Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“Who are you?”

“I am called Ryuuki,” the shadow replied. A masculine voice suffused with centuries of patina. Any man who spoke thusly could make any listener rest easy and forget the world. “You are—a woman.”

“Yes,” answered the Quarry, watching the splashes grow stiller. A shot must have penetrated the nuclear generator at its heart. “Why did you help me?” she asked, not averting her eyes from the invisible death in front of her.

“When a woman is assaulted by a man, I cannot stand idly by and do nothing. Besides—”

“Besides?”

“I do not like watching people get killed.”

“What about him?”

“He’s not dead. He should revive in another thirty minutes or so.”

“Oh,” the Quarry said softly.

“Can I ask you what’s been going on?”

“Aren’t you an odd one. Nobody much cares about the life or death of others around these parts. They’ve seen too much.”

“They have hardly seen enough. They need to see much, much more, until they cannot bear what their own eyes are telling them. And then somehow resolve to end it.”

“Where are you from? Are you a rookie?”

“You should go.”

The gray shadow called Ryuuki solemnly turned around. Solemnly. The word was at once perfectly appropriate and yet didn’t resemble him at all.

“Wait!” The Quarry ran after him. “Where are you going?”

“No place in particular. Wherever strikes my fancy.”

“Don’t be such a stoic. You came to my rescue. I can offer you something to eat and a roof over your head.”

“No, thank you.”

“I won’t take no for an answer. My name is Miyako Masaki.”

The Quarry—Miyako—reached out and put her hand on Ryuuki’s shoulder. The feeling was not what the damp cloth suggested. She pulled back her hand and looked at the palm, at the clumps of gray dust sticking to it.

She blinked. The man’s garb was made of black fabric woven with gold and silver threads. Sticking to it was something that wasn’t quite mud and wasn’t quite dust, a kind of optical illusion.

Ryuuki kept on going. Miyako was suddenly struck by the feeling that she couldn’t let him go. “Wait! Let me explain what’s going on.”

“Think about it, and you should realize that it doesn’t matter.”

“I work for a weapons developer in greater Tokyo,” she said, catching up with him. A silver light silently jutted out from her shoulder blades. “They conduct experiments here in Demon City they definitely can’t outside Shinjuku. The weapons they’re working on right now involve human beings becoming weapons, rather than merely controlling them.”

“Human beings,” Ryuuki mused to himself. Miyako brightened, sensing that she’d caught his interest. “I saw the same in my time. Soldiers with gunpowder strapped to their bodies launched into enemy camps via catapult. Operatives imbued with the spirits of monkeys or tigers. After fending for themselves in the wilds for a half-year or so, they would be directed toward an unsuspecting village.”

“You’re Chinese, right? What era are you talking about?”

A dull explosion resounded behind them. Ryuuki turned and fixed his gaze on Miyako. The rain grew colder. She shivered.

“I said I did not desire to see any more death. But perhaps I could stay with you tonight?”

“But of course.” Miyako nodded. “Fortunately, my place isn’t far.”

Miyako’s pad was located in the slums of Ichigayadai. The city of course didn’t advertise itself. It was infamous for its large population of criminals. As a result, it didn’t do much business with neighboring burgs, and the means by which its citizens earned their daily bread were varied and often quite specialized.

Such as Miyako’s job as a “quarry.”

Testing the effectiveness and power of anti-personnel weapons on human beings was the far more efficient route. But no matter how big and politically connected the company, skirting the laws and taboos against human experimentation was not easy in the outside world.

Were such things to come to light, even the biggest conglomerate in the world would be in for a world of hurt. The bigger they grew, the larger the target. The more public opinion mattered, the more government agencies and independent watchdog groups clamored for oversight and access.

The fate of one of Europe’s largest oil companies, dismantled by a single-page indictment, was still fresh in every businessman’s mind.

Demon City was the ideal environment for any number of reasons. Not only could an assassin be hired for a bottle of cheap wine and a credit card, but so could the victim. Neither was in short supply.

At first, most of the quarries were possessed by demons or otherwise mentally impaired. Obviously it was impossible to test a weapon’s true abilities without an enemy that fought back.

The company sent out feelers for quarries with a fighting spirit, offering to cover the retrofitting and reconstruction costs on top of the usual fees. The perfect business to suit the needs of the criminal element hiding out in Shinjuku. And so day in and day out, strangely-outfitted soldiers engaged in impromptu battles in the back alleys and vacant lots of Demon City.

In a corner of one of Shinjuku’s persistent ruins, the rain drummed down on an abandoned medical clinic, on the cheap makeshift houses and plastic tarps. Days like this in particular brought the tragic memories closer to the surface and permeated the ruins with an air of gloom and doom.

No small relief then, to at least see lights glowing in the small windows and the friendly fires burning beneath the eaves.

“This way,” she said, indicating their destination.

Two small shadows darted out of one of the buildings there amidst the ruins, calling out, “Mama! Mama!”

A boy of five or six and a girl a little younger. They were both wearing T-shirts and jeans.

“You have children,” Ryuuki observed in a low voice.

“And a husband.”

“A husband, too?”

“His body’s a wreck. Hard to look at. But we keep him in another room, so it’s all good.”

“Is he our guest?” asked the boy, looking up at Ryuuki.

“Yes.”

The girl clapped her hands in delight.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ryuuki said quietly. “I only saw your mother home. And now I will take my leave.”

“This is quite unusual for the children.” Miyako gently pulled on Ryuuki’s sleeve. “Living in a bad part of town, they don’t get out very often.”

“That being the case, now is not a good time to start.” Ryuuki backed away. “I clearly should not have come. I think it’s better if we pretend we never met.”

He turned and began walking away. Miyako didn’t run after him.

A dozen or so steps later, Ryuuki stopped. Something like dust danced around him. He slowly retraced his steps. For some reason, Miyako put her arms around the children and pulled them closer. She must have sensed she was making a grave mistake.

“I guess I don’t wish to get any more wet than I already am,” Ryuuki said sadly. “I wouldn’t mind spending the night.”

Above his head came the caw of a crow.

When Tonbeau Nuvenberg and the doll girl got out of the taxi, the ruins were still and quiet.

The doll girl looked up. “General Ryuuki was spotted here an hour and a half ago. We can only pray that nothing untoward has happened.”

“Hmph. These vampires like putting on masks as much as they like putting on airs,” Tonbeau groused. “Here, there and everywhere with their blood-red eyes and fangs, hiding their true natures beneath black cloaks. They’re really cowards who go after girls who can’t resist them. Try that on a regular rug-rat and they’d run screaming at the first bite.”

“Even so, it’s awfully quiet,” said the doll girl, calmly examining their surroundings.

Here and there burned electric lights and fires in steel drums. But there were no other signs of human life.

“Let’s go.”

“I don’t think so,” Tonbeau said, shaking her head in disagreement. “My big sister was born with a generous heart that made her willing to serve her fellow man for free. Not me. I have no desire to go chasing after creatures who could ruin my day at the slightest provocation. This was entirely the idea of you and that crow.”

“You do know no shame,” the doll girl said with a weariness that belied her outward age. “So you will be content to go your entire life being known for nothing in her own right but my mistress’s younger sister.”

“Fine with me!” Tonbeau clapped her hands together contemptuously. “Call me a two-ton coward, sully my name as a back-alley witch, do whatever. I am craven to the core, and proud of it!”

“Then why did you come all the way here?”

“Why, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Should worst come to worst and you lost your little head, who would be left to crack open that vault? But it’s getting to look like the worst could happen to me, and that’s the cue for me to exit stage left.”

“Then you are free to tremble here in fear. If you would excuse me.”

The doll girl stepped away and raised her hand. The big raven descended like a black omen. Without a backward glance, the bird and the girl set off toward the ruined buildings.

“Something stinks,” said the raven. “Keep on your toes!”

Several bodies were lying next to one of the burning drums. Blood gathered on their chests like oozing smoke. The doll girl took one corpse by the hand and pulled it to a sitting position. The man’s neck slumped at an odd angle. His throat was cut all the way through. Down to the vertebrae.

She spoke a brief prayer for the dead and lay the body down. “The exsanguination is too severe for the work of a mere murderer. From the condition of the blood, he was killed not more than an hour ago.”

“But of course.” The big raven looked to the sky and cawed. “Somebody is in that building.”

“Let’s go find them,” the doll girl said, her voice filling with determination.