Chapter Three

Chapter Three

There were three types of souvenirs that tourists visiting Shinjuku never left without:

1. Fashion accessories (made from demon teeth or claws).

2. Amulet and incense sets (for exorcising ghosts).

3. Plasmodial slime monster globes (non-toxic species).

To be sure, these were really the three runners-up. The three souvenirs that people really wanted were illegal in the outside world:

1. Shinjuku spirits (of the highly distilled sort).

2. Divining rods (for casting death spells).

3. Demon extermination kits (including poison).

Nevertheless, Shinjuku’s “exports” caused no end of problems in the outside world.

A subdivision in Negishi was reduced to skeletal remains as Kuronami spiders multiplied in number to ten of thousands in a single night, and swept through the neighborhood.

One morning, a VP in line for the top job at a certain corporation drowned in his car on the way to work. It could only have been the work of a Shinjuku shaman employing a highly-localized hypnotic spell.

Despite the best efforts of the Shinjuku police, perils that could only have arisen in Demon City crossed the borders, leading to all kinds of gruesome “accidents.” It was also a simple fact that there was no shortage of traders and buyers willing to deal in exactly those “products.”

Like Chinese restaurants and convenience stores, “antique” and “souvenir” and “curiosity” shops hung out their shingles everywhere in Shinjuku.

A little past two in the afternoon, Takako Kanan pushed through the bulletproof glass doors of Takada no Baba, one such famous “specialty store.”

“Welcome,” came the owner’s voice from the glass-walled enclosure in the dimly-lit rear of the store. He had a head of hair like an exploding mop. A black patch covered his left eye.

Takako wasn’t at all cowed by his appearance. She nodded and glanced around the store. Though it looked like a cramped, one-story shop from the outside, the inside proved impressively expansive. There was another door to the rear of the glass enclosure, and more rooms deeper in.

U.S. military and Japan Self-Defense Forces bomber jackets and uniforms hung on the walls, along with flak jackets, body armor, and strength extenders. Hand-to-hand combat accessories, old-fashioned bazookas and flame throwers, high-powered lasers and much more were all randomly crammed together.

One look at the owner’s face said that he’d happily supply the (illegal) ammunition as well. This was a small sampling of the “merchandise” that “souvenir” shops typically handled, not to mention a few other oddities scattered around the shop:

— A fetus with two heads squired in an artificial womb filled with amniotic fluid.

— A figure of a lizard demon sealed inside a building cornerstone dating back to the Showa Era.

— Yellow tentacles oozing out of the mouth of a bottle stoppered with a heavy concrete block.

— The strangely-shaped leaves of a bizarre, cactus-like plant moving in synchronicity with the yellow tentacles.

— A French doll gnashing his jaws, its sharp upper and lower fangs clicking together.

— A shady-looking face continuously emerging from a smoldering haze in the glass of a hand mirror.

— A woman’s arm severed at the shoulder dragging its ball and chain across the floor, searching for what had held it in a stranglehold.

If you really want to know Shinjuku, the word on the street was, you have to come here. Veteran sightseers, underworld types and black marketeers knew that this was the place to get everything they needed.

For that reason alone, the one-eyed proprietor viewed a college student like Takako with undisguised suspicion and annoyance.

“No, you don’t,” Takako scolded, deftly pirouetting out of the way as the arm made a grab for her ankles. She looked here and there, when suddenly her big brown eyes focused on one specific object.

A big black lump sitting next to the dusty showcases.

She hurried over to it, her face bright with curiosity. It was a strange thing indeed. The shape suggested a giant black peapod about six feet long and a yard in diameter in the middle.

The top half was propped up with a bloodstained iron rod, so it must have some weight and heft. A sack of its size could comfortably hold the average human being. That left the question of what it was made from.

There wasn’t any luster to the surface, which didn’t have any bumps or divots. It wasn’t made out of cloth or metal.

Takako picked up a piece of glass from the top of the display case (labeled: “Mitsukoshi Department Store window glass, destroyed in the “Devil Quake”) and tossed it at the black thing.

The “peapod” absorbed the shard without any sign of resistance, without a wrinkle in its skin.

“You owe me for that,” the proprietor said bluntly.

Takako asked, “Where did you find it?”

The proprietor simply folded his arms. Takako took a small purse from the breast pocket of her jacket. “Five thousand yen.”

“Ten,” was his counter offer.

“Seven.”

“It was discovered in the middle of the afternoon at the ruins of the Mt. Tenjin amusement park. A kid threw a rock at it.”

“And it got sucked up?”

“No, the thing tossed it back. I had it hauled back here. That’s the first time I’ve seen it do that.”

Takako leaned over.

“Whoa there!” said the proprietor, but the words had scarcely left his mouth before Takako had thrust her pretty face against the side of the mysterious sack.

She closed her eyes just before impact. The feeling of having penetrated the surface came not from any sense on the skin, but when all the sounds around her grew muffled.

She steeled herself and opened her eyes, but couldn’t see a thing. Only darkness. A cold tendril of fear—the dread of being trapped in here forever—touched the back of her neck. It seemed a much larger space inside than out. There must be all kinds of junk lying around in there.

A small moan of terror escaped her lips. Takako pulled back, to where normal light and sound awaited her.

“How much for this shadow box?”

“Hard to say.” The look of the shrewd bargainer rose to the proprietor’s face. “It’s the most popular item I have in stock right now. Five hundred grand.”

“You expect a college student to afford that?”

“You’re welcome to stop in anytime. There’s plenty of buyers in this city.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Takako, raising the stakes as well.

She tore her gaze away, and looked instead at the cases lining the walls. It wasn’t easy to pretend indifference. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off. She couldn’t read his face. She thought of bidding him a good day, while giving herself enough of a look to gauge his expression. But that would mean showing her hand.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She had only one deal of the cards. Carrying herself as nonchalantly as possible, she headed for the exit. She put her hand on the brass handle. Damn, she thought to herself.

Something soft wriggled against her palm. The head of a snake reared up from the handle and flicked its red tongue.

“Hey!” she yelped, jumping back several feet.

Behind her, the conniving voice of the proprietor said, “For a cheeky lass like you—two hundred grand. I can even arrange for installment payments.”

The door handle returned to its inorganic form. Takako took a deep breath and nodded. Her beating heart calmed down. The proprietor looked on with cool eyes as she returned to the display case and got out her checkbook.

“So, how do you plan on moving it?” he asked unhelpfully.

“I’ll call a taxi. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Taking it outside the ward?”

“No.”

“In that case, I’ll deliver it myself. For free.”

“That’s okay,” Takako said.

The smile didn’t disappear from her face. The proprietor impassively reached for the phone behind the counter.

Thirty or so minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of a senbei shop in West Shinjuku. The driver helped get the package out of the back seat. Takako pushed the button for the Aki Detective Agency intercom. The shop girl emerged to say that he was out. He’d been home earlier but had been called away on an emergency.

Takako asked if she could wait, to which the shop girl agreed.

“Sorry to impose, but could you help me haul this thing inside?” She indicated the strange-looking package.

The shop girl frowned. Takako suggested that the concrete-lined storage alcove adjoining the small back office would be fine, and she relented.

The thing weighed as much as the average adult man. Lugging it through the doors, Takako glanced nervously at the sky. The white sunlight was growing listless and thin. It was three hours to dusk. Then came the Demon City night.

Setsura had received a phone call from Mephisto. Galeen Nuvenberg had arrived at his hospital in critical condition. That was startling enough. The fact that the mayor had escorted her there made it all the more so. And when Setsura learned the facts of the case, they were downright astounding.

The special containment ward in the fourth basement level. Naturally, she was being attended to by the hospital director himself and the nursing chief of staff.

Hearing the details from the mayor, Setsura glanced at Mephisto, standing like a statue next to the bed. No words were spoken. Everything that needed saying at the moment could be said with the eyes and under the breath.

— The timeline suggests that Kikiou headed toward Toyama after leaving the mayor’s office.

So it seems. For the time being they must be refining their tactics.

— They didn’t think twice about mixing it up with the top brass in the ward, and then start dispensing with the competition. That puts us in a dicey position.

We’d better watch our health. Now we’re a woman down.

— Kikiou can walk around in broad daylight. When it came to invading the mayor’s office, he could have waltzed right in. The darkness must have been for his younger companion, the one called Ryuuki.

In other words, we tangled with a “normal” human, gave only as good as we got, and let him get away. I say, mum’s the word on that one too.

— Then where did he go? Taking on the Toyama Elder would require full fighting strength. He was apparently in good shape leaving the mayor’s office. But maybe they didn’t come away unscathed and had to find someplace to lie low.

Maybe. Sounds like something more in your job description.

The implication being that he wasn’t getting the job done. Setsura shrugged.

The mayor cleared his throat. “Would you have any idea what Galeen Nuvenberg wished to speak with you two about?”

Sensing that the mayor was aware he’d been saved by a person with more than mere paranormal abilities, Setsura asked, “You mean, knowing who she is and all?”

“I’ve heard she was the Czech Republic’s greatest—and for a thousand years its only—wizardess.”

Setsura smiled thinly. He would have expected the three-term mayor of Demon City to be something more than a run-of-the-mill party hack. And indeed, all the evidence Setsura had seen suggested that the mayor was a real political operator. Except that the biggest wheeler and dealer in Shinjuku, with eyes and ears everywhere, now had a fearful look in his eyes.

“It’s a mystery to us as well,” Mephisto answered. “But we can hazard a guess.”

“Oh?”

“The master of the darkness that visited you was a vampire, and a powerful one at that.”

“What?” exclaimed Mayor Kajiwara, though the expression on his face barely flickered. Only those in the outside world had any right to express real surprise at the mention of “vampires” and “ghouls.”

“We are not certain where they came from, but it is a gang of four, and we have confirmed the identity of two of them.”

“And they are?” Kajiwara leaned forward, his eyes brightening.

“One is the infamous Daji from ancient China. The other is an old man by the name of Kikiou, the most accomplished warlock of the legendary Hsia Dynasty. They are both over two thousand years old. In fact, it is likely that Daji was born before then. The other man and woman remain mysteries. According to the Toyama Elder, they’ve popped up here and there throughout history, and not just in China. The last place Daji and Kikiou were observed by themselves was in Northern India during the first century. The four were seen together in the city of Lajia on Mt. Anyemaqen in the year 401.”

Doctor Mephisto paused to point out that the other two must have joined them sometime between the first and fifth centuries.

“They showed up a thousand years later during the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in 1572. And then disappeared from the history books. The Elder hypothesizes that they looked into the future and foresaw the emergence of a city that would fit their needs perfectly. So they hid themselves away in a dimensional void in preparation for that day.”

“And now they have emerged—”

In response to Kajiwara’s statement of the obvious, everybody present felt a lurch in his chest, as when a roller coaster reached the peak of its climb and started to descend.

“—having completed all their preparations,” Mephisto replied, in a tone of icy, academic indifference.

The mayor’s composure broke there for a moment, but his customary matter-of-fact expression soon returned. He said in an equally unruffled manner, “Considering what has happened of late, I’m inclined to believe the arguments you are putting forth. What powers do these beings possess?”

“Possibly more than our own.”

Kajiwara fell silent, waiting for Setsura to object to that assessment. Setsura didn’t. “What is their objective?”

“The subjugation of this city. And turning the powers-that-be into their puppets by turning them into vampires.”

Mephisto relayed the ghastly truth with the clarity of a note played by a maestro. That was enough to send chills down the spine.

“Perhaps Miss Nuvenberg sensed their true nature and intended to communicate it to us. Vampires are unrivaled in the dark, while the day turns them into sitting ducks. That means they have to keep themselves hidden at all costs. Throughout the broad sweep of history, no one has uncovered their hidden sepulchres. But this city—”

Kajiwara looked at Setsura, his eyes filled with infinite confidence.

“—this city has Setsura Aki.”

“Exactly.”

“And Doctor Mephisto.”

“Much obliged.”

“You mentioned that you met with the Toyama Elder. Is there any possibility that these vampires belong to any of their clans?”

“Trust me when I say that there is not.”

“Huh.” Suspicious of everything, he didn’t say that he did or didn’t. That was to be expected of the mayor of Demon City Shinjuku.

“The latest incident has the Elder all the more concerned,” Setsura continued. “Rampaging vampires put their own safety and peace of mind at risk. Enraged citizens are liable to break out the stakes and mallets and violate their resting places. Done under the shining sun, they wouldn’t have any viable recourses.”

“Ah.”

Mephisto added, looking down at Galeen Nuvenberg’s drawn cheeks, “With their welfare in mind, I would ask that you keep any possible countermeasures tightly under wraps.”

“Would measures equally effective against the Toyama vampires be acceptable?” Kajiwara asked imploringly.

It was all a front. He revealed weakness only in order to maximize sympathy and cooperation for his personal goals. Even knowing that, his opponents couldn’t help but fall into the trap. That was the kind of man who lived inside the facade of this virtuous leader of men.

“For the time being,” Mephisto conceded. “However, the only reason you are here with us now is because this old woman was there with you. Shinjuku’s movers and shakers won’t be so fortunate as to have the protection of the Czech Republic’s greatest wizardess.”

“Then what should we do?”

“I shall leave it to Aki-san to uncover their hiding place. Starting tonight, all important bureaucrats and politicians should be kept in undisclosed locations from sunset to sunrise. They should be driven by trusted drivers and accompanied by trusted bodyguards. The services of a powerful psychic would be a useful backup, but not necessarily. By the time they were detected, the game would be up anyway. Until this matter is resolved, they cannot tell anyone—including their families—where they are. All communications should take place over secured lines.”

“Just a minute,” Kajiwara said, holding up a hand. “Are all these steps really necessary? Once these vampires have quenched their thirsts, won’t they just calm down and move on? Why would they care what position the victim holds?”

“That’s why we’re confining ourselves to the big shots. Right now, nobody knows what these new vampires are planning. Miss Nuvenberg apparently has an idea, but there’s no asking her now.”

“And Doctor Mephisto can’t do anything about that?”

Kajiwara emphasized the name of the Demon Physician. It wasn’t clear whether he’d done so on purpose. If he had, then it was likely unconscious. The product of his naturally calculating impulses.

“Unfortunately, as things stand now—”

“—you’re not holding out a lot of hope.”

Kajiwara’s shoulders drooped. He looked like a middle-aged man who’d lost his family and his fortune and teetered on the edge of self-destruction. It was an expression of dejection that prompted bystanders to step forward and take up the reins.

“But there are steps we can take.”

Doctor Mephisto spoke crisply. He didn’t intend his cool exterior to be encouraging. It was his natural ruthlessness. The mayor’s stratagems didn’t work on them.

“Yes, exactly.” Kajiwara raised his head. He looked resigned to the course of action. He said, filling his voice with determination, “We must strike while the iron is hot. But without divulging anything. I definitely want to have you two as part of my brain trust. Here, wear these—”

He produced two golden badges from the pocket of his suit coat. A child would recognize them. They identified the mayor’s Special Investigations Unit. They weren’t handed out willy-nilly, but put one on, and doors would open up right and left.

Access to the best restaurants and hotels. Free fare on any mode of transportation, public or private. It bestowed the authority of a police detective, and the right to order beat cops around at will. No one was surprised when a yakuza dealing knock-off badges on the sly was gunned down by his own oyaji in a public eatery.

“Sorry,” said Setsura Aki, and he really did sound sorry.

“The body count is high enough already,” said Doctor Mephisto, as if seriously questioning the man’s sanity.

“I see. Well, I’m not surprised. However, Aki-kun, if what you are saying is true, the fate of Shinjuku hangs in the balance. I must know everything about these new vampires as soon as you do. My private line is 011111. I’ll give you all the support I can muster.”

“Understood, Mr. Mayor.”

“And we shall leave it at that. Let’s be sure to keep today’s conversation between the three of us.”

After the mayor left the room in a hurry, Setsura examined the backrest of the chair he’d been sitting in and plucked out a small shard of metal.

“It’s a bug. He’s as two-faced as they come. But don’t worry. He seems to know what he’s doing.”

“One hopes.” Mephisto’s voice was as calm as ever. “And whose side are you on?”

“Whose side do you think?”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Or I’ll lose my head too?”

“Well—”

“Ask me again when I am me.”

The conversation was going nowhere. Setsura turned his attention to Galeen Nuvenberg, lying on the bed. “So, you really can’t do anything about this?”

“I am getting a fundamentally different vibe than what you experienced. As if that ether that constitutes the very wellspring of life has been ripped out by the roots. I’ve done all that I can, but recovery will take some time.”

“You’re not holding out a lot of hope.”

“The mayor can do without the two of us. Everything depends on what you can turn up. We don’t know what those vampires have in mind for this city, but the faster we find out where they are hiding, the better.”

“Aye, aye.” Setsura turned and headed to the door. Then he stopped and said mostly to himself, “Five o’clock? That’s when the lights come on. The artificial light drives out the natural. It creates its own kind of darkness.”

Sitting in the back room of Aki Senbei/Aki Detective Agency, Takako fought off the anxiety welling up inside her. She was still okay. The lights were still on. She could still hear the voices of people out front. The shop girl was still at work. The tea was getting cold. It was about time for the shop girl to check up on her and get her a refill.

At some point, Takako became aware of her attention drifting back to the storage alcove. She hastily refocused her eyes on the teacup in front of her. Come to think of it, she was looking at it an awful lot. As dusk grew closer, that’s where her attention was drawn. She should have left it back at the shop.

The contents of the shadow box emerged at sunset, the shadows within that provided protection from the rays of the sun dissolving into the dark night. The mad alchemist Kikiou had made it under orders from Daji, that Hsia Dynasty witch and seductress. A box of artificial night for those creatures that could live only in the dark.

In the harsh sunlight at the amusement park, it had repelled stones thrown at it. In the dim light of the curio shop, the tension in its skin had relaxed, allowing a thrown piece of glass to penetrate it. Takako had deduced from its properties what it was. Her great delight was soon tempered by the realization that the only person capable of confronting what was inside the shadow box had still not arrived.

By the same token, though, it wouldn’t matter now where she took the thing—if what she imagined was inside the shadow box really was inside it—

They would notice. And see. The dimly-lit concrete floor of the storage alcove.

Dim? The light wasn’t on. With a shudder of fear, like being doused with a bucket of cold water, Takako got unsteadily to her feet and felt around the wall in the genkan until she found the switch.

The electric lights were bright. Brighter than the light outside. She breathed a sigh of relief. Only to realize that she was just as nervous as before.

Why did she continue to stare at the light switch? Why didn’t she turn around? Why didn’t she want to turn around? She heard a sound behind her. The sound came from the storage alcove. From where the shadow box sat on the concrete floor.

She caught her breath.

“That was an eventful ride,” a man’s voice said. “I seem to have been transported to another place. Woman—where am I?”

She must not answer. She must warn the shop girl. She must—But she found herself saying smoothly and without hesitation, “Aki Senbei, in West Shinjuku.”

A short silence. Then the voice filled with an indescribably eerie and unearthly joy. “One unlikely encounter after the next. I had intended to come here after visiting Toyama. And where may I find this Setsura Aki?”