Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The Chief crumpled on the floor. Not sparing him a second glance, Setsura peered past him into the darkness. These new visitors had come this far without giving away their presence in the slightest, but he showed no surprise or fear at their arrival.

“Well done,” said the white and willowy Demon Princess.

Strange praise, but perhaps she was impressed by this show of nonchalance. The Chief’s heart landed with a splat at her feet. Her other hand covered the side of her face.

“See? Here is your opposite. We all finally meet.”

She wasn’t addressing Setsura. The tall man standing next to her smiled and bared his white teeth. And very nice teeth they were, coming to sharp points like the tips of a row of spears.

But even more frightening—inexorably drawing attention to it—was the overwhelming power of his countenance—the forehead like a rocky ledge, prominent aquiline nose, full lips and boulder-like chin all demonstrating an unshakable sense of determination—the embodiment of a powerful presence that would lay waste to any obstacle before it.

Contrasted against the rude features of his face were the thread-thin slits of his eyes. The physiognomy of this warrior was the product of a proud pedigree, born of elegance and raw power. Setsura could see well enough to discern the deep ocean blue of his eyes and the golden hue of his hair.

“But of course. Though surrounded by all of this sweet perfume, there is one man who does not frighten like a little rabbit.”

His voice sounded like it was caked with rust. He spoke Japanese with a thick Eastern European accent. Despite the cramped underground quarters, it reverberated like they were inside of a towering cathedral.

“Quite the man. I am not surprised that you get this pretty Princess so hot and bothered.”

“Idiot,” the woman hissed. The pique in her voice was palpable.

“In any case, I was let out of my cage to kill you. But let us introduce ourselves first. I am General Bey, Prince of Wallachia.”

“Setsura Aki.”

“You have a curious fighting technique.” General Bey swatted his hands back and forth as if batting away a cobweb. “Oh, you cut me.”

His palms were crossed with a pair of lines that quickly grew fatter. Setsura’s devil wires should have delivered to General Bey the same fate that befell the Chief and his associates. But this one would not be so easily dispatched.

A fierce red glow flooded from the narrow eyes. “I do not know the taste of my own blood, but yours looks delicious. After our scores are settled, I shall reward myself in full. It has been quite some time since I met a man who rekindled memories of battling the Turks at Targoviste.”

“Before we get distracted, there’s something I’d like to ask.”

“What is that?”

“Not you. Her.”

Fierce loathing filled the elegant eye adjacent to the hand covering her face—that he would address her in such a manner. Setsura showed no sign of caring what she thought of him.

“What did you come here to do? Or perhaps—”

“We came in pursuit of you,” she said coldly, keeping a tight rein on her emotions. Her limpid steel-black eyes, though, glowed from within like red rubies.

“I don’t recall being tailed.”

“Don’t play the fool. Who left those scars in your neck?”

Setsura stared at the ceiling and pretended not to know.

“No matter where you go, Shuuran will know where you are. When we dropped in on that woman, your location came to us on the wind. She’s in the neighborhood right now.”

“So a voyeur to boot.” Setsura sighed. Getting bit by one of Shuuran’s dolls was as good as being bit by Shuuran.

“There’s no escaping her, no matter where you go. Do you value your privacy? Check yourself into a room at Mephisto Hospital equipped with anti-telepathy shielding and see how far that gets you.” The woman smiled sweetly. “Those two aren’t there anymore.”

“Really?” Setsura said, making a surprised look.

“I don’t know how either. But they seem to have taken their leave in fine style. I had no problem breaking out of that hospital myself. What a joke this Demon Physician is.”

“I’m with you on that.” He held up a finger. “One more question. Before you broke out, you were in my room. Why didn’t you drink my blood?”

“Because I was rudely interrupted. And there was a more convenient substitute nearby. Making the lass my servant instead would surely make you suffer all the more. She appears to be quite fond of you.”

“Four thousand years of wandering about really brought out the bitch in you.” Setsura pressed his left hand to his stomach as he spoke. “So what do you do after you’ve turned everybody in Shinjuku into vampires? Our wise ward mayor has sealed all the routes to the outside world. One word to the Defense Ministry and they’ll answer with tactical nuclear weapons. Can you restore yourself to life after being reduced to your constituent atoms?”

“You think these last four thousand years have been all peaceful sailing?” Her fangs peeked out from the corners of her lips. “In the subcontinent now known as India, a king once caught on to our true natures. He had a weapon that spat fire, flew through the air, and when it touched the ground, burned everything in sight. I didn’t think he’d use it on us. I can still picture his green face when he became aware of our desires. But he was quite the man, too. He unleashed that bird of fiery death, consuming us, himself, his entire palace.”

“I have heard the legend of a nuclear war occurring in ancient India,” Setsura mused. “The Pushpaka Vimana could reportedly fly at the speed of thought using anti-gravity and teleportation, perhaps some sort of UFO. A weapon that reduced the populations of three cities to ashes, that bleached birds white, and turned food to poison—it was reminiscent of a nuclear missile. The site of the attack was Mohenjo Daro in the Indus Valley. Also called the Mound of the Dead. And the cause of it all was a woman? It’s enough to make a man weep.”

“And that wasn’t all.” The woman smiled. She spoke in a low whisper, but it could almost turn the darkness to ice. “We have existed in countless places and times and lived through all of them. Don’t you understand? War is the natural state of this world. If this world is truly a whole rather than the sum of its various parts, then it has always been at war with itself. Cities fall, forests burn, men and beasts die alike. We count it all a blessing. Death brings blood and blood rides on the wind. It steeps the water that quenches our dry throats. When the fires of war die down, it is up to us to fan the flames.”

Old memories came to mind and her eyes smoldered in ecstasy, the happy afterglow from a sweet past.

“Men and women alike are such delicious and pliable things. I bring my lips up to their ears, bite gently on the lobes, thrust in my tongue and murmur softly. And a myriad of soldiers pick up their spears and the blood flows like water. Do you recall what happened in France in 1572? That idiot Catherine di Medici inspired the Cardinal of Lorraine and his nephews the Dukes of Guise to launch a massacre of French Protestants. And who inspired her? Me. A Mongol chasing sheep around the steppes became intoxicated with me, took my will as his own, and invaded Western Europe. The color of blood is beautiful in every case, its taste sweet beyond belief.”

“The Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre and Genghis Khan,” Setsura said, more to himself. “In this city, your legions of pussy-whipped big shots have met their match. Besides, at any moment, the mayor is going to push the panic button. In the full light of day, Shinjuku’s citizens will hunt you down with wooden stakes. There will always be more where they came from. Maybe you should give world conquest a rest for the time being.”

“Bring it on. It makes no difference to me.”

“Eh?” responded Setsura.

“Ruling the world is Kikiou’s ambition,” she explained. “We don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. He remains a man of ordinary human passions. His unique kind of immorality is as well the product of his implacable tenacity. However, his desire is not to fill the world with his servants. But rather to govern all those lives of flesh and blood according to his own hand. As far as that goes, it’s fine with me.”

“I do find that surprising,” Setsura said, tapping his temples with his knuckles. He couldn’t have known that Yakou had just posed a similar question to Kikiou and received a completely different answer. “So what’s in it for you? Drinking blood is enough?”

“Exactly. I only increase the stable of my servants so that I may do with this world as I see fit. The means to that end do not matter. I only wish to live according to my own terms. Sleep when I want, satisfy my hunger when I wish, make love when the mood strikes me. Do you understand why I have increased our number only by two in four thousand years?” The woman’s glowing red eyes flashed at Setsura. “Because the more commoners I see and hear, the more attractive an eternal sleep becomes.”

“In that case, then why not leave Shinjuku as soon as possible? And go back to pulling the strings behind the scenes as you’ve always done?”

“The world is the same to me everywhere. Besides, I’ve taken a liking to this place. The smell of blood is different. I dream different dreams. Coming here has proved a real pick-me-up.”

“My, my. I guess trouble really is your business. Well, go looking for it and it will find you.”

“Enough with the chitchat.” General Bey’s voice shook the darkness. “No matter how much Princess fancies you, I have a job to do. You are standing in my way. The faster we settle things here the better. After five hundred years, now it is my turn to be free.”

“And what are you going to do about that?” Setsura asked blandly.

The emotions on General Bey’s face shifted for the first time. “Princess and I crossed paths five hundred years ago in Constantinople. Whatever her reasons, I have been sealed away in a cell since, out of sight and out of her mind. Once you are dead, this city shall be my oyster. Pondering who my opponent would be, I knew he must be a man among men. More than that, one with the kind of power that makes the blood run cold.”

“No need to worry about anybody turning coward and running away. This is Setsura Aki.” The woman laughed like a ringing bell.

“That’s me. And just so there’ll be no fretting about hostages, return Miss Kanan.”

“Hoh. You read my mind,” the woman said, with a touch of admiration.

She undid the front of her cheongsam. Not starting at the top, but around her stomach. As soon as she undid the hooks, a white hand flopped out. It didn’t belong to her.

A moment later, by means entirely unclear, all the hooks released. With a heavy thud, the naked body of a young woman fell onto the floor. Takako Kanan pressed her cheek against the concrete as if in love with its cold, midnight touch and didn’t move.

Setsura looked only at the nape of her neck, at the lines of fresh blood flowing from the throbbing wounds in the bloodless, translucently beautiful skin of that neck.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t made her my slave. Yet. She needs but one more kiss. Until then she will sleep. Once you are dead, I will quickly send her after you.”

Her shrill laughter stirred the blood-drenched darkness. And just as suddenly ceased. The transformation born in its place was accompanied by an outpouring of antagonism. The woman could clearly discern that the young man occupying this patch of black belonged to a different world from herself.

He appeared no differently than he had before. Only his essence had changed.

“Do not fear that I will take my leave of you now. On which stage do you wish to act out this play?”

He meant the place of their combat. His voice hadn’t changed. Nevertheless, this Setsura wasn’t the same as the one before. He said, “Miss Kanan is with me.”

“If you survive your duel with the good general, you may come and get her,” the Demon Princess said with a thin smile. Her eyebrows arched slightly.

“Not here,” General Bey said.

His voice grated like creaking hinges through the congealed, claustrophobic air. He had felt that something too.

“Where?”

General Bey pointed his forefinger up and down. “Higher or lower. Either direction. Where there’s room to breathe.”

Watching the two march off toward the elevators, the Demon Princess became aware that she was casually brushing her right cheek with her fingers. She took away her hand and looked at her fingertips. She could make out a color darker than night, like tiny red pearls.

Drops of blood.