A Reason to Live: A Shadowdance Variation (3 page)

“You only took out the first wave,” Keiko
said.

What?

Illyana opened her eyes. Geisa stood directly
in front of her, her back to Illyana. She was indeed rocking gently
back and forth. Keiko stood several yards away from Geisa, her
katana hanging lazily at her side.

Keiko raised her free hand and waved it
dramatically in front of her. Six beams of black light appeared
behind Keiko. Each beam solidified into the form of another Yakuza
soldier, armed with katanas similar to Keiko’s.

To her credit, Geisa continued her rocking,
seemingly undeterred by this new development.

Keiko smiled as if she thought she’d already
won this battle. “Your move, vampire.”

“Guess I won’t be getting to the club in this
outfit,” Geisa replied, an air of sadness in her voice. “I’d
imagine they don’t let in people covered in blood.”

Keiko’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into
a seer. She pointed her enchanted katana at Geisa and shouted a
fierce battle cry.

The six swordsmen took up the cry as they
charged Geisa.

The Daughter of Lilith assassin moved into
action, performing a spin and duck maneuver that brought her
underneath the swing of a katana. Geisa flipped in the air. One of
her daggers sliced through a Yakuza soldier from shoulder to
stomach.

Illyana closed her eyes. She’d seen this
dance before and knew how it would end.

But then, something she didn’t expect
happened.

Illyana felt herself rising.

Snapping her eyes open, Illyana looked
through a haze of ethereal blue mist. She was two feet above the
ground, moving down the aisle and away from the action. Looking
back at Geisa, Illyana realized the girl saw her predicament, but
was too occupied dispatching the remaining Yakuza.

Illyana looked at her hands and the blue aura
surrounding them. Presumably, the same aura surrounded her entire
body. This was magic holding her aloft—but who wielded it?

And why?

Keiko
frowned.

Geisa the supermodel had made too quick a work of her
men. No matter. With a flick of her wrist, she could summon
more.

“I can do this all night,” she said. Keiko started to
raise a hand—

“But I can’t.”

Geisa put her left foot on the head of a fallen
Yakuza and pulled out the blade on the end of her right boot. It
made a sucking sound.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” the assassin said
as she wiped the blood from her blade on the back of the dead man’s
suit jacket. “At least, I won’t if you leave right now.”

“You think you can take me?” Keiko asked.

The Brazilian sighed. “That’s not important. The
Russian who was spirited away is.”

Keiko dropped into a slouching stance unfit for
combat. “You know, you’re really bumming me out.”

Geisa gave Keiko a sideways glance.

“What’s she to you, anyway? Why’s she so
special?”

“She’s the only thing keeping you alive right
now.”

Keiko opened her mouth in surprise, but then her
frown returned. “Well I don’t have any real problem with you,
either.”

She waved a hand. The dead men at Geisa’s feet
flickered and then disappeared in a flash of black light. Even the
blood from their wounds that had soiled Geisa’s boots and clothing
vanished.

Geisa looked suspiciously at Keiko.

“Tell our mutual friend I’ll forgive and forget if
she stays out of Tokyo,” Keiko said.

“We will. But if she should return, leave her be. Or
we will have a problem.”

Keiko exchanged a long stare with Geisa. She broke
the stare with a shrug of her shoulders. “We’ll see, little
supermodel.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed. Living shadows merged
around her, shrouding her from Keiko’s view, then shrank back
beneath the shelves.

Geisa was gone.

Keiko nodded approvingly. “I can make a hell of an
exit too.”

She waved her hands. A black mist rose up from the
ground, surrounding her, obscuring her. When the black mist
dissipated, Keiko was gone.

In her place was a fox with fur painted in colors
exactly like Keiko’s hair. The creature scurried away from the
scene.

Illyana found herself outside the market at the Seika
Gate. She wasn’t at all surprised that the gate was open when, at
this hour, it should be locked tight.

The blue-tinted magic surrounding her set Illyana on
her feet and then evaporated like steam. Still reeling from her
wounds, Illyana fell back against the concrete wall surrounding the
gate. She slumped to the ground, making no effort to use what
little blood remained in her system to heal the bloody pulp of her
body.

“Dying on the street in Tokyo won’t help Adriana,” a
female voice said in an authoritative tone.

Illyana looked up with her eyes, the muscle tissue on
her neck too far gone to raise her head.

An African woman stood a few feet away. The woman
wore earth-toned clothing, but nothing in a style that would make
her stand out in a crowd. She was in her middle years, though
physically she could easily compete with women half her age.

The woman’s dark eyes cut into Illyana as if she had
sized up the vampire and found her wanting. Yet, the woman’s
demeanor made Illyana believe she had a purpose.

“Adriana?” Illyana wheezed through shattered
lungs.

The woman knelt beside the vampire, careful to avoid
her spilling blood.

“If you don’t get off your ass right now there will
be no chance for us to save her.”

The vampire closed her eyes. Blood flowing from her
wounds suddenly stopped. It drew back into Illyana and disappeared
entirely. As the vampire’s flesh grew pale, the wounds fracturing
it repaired themselves.

A minute later, the only signs of the damage were
those to Illyana’s clothing.

“If I don’t like what you have to say,” Illyana
began, “I’ll force you to finish me off.”

“If you don’t like what I have to say,” the woman
replied, “there won’t be a reason to keep you alive.”

The woman extended a hand to Illyana. The vampire
accepted it, but still had trouble rising. The woman grabbed
Illyana’s elbow with her free hand, successfully getting Illyana to
her feet. She then started to lead the vampire away.

Illyana pulled against her. The African woman glared
at her.

“Unless you want our conversation cut short,” Illyana
said, “you’d better knock me out.
”

The African woman studied Illyana.

Geisa reached the open Seika Gate minutes after
leaving the Japanese girl. She saw the stain of Illyana’s blood,
but nothing trailing away from the scene.

And yet, Illyana was gone.

This wasn’t the first time the woman had slipped away
from Geisa. It probably wouldn’t be the last. Geisa would find her,
as she always did, and remind Illyana what happens when she causes
this much trouble.

Geisa closed her eyes, concentrating. When Fatale had
assigned Geisa as Illyana’s watcher, she had undergone a ritual
bonding through the blood with Illyana. Geisa allowed her blood to
call out to Illyana’s blood. She couldn’t track the woman, but she
could become one with her, interact with the world through
Illyana’s senses.

Unfortunately, the link wouldn’t work if Illyana were
unconscious.

Illyana woke to the feeling of a strong wind
on her face. She felt the smooth granite beneath her. Pushing up,
her hair whipping about her face, she saw a ledge nearby. She was
on the roof of a building. Forcing her battered frame to its feet,
she walked to the edge, mindful to work against the intermittent
gusts of wind but nearly losing the battle.

Looking beyond the ledge, Illyana saw a few other
skyscrapers challenging the building she stood atop for supremacy.
The rest of the city was some forty floors beneath her, stretching
out to the Tokyo Bay several blocks away. Shimmering lights gave a
false sense of tranquility to the darkness that lay underneath.

“Standing at the ledge isn’t the wisest decision,”
came a woman’s voice, shouted against the winds.

Illyana turned from the magnificent view and saw the
African woman she’d encountered at the market standing several
yards behind her. The rooftop extended back a few hundred feet. An
elevator pressed up from the granite in the middle of the roof.

She walked over to join the African woman. Closer to
the center of the rooftop, the winds wreaked less havoc.

“What trouble is Adriana in now?” Illyana asked.

Over the last century, Illyana had kept tabs on
Adriana but had fallen short of actually contacting her. The girl
had made mortal enemies of just about every Initiated faction
within the Shadowdance. It was a wonder she was still alive at
all.

“No more trouble than usual,” the woman replied,
confirming Illyana’s own opinion.

“Then what do you want with her?”

The woman laughed.

Illyana tilted her head slightly. “What is so
amusing?”

“You’ve trusted me to transport you while you were
unconscious, and yet you haven’t asked me who I am, or what I’m
doing. All you care for is Adriana and her well-being. Even though
she couldn’t give a damn about you.”

The truth in the woman’s words stung Illyana. A
silence passed between the women, interrupted only by the sound of
the wind.

“We don’t have much time,” Illyana insisted. “I have
a shadow who is probably looking at you right now.”

If Makeda knew what Illyana was talking about with
her shadow, she made no mention of it. “My name is Makeda Arsi,”
the mystery woman revealed. “I need Adriana to help me end the
Shadowdance.”

Illyana thought on this. She looked suspiciously at
this Makeda Arsi. “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

“The less I tell you, the less chance someone will
compromise my plan.”