CHAPTER 2

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I

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Afaint murkiness was still swirling through the early morn when a well-defined man with a fair complexion paid a call on Su-In’s house.

The day started early in Frontier villages. There were boats to be scrubbed, fish to be dried, and water to be boiled for extracting iodine from the seaweed.

Wearing a cold weather coat over her pajamas, Su-In was out in the front yard doing her daily calisthenics, and her ears were greeted by the lively sounds of her neighbors going about their normal business. The clucking of chickens mixed with the pounding of hammers on boats that’d been pulled up into people’s yards for repairs. Long gone were both the sadness and drunkenness of the night before. As her thoughts turned to the day’s business and she grew serious, Su-In then heard another noise—a sad sound that seemed to knife through the waves. By the time the woman realized it was someone whistling, her eyes had already caught the young man in a cape who was coming through the gate onto her property.

“Excuse me . . . ,” she started to say in a voice that was a mix of both familiarity and refusal, because she realized that this unforeseen visitor was the same swordsman from the ferry, and because on that previous occasion he’d seemed like another person—so eager for blood it had left her spine numb.

“Long time no see,” Glen, the “seeker of knowledge,” said in greeting from a distance of some fifteen feet. His tone was polite, and it came from a face that seemed as cold as the silver ceremonial masks they used in the Capital. “I take it you know what I’m here for,” he continued. “Fetch him.”

“And what would your business be again?” Su-In asked, all familiarity now gone from her voice.

“It’s not with you. Is D in the barn?”

“He’s still sleeping.”

“Then you’d better go wake him.” But no sooner had Glen spoken than his body spun around in a wide arc.

Next to the main house that rose behind Su-In, there stood a gorgeous figure. The scabbard he’d carried the night before was strapped to his back again. Motioning to Su-In to step back with one hand, D walked toward Glen with a calm gait. The Hunter stood there as if to shield Su-In. Ten feet lay between him and Glen—each of them would have to take a step closer to bring the other within reach of their blade.

“I love it,” Glen moaned, sounding nearly moved to tears. The truth was, the depths of his soul were shaken by a sensation that was almost sexual. “You’re ready to fight without even asking why . . . Just what I’d expect from the only man who ever scared me. That should speed up the proceedings.”

His voice reached Su-In’s ears as well. And she understood what he was talking about, but she still couldn’t believe it. This man who challenged D was like a solid mass of violent intent given human form, and the Hunter came out to face him without even asking why—just what sort of people were they?

“Stop it!” Su-In shouted. Or at least she tried to—the words never did come out. The seafaring woman was completely paralyzed by Glen’s bloodlust and the eerie aura that was now emanating from every inch of D. She thought if she got in their way, she’d be cut down. Maybe even by D. What stood before her now was a completely different creature from the man she knew.

“I bear you no ill will. You know why we’re fighting, don’t you?”

D didn’t reply to Glen’s query. As if he’d foreseen all of this, his eyes were barren of every possible emotion, but they were still dark and crystal clear.

“Just let me make one thing clear,” Glen said coolly. “I’m not connected in any way to all those freaks that have been creeping around you. I’m here of my own free will.”

Finally D’s mouth moved as he said, “I know.”

A faint smile skimmed across Glen’s lips. As innocent as that of a child, it didn’t seem likely it would grace this man’s face at any time except the final seconds before a life-or-death gamble.

A tiny shadow slid across the faces of both men. It was cast by a bird in the sky. To Su-In, it felt like the sunlight had frozen—the sound of the waves solidified in midair.

Now. Although the next moves that took place came as no more than a blurry interplay of light and shadow to Su-In’s eyes, someone with the appropriate level of skill might’ve seen it as follows. Glen made the first move. Though the blade that raced from the scabbard on his left hip set off a silvery rainbow in the morning sun as it made for D’s waist, the arc of the sword that came off D’s back just a fraction of a second later met the other weapon in midair, scattering gemlike sparks before both men shifted positions. Glen went to the right, D to the left. That much even Su-In saw.

“You’re good,” Glen said ecstatically as he and D both moved around in a nearly perfect circle. “But I’m just getting started.”

There was no telling if D saw his opponent purse his lips slightly. A melody that, under other circumstances, would’ve won the heart of even the most cantankerous of musicians flowed out into the crisp morning air.

Glen’s blade was held out straight, flat, and at eye level. The tip of it rose to the highest position. And, as if following his foe’s invitation, D’s longsword also rose over the Hunter’s head.

“It’s got sort of an odd name for a sword technique, but I’ve come to like it. It’s called Lorelei,” Glen said with iron confidence underlying every word, apparently quite certain that D had fallen under his spell.

It was said that long ago in a river in some ancient land Lorelei was a nixie who used her seductive song to lure countless sailors to where their ships would break on the rocks and she could drag them down to the watery depths. Though a whistle wasn’t exactly a song, considering the astounding results it produced, it was entirely fitting that this unearthly technique had been given her name.

Those who heard the “Lorelei” whistle from Glen and saw his blade would be hypnotized in the blink of an eye, and like a child obediently following a parent or a disciple imitating the master’s lead, they would perform exactly the same actions. Although the real point was, they always performed the movements just a little bit later than he did. A split second before the blade his opponent brought down with exquisite timing and every ounce of his foe’s strength could make contact with Glen, the seeker of knowledge’s steel would slice deep into the exact same spot on the opposing swordsman.

The reason Glen had been able to close in on Toto without the thief realizing it, and the way the two thugs that were puppets had imitated Glen’s pose a heartbeat before he cut them down on the deck of the ferry—it all made sense. And now even the Vampire Hunter D was held captive by that nightmarish power.

“You scared me—worse yet, you’re even better-looking than I am. That’s unforgivable!” the swordsman cried, but the whine of his blade soon effaced his voice.

Although to Su-In’s eyes it appeared as if both blades had exactly the same velocity as they fell with the force of a waterfall, there was a cry of astonishment, and then bright blood gushed from the left side of D’s neck.

However, Su-In’s turbulent gaze was turned toward Glen. With the deadly Lorelei technique on his side, the seeker of knowledge should’ve sliced through his sworn foe’s neck a second earlier, but the young swordsman had one hand pressed to his right shoulder, and redness dripped from between his fingers.

It was incredible how much a person’s face could change.

With an expression that would freeze the blood in most people’s veins, Glen howled malevolently, “You son of a bitch!” The outburst was directed at someone behind Su-In.

As the woman turned to look despite herself, her eye caught a shadowy figure circling around behind the house.

“I’m beaten,” Glen said to D, once again taking a stance with his blade flat at eye level. “I came here before they could get to you, but it looks like they must’ve gotten here first anyway. I’ll be back.”

“I don’t mind,” D replied, his left side already soaked in vermilion but his sword held ready over his right shoulder.

As Glen realized that his opponent wasn’t necessarily agreeing to quit, fear raced into his expression for the first time. The whole point of the Lorelei technique was to cut into his foe a split second before the opponent could strike. A split second. If for any reason his timing was thrown off by even a fraction, he could wind up on the receiving end of the very same stroke from his opponent. With basically no time to spare, the attack literally involved the swordsman risking his own life. But that was precisely why it’d been worthwhile for this fearless seeker of knowledge to sweat blood to master this technique.

But just now, his technique had failed. Even hampered by the Lorelei spell, D had sliced into Glen’s shoulder a split second faster than he could do the same to the Hunter. The only reason Glen had even been able to finish his attack was because the blow from D had been incredibly light and dull. Both of them were badly wounded—Glen knew he should pull out now. He thought D would want out as well. He hadn’t yet realized the true nature of the gorgeous demon he faced. He didn’t even have enough presence of mind to whistle again.

D was about to take a step forward, but brought his foot back down to crush the grass on the lawn as he halted. The sound of youthful voices and footfalls had risen from the road below. They were calling out for their teacher.

As the Hunter’s ghastly aura wavered for the briefest instant, Glen leapt back a good six feet. Being just as seriously wounded as D was, he displayed an incredible constitution.

“I suppose I should thank these children. But let me make it clear I had nothing to do with the interloper who just interfered with our duel. And if I find him, I’ll slice him to ribbons,” Glen said, but he threw a hateful glance at the tiny figures coming in through the gate as he walked away impassively.

After the swordsman passed the children—who were rooted by the sight of him covered with blood—and was heading down the hill, Su-In finally spread her arms wide and called out, “Come here, kids!”

D was already circling around to the back of the main house. He intended to go after the mysterious intruder—his lowered blade was still in his right hand. The children couldn’t see it. But perhaps if Su-In had concentrated on the weapon enough, she would’ve noticed the thin coating of semitransparent goo that clung to his sword from the tip to halfway down the blade. It was thanks to this substance that the shadowy figure had hurled at the last second that the Hunter’s blow hadn’t killed Glen instantly. Even D couldn’t stop his sword a fraction of an inch from the target when he had his entire being focused on swinging it. And the fact that the substance could still be applied in that brief span showed ungodly skill on the part of the intruder.

The laughter of children streamed out into the sunlight. These little ones were fitting inhabitants for the world of light.

Once the children had left, Su-In went into the barn with one of the first-aid kits distributed by the village. D was seated on his saddle, holding some gauze to the wound on his neck. As his clothes were all black, the blood didn’t stand out anywhere except where it stained his pale skin.

“How’s your wound?” Su-In asked, her voice a bit high-pitched. Pushing aside a pile of life preservers, she knelt by D’s side. Since the way D had walked off had been so composed, she hadn’t thought his wound was very grave, but in the end it did bother her a bit. Listening absentmindedly to the children and answering them vacantly, she’d then told them what’d happened was simply a slight scuffle between friends and sent them on their way.

“It’s nothing serious,” came the soft reply.

“Good,” Su-In said, her shoulders falling with relief. It was only a second later that she realized the hoarse tone had been somewhat like D’s voice, but not exactly, and her eyes bulged.

“My throat must be acting up, too,” D said.

The woman was also startled that he’d bother to explain. Perhaps because of her surprise she didn’t think it particularly strange when he lowered the left hand he had held over his chest. She didn’t even notice how dirt rather than fresh blood seemed ready to spill out from between his fingers.

“Let me have a look at it,” said Su-In. “I’ll patch you up.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I know a lot more about wounds than you do. Except my specialty is more in dishing them out,” Su-In said somewhat coercively. With that, she pulled away D’s gauze and blinked.

All that remained on the firm and fearfully pale flesh of his neck was a faint line where the wound had been.

“That’s unbelievable!”

“Did the children notice anything?” asked D. He was referring to the bright blood that’d stained the garden.

“Yeah. But I think I got them to believe me. I suppose since you and he were both so calm, the kids didn’t know what to make of it.”

“I suppose you should make a change of address after all,” the Hunter suggested.

Su-In nodded. She’d certainly be a perfect target if she stayed there. Even with D around, there was bound to be an opening at some point. Her confidence from the night before had burned away like a fog in light of the ghastly battle she’d just witnessed. Worse yet, even D himself hadn’t been able to find the person who’d thrown the gooey mass. But it was clear that freakish foes were close at hand.

“The enemy knows I have the bead. If they take you hostage, they’ll be able to get what they want.”

“I know. I’m not gonna make a stink about it. I should probably pass on school today, too.”

D’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“That’s why the kids were here. Didn’t I tell you? Today they’re having the opening ceremony for the school. The whole village will be there, from the mayor to the sheriff. You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but I’m sort of the guest of honor.”

“When does it start?” asked the Hunter.

“In thirty minutes.”

“Then we can relocate you after the ceremony.”

Su-In broke into a grin. Though her childlike smile resembled Glen’s, the circumstances were completely different. That alone proved she was an honorable person. “Great!” she exclaimed. “Say, will you go with me?”

“I’ll see you as far as the schoolhouse.”

“There might be some strange characters inside,” Su-In said, her smile growing broader. She’d seen how perplexed the remark left D.

A Vampire Hunter and a schoolhouse—there couldn’t be any greater mismatch.

“I’m just kidding,” she added. “Outside will be fine. There’ll be a party, too.”

There was a burst of hoarse laughter that was choked out with a cry.

With an expression that beggared description on her face, Su-In stared down by D’s hip. His left hand was balled tightly. He must’ve been putting incredible force into it, because his knuckles were white and bulging.

“You seem to have a habit of talking in odd voices.”

The Hunter said nothing.

“Do you have any ringing in your ears, or do you feel faint?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me the truth, now,” Su-In said soberly.

“I never lie,” a hoarse voice replied.

“If it’s hard being on your own, I can come talk to you at night.”

“There’s no need for that.”

With his fist still balled tightly, D stood up. “You’d better get ready,” he said. “I’m going to go get rid of the smell of this blood.”

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II

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Their wagon arrived at the school grounds five minutes before the starting time. The smell of fresh white paint filled Su-In’s nose, and her cheeks took a rosy hue. The roof, the columns, the windowpanes—every part of the building glistened in the morning sun. Set in the door of the small schoolhouse was a perfectly round emblem with a fish motif, while the simply carved letters read Florence Elementary School. Less than seven hundred square feet, the single-story schoolhouse was merely the start of something bigger.

Blinking time and again and firming her lips in a straight bar, Su-In stepped down from the wagon. Standing by the door up till this point, the mayor, sheriff, and smiling children all started toward her now.

With only one foot resting on the ground, Su-In took a deep breath. “That’s strange” she remarked. “All the way here, I’ve smelt flowers. Even though it’s winter.”

“It’s me,” a hoarse voice said.

Su-In turned around, moved by sheer amazement.

Looking up at the sky and keeping his left hand clenched again for some reason, D replied morosely, “I used too much tincture on the bloodstains.”

Gazing at his graceful profile absentmindedly for a short while, Su-In then finished getting out of the wagon. Even once she was down on the ground, she remained in a daze. There was a ring of people around her in no time.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the mayor said almost unintelligibly, his back permanently hunched under his morning coat. “This is the first school we’ve had in the village. We couldn’t very well start without our most distinguished guest.”

“I’m sorry. Now, what do I—”

Patting Su-In on the shoulder, the sheriff winked at her and said, “Not to worry. You only have to give a short address today. The kids are waiting inside. Right after you say your bit, the party starts. Granted, there’s nothing stronger than soft drinks.”

There was a chorus of “Teacher! Teacher!” and Su-In looked over at D as she was whisked into the schoolhouse.

Parking the vehicle to one side of the garden, D climbed down. The sunlight that leaked through the trees cast a faint shadow for him, and D began slowly walking around the garden.

After about ten minutes, a burst of applause echoed from the schoolhouse windows. Su-In’s opening remarks had finished. At almost the same instant, the door opened.

“Stud, what are you doing skulking around out here?” someone asked the Hunter. It was Dwight. His morning coat was stretched to the bursting point in a desperate battle to contain his powerful body. Seeming a bit self-conscious about it, he tugged at his cuffs. “You’ll freeze if you stay out here. Come on. Su-In will be safer with you inside, too.”

“Indeed,” said Ban’gyoh, his face suddenly appearing over the fisherman’s shoulder. He was supposed to have headed off to another village right after the funeral was finished. “Being the only priest in town at the moment, this humble servant found himself invited to the festivities. If they have no qualms about a shabby holy man like me attending, I see no reason why they couldn’t use someone working for Su-In. You should go see your employer in all her glory.”

“Come on,” Dwight said with a smile. “No one’s gonna have a problem with anyone who can take out a pair of giant killer whales with one shot. Hell, we’ll be glad to have you!”

Stopping for just a second, the tall and handsome form of the Hunter then quickly headed toward the door. The other two flanked him. The white floor creaked under his black boots.

Seeming somewhat awkward, Dwight nevertheless had his chest puffed out as he said, “This was all volunteer labor, you know. That part there was done by O’Reilly the grocer, as I recall. Just to let you in on a little secret—the boards have the names of the guys who put them up written on them. My name’s on some of them, too.”

“Oh, where are they?” asked Ban’gyoh.

“The bathroom floor,” Dwight answered with a wry smile, but then he indicated the little door on the left. The classroom. The one on the right was the office and staff room. He already had a big grin on his face again.

Saying nothing, D walked over to the door and turned the knob. The door creaked louder than the floor had.

“You’re an odd one,” said a voice that only D heard as it came from the vicinity of the doorknob. “You could’ve crossed the floor and opened the door without making a sound. What’s the story—you like to do things like ordinary folks every once in a while?”

D pushed the door open without saying a word. A fair number of little eyes concentrated on him from the orderly rows of desks and chairs, but they soon turned forward again.

There were fewer than twenty desks, and five of those were empty. Nonetheless, the mayor and parents were all along the walls and stuck between desks laden with large plates of sandwiches and snacks. Behind the adults, blue sky and the grove of trees could be seen through the windows.

Not seeming to mind the indescribable looks the parents gave him, D stood at the very rear of the classroom with his back to the wall. Dwight and Ban’gyoh came over to him.

Su-In was just stepping down from the lectern. In her place, the mayor stood before the group and declared, “Let the party begin!”

With that, the rigid atmosphere disappeared and people began to mingle. The desks were pushed together, and plates of food were passed around.

Su-In came over to D and said, “I’m so glad you came. I was going to go get you. But I thought you wouldn’t go for the idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” said the fisherman.

“Thank you, Dwight.”

As Su-In stared at him, this man of the sea bashfully returned her bow.

Poking his head out from behind the giant fisherman, Ban’gyoh pointed imploringly at his own grave face.

Su-In laughed despite herself. He certainly was an odd priest. “Thank you, too,” she told him. The holy man gave a satisfied nod in return.

“All they’ve got is juice, but let’s have a drink,” Dwight said when he came back with a bottle. Not carrying a single glass, he proffered the whole bottle. And D accepted it.

“The grownups will get tired of this pretty quick. Let’s go somewhere and get ourselves a real drink,” the fisherman suggested. “You wouldn’t have a problem with that, would you, Su-In?”

“I’m afraid we can’t.”

“Why not?” Dwight asked irritably, his gaze fixed on D. “Oh, I see. Well, you might be handsome enough to make folks weak in the knees, but you don’t seem too hospitable. Certainly don’t seem cut out to be a teacher.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the smirking Ban’gyoh countered. “He’s quite an extraordinary man. As you saw, it’s not like he has any particular dislike for children, nor do they have any for him. To the contrary—he’s probably just the kind of man children would respond to. Because their eyes only see what truly matters.”

“Just between you and me, why don’t you stay here and get yourself a boat?” Dwight said to the Hunter without preamble, making Su-In’s eyes go wide. That was exactly the same thing she’d been ready to propose to D the night before.

D was expressionless, almost as if he hadn’t heard the remark at all.

“With your skill, you’d be the top fisherman in the village in no time. Hell, there ain’t anyone that good in any of the villages around here. I swear, you’d be the best harpooner on the Frontier inside of six months. What do you say?”

Dwight’s invitation didn’t carry a speck of empty praise or social obligation. He was genuinely intent on getting D to join him and his friends. His ardor seemed to be sufficient, as even Su-In—who’d given up similar hopes the previous night—watched the black prince with a feverish gaze that seemed to devour him.

“I don’t care how good you are, there’s a limit to how long you can go on making a living as a bodyguard or a warrior. Once you get old, your muscles all tighten up and you can’t move right. All the young pups coming up will drive you off, and the next thing you know, you’ll be dying like a dog all alone out in the wasteland. Our town might not be big, but there are still houses here where you could settle down. There’s land, too. Hell, give it a couple of weeks and you could make yourself a few friends. Now, I don’t know what kind of situation you were born into or how you’ve lived your life, but it can’t have been all that great. Isn’t it about time you started giving some thought to your future?”

Having expressed himself with a fluid eloquence quite at odds with his outward appearance, Dwight watched D for some reaction with eyes that brimmed with expectation.

The answer came quickly, and it was brief: “I’m looking for someone.”

Su-In’s shoulders fell faster than anyone else’s.

“Not a girl, I take it? You’re not the type that’d do that,” said Dwight, who also sounded quite weary. “I had a feeling it was gonna be something like that. Despite what I just said, I never thought for a minute you had the same sort of upbringing as the rest of us. I just thought it’d be worth taking a shot, on the off chance. Don’t take it the wrong way.”

“No one’s ever asked me to become a fisherman before,” D said as he looked at Dwight.

Somehow, it made the seafaring young man swell with pride.

Just then, a diminutive figure dashed over to D. It was the boy who’d chosen Ban’gyoh’s flute over D’s at Su-In’s house.

“Say, mister—do you still have that flute you made me?” asked the boy.

“A flute?!” Su-In exclaimed as she and Dwight exchanged glances. More than the mention of the flute, it was the fact that he’d made it that left them dumbfounded. This young man—a construct of darkness and ice—had crafted a flute for a child.

Bending over, D pulled the instrument from an inner pocket of his coat and handed it to the boy.

“Wow! Thanks!” the boy exclaimed as he snatched it from the Hunter.

Without warning, the boy was then surrounded by envious cries of “Oh, you lucky dog!” and “No fair! You get all the good stuff!”

“What happened to the one the priest gave you?” D asked unexpectedly.

Staring sternly at the holy man’s wrinkled face, the boy replied, “Oh, that old thing? It sounded real good, but it broke in no time.”

“While he’s still here in the village; ask him to make you another. I’m sure he’ll give you a lot of them.”

“Sure thing!”

Watching as the boy rid himself of his surly look and went over to Ban’gyoh dripping with affection, D then turned to Su-In. “Shall we go?” he suggested.

“Yeah.”

“What, are you going already, Su-In? Don’t tell me you’re getting all cold on us, too,” said Dwight. “This sucks.”

“Sorry. I’ll see you later.” Walking over to the mayor and sheriff, who’d been watching her from a distance, Su-In said good-bye to them, then left the school accompanied by D.

“School starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

“Do we have school tomorrow, teacher?”

Su-In didn’t answer the questions that followed her. She couldn’t. While her village was about to begin its sunny summer tomorrow, in the shadows a duel to the death of unrivaled ghastliness was playing out. She had chosen to throw herself into this whirling vortex, and the voices of these darling children were echoes from the land of light she couldn’t approach now.

“Soon,” Dwight reassured them.

When they exited the schoolhouse, the fisherman’s nose suddenly caught something, and he turned and looked at Ban’gyoh. The aged priest was also wearing a strange expression on his face, and he took in great rasping breaths of air. “How odd,” the holy man said.

“This is strange. For a while now, I’ve been thinking I smelled flowers.”

“Not like a woman’s perfume.”

“I heard in the Capital they’ve come out with some for men recently. It’d have to be the grocer or the sheriff. I’m almost ashamed to call them men,” said Dwight. “I’ll have to knock whichever it is on his tail later.”

“It’s me,” a hoarse voice announced proudly, but it then vanished with a muffled cry.

The aged priest and fisherman didn’t seem to notice the latter noise as they stared at the person they thought was the source of the voice. Neither of them said anything.

Approaching the wagon without a word, D climbed into the coachman’s perch first, then pulled Su-In up as well. Not even glancing at the two men who stood motionless at the entrance, he turned the wagon around and raced off.

After the vehicle had disappeared into the woods, Dwight and Ban’gyoh looked at each other and laughed until their sides ached.

.

III

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The village’s sole inn also had an outbuilding. Built more than a decade before the main structure, it barely served to keep out the rain and the sunlight now. The innkeeper had just been thinking about finally tearing it down when an old man who appeared to be some sort of traveling painter had come along and inquired if there was an especially cheap room available. Happy to be able to press the building into service one last time, the innkeeper agreed to let the artist stay there for half price. Although it’d been connected to the main building by a covered passageway, that corridor had collapsed in a heavy storm six months earlier, leaving the building a completely independent structure now. It was the ideal spot for someone of dubious character, as the innkeeper had been perfectly aware when he loaned the old man the place.

The far-removed sea could be heard through parts of the roof and walls of the jerry-built structure, while in his room, Professor Krolock applied something to the wound on his back to keep it from festering. The medicine’s principal ingredient was iodine from the seaweed that could be found practically anywhere in a seaside town like this, and the mixture was quite effective. The location wasn’t an easy one to reach, and due to his age the professor’s body was far from flexible, so he put some of the dark blue ointment on the end of a paintbrush, and then slid it along the sword cut that ran in a straight line from his right shoulder down to just over his lumbar vertebrae. The flesh had swollen slightly—it was a shallow wound. Given the fact that he’d been sliced by the man known as Glen, his good fortune was almost miraculous.

Before long, the professor must have finished applying the medication, as he put the brush down on the cloth before him and screwed the lid tightly onto the medicine jar. As he seemed to recall something, his face—which some would find as kind as that of a doting patriarch—suddenly churned with a chilling evil.

“My movements haven’t been hampered at all. And I know the location of the woman’s home. I warrant I should take care of this before any strange interference crops up,” the professor groaned. “Though all sorts of weird characters are flocking to the bead, they’re only ignorant brutes, of course. They can kill people well enough, but they can’t read a single chemical symbol. Pearls before swine! In this entire wide world, the only person who understands the incredible importance of the bead and can make use of it is me,” the old artist muttered in a way that made him sound completely self-absorbed.

But then his voice was joined by another that said, “Well then, maybe you can enlighten me, too?”

“Who goes there?”

In his great shock, the professor leapt up from where he’d been sitting cross-legged on the bed, while right before him, an old man in a red cape descended from the ceiling. Standing by the side of the bed without making a sound was someone who only came up to the professor’s chest now that the artist had straightened his back—someone no taller than of a boy of fourteen or fifteen. His face was hideous, the cadaverous hue of his skin dotted with age spots that looked like the maws of tiny caverns, and when he grinned, he exposed a row of yellowed teeth. He thrust the point of the dagger he held out before the professor’s eyes. But no sooner had the aged artist seen it than it raced out with a gleaming trail, knocking aside the pillow the professor was reaching for and disabling the trigger of the gunpowder firearm hidden under it at the same time.

“Samon tells me you have some strange power, though I don’t think you use that hog leg to work your tricks.”

Perhaps the professor saw from the dexterity of the grinning old man that it would be useless to resist, because he then softly inquired, “Who are you?”

“We haven’t met before. I’m ‘Shin the Manipulator.’ Ever heard of me?”

“Yes. I know you’re a warrior that uses a strange power of your own. I’m Professor Krolock. Or rather, I’m a traveling artist too destitute to even afford proper lodging. But what may I do for you?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” Shin said, his eyes emitting a strange light. “You remember Samon, don’t you? The woman you were up against just before you got that wound. I was tailing her and saw the whole thing. And since I followed you when you ran off, I found out where you were staying, too. What brings me here today is that it’s occurred to me that, since you’re after the bead too, you might actually know what it’s for. True enough, I don’t know any chemical symbols, nor do I fathom the riddle of that bead. But you’re going to impart some of your wisdom to me. Don’t argue with me about this.”

“I’d have no problem with that,” the professor said plainly. “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“From a phrenological standpoint, you have a truly fascinating head, though it has piqued my interest as an artist even more. Kindly permit me to do a sketch of you. It won’t take long.”

The professor’s proposal came because he suspected his opponent only knew that he faced someone who used an unusual spell of sorts. In fact, he was sure of it. Samon must’ve been the name of the seductive female warrior. When the professor first engaged her in the forest, he’d caught her completely off-guard, and while he’d let her see the thin animal hide he used in place of a canvas the second time, she had no way of knowing what’d been scrawled on it.

“If you’ll indulge me in that request,” Professor Krolock continued, “I’ll be most happy to tell you everything I know. Chances are I possess the world’s most detailed information on the subject.”

“You think you’re in any position to be bargaining?” Shin said, his vile lips forming an even more unsightly grin.

“Well, I suppose you’ll kill me if I’m averse to telling you said information, will you? I’ll offer some resistance, and even if you should manage to kill me, you’ll never learn the secret of the bead then. To the uninformed, it’s just a worthless lump.”

“My compatriots and I are working for someone else. I’m sure he’ll know what to do when we bring it back to him.”

The professor smiled a bit at Shin’s rebuttal. Although he seemed much more human than Shin, that only made his cruelty all the more disturbing to those who witnessed it. “In that case, why have you called on me?” asked the artist. “I believe I understand your mindset all too well. You don’t truly intend to share the secrets of the bead with your lot, do you?”

A whitish line zipped to the base of the professor’s throat. Before he could even draw a breath, a bit of vermilion seeped out onto the center of the blade, swelling like a leech into a long, thin blob of blood.

“I can make you talk if I have to,” Shin growled. “I could kill you by inches. The only part of you I’d need to leave intact is your mouth, so you could tell me the secrets.”

Even as the professor looked down at the naked blade that was pressed to his flesh again only a fraction of an inch from the last wound, he didn’t have the least bit of agitation in his eyes. He then said, “Simply learning the secret of the bead won’t help you at all. It’s nothing more than a power source, in a manner of speaking. In order for it to be of any use, you must be able to skillfully manipulate what it gives off. And only I can do that.”

The trembling of Shin’s blade made his shock apparent. He realized the professor wasn’t lying. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll grant you that one request. But once I do—”

“I know. However, once you’ve heard everything I have to say, you’ll most likely wish to treat the wound you’ve dealt me as well.”

And then Professor Krolock got off the bed and went over to the art supplies that were resting by his pillow. Less than ten minutes later, he tossed his pen back into a tube and stared down with satisfaction at the piece of vellum on his easel.

Shin didn’t yet realize the significance of any of this. His dagger resting unpretentiously on his knee but his form still charged with deadly determination, he sat in a chair about six feet away as he modeled for the artist.

“Done,” the professor said. Not to the real Shin, who sat before him, but to the likeness of him on the artist’s bizarre canvas. “You may have some use for me, but I have no such use for you. Listen to me well. Leave this inn without saying a word, and find some lonely cliff from which to hurl yourself. And you’re not to swim. See to it that you die. Select a locale where the tides are strong, so your corpse won’t be discovered for some time.”

“Understood,” replied a voice that carried laughter. It didn’t come from Shin, who was right in front of the professor, but rather from someone behind the artist.

But that wasn’t the reason the professor gasped and rose from his chair. Rather, it was because the hideous old man who’d sat before him had unexpectedly vanished.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. He was there. Well, something was there. The figure in the chair was now a detailed little doll.

Noticing this mysterious development, the professor was about to turn when a sharp pain struck him in the side of his neck.

“Trying to play smart with me?” Shin said, his words raining down cruelly on the professor as he huddled on the floor, his hand pressed to a wound that spilled bright blood. “I’ve seen what your trick is. But you can’t see me. Now, what am I gonna do with you?”

As he said that, black blood shot from the professor’s right shoulder like a mist and the old artist twisted in pain. Pressing the cold edge of his blade against the professor’s cheek, Shin said from behind him, “Don’t look at me. But never fear,” he added, “I won’t kill you yet. Though I don’t feel much like letting you live anymore, either. Talk to me. At least you’ll be able to extend your life a little that way. But I’m warning you—I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I see,” the professor said in a tone of complete resignation. While both of them would be powerful freaks to the ordinary person, in a battle to the death, it was only natural that a professional warrior like Shin would have a decided advantage. “I’m in no great rush to die, either. Listen to me. This is how it is . . .”

The roar of the blazing oil stove was then joined by a low voice and the stench of blood. The voice droned on for quite some time. But before long, there was a cry that sounded almost pained. It belonged to the other man.

“Impossible . . . ,” Shin rasped. “If what you say is true, I won’t kill you . . . Rather, I can’t kill you . . . But I can’t let you out of my sight, either. Here you go!”

The professor’s neck stung as if it’d just been burned, and the old man realized that as the other man had let out his cry, he’d also stuck some gummy little object to the artist.

Clearly made of rubber, said object was a tiny spider no larger than the tip of his little finger. Apparently reacting to the professor’s body temperature the instant it stuck to him, its thin little body swelled up, limbs stretched from it, and it became what anyone would take for a genuine arachnid.

“That’s one of my puppets,” Shin told the professor, “and it’s equipped with a poisonous sting. Not even you can see the back of your own neck. No matter where you go, I’ll know your movements and hear your voice through that bug. Try anything funny, and one sting from it’ll send you into the next world. For both our sakes, don’t be indiscreet. At least—well, at least not until I’ve become a Noble.”

.

The sun set. This was a special night, for tomorrow was summer. Though the wind blowing in from the sea froze the people’s hearts, summer was on its way, and in order to greet it properly there were special preparations the townspeople had to complete. The final nail had been hammered into the elevated stage for the dance party just before sunset, and the performers who’d gathered had made all of the necessary arrangements for the following day earlier and retired to their wagons and tents. And the protective charms couldn’t be forgotten—there were magical amulets from various regions that could be hung near windows or nailed to entrances. Bunches of straw and dried narcissus leaves folded into a triangle. Dried ears of corn with the heads of two thousand sem ants stuck in them, and highly detailed caricatures of Nobles carved onto bulls’ horns.

Expectation for the white summer. Balmy breezes and the glistening green of fresh grass and flower buds ready to blossom.

And anxiety.

By their hearths, people struggled to remember the summer songs, and occasionally they looked to the sea with darkness in their eyes. Out in the dark water that was ever by their side and made their whole existence possible, there was a foreign object. But if it always came with the bright season, perhaps it was just part and parcel of summer.

With spears, hammers, and stakes in hand, the people of the northern coast walked the beach while watch fires illuminated the surf.

In his home of stone, the mayor of the village thought they might get through this first week without mishap, and assured himself that everything would be fine so long as there were fewer fatalities than last summer.

The sheriff was in his office, inspecting his weapons and trying not to dwell on the fact he might be the first one expected to square off against that thing. The last three years everything had gone off smoothly enough. He was sure he’d get by this year, too. And he had no doubt the shaved ice at the festival was going to be incredibly tasty.

Dwight kept telling his mother to shut up whenever she asked him when he was going to propose to Su-In, and he downed unrefined spirits, disheartened by the thought that he was doomed as long as that bodyguard was around.

And Su-In, having entered one of the dilapidated buildings in the Nobility’s resort area and made the necessary preparations for her daily life, went to bed early that evening.

The face of a certain man appeared in her dreams, and realizing that it wasn’t that of D, she awoke with a start just after midnight to find herself covered in sweat. As she mopped at her forehead, her eyes peered out into the darkness, where the man stood straight ahead of her. But he promptly vanished. It was just a dream, too.

Summer was coming, wasn’t it? While it always seemed like there was a portion of its light that the villagers would never see, it would still be amply radiant when it arrived.

Around midnight, that same man stood in front of a certain house. Water dripped from every inch of him, leaving a damp black trail on the road behind him like an elongated shadow.

The man wiped away his own saliva with the back of his hand. Though a ferocious hunger assailed his whole body, he hadn’t attacked anyone yet this year. He’d come ashore at a spot that wouldn’t be known to any of the humans in the village. He wished to avoid trouble, his reason being that he’d found what he sought. Now he finally understood why he’d come ashore these past three years and what he’d been looking for when he’d done so. Another emotion, quite different from the intense hunger, was driving the man—a chilling sensation the man wouldn’t ordinarily know, though just once in the past his body had been consumed by it.

Three days earlier, the man had been sleeping. But a certain intense force had awakened him, and in a certain place he’d seen someone. The place was on a long, long road, with a ceiling and walls that stretched on forever. The person was a girl in a truck. And the man had realized then the reason why he woke from his sleep when summer came.

Crossing a stone bridge that spanned a drainage channel full of steaming water, the man opened the gate and entered the property surrounding the tiny home. There was a light on in the main house. A shadow moved across it. The tall figure leaning against one of the pillars at the entrance had just moved.

As his body was blasted by a supernatural aura unlike any he’d ever felt before, the man tensed.

No, the man thought, a hateful memory rising like a tumor from somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. Once, long ago, we met. I sensed the exact same killing lust then. It was—in my castle . . .

“I thought you might come. And here you are,” D said from ten feet away.

“We met on the Nobles’ road as I was on my way to the village. Who are you?” the young man asked, something apparently drawing his interest as well. Even in the dark of night his eyes were gorgeous, as cold and clear as ice. They suited the North Sea.

After a momentary silence, the man asked, “Where is she?”

“Who?” D asked in return, although it was strange that he even bothered to respond to someone he should’ve destroyed out of hand.

“I don’t know.”

“Who are you?” the Hunter asked again.

“I don’t know.”

“Where did you come from?”

“The sea,” replied the man. “Someplace deep and cold.”

“That’s a fitting home for you. Go back.”

“Stay out of my way,” the man spat, tossing his cape behind him. Deep blue danced out in the moonlight—his garments were the color of the sea. “I have business here, and at long last, I’ve found the place. Where’s the person who lives here? Where’s the woman?”

The darkness between the two of them transformed. Most likely any ordinary person would’ve died in the grip of lunacy the instant they felt the aura that emanated from every inch of the man to completely envelop D. It was a ghastly miasma the likes of which even the Nobility could scarcely imagine. But then it suddenly vanished.

“You . . . ,” the man groaned, the word sounding like a cry of agony.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question. Who are you?” said D. “I saw the portrait in the village’s museum. The lord of Castle Meinster didn’t have your face. But the curator of the museum told me another story. I’ll see if you can confirm what she said. Don’t you know me, Meinster?” D said, his eyes reflecting the image of the man.

And the man’s pupils reflected D. His cloudy eyes called to mind those of a dead fish; they began to fill with a spark of recognition—and hatred.

“Yes, I believe I do,” the man said. “Did you think I could forget? After I was not only hurled into that pit and had my own fortress destroyed, but then had the fruits of my precious research stolen from me . . . And it was you who did all that?!”

Not waiting for a reply, the man extended his right hand and pointed it at D’s chest. A golden ring adorned his forefinger. The ultra-compact reactor within it took up only a fraction of an inch, but it could generate and focus as much energy as an earthquake measuring 8.0 on the Richter scale. A seven-million-degree beam of energy a millionth of a micron wide shot from an opening to lance through D’s chest.

At least, it should’ve lanced through the Hunter. A perplexed look in his eye, the man stared down at his unresponsive device.

The pendant on D’s chest gave off a blue light.

“I’m not saying,” the Hunter replied, “and it will make no difference when you’re dead.”

The words came from above the man’s head.

It didn’t seem likely that anyone could dodge or parry D’s sword when he brought it down right on top of them. The blade limned a gorgeous arc of death, and somewhere in its travels, there was a wild burst of sparks.

Just as he came back to earth, D leapt to the right. And as he leapt, his right hand flashed out. The thing that’d been racing toward D’s throat was stopped once again in a shower of pale sparks. And then something quite strange happened. The pole-like weapon that’d stretched to a length of at least seven feet to match the distance of D’s leap then retracted smoothly into the man’s hand so that only the stiletto point remained showing. No doubt it was some sort of weapon with a length that could be changed at will. Another sharp point protruded from the opposite end of the man’s fist.

“Tell me something,” the man said as he slowly closed the distance between them. “Why do I know how to use this weapon? Who am I?”

Surely it seemed a bizarre query; D had just called this man Meinster and he, in turn, had said he knew the Hunter. Summer had brought a bizarre visitor.

D ran.

The sharp black stiletto tip stretched from the man’s hand. Though it moved with incredible speed, the Hunter’s sword parried it with ungodly skill, and as the other man reeled from the terrific force of D’s blow, the sword then made a sharp turn toward his right shoulder. But it slashed through thin air, and the sound of it only came later.

Somersaulting in midair, the figure in blue made a second leap just as he came back to earth. It carried him out past the gate.

“You’re a fearsome fellow,” the man said, never taking his eyes off D. “I suppose so long as you’re around, I won’t accomplish my ends. We shall meet again.”

The shadowy figure spun around.

D took to the air, but by the time he arrived where the vampire had been, his foe had already crossed the street and reached the edge of the embankment.

On the beach, sentries had built watch fires. Noticing the fiend racing by without making a sound, one of the closest men cried, “Who the hell are you?!”

“Where do you think you’re going?” shouted a second.

Both men dashed over to the figure, but instantly fell to the ground clutching their throats. The man in blue had torn them open with nothing more than his fingernails. Their tragic end had come with such speed that the rest of the men were frozen not by fear so much as sheer amazement.

This opening was all that the shadowy figure needed to throw himself into the waves that danced magically with the reflected flames of the watch fires. In a flash, the sea was whipped up into rough black peaks, and by the time the people had rubbed their eyes in disbelief, no trace remained of the figure.

Unsure exactly what had transpired and unable to even enter the sea themselves, the villagers could only gaze at the black crests of the waves until an eldritch aura hit them from behind, forcing them to turn in a daze. D stood there, blade still in hand. Although the people didn’t notice it, this alone spoke volumes about exactly how dangerous the foe who’d just vanished actually was. Keeping his eyes on the rumbling surf for some time, D then sheathed his longsword.

“That character just now—it was him, wasn’t it?” one of the men inquired fearfully.

“You were chasing him, weren’t you? And you managed to run the fiend off?!” someone else said.

Little by little, murmurs of awe and respect arose.

“That’s unbelievable,” said one of the men. “Just incredible! Simply keeping that creep from killing you would’ve been an accomplishment in itself, but you actually chased him off!”

“You’re working for Su-In, aren’t you? You suppose you could help us out?”

But no sooner had someone spoken these words than a cry of “Hey, what’s that?!” arose from the edge of the throng.

Everyone looked at the man who’d shouted—and then their eyes flew in the direction he was pointing.

About fifty or sixty feet from where the Noble had just submerged, something round was floating some twenty or thirty feet from shore. Only at the very edge of the circle of firelight could the people squint and make it out as the head of a beautiful woman. Though the colors were tinged by the light of the flames, it was soon evident that she had gorgeous blond hair. And another thing—her eyes were red. As she glared at the people on the beach, her eyes were such an awful vermilion hue that their color would’ve been clear even if she’d been soaking in a sea of blood. Naturally, her body must’ve been underwater.

Was she a servant of the Nobility, or some sea monster? While her exact nature remained uncertain, something else became clear. Something was playing with the water behind her. Ordinary folks would’ve had trouble believing it, but it was a phenomenon with which those who lived on the sea were well acquainted. It was a tail—covered in scales, and splitting in two like that of a fish.

This woman couldn’t possibly be one of those—

Her mouth twisted into a smile, but how many people there saw the canine teeth that jutted like fangs from her lips was anyone’s guess. A second later, the woman’s head sank into the water so quickly it seemed to just vanish. No one could manage to say anything intelligible.

The water rose, then parted. To give birth to a woman.

Although the sea was called the amniotic fluid that’d given life to all things, surely it couldn’t have fostered many children as gorgeous as this one. The body that shot up into the air with tendrils of glittering water trailing behind it was the very epitome of beauty. Even the fish she held in her teeth only seemed to add to her loveliness. Swelling beneath the golden hair that hung down to her waist, her breasts were human enough. Her slim waist and the tempting curves of the hips below certainly caught the eyes of the men. Forking into two points at the end, her tail reflected the flames of their watch fires as if it were covered with a thousand tiny mirrors.

The waves shattered into pieces, and the woman disappeared into the sea headfirst.

D alone ventured to the shore. Gazing straight ahead, he quickly walked in up to his knees. There was a splash of water somewhere, and then there was no other sound to challenge the rumble of the surf.

Suddenly D felt a warmth on his cheeks. The air no longer had the same snap. The weather controller had ordered summer to call on the North Sea, and most likely it had also opened the door for strange visitors.

Behind the Hunter, cries of delight rose from the villagers.

SUMMER FESTIVAL