CHAPTER 5

-

I

-

The warehouse’s shutter exploded at the same time D touched back down to the ground. He saw something that, for all the world, looked like a mass of wriggling tentacles. Though there had to be a body somewhere, nothing was visible save the forest of wriggling arms, and aside from the ones that supported its weight, they reached out in every direction, glittering in the sunlight like the most disturbing mechanical creature imaginable.

“Seems like folks in this here village were making more than just regular weapons. But what set it in motion—that dog?”

As if in answer to the hoarse voice’s query, a transparent bubble that appeared to be a cockpit rose from the center of the mass of tentacles. On seeing who sat in it, the Hunter’s left hand let out a gasp.

“It’s that preacher man!”

“What about the dog?” said D. Even with a machine of an indeterminate nature before him, the Hunter didn’t seem at all unnerved.

“It’s in the warehouse. Now, did that damn preacher find us and come out here on his own, or . . .”

Had the being that controlled the puppy’s brain possessed Curio inside the warehouse? It seemed extremely unlikely that Curio would use such a device of his own volition.

The tentacles streamed forward.

As he backed away, D took in his surroundings with ungodly speed. This was the square in front of the warehouse. It also doubled as a testing area. Easily covering more than seven thousand square feet, the square had inspection equipment and tools scattered about, and nearby stood a well.

D and the tentacled entity faced off in the center of the square.

“Is this his doing—or the dog’s?”

As if taking that murmured remark by the hoarse voice as a cue, the tentacles attacked. A naked blade mowed through them. The severed arms promptly regrew from the stumps. Apparently the engineers in this village had dreamed up a method for making metal regenerate.

“There’s no end to this,” D’s left hand muttered in a disgusted tone.

At that instant, the tentacles turned in the Hunter’s direction en masse. With the sound of compressed air being discharged, they flew by either side of D like spears. The Hunter cut down the ones that would’ve hit him.

For a split second, a gap opened in front of D where the tentacles should’ve been. Entering that space, D swung his left hand. Fresh tentacles flew at his body, three of which were sliced off while two more pierced his abdomen and the right side of his chest. As D dropped to one knee, the tentacles engulfed him, but their movements quickly grew chaotic and they began to move toward the right.

Within the cockpit, Curio was in his death throes. White needles jutted from his chest and throat. D’s aim had been true. But what kind of strength did it take to put mere wooden needles through bulletproof glass that was both heat and shock resistant, and also have them nail their target? What kind of precision did that require?

Using the sword he had stuck in the ground like a cane, D got up again. There wasn’t a hint of pain in his bloodless countenance.

Now that Curio had been slain, the tentacles would begin to run amok. If nothing were done, the device would probably get out of the village and cause endless slaughter and destruction. It had to be destroyed now.

D pulled out the tentacle that was in his chest. Bright blood struck the ground. Removing the one from his abdomen as well, the Hunter was taking his first step toward the mass of tentacles that was now a good thirty feet away when a voice called out, “WaIt!”

When D turned to look, a pitch-black globe was drawing closer without a sound, and then it came to a stop. From the top of it, Eris gazed at D’s handsome features.

“LeAvE tHiS tO mE,” Eris said softly. Her eyes were trained on the tentacles, but they soon returned to D. “I’m ThE WeApOn MaStEr. TaKiNg OuT wEaPoNs ThAt RuN aMoK iS mY jOb.”

The Hunter said nothing.

“NiCe MeEtInG yOu. I’lL nEvEr FoRgEt YoU. ThOsE aRe My TrUe FeElInGs, NoT jUsT mY eLeCtRoNiC bRaIn TaLkInG.”

Her voice had the same mechanical coldness as always, but it changed unexpectedly as she said, “Goodbye, D.”

Her hair fluttered. A faint fragrance mixed with the breeze, and then disappeared.

D watched as the sphere raced toward the tentacles. All of them changed direction in unison. They opened to meet Eris. It called to mind some carnivorous plant, bizarre and brutal. The sphere plowed into them without hesitation. And the tentacles closed around their delicious prey.

“Oh, no—jump for it!”

Before the hoarse voice had spoken, about six feet of darkness had formed in the center of the tentacles and sphere. It instantly spread, extending its domain to include the entire form of both machines.

“That’s a gizmo for creating a small black hole,” the hoarse voice said. “The woman had it planted inside herself somewhere. Seems that was her secret weapon.”

The darkness had consumed most of the sphere, but a pale visage remained above it. Eris was facing them. A second later, she was sucked into the hole in space.

“She was smiling, wasn’t she?” the hoarse voice said shortly after the darkness had swallowed Eris and vanished. “And her perfume—”

The voice halted there. D hadn’t stopped it. It held its own tongue.

The faint fragrance was something the girl had put on as she was preparing to meet her end. For whom had she worn it? Only D and the breeze had smelled it.

Saying nothing, D faced the spot where the darkness had disappeared. A portion of the ground had been carved out in a circle—the place where part of the darkness’s circumference had encroached on the earth. At the edge of it, there gaped a hole, square and black. It was lined with stones on all sides. That was what remained of the well, since the part above ground had been consumed. And it was filled to the brim with water.

“A well, eh? You know, I don’t follow this,” the hoarse voice said in a solemn tone.

They knew that Curio hadn’t appeared in the village alone. The water witch, Lucienne, was with him. And she could suddenly appear anywhere there was water. D hadn’t seen the final instant when Curio had disappeared. Had the preacher escaped?

In any case, there was no point in remaining in the village any longer. D spun around and started walking back down the road that had taken him there.

The wind blew. All it carried was the scent of sunlight and grass and trees. There wasn’t a whiff of the sweet fragrance that had graced the young woman’s skin.

-

Thirty minutes later, hundreds of tons of rock had been effortlessly blown away, and D and the two vehicles started on their way. Greed saw them off.

As he was leaving, D asked the man, “Won’t you come with us?”

Staring at him in surprise, Greed said, “You inviting someone along—now there’s something! It sure is an honor. But I’m gonna stay here. See, there are a few folks who were out of town, and they’ll be coming back. Somebody’s gotta explain what happened here to ’em. They might decide to rebuild the village from scratch, or if they move on to another area they’ll probably need some protection. Anyhow, seems like you took my vengeance for me. Thanks.”

“That was—” D started to say, and then he realized he didn’t know the girl’s name. “It was the Weapon Master’s doing.”

“What?”

Knitting his brow with a vacant expression, Greed didn’t even nod an acknowledgment as D got on his horse. The Hunter didn’t look back after that.

“So long!”

Up in the driver’s seat, Sue waved in response to Greed’s words. The covered wagon and the figure of beauty slowly began to advance. After watching them until they’d disappeared down the highway, Greed walked back toward town. The sunlight had finally begun to exhibit the composure of afternoon.

-

The next two days of their trip were more peaceful than D had expected.

His left hand remarked, “Things are going too well. It gives me the creeps.”

While D didn’t reply, he did at least don a thin smile.

On the other hand, Sue and Matthew were overjoyed—well, not exactly. Inside the count’s car, Sue’s condition had grown worse. It was clear that the weird atmosphere of the Noble’s vehicle had a negative influence on her feeble form. Fortunately, D had laid his left hand on her, and she’d quickly recovered. Still, her original frailty was unchanged, and she was forced to spend most of her time inside their wagon.

That was also the reason Matthew grew even darker and more ill tempered. Though their problems with their father had made things hard for them, under their mother the siblings had done a wonderful job of running the farm. And then along came these weird people with an old, old story—about how they would protect the three of them from something that was preordained five thousand years ago. Their journey up until now had proven that what they said was no lie. However, it seemed as if in exchange for getting the Hunter to look after him and Sue, their mother had died, and now Sue was wheezing and panting for breath. While Matthew knew it wasn’t D’s fault, his thoughts always came back to the same place: If only these guys had never come at all . . .

In the world that lay along that line of thinking, his mother was still fine, the farm was getting bigger, and Sue would be getting married in no time. Only it would be to a young guy far less attractive than Matthew, not to mention a good deal weaker and stupider. For a while, the two of them would leave the farm to enjoy married life, but the affection-starved Sue would come back to his mother and him. And the most important point in all of this: Sue’s husband would possess almost no manly drive, never once bedding her.

These thoughts were Matthew’s alone, and he could never speak of them to anyone. The harder they made his heart beat, the more dark anger he felt toward the trio he considered the source of their misfortunes, and now he’d begun festering inside. The decisive moment was when he’d noticed Sue admiring D. The count had been reduced to dust, and Duchess Miranda hadn’t returned after going into Galleon Valley with D. Now they had no one but D on whom to rely. However, Matthew’s perspective had become one of, “If only D weren’t here.” If he were to defend Sue on his own, surely she’d rethink her opinion of her brother and come to depend on him.

There was a very good reason why he could entertain such a startling misconception. As strange as it seemed, since the trip began, the siblings hadn’t seen even one of the deadly battles D and the others had fought against the assassins. And since the inhuman nature of this conflict hadn’t sunk in, the Dyalhis children didn’t have a real sense of how terrifying their foes were. When they were taken from Marthias and carried off to Galleon Valley, no harm had been done to them. All of this could contribute to believing that they’d somehow manage even if D wasn’t around. That was the conclusion Matthew reached when he decided to defend his sister alone. He was intoxicated by the thought of being more than just her big brother.

“We’ll reach the fortress in another hour,” D said to Matthew.

The boy made up his mind. Looking straight at the Hunter, he said, “Would it be a problem if we didn’t go there?”

“What do you mean by that?” D asked in return.

Matthew already realized the mistake he’d made. This had nothing to do with whether you were male or female. Such beauty! As Matthew gazed, his brain became trapped in a wondrous fog and his heart began to hammer wildly. He could feel the very blood flowing through his veins. But stronger than anything was the impact of the eerie aura gusting at him. It made Matthew’s blood freeze, yet his mind still melted into a daze from D’s good looks.

“It’s Sue—I wanna defend her. All by myself.”

It was a miracle he even managed to say that much.

“I have to protect the two of you,” D said. His tone was extremely soft. “That was the contract. Only the person who made it can nullify it. And she’s dead.”

The boy was speechless.

“But if that’s what you want to do, so be it.”

From the Hunter’s left hand there was a cry of “Hey!”—but D squeezed it into a fist and stared off to the west. Burning the edge of a barren, rocky mountain, the sun was about to set.

“It’ll be the Nobles’ time soon,” D said.

The remark wasn’t meant to threaten Matthew. He was merely stating a fact.

Matthew shuddered. Fear of the night ran through Frontier people to the very marrow of their bones.

“I’ll part company with you here. If you keep going straight, the fortress will come into view. You can turn back, camp out, or do whatever you like. I’ll be back for you at dawn tomorrow.” Giving a toss of his chin behind them, he continued, “I modified the car’s doors so they’ll follow your commands. I’ll leave it with you. Use it however you like.”

“We don’t want the damn thing. Take it with you.”

D was already in front of the covered wagon. The car silently followed behind.

“Oh, damn you!” Matthew shouted, pulling on the reins and halting the cyborg horses. He was rather desperate.

As D melted into the waves of the rapidly deepening twilight, the boy shouted at his back, “We’re never gonna have to count on you again. Don’t bother coming back tomorrow!”

His cries were promptly swallowed by the darkness.

-

II

-

“Things have taken a strange turn. Or should I say an intriguing turn?” a voice murmured from the air.

An invisible balloon with a light-bending coating floated a thousand feet above the ground—and in the gondola beneath it, the missionary Courbet was peering into a kind of periscope. Behind him were two of his compatriots—it was the preacher Curio and Callas the Diva.

Curio had survived. When Eris’s deadly device created a small black hole, the preacher had narrowly managed to bring the tentacled tank to the well. Lucienne was concealed there, and she had aided him in his escape. However, his wounds were dire, and he lay in a bed to one side of the gondola. His throat and chest had been pierced by two of D’s needles, but the strength of the bulletproof glass had prevented them from finishing him off.

Not even looking at him, Courbet said, “It would appear that the Dyalhis siblings have been abandoned by D. Or perhaps I should say they abandoned him? Well, it doesn’t matter which it is. At any rate, I was worried that we were going to have a problem if they holed up in the fortress, but now a perfect opportunity has presented itself.”

Courbet gave a low snort. His eyes burned with malice. He still remembered the blow he’d taken from D in the village of Marthias. Now he was hell bent for vengeance.

“They come all this way only to part company with D?” Callas said, her eyes seemingly filled with dreams as she gazed into thin air. “Not even they could be that stupid. This is some kind of trap to draw us out, right?”

“It might be. But if it were me who was an hour away from taking refuge in the fortress, I’d find that a hundred times safer than setting some weird little trap. My take on it is that they had a fight and went their separate ways.”

“So, what now?”

“Our job is to dispose of the siblings. Lucienne is on the ground and has probably already captured them by now. Callas, you’ll accompany me to the surface.”

“Three of us to deal with two children? Isn’t that overkill?”

“Lucienne will dispose of the children. Our job is to provide a little insurance.”

“How so?”

“By going after D and slaying him.”

For a second, the impact of this darkened Callas’s lovely features, but the unholy diva soon shook it off, saying, “With pleasure. I’ll most definitely accompany you.”

She gave him an elegant nod. Then, she shot a quick glance over at Curio.

“Leave him be,” Courbet said curtly. Not a hint of his former reverence toward the preacher remained. “Now he’s worthless. He’s just waiting to die; there’s no point in relying on him. We’ll head D off.”

Thirty minutes later, the two of them entered the escape hatch and closed the door. When the sound of the door locking rang out, Curio opened his eyes. A golden glow filled his sockets, the light swallowing his eyeballs. Getting to his feet, he looked all around as if he couldn’t decide what to do.

-

The very existence of the central Frontier had been forgotten, and D silently advanced on his horse through a desolate landscape where the wind seemed to dine on death, and it alone was on the prowl for a meal. On either side of the road stretched dull red plains and rocky crags, and occasionally on the crest of a hill or at the foot of a mountain the apparent remains of ancient structures could be found. Lost travelers would ask where they were, and on learning this was the central Frontier, they would invariably cock their head to one side and ask if there was any such place.

It was said that the central Frontier had been wiped from human memory due to its land being nibbled away on all sides by the northern, southern, eastern, and western sectors. Topographically speaking, that was correct, but people liked another story better. They said that brutal battles had been fought here specifically to expunge the place from the memories of every living being. Over the millennia, this attempt had proved successful. Now, no one but those called elders knew of the central Frontier’s existence.

Twilight had given way to a darkness that grew even thicker and heavier, as if to mire those who traveled through it. After D walked another ten paces or so, a bizarre event occurred. To either side of the road, where not so much as a single blade of grass grew, there were suddenly tiny, but brilliant, points of light. They were the flames of candles set in bronze dishes, and the rows of lights burning to either side of D were held up in the air by white marble pedestals. When the dozens, nay, hundreds of candles to either side of it appeared, the highway had started giving off a hard ring—the hooves of the cyborg steed were clomping against a marble road. And up ahead in the distance—in what had been a barren wasteland—there suddenly appeared the colossal shape of what was apparently a building.

-

“Is that the fortress?” a low voice asked. It was far closer to the building than D, in a thick forest that hadn’t been there previously. The marble road ran through it.

“When was this place built? What was the purpose of this fortress?”

The first voice belonged to Courbet, while the second was that of Callas. Both of them were concealed behind a colossal tree of a variety they didn’t recognize. Judging from its trunk, it seemed to have been there since ancient times.

“It’s said that, fearing the wrath of Grand Duke Valcua, those three Nobles constructed it.”

“What a foolish thing to do. Our lord Valcua could blow something like that away with a single breath.”

It was rare for this lovely woman to compliment anyone, even if it was Valcua in this case. Surprise showed in Courbet’s eyes as he stared at Callas, saying, “I wouldn’t necessarily say that. The fortress incorporates the Sacred Ancestor’s technology.”

“Dear me!”

Though the science of the Nobility had peaked five millennia earlier, there was another type of super-advanced technology, the Sacred Ancestor’s technology, which used physical laws not even the Nobility could comprehend. No one save the Sacred Ancestor understood the fundamental principles, but he permitted the Nobility, who generally understood how to use it, to incorporate his technology.

“But the Sacred Ancestor’s technology was sealed away at one point, and everything that made use of it was destroyed.”

Callas gave Courbet a pointed look. The missionary averted his gaze. For an instant the murderous malice that choked his brain was gone, transformed into something that was difficult to believe: grief.

“It’s believed that was when the decline of the Nobility, as a race, began. Among the Nobles, many felt with the Sacred Ancestor’s technology they might’ve staved off that decline for another ten thousand years, and they suspected that perhaps the Sacred Ancestor was trying to hasten the Nobility’s deterioration.”

“And what did the Sacred Ancestor do?” Callas asked intently. While they served a Noble and possessed incredible abilities, Courbet and Callas were not Nobles themselves, and they were not completely familiar with Nobility history.

“Not a blessed thing. He’s not the sort of little man who needs to respond to every complaint. Also, there was no one to confront him directly. But as for what I think—hmm, I’d have to say the Sacred Ancestor chose destruction.”

“And you mean to tell me our lord Valcua did nothing?”

“That’s the problem!” Courbet said, his expression displaying his confusion. “When the Sacred Ancestor’s technology was locked away, the great Valcua was still hale and hearty here on Earth. He should have been foremost among the protesters. Word has it you could count on both hands the number of Nobles who complained to the Sacred Ancestor . . . and it’s said that our lord Valcua actually went to the Capital for an audience with the Sacred Ancestor.”

Callas’s lovely features were filled with more interest and curiosity than ever before.

“And?” she asked in a parched voice.

“And nothing. Less than an hour after they met, Valcua left the Sacred Ancestor’s manse, returning to the Frontier that same day. To this very day, no one knows what they discussed. But I’ve heard that our lord Valcua—who was already terribly cruel to begin with—then went truly mad.”

“Would that be around the time he had the fetuses ripped from the bellies of every pregnant woman on the Frontier and then torn to pieces? Ah, that is so like him,” the diva said with a light, seductive laugh.

Courbet stared at her with a faintly disturbed expression, saying, “That fortress makes use of the Sacred Ancestor’s technology. It’s said to be the only use the Sacred Ancestor had no complaint about. Valcua himself says so.”

“Now that you mention it—we were wiped out before this fortress was built, weren’t we? Wiped out by Valcua’s own hand.”

Actually, the fortress had been constructed after the tragedy with Valcua had played out, as the whole purpose of the fortress was to guard against his vengeance should he come back. That point seemed to utterly elude the minds of the pair.

“At any rate, it won’t do to have them get inside the fortress. Fortunately, D and the children have parted company. This is the perfect opportunity to accomplish our goal!” Looking back in the darkness at the fine, pale beauty of the diva, Courbet told her, “D will be coming soon. Give him a song.”

He brought his hands up to his ears and put in earplugs.

Nodding, Callas opened her mouth without any hesitation. What came out was like a breeze that carried both the melody and the words. From the way her song behaved, it might’ve been more accurate to call it a fog, for it traveled through the entire forest, permeating the place. In no time, she shut her mouth and touched Courbet on the shoulder.

“Good enough,” Courbet said with a nod, pulling a lumpy object from a pocket on his robe and setting it on the ground. “I’ve already told you what to do, right? Get going.”

Bowing its little head, it dashed off down the highway with a speed that startled even Callas. It looked like a little human, complete with arms and legs.

-

III

-

D halted his steed.

Fifteen feet or so ahead on the marble road, a kind of midget ran out of the forest on the left-hand side and stopped right in the middle of the road. Less than eight inches tall, he was dressed in a long robe and trousers, and on his head he wore a brimless, boxlike hat.

“You’re D, aren’t you?” the midget said in an ear-piercingly shrill voice as he looked up at the Hunter. “I’m the missionary Courbet. We met once in the village of Marthias. Do you remember me?”

“Where’s the real one?” D asked the midget—the fake Courbet.

“Don’t talk nonsense. I am Courbet,” the midget shouted, his already narrow eyes rising menacingly. “And I’ve come here to slay you. You’d best prepare to meet your maker.”

The Hunter said nothing.

“Forget going to the fortress and fight me here. I’ll crush the life from you now.”

As he said this, he staggered and let out a groan. A stark needle had pierced him between the eyes, poking out through the scruff of his neck. But given his size, it seemed more like a thick stake.

Without a backward glance at the midget, who’d fallen so easily, D turned his gaze toward the forest on the other side of the road, where the figure had emerged. It was a look that could shake even stone.

There was a flash of light at his back. He’d drawn his sword. He remained just like that, motionless. His blade hung in the air.

From behind a tree, Courbet and Callas continued staring at the gorgeous young man. Courbet was shaken. In the village of Marthias, he’d taken a blow from D’s sword. The pain of that, however, was child’s play compared to the ghastliness of the unearthly aura that radiated in their direction from the young man. Courbet had been through hell more than once slaying many of Valcua’s foes, including Nobles, but now he was so scared he was about to faint. Although he’d escaped by a hair’s breadth—his power working its magic to manipulate a small hot-air balloon up in the air with great difficulty as he fled—the pain and high fever that had him screaming that night in a disgraceful fashion were due more than anything to his nightmares of a gorgeous young man staring him down with sword in hand. And now the Hunter turned that same gaze in his direction. The unearthly aura that radiated from every inch of the young man passed through a tree trunk so large it would take two men to get their arms around it. Courbet’s blood froze, leaving the missionary utterly paralyzed.

“He’s so . . . so fearsome,” Callas said, and on the inside Courbet was violently nodding his agreement.

They heard birds chirping—not just one or two. There were hundreds or perhaps even thousands of them, all crying out in unison. All the sleeping birds had been awakened by D’s unearthly aura. The trees rocked as if blown by a storm, and there was a terrific beating of wings as countless forms took to the air. Courbet and Callas could only look up awestruck, as the night sky became the stage for an enormous flock of wildfowl.

“A beautiful . . . monster,” Callas moaned as if approaching climax.

Just then, a keen sensation split the night air. The birds fell noisily from the sky. At the peak of their maddened dance, they’d all been rendered unconscious with a word from D. Simultaneously, the pair in the forest let out cries of terror from the very depths of their hearts—hardly appropriate for two assassins.

D leaped from his steed’s back.

“Run for it, Callas!” Courbet shouted, and he was about to run himself when above him there came one, two, three deadly bounds—and D crashed down through the tree branches with his sword held high before bringing the blade whizzing down into the missionary’s head. Or so it appeared for a second, but the blade changed direction and severed the black band that had wrapped around D’s chest. A vine. The vines clinging to the trunks of the stand of trees had wrapped around D’s sword to stay his hand.

Watching Courbet and Callas flee, D swung his sword once again. All the vines were cut in two, and D went after the pair of assassins. But vines coiled around his waist and shoulders like serpents.

“Leave ’em to me,” his left hand said.

Several of the vines restricting his right arm were seized in his left hand, instantly bursting into flame. Once more D’s sword flashed out, slicing away the rest of the vines, and he advanced.

A succession of explosions rang out. Fire welled up by the roots of the trees surrounding D. It was the work of explosives set by Courbet and Callas.

To escape the tree falling toward his head, D kicked off the ground in a leap. Still hearing its rumbling thud as he touched back down, D was engulfed by black shadows closing on the ground. This time there were three of them. If D hadn’t slipped between the tree trunks with a kind of agility unthinkable even for a Noble, he would’ve been smashed flat.

The trees’ accuracy in falling toward D was caused by something other than the force of the explosions: they had been commanded to aim at him.

Still slipping between the trees, D heard a faint song.

“She said her name was Callas, didn’t she?” his left hand murmured with interest. “At this rate, those kids will be in danger, too.”

-

To be honest, Matthew was bewildered to find himself in the forest that had suddenly sprung up around the highway. He’d parted ways with D half out of spite. But after entering the wasteland where he intended to camp, the world had undergone a transformation in less than thirty minutes.

“What’s going on, Matt?” Sue asked after leaving the wagon, unable to conceal her fear at the change in their environment.

Both of them were down on the ground now. Matthew was just lighting the chemical fuel.

“I don’t know. That jerk D’s probably pulling something.”

“Don’t blame this on him!” Sue shouted, making Matthew stare at her. “I can’t believe you got rid of D while I was asleep. What on earth were you thinking?”

“Don’t get all hot under the collar. I told you not to worry. I’ll keep you safe for sure.”

“And how are you supposed to do that all alone, Matt? That great big count and Ms. Miranda were both taken out! The people after us are that tough; what good will you be against them? You’ve gotta wake up and face the facts!”

Matthew found Sue’s shouts to be terrifyingly logical. There was no point in arguing it. At a time like this, his only resort was to adopt an illogical approach.

“Is that any way to talk to me, you little idiot? In all these years, have I ever once failed to keep you safe? That time in town when ten punks were giving you trouble, or when the two-headed dog attacked the farm, I always protected you. Show a little gratitude! Have some faith in me!”

“This time it’s different, Matt!” Sue exclaimed, her body shaking. “The person after us is a Greater Noble who’s come back after five thousand years. Face the facts. For starters, Matt, for someone who talks as big as you do, you couldn’t even save Mom, could you?”

“Shut up!”

Sue saw her brother’s hand swing suddenly. There was a dull impact on her left cheek that left her senses reeling. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground. Her back felt cold.

Matthew’s face was right in front of her. His expression made him look like a completely different person. It chilled her all over.

“Matthew—get off of me! You’re so heavy.”

Though she sensed something bad was about to happen, she tried to hide it behind a smile. She moved her hand to try and push him away, but he pinned her wrists against the ground.

“I’m gonna protect you,” he said. The voice that came out of her brother’s mouth was the same as always.

“Okay. I get it already! You can get off me now. You weigh a ton, you know. A ton!”

Suddenly her lips were sealed. Her whole body trembled. More than from fear, she shook with horror. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Matthew . . .”

Struggling wildly, she shouted at him to stop. Her left hand came free—but as soon as she lifted it, her left breast was squeezed.

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Have you lost your mind?”

With her free hand she grabbed Matthew’s hair and jerked it to one side. At the same time, she twisted her body. Stunned, Matthew toppled over.

Getting up, Sue ran to the road. Someone might pass by. Most importantly, that was the road D was taking.

“Sue, wait! Sue!” a voice that resembled that of her older brother called out. But it wasn’t her brother. It was another being entirely.

Between the trees she could see the marble road. Wiping her sweat off, Sue put her strength into her legs.

Suddenly, an upside-down female face appeared before her.

Her scream caught in her throat. She was positive the woman had appeared from her own forehead.

Executing an easy flip, the woman who landed in front of Sue didn’t have a face the girl recognized.

“Who . . . who are you?” the girl asked, tongue tied. Although she didn’t know the woman’s name, she knew what she was.

“I am Lucienne,” the lovely woman with one eye said. The white dress she wore displayed every line of her body. It was soaked with water. No, actually it was—

“Your sweat!” Lucienne said, spreading her arms. “Water is my world, my path, my gateway. As long as there’s water around, you can never escape me.”

Smirking and laughing disturbingly, she said, “Welcome to my world!”

Her pale hand reached out and grabbed Sue’s right wrist. It felt just like water.

The girl tried to jump away, but her legs wouldn’t move.

“Oh, doesn’t that feel good?” Lucienne said, and as she spoke she dissolved.

She transformed into a mass of water in human form. Starting with Sue’s wrist, the mass enveloped her entire body. Though Sue struggled desperately to break through the liquid membrane, her fingers merely sank into it, vainly clawing at the fluid. She gasped for breath. And inhaled. Water flowed in through her mouth and nostrils. She coughed. And as she did so, more water entered. Sue was fated to drown right there, on the ground. Suddenly, there was darkness before her eyes.

Help me! She intended to say the words aloud, but she couldn’t speak. Save me, Mom . . . D . . .

Unexpectedly, the water in her stomach and lungs reversed direction. As she heard the feverish hiss of steam, Sue fell backward. But powerful arms caught her.

“Matt?” she cried out before coughing. Water vapor stroked Sue’s face.

In his right hand, Matthew gripped a burning log from their campfire. The instant he’d seen that watery membrane engulfing Sue, he’d figured out exactly what was happening and shoved the fire into the liquid—into Lucienne’s body!

The water pulled away from Sue and spread over the ground, swiftly taking on the form of Lucienne. Steam rose from her back.

“I wanted to take care of you separately,” Lucienne said, letting her expression fade before her lips twisted into a fresh smirk. “But I shall kill the two of you together now. A crude flame like that won’t work against me again.”

“Shut up, you freak!” Matthew yelled, taking a step forward and thrusting his torch out before him.

Lucienne’s right hand seized the blazing tip. There was a fierce explosion of steam, and the fire was extinguished.

Lucienne raised her right hand. It didn’t have any fingers—undoubtedly they’d been reduced to the water vapor that drifted around. Lucienne then waved the same hand. Once again she had her fingers.

Matthew stood in front of Sue, shielding her. Sweat ran down his face.

“Such a lovely face,” the water witch said, breaking into a grin.

-

LAMOA FORTRESS