land.