Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Setsura woke with an aching throat. It wasn’t a piercing pain. More like the dull ache that came with a minor strep infection. He didn’t have a fever. Wondering if this was just his imagination, he brought his hand up to his neck and placed it over his artery.

A slight chill seeped into his fingertips. It was spreading, radiating from the two protuberances—he couldn’t tell whether they were cold or not—the two bite marks. The surrounding flesh was swollen and tender.

He pulled his fingers away and got up. He was in the back office of Aki Detective Agency.

The morning light slowly crept across the old “senbei” futon—a comforter that had lost most of its stuffing and thus had come to resemble a senbei cracker—spread over the tatami mats. Most appropriate bedding for this young senbei shop owner.

Stepping into the shop, he saw that his part-timer had arrived. She still didn’t know what exactly had gone on several days before—the battle between Ryuuki and Setsura in the back of the shop. She was only an eyewitness to the results. She’d accompanied him to the hospital and then came to work the next day as if nothing was amiss.

She was, after all, a citizen of Demon City.

“Good morning!” The cheer directed at him was rather forced.

“What’s up?” Setsura asked, rubbing his neck.

“You’re looking a bit gray. You were pretty green around the gills yesterday. But compared to today, you were the epitome of health.”

“Bad night.”

“Even for a bad night—” She didn’t finish the thought, but gazed at him, her moist eyes tinged with peril. She swallowed hard and said, “Boss—maybe you should use a little rouge—”

“Give me a break. I’m not into that.”

“It’d put some color in your cheeks. Might even look a little sexy. Then again, touch up your lips and cheeks and, well, I don’t think I could stand it.”

“Pull yourself together.” Setsura gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

The muscles beneath his hand twitched and she let loose a small, surprised shriek. A second later, her eyes returned to normal. “No. Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

She looked stricken. Setsura smiled nonchalantly. “That’s okay. How’s the merchandise? Running short on anything?”

“Not at all. There’s plenty on hand. We’ve got plenty to tide us over in any case. I made sure to put anything in short supply on backorder.”

“You’re a life-saver.”

“Oh, we are short of the lightly-browned variety. You have to cook those yourself. We could be running out by noon.”

The prized product of Aki Senbei, made by the proprietor himself.

“Seems it’s been that way for a while,” said the girl, glancing away from Setsura as he inspected the display cases with tired eyes. “How about we rebuild the lot next door and design it so people can watch you making them? It’d be a hit for sure. Do that and we’d move enough product to justify adding another three employees at least.”

“Oh, you’ll handle everything fine by yourself.”

“Happy to hear that.” She crossed her arms across her ample breasts. “But I think that’s what we’ve got to do to grow sales. Simply staying put with the same signage, living off our established reputation won’t generate any excitement.”

“I didn’t realize you were so ambitious.”

“I’m a businesswoman,” she boasted, throwing out her chest for emphasis. “I’ve been attending night school, planning how to take on a management role.”

“I’m impressed.” Setsura allowed himself a small smile.

“So you’ll consider my idea?” she asked with undisguised zeal.

“Sure.”

“Great. I’m committed to seeing this thing through.”

“But we’ll have to put the lightly browned senbei on hold for today. There are things I’ve got to get done.”

“Your customers won’t be happy. I’m the one they end up complaining to.”

“Well, that’s business for you. Stiff upper lip and all.”

The girl shrugged. “It’s the middle of summer, so why are you wearing that black slicker?”

“I was born wearing it.”

Having finished checking out the merchandise, Setsura nodded and left. According to the clock in the office, it was a few minutes before nine o’clock in the morning.

The street was flooded with noise and light. The sound of shoes on pavement as the salarymen hurried off to work. The sound of shop shutters being opened. The hum of the bakery’s high-voltage goblin bug zapper. The rumble of gasoline engines and the drone of hybrid gas-turbines.

Here and there people greeted each other. “Morning. Nice weather, isn’t it? Where’re you off to, dressed up like that?”

“The Hanazono Temple flea market. I’m hoping to catch up on the latest methods for exorcising evil spirits.”

“My boy’s entrance exams are coming up. I’m hoping he can attend a summer school outside Shinjuku.”

Every sound, every word dripped with sweat. Despite the morning hour, the temperature was already in the nineties. And yet Setsura felt his body cooling down. Gooseflesh stood out on his skin. The chill seeped into his bones, down to the marrow.

He felt dizzy. He had to brace his legs to keep his balance. Only a dozen minutes had elapsed since he left the shop. If he only had to put up with the occasional fits of shivering, that’d be one thing. He was still feeling Ryuuki’s qi like a fist in his gut.

Steeling himself, the sunlight battering him as if plunging through a raging waterfall, Setsura Aki slowly made his way back to the shop. He dodged the shopgirl, who reached up as if to feel his forehead for a fever, and staggered to the back office.

As soon as he stepped inside, the dizziness vanished. Walking down the hallway, the chills and shivering ceased. But reaching the office, his hand froze on the sliding screen door.

A nasty electronic shock ran down his arm. The tatami mats in the office glowed with sunlight. He’d been bitten by one of Shuuran’s dolls. The scars in his throat were like a pair of nails driven into the skin. However—

“What a bloody pain in the neck,” he grumbled to himself. As nonchalant as he was handsome, he permitted himself no air of resignation or despair.

“Boss—” came the shopgirl’s voice behind him. She sounded nervous.

“What’s up?”

“I forgot to ask you. Can I take tomorrow off?”

“No problem. Why?”

“I’ve got a—date.”

“Hmm. And tomorrow’s not Sunday.” He asked, “A fellow college student?”

“No. He works for the city.”

“Ah. So he’s a real salaryman.”

“Yeah, I think.”

“I understand. Sure, we’ll call it a paid holiday.”

“Thanks! That really helps.” She turned her attention to a customer entering the store. “Come in!” she called out in her lively shopgirl voice.

Setsura went into the office. He’d left Shuuran in Mephisto’s care. Being bit by her doll had left him susceptible to her manipulations. Their battle in the vacant lot made that clear. As long as he was beyond the sound of her voice and the glow of her eyes, given the state of his wound, he should be beyond her remote control.

Just to be sure, he’d told Mephisto to keep her sedated with powerful non-hallucinatory narcotics, but there was no telling whether Mephisto would take his advice without knowing why. He had to come up with a Plan B, just in case.

Setsura wore a pair of sunglasses out of the house. He took the bus to the Shinjuku Station west terminal, where he transferred to a different line. No matter what manner of mass transit, the attention of the female passengers focused on his comely face and black coat.

Somebody wearing a coat in the middle of summer in this city wasn’t all that out of the ordinary. But the way these women were reacting to him wasn’t the same. Though he was accustomed to the entranced expressions, the colors in those moist eyes deepened similarly to his shopgirl’s.

The color of desire.

The mechanical voice over the loudspeaker announced: “Next stop Magic Town. Next stop Magic Town.”

Feeling the sighs of regret at his back, Setsura got off the bus and set off at a brisk walk, tolerating the feverish chills seeping into his bones the best he could.

Located in the first block of the Takada no Baba neighborhood, Magic Town squatted there quietly beneath the bright sunlight. At this time of day, any angels or demons living there kept out of sight.

Belfries and overhanging gables adorned the stone houses and buildings. It was reminiscent of something out of the Middle Ages. The old wooden doors and windows were shuttered tight. The water coursing down the covered ditches on either side of the smooth cobblestone streets still ran clear.

Though witches and warlocks preferred the nighttime, others were awake and watching during the day. A certain something was there, obstructing the evil designs of the gangbangers, cat burglars, organized crime syndicates and intelligence agencies who entered this city block in search of forbidden mysteries. Its small eyes glittered from atop the dark alleyways and the weathered brick walls.

Setsura glanced to his right and left. On his right, the twisted trunk of a tree clawed toward the sky. A willow. Its roots were covered with human bones. These were the accumulated results of people who’d been dumped there. From the tattered remains of the clothing, interlopers from some time ago.

Setsura had no interest in them.

On his left was a brick wall. Draped across the top of the wall was a black shadow. A round, fat black cat.

“Freelancing again, Toya?” Setsura asked, calling out the name of the most rotund information broker in Shinjuku.

The cat scowled and disappeared behind the wall and out of view. An unfamiliar noise rushed toward him. It sounded like the roar of the ocean. A white, surging tide sprang into view at the end of the street.

“Well—” said Setsura in a tired voice.

The ocean wave rushed at him, sparkling in the sunlight. He had no time to escape and nowhere to run. He stood there and was engulfed in white.

A moment later, he was standing alone on the cobblestones, the crash of the waves still echoing in his ears. That was all. Not a spot of wetness remained on the street. There wasn’t a damp hair on his head.

“Interesting guest,” came a hoarse voice above him.

Setsura looked up. The owner of the voice alit on the limb of the willow. Its carnivorous eyes peered down at him. A raven.

“People who visit during the day, who don’t have an appointment, will trip that tripwire. Those who intend no harm to this city block or its residents won’t get much more than a good scare or a fainting spell. That bunch from the Czech Secret Service, though, they scared easy.” The raven jabbed its beak at the tangled skeletons around the base of the tree. “The muddy currents swallowed them up and they drowned there. Much to the delight of the neighborhood dogs and rats.”

“Good job,” Setsura complimented the bird while suppressing the creeping chill in his gut. “By the way, any other tripwires?”

“That depends on you. A brave heart, not alarmed by that little performance—you don’t strike me as a dangerous type. Where are you headed?”

“Show me the way and I’ll tell you.”

The bird opened its mouth and cawed like a normal bird. Then it said, “These days, you can’t let down your guard even for ordinary citizens,” and took off.

Beating its wings vigorously, it crossed the sky above the street. A dozen feet ahead of him, it paused and looked back at him.

“The house of Miss Galeen Nuvenberg, if you don’t mind.”

Giving no sign whether it comprehended him or not, the bird resumed its forward flight and continued leisurely down the narrow main street.