City of Demons, page 11
part #2 of The Unseen Series
"She's not in her right mind," Karen replied. She scanned the road ahead, ready for all manners of bedtime story monsters to leap out at them.
-9-
Fifty-seven floors above ground level, on the open roof of the Yori Building, Hayato Yori stood out on the edge. His suit whipped in the wind, pushing at him with invisible hands, yet he showed no fear of falling. He had never feared heights in the slightest, and in fact very much sought them out during his life. He completed his goal of climbing all three of Japan's sacred mountains by the age of nineteen, then moved to jumping from planes every chance he got. Eventually he came to realize it was a poor substitution for the real thing. What he was really after.
The access door at the other end of the rooftop opened, one of his guards emerging hesitantly from the stairway. The young man crossed the helipad and stopped a few feet behind Yori.
"Master Yori, sir. Miku and the woman have escaped."
Yori said nothing. He simply looked down, down to the street so far below. The guard continued, doing his best not to stutter.
"The vehicle's GPS unit has been activated. We expect them to be recaptured within the hour."
"Based on your team's performance so far, you will have to forgive me for having low hopes."
"I make no excuses, Mister Yori. We will do better. I will personally bring you any and all updates as they come." The guard bowed and took leave, retreating to the access door.
"Before you go." Yori raised his hand. "Where is my wife?"
The young man blinked, caught by surprise. "She should be in her room, sir. The building is on lockdown, as you asked."
"Bring her to the interrogation room."
The guard hesitated. "Sir?"
Yori’s head turned ever-so-slightly.
"Yes, sir." The guard left, hurrying down the stairs to carry out the orders.
Yori watched the city wake up to another day. Tiny people leading tiny lives. Over the years he'd come to see Santa Fausta as his home, one infested with termites. Just like insects, its people were a nuisance to those with no use for them, but to those who fed on them, they were a feast just waiting to happen. Yori checked his watch, then took out his phone and made a call.
"Maycomb Realty, where your fantasy is our reality."
Yori frowned at the sound of the woman's voice. "I found one of your kind crawling around in my backyard," he said. The blood test results from the Karen girl had been a surprise, though one he could work with if used carefully.
"Honey, you're never far from one of my kind." Even through the phone he could hear her condescending smile.
"Her name is Karen Kimura. She runs a dojo in Little Kabukicho. Does that sound familiar?"
"Hmm, you know I can't be sure. Our extended family is so big, I've begun to lose track of them all. You know how it is with these lingering family issues."
"Your insults don't amuse me," Yori sniffed.
"But they amuse me, and that's really the point of making them. Besides, you have no sense of humor. It makes you a terrible judge."
"I don't have time for jokes. My life has a singular purpose. I was born with the shame of Minamoto no Yorimitsu-"
"Yes, yes, I know this part."
"-the warrior who foolishly cut off the head of the great Oni king, Shuten-doji."
"Which made him a hero to the humans! What are you complaining about? Just switch sides and you can be a hero, too."
Yori frowned. "That is not my destiny. I am here to undo the damage done by my ancestors, and restore power to the Yokai."
"Yori. You're a human. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can all get on with our lives."
"I will lead the Yokai into battle, and I will defeat you and the other Unseen to take back this world. Mark these words, spider witch- we will dance before long."
Meredith giggled. "That's great news, sugar- I already have the perfect shoes picked out."
***
The black car launched off the old dock, airborne for one, weightless second before making impact with the cold water. It floated for a moment, rocking like a sea-worthy boat. Then it began to fill up with ocean water, flooding the engine, gushing in through the open windows, until the weight was enough to pull the car down, down, air rushing to escape. The last bit to go was the rear bumper, a single flash of chrome pulled into the frigid water.
From the garbage-ringed shore, Danny solemnly watched the churning on the ocean's surface. "Tell me again why I couldn't keep it."
"Because even if there isn't a tracker on it, they'll have reported it stolen by now." Karen wrapped her bare feet with rags she’d found in the trunk, makeshift tabi to protect them from the cold.
"All of the answers, none of the fun." Danny hung his head. The final bubble burst out on the water, all signs of the car gone.
Karen stood and tested out the tabi, the fabric wrapped tightly around the ankles and between her big toe. They would work until she found a proper pair of shoes. A coat wouldn't hurt, either. At least Miku had had the foresight to wear a-
Miku. Karen scanned the derelict buildings, suddenly aware the girl was gone. In the minute she’d turned her head, Karen lost her. "Did you see where she went?" she asked Danny.
"I was…" He pointed to the still water, just as confused as she was. Karen cursed under her breath for losing the girl. She wasn’t accustomed to babysitting, and it showed.
She walked along the dockyard, calling out to the girl. She startled a stray cat with black, matted fur and it ran off, between two ruined buildings.
Of the fifty-three docks along the stretch of ocean, each marked by ten-foot high numbers of peeling paint on its sea wall, only the first six docks in Santa Fausta were still operational. Between the squatters, the rats, and the neglected buildings, it was an accepted fact in Santa Fausta that the higher the number the dock, the more dirty and dangerous it was.
They were on Dock Twenty-Three. Not good, but not the worst, either.
As she rounded the corner of one of the buildings, Karen spotted Miku ahead. The girl stood perfectly still, as if she were studying something closely, but there didn't appear to be anything in front of her. The girl was so entranced, Karen was able to walk up to her and touch her on the elbow before she jolted to attention.
"Are you alright?" Karen looked into Miku's eyes. She wondered if the girl had been hurt, but she saw no signs of trauma.
"I'm fine," Miku spit. Karen was surprised by the girl's demeanor, but she reminded herself Miku was still a little girl, one who hadn't slept in a day, and who had quite possibly said goodbye forever to her mother a few, short hours earlier.
"Watch the attitude," Karen warned before pulling Miku along. They had a long walk ahead of them, and they needed to get started.
***
On a forgotten side-street of Santa Fausta, where only locals bothered to go, one shopfront was so colorless a person could overlook it until they walked right up to it. Crammed between a store that sold antique lamps and another which formerly served as a recruitment office for several phone scams, its dusty window was home to a pair of ivory-skinned mannequins. The man wore a bowler hat and a faded, striped jacket, while the woman wore a lace wedding dress gone yellow with age. A small sign propped in front of them read Saiho-shi, then below that, handwritten, Seamstress.
Inside was an overflowing trove of sewing supplies. Hundreds of little spools of thread in every, imaginable color hung from small hooks mounted on the walls. Rows and rows of plastic bins were filled to the top with buttons in a hundred-thousand shapes and sizes. Every surface was taken up by needles, bits of cloth, and half-finished projects collecting cobwebs and dust.
Karen looked around at the shadowy shop, her eyes tinged with sadness.
"Whoever runs this place is nasty." Danny kicked an empty cat bed that looked like it hadn't been touched in years, the cat likely long dead. A plume of dust rose, causing Miku to cough. "How do you know this woman?"
"She's my grandmother."
"Well, that's awkward," Danny sighed.
A door at the back opened, a tiny Japanese woman appearing under a dim lightbulb, her face more wrinkled than the piles of fabric stacked around her. She smiled politely at her guests. "You surprised me. I'm not open yet."
"Then why is the door open?" Karen asked.
"Oh." The old woman looked worriedly to the front of the shop. "I suppose someone left it unlocked."
Karen approached the buried counter. "Does anyone else work here besides you?"
The woman shuffled forward. "No, but I saw an onryo the other night who might be trying to sabotage me."
"I was taught that those are vengeful spirits who attack out of extreme hatred. Have you done something to deserve such an attack?"
"Who taught you that?"
"A foolish, old woman."
The woman thought for a moment. "Usually they attack from a place of hatred. But sometimes, an onryo can attack out of love. A love so strong it becomes perverted and twisted into hatred." The old woman studied Karen's face. "Do I know you?"
"You should. I got your letter."
There was a long silence as the woman dissected what Karen had said. Her old face loosened as a look of recognition spread across it. "Oh, my. Oh, kichona," she gasped. The old woman reached her small hand over the counter to touch Karen's face, her eyes filling with tears.
Karen took a step back. "This girl needs your help," she motioned to Miku. "A man named Yori took her and her mother. He's been performing rituals on her, grooming her for the Yokai."
The old woman took a moment to recover from the slight. Then she looked at Miku. "Yes. Yes, of course they want her. She has the spirit of one of their gods in her."
Miku stepped forward. "How do you know?"
"I knew the moment I saw you. I did not want to be rude." She looked to Danny. "If I pointed out every demon I saw, I would hardly have any customers."
"That's just good business," he replied.
Karen waved him off. "Tell me- can she ever live a normal life?"
"Who would want such a thing?" The woman wrinkled her nose. "Normal. Do you know what that says to me? Unimportant."
"You know what I mean."
"I do not know that I do."
Karen frowned. "Not everyone wants this life the way you do. I sure didn't."
"And yet here it has found you," the old woman smiled. "Fate is sneaky that way- you run and run from it, but in the end it is always waiting for you. A bit like going bald."
"If you're done with the dimestore philosophy, can you answer the question?"
"Yes, of course," the woman replied. "What was it again?"
Karen gritted her teeth. She took a breath and started again. "Just answer me this: if she ignores the spirit, will it stay suppressed for good?"
The old woman eyed Miku. "There is no containing an energy of that order. The rituals, they only speed up the natural way of things. Already the spirit is making itself known to her. Isn't that right?" She bent down to Miku. "You see it sometimes. It speaks to you when you are alone. Tells you things you do not want to hear."
Miku looked from her to Karen, her eyes wide with fear. "You're scaring her," Karen warned.
The woman laughed softly. "She could kill us all if she wanted, even us Rakni."
"Then definitely stop scaring her."
"I don't understand a word of what's going on here," Danny said, "but even I agree with that."
Karen stepped between Miku and her grandmother, breaking their line of sight. "Hana. How do I remove the spirit from her?" she asked. The woman blinked, searching her memory.
"I…I do not know," she admitted. Then added, "But I suppose Sectu would."
"Who?"
"He is a unique soul, a kind of medicine man. To be honest I do not remember where to find him. But I can give you the name of someone who does."
"Fine, we'll take it."
"Take what?"
"The information on Sectu."
"How do you know about Sectu?"
Karen's blood boiled. Danny jumped in before Karen screwed up their chances. "You were about to give us the name of the person who can tell us where to find him," he said.
"Oh." The old woman shook her head. "Of course. If you give me a moment I can get it for you." She left them and scuttled back through the door she’d come in.
Danny shook his head. "Danny Fosetti, family counselor. Now you know we’re in trouble."
He walked around the store, touching things he shouldn't touch. He picked up a shoe and a large, black spider scurried out and fell to the floor. He dropped the shoe and stepped on the spider, crushing it under his sneaker.
Karen's grandmother returned from the backroom with a slip of paper clutched between her fingers. "Can I help you?" she asked.
Karen paused for a moment. "It's me. Karen."
"Karen who?"
"Your granddaughter."
"Oh, oh my kichona." The woman's eyes watered up anew.
"I have the weirdest feeling of deja-vu right now," Danny said.
"Don't be mean," Miku hissed at him. Danny gave her the finger.
Karen placed her hand on her grandmother's. The old woman looked up, expecting a kiss or a hug, but instead Karen took the slip of paper from her wrinkled grip.
"Walter Singh." Karen read the address underneath. "This apartment block was bull-dozed years ago. You don't have a more recent address?"
"Walter Singh, Walter Singh," the grandmother repeated like a mantra, a spell to jog her memory. "Now that you mention it, I believe he is dead."
Danny peeked up from a stack of pants. "So the cemetery, then?" Miku smacked him on the arm. The two bickered as the women continued.
"Think," Karen said. "Is there anyone who might know what he knew? A wife? Someone he told his secrets?"
"He was never married. Too ugly. But he always had a table at the Crossroads Market. He sold the most wonderful things with his nephew."
"What about him?"
"Forget it, he's ugly, too."
"I mean could he know about Sectu?"
She wagged her gray head. "I suppose it is possible. They fought constantly, but they were always together."
"Then I guess that makes him the best chance we've got," Karen said. She turned to the others. "We should get moving while it’s still dark." Danny and Miku started to move, but Hana raised a hand.
"Please. Stay a while," she offered.
"We don’t have time to socialize."
"I am only concerned for you, kichona. All three of you look so cold and tired. Especially you," she pointed to Danny.
"I would be insulted if I didn’t totally agree," he replied. He turned to Karen. "It might not be a bad idea, you know. Lay low for a few hours. Get some sleep."
"Laying low doesn’t mean staying with family. They might trace her to me."
"Then don’t you want to be here when they show up?"
Karen frowned. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he had a point. Family issues aside she couldn’t drag her grandmother into their fight, especially knowing how bad the old woman was at keeping her mouth shut. If Yori’s men showed up, brandishing weapons and bad attitudes, it wouldn’t take long for Hana to rile them up.
"Alright," she said, and Hana smiled. "But just for a few hours, until we know they’re not coming here. We stay in the back, out of sight." She turned to her grandmother. "And we leave before sunrise."
"Let me just find the extra pillows," Hana said, wandering off into the back with an extra kick in her step.
"That ought to kill a few hours," Danny said. Miku shook her head at him. "What?"
"Yaro," she grumbled, walking away from him and into the store’s backroom. Danny glanced at Karen, who seemed surprised by what Miku had said.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" he asked her.
"Almost definitely," she replied.
***
Danny was getting used to being a dog. He followed his master around, slept on floors, went for walks and came around when called. He’d even played fetch on occasion, though it was for groceries instead of slippers or a newspaper.
Still, the bowl of food Hana had left on the floor for him was a nice touch.
He’d been happy to hear he would have his own room, a curiously unused storage room in the back of the store. A space of his own, if only for a few hours. But all illusions of pride fell away when he walked in and found an old blanket on the floor, and next to it a bowl of beef and peas. Then he remembered that traditional Japanese customs did call for eating on the floor, and the thought made him feel a little better. So he kneeled on the blanket, picked up the bowl and, realizing both how good it smelled and how hungry he was, began shoveling the warm food into his mouth.
"I hope you don't mind sharing my cat’s bowl," Hana said as she entered. Danny stopped mid-chew and glanced down.
"Did you wash it first?" he asked with a mouthful of food.
"Oh, yes," she replied, "I think so." She dropped a pillow next to him, kicking up a cloud of dust. Danny reconsidered the bowl of food in his hands. Then he shrugged and continued eating. Hana crossed over to Karen and Miku, who were sharing the room where the old woman usually slept.
"Where will you sleep?" Miku asked her.
"You are such a considerate child," Hana said, and the girl smiled. "Do not worry. There are plenty of comfortable corners for me here."
As Hana distributed more dusty pillows, Danny put the empty cat bowl down and took off his shirt to let his bandage breathe. The old woman glanced his way, seeing the dressing wrapped around his shoulder, the fabric stained with old blood in the shape of a mouth.
"You have met the Unwanted," she nodded.
Danny looked down at the bandage, then back to the woman. "Actually it was these psycho street punks. They're called Chromes."
The old woman smiled. "Is that what they call themselves these days?"
Karen gave him a look from across the small hallway. "What?" Danny said. "You're not the only one with secrets."
Karen’s grandmother crossed back to his side, studying Danny’s wound. "The old vampire myth is based on those unfortunate souls," she explained. "The Unwanted are what happens when certain bloodlines reject each other. From what I understand, the Unwanted are missing certain chromosomes."
