Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Chan’s appearance at the library was entirely by chance.

Transformed by the madness of the mollusk, his body continued in its strange mutations. The amalgam of angles and curves—of squarish and spherical projections—clothed in military fatigues emerged from the swirling nebulae of shooting stars that surrounded him.

Perhaps because of enemies he’d encountered on his way to the library, a tortured cry issued forth from one face of the polygon, from what seemed to be the bizarrely colored inside of his mouth.

The dream that had become Chan—the Chan that had become the dream—paused at the first floor main entrance of the library to scan its surroundings. Inside the hall was drenched in green. Thick carpets of moss piled high on the floor and covered the walls, making it into a completely different world.

Odd odors drifted in the air—but undoubtedly fresh. The oxygen generated by the moss was fermented from the sun and the haunted air of Shinjuku.

A naked woman was lying in the center of the hall. Takako Kanan.

The night before last, Yakou and Princess had battled each other in the middle of the air. The conclusion of that conflict saw Takako cast down to the earth.

The mystery was how she had survived. Her pale skin was covered with abrasions and bruises, gaping wounds as if inflicted by the edge of a sword. Her bountiful breasts and lower torso were similarly covered with blood.

Despite his murderous state of mind, the thing that was once Chan was overcome by curiosity.

One of the shooting stars whirling around him broke orbit and flew in between her legs. The naked body quivered in an erotic and enticing manner. And yet it aroused no obvious emotional reaction in the current Chan.

The tangle of spheres and wheels of varying sizes that constituted his legs nevertheless dragged him closer, likely a product of the dreaming clam’s instinctual response.

Takako’s body changed into a starry sky. She became the dream as well. Perhaps this was the way the mad mollusk communicated. The human cosmos dimmed. A dark cloud obstructed the sunlight streaming through the window.

A creaking sound rang out next to the woman’s body. Not the result of Chan’s movements—it was the sound of a hinge. The lid of the luxurious casket next to her was opening. The person inside was arrayed in dazzling dress in no way inferior to the casket’s exterior decor.

The Carpathian stood up. He had a graceful face with fierce eyes like inlaid gems. Those eyes examined the strange interloper. “What are you?” he demanded, in a voice like the roar of a lion. Even the moss seemed to tremble in fear.

The thing that was Chan reluctantly turned his attention to the speaker. There was no telling what bodily organ he used, but he “saw” him. And then shifted his attention back to Takako.

“All means of access to this casket are strung with threads I borrowed from a certain man. The threads will cut through any thing regardless of its shape, living or dead. What are you, a phantasm?”

Chan ignored him—the vampire that feared no one but Princess. General Bey hadn’t figured out why yet. He growled very much like a wild animal and leapt from the casket.

He grabbed the “neck” protruding from the collar of Chan’s military fatigues. His hand closed effortlessly into a fist. “Oh,” he groaned. “A dream. I don’t know whose dream, but I doubt it is a person with good pedigree. And drawing this girl into it—insolence piles upon insolence. A dream it may be, but you are still responsible.”

Ruby red light spilled from the general’s eyes. But no matter how powerful this prince of death was, he couldn’t turn his own self into a dream on a whim.

He didn’t counterattack. He reached with his right hand into the tunic of his jacket. “When nightmares become a battlefield, a magician who once entertained at Matthias Castle in Budapest taught me this trick. Even I can’t fight a dream. But I can wake you from yours.”

He turned to the invader leaning over Takako’s body and thrust out his fist while opening his hand. The thick palm contained a gleaming golden flute. It was no more than four inches long. He brought it to his mouth and blew with great strength.

The thing that was once Chan—still wearing military fatigues—pressed its hand-like objects into Takako’s chest. The stars rising out of her body sprung white tails and sank into the floor. The cosmos began to move.

This change was perhaps a reflection of the clam’s deranged world. The clam was at its wit’s end, and faced with the general standing there holding the flute, the universes of the soldier and the woman turned as if to flee.

That action came to a halt as they were passing through the door. The thing that was once Chan in a flash regained its original shape. As did Takako.

A dazzling gust of wind tore the two apart. Chan’s head and torso and legs tumbled to the concrete floor like slabs of butcher’s meat. Again assuming human form, his body met the mortal fate awaiting it.

A horrific howl came from the direction of the door. The gust of wind that had thrust back Takako had restored General Bey to his true form. He was the one who had cried out. And for good reason. His face and chest and legs were crisscrossed with dozens of fine red lines.

The protective mesh he’d woven from Setsura’s devil wires cut him as he was thrown out the door. The general roared. The cry of the wounded magical beast echoed back from the forest like thunder.

“Setsura Aki!” General Bey gathered his ragged breath. Minutes later he muttered, “How much longer must I suffer the spells of that beautiful genie?”

He got to his feet. Standing there like a cracked statue, he looked down at the naked, white body of the sleeping Takako.

“She wandered home, this very pretty prey. Losing it so easily would render my long-awaited release from Princess’s prison for naught. Every night from this night forth, I shall fill my plate. The plate that is my appetite.”

A ferocious self-satisfied smile creased his lips. The general pounced to the left. With a sound like a broken violin string, the devil wire sliced through the air and sailed back at least ten yards to the copse of trees behind him.

And disappeared into the hand of the stunning man in black. “Well done,” said the smiling Setsura Aki.

Having just emerged from the mollusk’s dream, his attractive face was deeply shadowed with fatigue. Though that also cloaked the otherwise affable senbei shop owner with an indescribable sense of dread.

“A surprise attack.” The general looked at Setsura with glowing eyes and grinned.

Setsura shrugged. He walked up to the general, stopping when about ten feet separated them. “My bad. I just made the return trip from the most unusual world of dreams. And on top of that, the effects of the tranquilizer gun did not entirely disappear along with the dream. Did you wake the clam up with that flute?”

“Indeed. And you followed its silent sound to this place?”

“I did,” Setsura said with a clever smile that shook the general’s murderous mood. “The normal me wouldn’t have heard it, but the dreamworld me did. Say, this park is awfully quiet for the middle of the day. At least the bothersome bunch I ran into before still remembers me. We all seem to have arrived here in one piece. And here’s the person I was looking for all along.”

The general followed Setsura’s gaze. He said in an icy voice, “Is she your paramour? She tumbled into my bed last night. She was cast out of the sky by that fearsome Princess. From the condition of her wounds, she must have been lucky enough to land in soft and muddy earth. She wandered for the next day in a senseless daze. But she has a strong hold on life, and the stars are in her favor.”

“Yeah, she is a tough one,” Setsura said with a wry grin. He stared fixedly at General Bey. From his perspective, it was as if Takako had fled from the jaws of a ravenous wolf only to fall into the den of an equally ravenous lion.

“Ah, no need to fear. I am yet to quench my thirst. I shall indulge myself starting tonight. Would you like to join in?”

“Once my demands have been met,” Setsura said with indifferent nonchalance, “I’ll think it over.”

General Bey unexpectedly smiled and laughed heartily, in a manner appropriate to his reputation. When Ryuuki laughed along with his soldiers, it was the commander’s smile of pain and sorrow. But General Bey fought for the sheer joy of fighting, and did not give any soldier’s death a second thought. He mourned for no one but only drank to victory while planning the next new glorious campaign that would send thousands, tens of thousands, to a dusty death.

Ryuuki’s soldiers loved him and fought for him, marched to the front and lost their lives for him, celebrating that victory and peace from the bottom of their hearts.

The soldiers who served General Bey hated him with a passion, and marched to war begrudging their fate, and prayed for his death while celebrating the victories he brought them.

That was the kind of man a general like Ryuuki was, and the kind of man a general like Kazikli Bey was.

“And what would those demands be?”

“To start off with, safely return Kanan-san.” Setsura held up a finger. “Second, tell me where Princess and her crew are holding out.” A second finger. “Third, bury yourself back beneath the earth where you came from, and never show your face again.” A third finger. “Yeah, that should suffice.”

“Easy demands to make.” Red light again flashed from his eyes. “Because you shan’t accomplish a one of them. If you really want her, then become one of us.”

Before the last word left his mouth, General Bey waved his right hand. The devil wire strung across the doorway sprung silently at Setsura’s head with a force and trajectory that would cleave it in two. In that same instant, it was intercepted by one of the same, and reflected in midair.

“A stalemate,” Setsura said in a bored voice. “You really have to come up with some new ideas.”

“How about this?”

The general’s eyes locked on Setsura’s. The black-clad figure stiffened. Call it instant hypnotism or the dark magic of his evil eyes, but in that moment Setsura lost the ability to move.

His lips being the lone exception, and only barely at that. “Why—?”

“You mean, why didn’t I use this power on the roof of the hotel? I appear to have underestimated you. I imagined I could easily dispatch you before resorting to such measures. And when the moment came, you had already fallen from the building.”

“Well—thanks—and with Ryuuki—?”

“Give me some credit. Only a fool shows his cards before playing the last hand. You and Doctor Mephisto were there too. Just passing either one of you on the street puts a strain on my soul. Oh, do not waste the effort. Your body cannot move. I am impressed that you can even speak. I cannot claim four thousand years of heritage like Princess. But you shall receive a baptism in the blood of a man who has lived half a millennium.”

The might of his unparalleled self-confidence glowing in his eyes, the general sauntered up to Setsura and tore open the front of his shirt. The gleaming crimson demon glow was suffused with craving as well.

He paid no attention to the throat of the prey, but focused instead on the snowy, handsome face. Ah, the light in his eyes—was it not the same as when Setsura had battled Mephisto before daybreak?

“That doctor interfered with you and Ryuuki covered for him. Now I begin to grasp the reasons why. You will all come to serve me, the girl too.”

A white throat that could hardly belong to a man, but that could only belong to him—the general’s fangs sprang out from his lips towards that throat.

A bright, silver light shot out like a jet of scalding steam. It came from a crucifix. The powerful vampire retreated, covering his eyes with his hand.

“You bastard—”

“Since learning of the name Kazikli Bey, I figured I should come prepared. Just a trifle of a thing that was lying around the house where I got my wounds treated.” He plucked at the cross hanging against the hollow of his throat at the end of the silver chain and held it up with his left hand. “You’re no Christian. Why do you fear a crucifix? Because it is such a foundational spiritual symbol?”

“Enough of your lip.”

“No, I’ve got more.” Setsura stepped forward. The general retreated into the courtyard in front of the library, and then silently advanced again. He pressed his right hand against the back of his left. Something like gray ash spilled from between his fingers.

“The clouds are breaking up,” Setsura observed. A column of sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the lawn. “Looks like it’s going to be a bright, sunshiny day. Pretty soon the world will be bathed in light. Answer me if you want to get back to the shade. Where are your friends?”

As if dodging the crucifix held out in front of him, General Bey ducked beneath the eaves of the building. It was hard to imagine such a vampire lord being cornered by a mere cross.

“Get back,” he ordered, in a voice laced with unimaginable hatred.

“Where are they? Or would you rather turn into ash first?”

Holding the crucifix with his left hand, Setsura got ready a strand of devil wire with his right.

A bubble rose from his body into the sky. Before the surprise could register, General Bey was running for the door.

Tentacles covered with suckers sprang from Setsura’s chest and reached toward the general. As soon as they touched his back, they changed into clumps of flesh and fell to the earth.

“Still—a dream,” said Setsura, his voice sounding like he was underwater, and layered over by the echo of a wooden lid striking a wooden jamb.