Yashakiden: The Demon Princess, Volume 2 Read online

  “Ohh—” the women exclaimed together.

  Mephisto’s boat again moved forward on the steadfast surface of the water with all the jauntiness of a pleasure cruise. The eyes of the women seeing him off were filled with hatred. However, as the white figure drew further away—not once looking back—and became little more than a dot on the horizon, from their mouths issued a long sigh.

  Like bidding goodbye to a lover departing on a long voyage, it was a sigh filled with painful might-have-beens.

  Beyond the prow of the boat, a wooden wharf jutting out from the shore came into view. The two figures standing there gazed back at him. Mephisto recognized both of them.

  Kikiou was wearing silver priest’s robes. Next to him, Shuuran’s hair fluttered in the breeze. As the water pushed the boat precisely to the dock, the two of them bowed respectfully.

  “As soon as Shuuran gave me word, I came here to wait for you. Such was to be expected of Doctor Mephisto. Ah, I see you’ve arrived here without so much as a scratch.”

  Gone was the battle-strength qi Mephisto had experienced outside the Toyama housing project. In its place was a humble, even courteous, air. But Mephisto regarded the old man with the same look as always.

  “This is an unexpected welcome. I would have thought a hungry wolf or famished tiger awaited me.”

  “Such stereotypical expectations,” the old man scoffed. He quickly corrected his expression. “We welcome you from the bottom of our hearts. To speak with total candor, making the best doctor in Demon City into an enemy was the last thing on our minds. I hope you will reciprocate our warm regards.”

  “But of course,” Doctor Mephisto answered.

  “Please, this way.” Shuuran smiled and turned towards a narrow path winding through the bamboo grove.

  The thick scent of bamboo floated on the breeze. At the back of the grove, a stone staircase was cut into the cliff wall. It had well over a hundred steps.

  Shuuran, in the lead, stopped before the staircase. Mephisto asked, “You’re not going up?”

  “These were originally the steps used by the castle guards. My mistress would rebuke me severely if guests were made to use them.”

  Kikiou raised his hand. In a flash, another silhouette swallowed up the three shadows cast on the ground. Unquestionably the result of good training, a large bird swooped down and seized Mephisto by the shoulders without a single flapping sound.

  Just as it seemed that the bird’s upwards trajectory would continue into the heavens, Mephisto found himself standing on the top of the cliff along with the other two. He looked up, but saw no sign of the bird. All he could conclude was that it had at least three legs and three sets of claws.

  The wind bore an indescribable fragrance towards him, accompanied by a clear, transparent tone. Stretching out below him was a large courtyard and stately manor. A small red boat and gazebo floated on a brimming lake. A waterfall tumbled solemnly from the summit of an ornamental mountain made of oddly shaped rocks.

  The manor house was a showpiece of exquisite craftsmanship, sporting the lavish use of the finest materials. In the heart of an unexplored mountain range, wizards had created this world apart, this ultimate expression of four thousand years of refined tastes.

  Beyond the manor was a green expanse, so deep and dark it was almost black, reaching out as far as the eye could see.

  This was the dwelling place of these night visitors.

  Chapter Three

  The woman easily broke through the heralded defensive perimeters of Doctor Mephisto’s hospital and continued on her way. The force fields resisted her as they might a gentle breeze. The paralyzers and airlocks filled with anesthetic gas were equally ineffective.

  She walked—flew might be the better word—right through them.

  The computers pointed to the existence of something unconstrained by the basic laws of physics and nature. But thanks to the fleeing woman’s horrible beauty, at least one member of the security detail had come away convinced of it.

  Getting word that she was moving quickly toward the roof, the surveillance room supervisor figured they had her cornered and tasted victory, though that feeling was tinged with apprehension.

  The hospital had seven floors above ground. After that the roof and the infinite sky.

  For no logical reason, the supervisor got the feeling that the woman—invisible to his monitors—would deliberately choose the most difficult escape route.

  Halfway up the staircase to the roof, the door came into view. The woman stopped. She’d definitely just passed the halfway point. But the distance to the door and its perceived size hadn’t changed. She could climb a thousand more steps and wouldn’t rise a foot higher. She could climb forever and all that awaited her was pointless effort.

  “So they bent space back on itself. How very clever.” The woman smiled, showing her teeth. “But I battled such an obstacle four thousand years ago. With every passing year, humans devolve more than they evolve.”

  At that time the legendary Yellow Emperor – the ancestor of the Han Chinese – possessed great spiritual powers. He studied the laws of the earthly and incorporeal realms, and freely ordered about the demon gods that resided there. He conquered foreign lands and peoples, and subjugated the Hmong.

  Chi You, King of the Hmong, was an expert in magic and the dark arts. He summoned a demon cat beast a hundred feet tall and sent it to devour the Yellow Emperor’s armies.

  Drawing on the powers of the gods, the Yellow Emperor transformed two talismans into a phoenix and a divine tortoise. These two brought the demon beast under control while the Yellow Emperor employed Dun Jia techniques—the most benign school of which would later become known as Feng Shui—to warp space and cut off the enemy’s path of retreat.

  He constructed three gates around the battlefield. Those thrust into the “Rest” gate were bound hand and foot. Those who plunged through the “Pain” gate were drawn and quartered. And then through the remaining “Life” gate, the demon gods summoned by the Yellow Emperor attacked the distant Chi You.

  This warping and bridging of space suggested similar Dun Jia techniques. Modern science had only now figured out how to bend space-time? Hence the woman’s contemptuous attitude.

  “I understand what you can do. But do you understand what I can do?”

  She bit down hard on the tip of her right index finger. Before the thread of falling blood touched the ground, she flicked her hand. The thread leapt up, its end landing unbroken on the top step. She pulled back with her hand.

  Guided by the thread of blood, it seemed that the steel door itself would descend the entire staircase. But that wasn’t possible. Rather, a duplicate set of stone steps appeared. The one ran over the other, and when they were perfectly lined up, the door was right before her eyes.

  “Over those next thousand years, Taoist monks spent their entire lives figuring out ways to break through the Dun Jia. I imagine your scientists will need that much time as well.”

  She put her hand on the real doorknob of the real door. It opened without further resistance. She stepped onto the roof of Mephisto Hospital, into the dark night air. The breeze caressed her cheeks. The stars shone overhead. She looked up at the sky with an expression that suggested a familiarity with the constellations.

  For a moment, lost in her thoughts, a peaceful look eclipsed her ravaged face, as she remembered someone or something from long ago.

  “Surrender!” ordered a cold, metallic voice in the darkness. “Or else, according to Safety Preservation Regulation 48 governing this institution, we will have no choice but to launch a decisive assault.”

  The woman didn’t move. She didn’t turn around. There were no human shadows on the roof. It was lit only in the glow of the moon and stars, and yet she could sense a countless number of things crawling about.

  “Well, well. I would love to stick around and keep you company, but I have overstayed my welcome. So this is goodbye. More people than myself are presently in di
re need of this hospital’s services.”

  The cheerful tone in the voice wavered just a bit. The white shadow leapt over the railing and was engulfed by a cloud of writhing masses.

  Impervious to all known armaments, these synthetic wraiths possessed, weakened and killed any living organism. Only members of the hospital board were authorized by Doctor Mephisto to deploy them.

  With a wave of her hands, the wraiths shattered into a thousand pieces.

  By the time the flabbergasted security personnel poured onto the roof, the woman was floating through the air. She was then as high above the ground as the fence surrounding the hospital, so they thought she was about to hit the ground.

  But then her body moved.

  The armored exoskeletons had enough shock-absorbing ability and retro-rocket thrust to take a dive off a fifty-story building. But nobody took off after her. This flesh and blood woman wasn’t a ghost, and yet she skipped through the air as if strolling across level ground.

  This was something they’d never seen before. Even in Demon City.

  The wind fluttered through the gossamer material on the back of her dress. It reminded them of ephemeral butterfly wings. But they couldn’t begin to imagine what it actually was or what it actually did.

  Assured that nobody was following her, in a great display of self-confidence, the woman calmly continued on for another ten yards before she picked up the pace and was swallowed up by the Demon City night.

  Shuuran indicated the suspension bridge ahead of them. “This way.”

  The bridge sloped down to the second floor of the manor house. There wasn’t any wind. After crossing the bridge with the occasional unsteady step, Mephisto passed through a brightly-colored corridor and was led to what looked like a luxurious living room.

  Shuuran handed Kikiou a golden decanter. Kikiou asked casually, as he filled Mephisto’s glass, “I assume you drink?”

  “Please.”

  He filled the glass to the brim with the clear, strongly aromatic liquid. Mephisto downed it in a single gulp.

  “Splendid!” said the old man, with complete sincerity. “I have to sip at the stuff, and even then it burns my throat. Well, such is to be expected from a citizen of Demon City.”

  “When did you learn about our little town?”

  “While sequestered within the ship.”

  “And how much do you know?”

  “As far as you are concerned, everything.”

  A single glance from Mephisto made Kikiou’s meaningful expression stiffen. Mephisto said, “I believe you are mistaken.”

  A bead of sweat slid down the center of Kikiou’s forehead, down to the tip of his nose, where he wiped it off. “You are correct.” The old man’s voice sounded like it was tangled up in his throat. “I never sweated like this before. I seem to be running hot and cold these days. As you say, I was mistaken.”

  “That is fine,” Mephisto said, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.

  Kikiou didn’t reply right away. Then presently, “And how much do you know about us, Doctor?”

  Mephisto didn’t hesitate. “You are neither friends nor allies.” “I certainly wouldn’t object to us becoming either. Otherwise there would be no purpose to our inviting you here.”

  “One of you attacked my hospital. The only satisfactory penalty for such an offense is death. In this case, he who ordered it and he who did nothing to stop it share the same sin.”

  “So you will slay us and be on your way?”

  “Regardless of what happens henceforth, I am not interested in anything but the recuperation of my patients.”

  A violent demon qi erupted from Kikiou’s body and filled the room. “So you are resolved to defeating us no matter what?”

  “That is why I am here.”

  “We are the ones who invited you.”

  “You were not doing me any favors.”

  “Won’t you listen to our side of the story? I assure you, we bear you no enmity. To be perfectly honest, the invasion of your hospital was done without knowledge of your presence there. Otherwise, such reckless action would never have been attempted.”

  “All the patient gets from a doctor’s regrets is death.”

  “A waste of effort, you mean. But of course. You are the man I imagined you to be.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment.”

  “To tell the truth, what we would be proud to offer you is but a trifle. But that’s why they call you the Demon City Physician. Even if it is but a trifle, why not spare a few minutes to talk it over?”

  Kikiou looked quietly into Mephisto’s eyes. Time passed as it had before, though of a far more severe nature.

  Mephisto said, “Let’s hear it then.”

  Kikiou nodded. “No man can avoid a visit from the Grim Reaper. But when death comes to the door, he needn’t let it in.”

  “Eternal youth and eternal life is the privilege of the vampire. But in any case, I could have gathered as much from the Toyama residents. Those humans who wish to associate with them are surprisingly ill-informed about how they actually live.”

  Mephisto’s observation went right to the heart of the matter, the blind spot in the old legends. Those whose blood was consumed by a vampire would, after death, transform into vampires. This was an inviolable rule. But interviews with the handful of “protégés” that had joined the Toyama clans brought into focus the severe nature of the environment they had consigned themselves to.

  They tasted—as mortals—the severe cold and hunger that wracked the vampire’s body. But this was a cursed life that knew no end. Breathing frozen breath and enduring a kind of hunger that made them want to devour their own flesh, their lives became a never-ending act of penance.

  As a consequence, desperate for warm blood, with natures more ferocious and brutal than the lords of the night, they were loathed not only by humans but by any demonic monster born of a mother. The world of the vampire was not one human beings easily accommodated themselves to.

  “I understand what you are saying,” countered Kikiou. “But a studied ignorance lies at the heart of such tragedies. You are different. As far as we know, Doctor Mephisto is the only person in Demon City capable of understanding the supernatural realms with his heart as well as his mind.”

  “And what manner of understanding would that constitute?”

  All expression disappeared from Kikiou’s face. “Then you are curious?”

  “While I do not consider myself an easy man to flatter—”

  “I am well aware of that. Doctor Mephisto is ordinarily moved only by what will benefit his patients.” Kikiou gestured to Shuuran, who was standing behind him. The attractive girl nodded, and left the room.

  “—I have no intention of becoming one of your brood,” Mephisto continued.

  “Neither does that come as a surprise. We have not frittered away the past four thousand years for nothing. We have ways of allowing special persons to not become one of our brood, while partaking of the privileges accorded those who do.”

  Anticipating what effect his words would have on the handsome doctor, the smile did not vanish from Kikiou’s face.

  “The person who visited my hospital should be around here somewhere.”

  “What?” Kikiou blurted at this incongruous statement. He gaped a bit.

  “I was wondering if I could see him. I assume he is the same man who visited the ward mayor’s office this afternoon with you. The most powerful wizardess in Shinjuku has been confined to a hospital bed. Would that be your doing or his?”

  “That was my work alone.”

  “So the man who fought us in broad daylight could only invade the ward mayor’s office shrouded in darkness?”

  Kikiou bowed low. “I’ve got to hand it to you.” At the bottom of the bow, out of Mephisto’s line of sight, his lips twisted into the shape of a smile. Lifting his head he said, “You may already be familiar with the man’s name, but his name is Ryuuki. What do you intend to do
with him?”

  “He must perish. For violating the sanctity of my hospital and acting unlawfully in the ward government building. Though, frankly, I do not care about the latter.”

  “If that is the price for accepting our good faith intentions in this regard, then so be it. However, that man is the object of our mistress’s affections. We could not offer him up to you on the spur of the moment. And besides—” Kikiou paused for a moment. “He happens not to be in.”

  “Where is he?”

  Kikiou didn’t answer.

  “Where did he go?” Mephisto pressed.

  “He indicated that he wanted to settle things with the man who took his fingers. A senbei shop owner in West Shinjuku.”

  “When will he return?”

  “Before the break of day. By the looks of things, another hour or so.”

  “I hope he makes it back in one piece.”

  “You certainly have a lot of confidence in him. Is Setsura Aki that impressive a fellow?”

  “Your investigations do seem to have come up a bit short.”

  The old man might have taken the look that passed across Mephisto’s face for a smirk, but he didn’t want to think about it too hard.

  A little while later, Shuuran entered the room like she was floating in on a breeze, carrying a silver platter. Neatly arranged on the platter was a porcelain jar that looked like a squat section of water pipe. A single glass tube jutted from it in the shape of a gooseneck. The end was bent into a mouthpiece.

  Shuuran set the jar down in the middle of the round table and looked at Mephisto.

  “Please, drink,” Kikiou urged him. “I swear that its contents were not prepared by any of us. A scholar who desired to know what we know without becoming one of us spent thirty years in a little hut out in the middle of nowhere devoted to its creation. After accomplishing his goal, a single mouthful was enough to drive him mad and send him to the grave. But on his deathbed, he communicated a single portion of that knowledge to his apprentice. In time, the apprentice came to the Land of the Gods—to Japan—and there had a child by a local woman. These are the origins of the legend of Yaobikuni.”