Chapter One

Chapter One

The dream was dreaming a dream. The question was what dream Setsura Aki was dreaming right now.

The trees were visible behind him as he strode through the dense forest. He passed through any trees in his path as if they weren’t there.

The giant clam was dreaming in the middle of the earth—dreaming of the beautiful genie that was Setsura. Extrapolate his trajectory and it led inexorably to the entrance to Shinjuku’s Chuo Park.

Having changed into a dream, Setsura was being guided by the lingering instincts of his human self.

Nothing stood in his way. He wasn’t of this world. But the silver filaments spewing from his mouth tore asunder the trees and rocks that were of this world.

Five minutes later came the sound of flapping wings above his head.

Like a rush of wind, a single strand of the undulating wires reached upwards.

The winged man dodged it as he observed in academic tones, “Dreaming the dream of the clam, eh? I see. I heard that my father and grandfather dreamed indefatigably of the women they pined for. But this dream may spell the end of Princess’s world.”

Though he wasn’t quite as handsome as Setsura, his aristocratic bearing more than made up for it. This was Yakou, the young master of the Toyama clans. And now reduced to Princess’s servant.

He was powerful enough that Setsura had not been able to defeat him outright. Kikiou had not employed him as an assassin because Princess’s objectives had all along included winning Setsura over to their side. That made Yakou an enemy to Kikiou’s goals.

Setsura’s offensive had continued out of his sight. And now beyond the manor house, Yakou had finally caught up with him again.

From his lair, he noted the freakish Setsura leaving the mausoleum and understood at once that he had been absorbed into the dream of the clam. He followed him using his powers of flight, and had picked up his trail again.

“You’re being a naughty boy, Kikiou. Princess is going to take you to the woodshed when she gets back. I’ll settle for just enjoying your comeuppance.”

His clear eyes focused on a particular point on Setsura’s person. The breast of his black slicker. The wings stopped beating and folded along his back. He dropped like a rock. Toward the tip of Setsura’s nose.

The deadly wires reached out to grasp him. But closed around empty space. Yakou had already reached out in a flash and soared up into the sky.

The wings calmly stroked the air and he more closely examined the object he’d plucked from Setsura’s pocket. A small golden flute.

The doll girl had entrusted it to Setsura. The only thing that would wake the clam from its dream. At the height of their deadly duel, this scion of a powerful vampire lord had seen it poking out of his pocket and now grasped its qualities and power.

He twirled it around in his fingers. “General Bey’s flute. If I blow on it, Setsura should return to his senses. But that might make things more chancy than they already are. I might hope to keep you closed up in this world until Princess returns. Though leave you to your own devices and the dream might well end up destroying the dream. What a quandary.”

Yakou frowned and pondered. Then a smile lit up his face. Despite being Princess’s prisoner, this was a bright and energized smile.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” His boyish expression grew sober again. “The half-dream, half-reality jujitsu my father taught me. This flute was a necessary component. I predict what will happen if it fails. Well, I’ll only find out by trying.”

Such leaping into action was so unlike his previous prudence that it must be a reflection of his sire’s personality.

Yakou looked behind Setsura. “Kikiou, you bastard, you’re late. Did your tête-à-tête with Setsura go wrong somewhere along the line? Princess will have your hide for that as well.”

He put the flute to his lips and lowered his head and briefly blew.

Setsura stopped in his tracks. Purpose welled up in his blank expression. The whistle of the flute from above had awakened his consciousness from the dream. But through his sturdy but graceful frame, the stands of trees swayed in the summer breeze. Through his arms bloomed fragrant flowers.

This was a dream to which his real consciousness had returned. And yet still perfectly suited for Setsura Aki.

“Can you hear me?” came Yakou’s voice, from an unknown quarter.

“Yakou? Where are you?”

“If I tell you, I fear your filaments will follow. Your consciousness has returned, but your body is still dreaming. It regards all as its enemy and attacks without regard. I’d like to avoid any unnecessary bother.”

“Oh. So you blew on that whistle.”

“But not exactly the same way. I doubt there are five people in this world who know the difference.”

“In that case, how about giving it a good hard puff? Otherwise, hand it back.”

“In either case, will you take your leave, or stay and fight? Sorry, but I find both options unsatisfactory.”

“Traitor,” Setsura said cheerfully. The words took on a silver hue and sliced the nearby trees to kindling.

“Do you know what a frightening presence you are right now? Your dreaming body in your dream state holds only the instinct for preservation. Everything that comes close to you dies by a thousand cuts.”

“And what do you propose we do about that?” he asked in an utterly unflustered manner.

“You have to promise first.”

“Promise what?”

“That you will not leave here until Princess returns. And additionally, you won’t try to destroy everything in the meantime.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“Enough with the bad jokes.”

Setsura shrugged. Promises were made to be broken. “Okay,” he said in a serious voice. “I swear.”

“That will do,” Yakou agreed.

“There’s something I’d like to know.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you familiar with a plant called the moon lily?”

“Ah.”

“Never heard of it myself. Can you find it around here?”

“The back garden of the manor house. As the name suggests, it is a lily that blooms only on moonlit nights. It went extinct long ago in the human world.”

“Thanks.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“No comment.”

“The way you are right now, you’re not exactly in flower-picking condition.”

“Well, I did swear. How about you make me normal again?”

Yakou fell silent. He had to wonder if this guy was for real. “One more thing.”

A pause long enough for two breaths.

“Yes?” said Setsura, cocking his ears.

“Princess contacted me a short while ago. It seems she’d gotten hold of Takako Kanan.”

“So she and General Bey duked it out?”

“I can’t speak to the specifics.”

“Hey, if anything’s left of the old you, don’t go yanking my chain.”

“You are hardly one to talk.”

“You’ve got a point there.”

“But it is as I say. Do not forget that the life of a young woman depends on your actions.”

Setsura listened passively to these icy words from a man who had once pledged with all his might, mind and skill to protect Takako.

“Hold up your hand.” His voice was a bit harder than usual.

Setsura wasn’t ready at this point to place his trust in Yakou, but when it came to her, if she was fighting General Bey for Takako, the odds were she’d come out on top. Even Nuvenberg would have a difficult time of it in a situation like this.

“So how should we proceed?”

“Blow the whistle and get me back to normal. Then boogie on back to the manor house, keep out of sight of Kikiou, and hide out until Princess returns.”

“Agreed,” he nodded.

Yakou raised his head. The golden, glittering flute sang out again.

Hitomi hailed a taxi and got in with Takako.

Dr. Kuranishi’s hideout was in a broken-down building not far from the Toyama district. The street was crowded with emergency vehicles and cops. They were working to undo the traffic jam, but as always, were causing as much inconvenience as they were alleviating.

The driver grumbled, “Looks like it’s time to take a detour.”

“What in the world is going on?” Hitomi asked.

Takako sat in the back seat of the cab, her empty eyes focusing on a point in space. After the confrontation, perhaps as the result of tasting Kuranishi’s blood, her outward vampiric nature had retreated and she had returned to her “normal” demure self.

“Word is, somebody lit off a suitcase nuke in the Toyoma Housing Project.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s just the scuttlebutt. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“We’ve been—busy.”

“The official announcement from the mayor’s office was that a government satellite fell out of orbit. Not a nuke. But with one of those plutonium generators—enough to make a plenty big-enough mess. Wiped out everybody in there.”

“How horrible! That’s why everybody is wearing masks and those hazmat suits?”

“Yeah, that seems to be the explanation. We’d better head for Mephisto Hospital some other way.”

“Yes, but make it fast.”

“Sure thing,” he said. But the traffic only inched forward.

Even worse, night was falling. And evening rain spotted the windshield. They had to get to Mephisto Hospital now. Or else this girl was going to go weird on them again.

The growing sense of dread fired Hitomi’s impatience. Takako was fine for the time being. But if she started turning like she had not too long ago, they’d be in deep shit. Hitomi silently thanked God she’d stuffed a few first aid items into her pockets—the kinds of things that might come in handy for a freelancer covering the more violent side of life.

One other thing goaded her thoughts. The gallant man she had in her back room. The coming of the night signaled his time to leave. Even if he was one of the Toyama kind, she wanted to see him again.

He was the first man to make her heart respond—as a woman—in that way since she’d come to Demon City a decade ago. Enough to make her believe that she had come here if only to meet him.

“Please. Hurry up.” She was on the verge of tears.

A cop waving a red flashlight and wearing a hazmat suit and radiation detector jogged over to them. He was a big man with a barrel chest.

“Shit,” the cabbie complained under his breath. “Last place I want to open the window.” But he did anyway.

“Sorry,” said the sallow-faced cop, in an oddly detached and polite voice.

“Just hurry it up, man. This street’s a parking lot.”

“There’s something I’d like you to listen to.”

“Huh?” He frowned. But he heard it clearly.

Hitomi’s blood ran cold. The sound of a drum.

“You can run, but you can’t hide,” the cop said in a completely different voice. It came from the middle of his chest.

The wide-eyed cabbie watched as the cop unzipped the front of the hazmat suit. And then tore open his belly wide.

Hitomi screamed as the black man poked out, a complacent smile on his face.

“W-what the fuck is that?” cried out the cabbie.

A moment later, his shriek dissolved into a gurgle. The branch of a tree penetrated the car door and jabbed into the cabbie’s solar plexus. Blood erupted from his mouth.

Operating on instinct alone, Hitomi pushed Takako toward the door opposite. “Get out!”

She pulled on the door handle. They tumbled onto the pavement. The car horn blared. And then stopped.

Hitomi got to her feet and pulled Takako up beside her. She scanned the line of stopped cars. It was a one-way street. She looked for any sign of movement. But nothing.

With the dull grating of metal, a dark brown spear punched through the front door, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. The moan of the wind mingled with the sound of the drum. A sound reborn from ancient times, coming forth from the grave to wreak revenge.

Grabbing Takako’s hand, Hitomi set off in the opposite direction. The drum rang in her ears. “I shall get my revenge, even if it takes a whole lifetime. That is my law.”