Authors: B. D. Heywood
The Cajun smashed the window with the butt of his crossbow and climbed into the darkened room. Galloway slipped in beside his partner just as the door burst inward. Three vampires simultaneously tried to enter the room. They got stuck. Three bolts from Passebon’s crossbow punched into three chests. Gurgling in their own blood, the creatures fell in a tangle of limbs. Galloway put a round in each vampire’s brain.
As junior man on the team, Tatsu went through the window last. Despite his superior eyesight, he landed on Bana who was scrambling around on his knees looking for the dropped Tazer.
“Get off me, ya clumsy git,” Bana yelled as he shoved Tatsu back. By the time they untangled themselves, the fight was over.
“Shite, missed it,” the Irishman snapped.
“Tough break.” Galloway said. Passebon shrugged.
Another scream rent the air. Passebon stepped over the dead vampire and scanned the hallway then darted across. The others followed, Tatsu still last. The Cajun shattered the opposite door with a powerful kick. Leveled his bow. Before anyone else moved, Tatsu ducked under Passebon’s arm into the pitch-black room.
The two girls tied to filthy beds writhed in terror. Their shrieks climbed into ear-splitting levels when a man brandishing a sword charged into the room. The third girl hung in the arms of a rogue bull. Her head flopped back from a neck bent in the wrong direction. Her unseeing brown eyes met her rescuer. “Too late,” they accused.
The huge bull, deep within his feeding frenzy, ignored the Lepers. Blood and spittle spraying from his mouth, the vampire turned toward his attackers. The creature snarled and dropped the girl.
Tatsu sliced the
wakizashi
across the bull’s torso, separating fabric and flesh. The vampire’s roar turned into an unholy screech as his bowels slithered out of his slashed belly. The stench of offal and copper filled the room.
Twin thunders from Galloway’s Colts took off the top of the vampire’s head. The vampire’s torso folded on top of the dead girl, blood and intestines spilling over them both.
“Fuck, it stinks in here,” Passebon remarked as he stepped over the
kyūketsuki’s
twitching corpse. He crouched between the cots and spoke nonsense in his singsong patois until the two girls calmed down. With a quick slash of his K-bar, he cut though their bindings. Lifting one girl in his arms, he turned toward the door. “Let’s get
les bébés
home.”
“Two of ’em anyway,” Galloway murmured looking down at the dead girl. “Cobb, call Cooperhayes for a clean-up.”
Relief filled Arisada when the mercenaries escorted two of the girls from the building. The beautiful boy was unharmed. The vampire sped home, barely beating the dawn sun.
The first pale rays of sunlight filtering through Tatsu’s window brought him no comfort as he lay on his rumpled bed, one arm covering his eyes. The images from last night’s rescue flashed strobe-like through his mind. Without thought, Tatsu had killed that bull vampire. Worse, he had slain ten vampires in as many days, creatures who at one time were human beings. Where was the honor in that kind of slaughter?
Shivers wracked his sweat-drenched body. Sobs fought their way up from his chest only to be trapped behind his teeth, biting down on his bottom lip. Just in time, he bolted off the bed and into the bathroom. His stomach tried to turn itself inside out, his vomiting so violent his belly muscles almost tore. Bile splashed into the porcelain bowl while his tears rolled down his drawn cheeks.
His teammates thought of him as a cold-blooded killer. It was in their faces. They knew nothing of this guilt-driven evisceration of his soul. The samurai code, ingrained in him since birth, provided no relief from the remorse now tearing him apart.
.
T
he staccato of automatic gunfire echoed through the vast foundry. Tatsu trotted the half-klick past the massive disused equipment to the center of the building. He’d postponed this moment for three days since he joined the Leper Colony. Couldn’t put it off any longer. He punched the code to the roll-up door that separated the firing range from the rest of the facility.
Tatsu paused and admired Galloway’s technique. The blond dodged among the wooden pop-up targets, firing short bursts before running or rolling to the next safe spot. With split-second timing, Galloway hit every enemy dead center or held fire on a Friendly.
The gun spent itself with an empty rattle. With a move almost too fast for Tatsu to see, the blond switched magazines. Tatsu noticed Galloway used a double-stack two clips taped back to back that allows the shooter to reload in a fraction of a second. The automatic weapon discharged with incredible recoil, yet the Leper’s arm barely moved.
A shiver of arousal rippled over Tatsu watching the lithe, play of the blond mercenary’s muscles, the bunch and roll of his ass, the swivel of hips. Damn, no denying it, that was one gorgeous man.
Within a few minutes, Galloway finished his run. He turned off the target program and sauntered over to Tatsu. “
Konnichi wa
, Ninja Boy,” he grinned.
Tatsu hid his distaste of the nickname. The tall blond was just being friendly. “
Konnichi wa,
Galloway-san,” he replied.
Galloway’s grin widened. “Learned a little Japanese for my second movie. Here, you might like this baby,” he tossed his weapon toward Tatsu.
With barely a flick of his arm, Tatsu caught the assault rifle in mid-flight. He hefted the weapon surprised by its light weight and admired its sleek design of composite and metal.
“Doesn’t weigh much, does it? It’s an Israeli IMI MTAR-21, nice little assault piece. Perfect for urban combat. Doubt if we’ll use them on regular assignment, but they may come in handy if things heat up.” Galloway winked at Tatsu’s reaction to the latest in urban mayhem.
“The Pueblo Militia tried to acquire some of these. Never had any luck.”
“Not surprised. If it weren’t for the Major’s contacts, we’d be fighting vamps with bows and arrows.”
“Or swords.”
“Yeah, or swords.” Galloway gave Tatsu a long stare that somehow was not at all about weapons. “Come on. Let’s get you some range time. Heard you don’t really need it but the Major knows you’re not exactly fond of guns. Wants you to be a bit more accepting of the concept, so to speak.”
“
Wakatta,
I agreed to his rules. And he isn’t being unreasonable.”
“Don’t take off your swords. Get used to doing this with ’em on. We’ll start on the silhouettes in the first lane, move over to pop-ups later. First, I want to outfit you with a sidearm.” Galloway took back the rifle and slung it by its strap over one shoulder. “Show me your hands.”
Puzzled, Tatsu held out his hands. Galloway held them for one sizzling moment as he rubbed his thumbs over the calluses.
“Good, hard in all the right places.” The blond nodded his approval.
Tatsu’s face heated.
That’s not all that’s hard!
He pulled his hands away, aware of his rapidly developing erection crowding his pants. Knew also that Galloway sensed it as the blond led the way over to the steel cabinets lining one wall.
“I know you’re stronger than you look, but my Colts are too big for your hands.” He looked over the racks of guns in the cabinet then handed Tatsu a small automatic. “This should fit you better.”
“Sig Sauer P230?” Tatsu racked back the slide, checked that it was empty before dropping out the full magazine and checking the ammunition. “Hollow points,” he grunted. This kind of bullet was designed to tumble around inside its target, shattering bone and shredding tissue.
“Yup, stays inside what you hit. No dead bystanders. I know you don’t want it, but take it anyway or the Major will have my nuts in a wringer. Now, let’s get some range time in.”
Three grueling hours later, Galloway called it a halt. They were both drenched in sweat and panting. The tall blond pulled cold water from a refrigerator near outside the range wall, and poured them both a glass. “You’re an excellent shot, Ninja Boy.”
“
Arigatō
, Galloway-san.” Tatsu warmed at the compliment. “Still prefer my swords.” He swallowed his drink in long thirsty gulps. Realized when he placed his empty glass on the nearby table that Galloway had been studying him the entire time. Tatsu felt that embarrassing pink dust the tops of his cheeks.
“What was his name?”
“
Sumimasen, wakarimasen.
”
“Don’t give me that ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand’ crap. Who was he, the one who broke your heart?”
“No one. And it is none of your business.”
“Probably not. You hide it well but part of being a good actor is reading people. I see it in your eyes. A demon is riding you, and it ain’t just that monster you’re hunting.”
He bridled at Galloway’s impertinence. His life back in New Mexico had nothing to do with now. “I left Santa Fe for only one reason. To kill vampires.”
Galloway sidled over to Tatsu, leaned down almost nose-to-nose. “Bullshit, Ninja Boy.”
Beneath the acrid smell of cordite, Tatsu caught the heady musk of male sweat with that sweet undernote that always meant arousal. Tatsu’s heart revved up. Loneliness coupled with a good dose of sexual frustration overrode any cautious message his brain was hammering at him. His look skittered from Galloway’s deep-cerulean eyes to his full lips and back. No need to wonder if Galloway was growing hard. Just as hard as Tatsu.
Galloway sighed, shifted imperceptibly closer, placed one finger under Tatsu’s chin and lifted his head. “God, you’re so fucking pretty,” the blond breathed.
Tatsu knew he should pull away yet his brain-cock connection screamed for that kiss. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin.
The door to the range beeped and slid aside with a screech.
“Shit,” Galloway muttered under his breath and stepped over to the bench. With a slight look of chagrin, he glanced at Tatsu. “Sorry, Cobb. Kinda forgot myself for a moment.”
“
Mondai nai
, no problem,” Tatsu nodded, and knew it was all right between them. Also knew nothing was going to happen. For Tatsu could tell that Kaiden Galloway was plagued by his own demons.
It had been a week since Tatsu had joined the Colony and already he felt like he’d made a mistake—two mistakes if he counted that dumb move with Galloway at the range the other night.
Tatsu had learned a little about Tendai’s vampires but not enough. Bana was helping, in his shoot-from-the-hip way. Through some unspoken agreement, they had developed a bizarre interrogation method of any rogue vampire caught during an operation. Bana enthusiastically applied Fiona followed by Tatsu threatening with his swords. So far, their tag-team approach ended in a couple of grisly deaths but no solid information. Tatsu despaired that their system was going to take more patience than he had. And Tatsu had left patience somewhere back in Santa Fe.
He shook off his misgivings. He’d give the Colony another couple of weeks. He owned that much loyalty to the Major. And the job did have its perks.
With his first paycheck, he’d moved into the furnished, apartment above the dojo. It offered only the bare essentials for living, but Tatsu needed nothing more. And he liked that the bedroom had a balcony where he could admire the view while he smoked.
Tonight, the damp chill of a pending storm caught him as he stepped out. He pulled out a pack of Canadian Kings, lit one and took a deep drag. He plucked a sliver of tobacco from the tip of his tongue, took another deep drag. But tonight the ritual failed to soothe. He leaned on the balustrade. A thin curl of cigarette smoke drifted into the air, drew his attention up to the silvery clouds scudding across the sky like the flying mane of a wild horse. Then the image of Arisada spun down his spine and straight into his prick.
Kuso
, thinking of that damn vampire was not going to help! Tatsu flicked the smoldering butt over the railing and went back inside to change. He didn’t need any cock-stirring, ball-throbbing fantasies. What he needed was some hard-assed sword practice.
Hidden across the street, Arisada watched Tatsu lean on the balcony rail. Since he last saw the boy a week ago at the Belladonna, Arisada had fought his craving to seek him out. Centuries of yearning had defeated him. Now as he viewed the youth again, an unutterable joy filled him. For just one more taste of those tender lips, Arisada would embrace an eternity of dishonor.
The vampire ignored the growl of the incoming storm, his eyes riveted on that slim form standing three floors above him. Arisada stared with an odd fascination when Tatsu flicked away the used butt in a shower of sparks. Saw the boy turn and leave, resolution stiffening those young shoulders. The glass door slid closed with an odd finality.
Arisada lingered in the wet street, and stared at the cigarette’s thin paper dissolving in the puddle. Watched the tobacco swirl around and sink out of sight. His need for
fukushū
, for revenge, had vanished in much the same way.
The vampire smelled the sea-salt of tears and touched his cheek. His hand came away red. Why was he crying? The boy. The boy meant everything. But what was he going to do about it?
His gliding walk took him over the wet pavement in seconds. Silently, he entered the darkness of the dojo.
Tatsu stood immobile, weapons held precisely apart to inflict the most damage on multiple attackers. He focused on his
tanden
, seeking that emptiness known as
ku
, that place needed before facing mortal combat. He was unable to find it.
The simplicity of executing every
kata
with precision and purpose usually drove all other thought from Tatsu’s mind. His spirit vibrated on a higher plane dictated by the needs of the art of the sword.
Yet, since he’d met Arisada, an undeniable anticipation had tempered his concentration. Couldn’t have anything to do with the hope of seeing the vampire once again? Or the thick pulse throbbing in his loins at the memory of that braid whipping in the air or smoky tones of the vampire’s voice? Or the feel of that kiss burning across his lips every time he thought about it?
Just when Tatsu decided, tonight like every night, Arisada was never going to appear, the vampire stepped into the
shiaijo
. As before, he held his sword in the position of neutrality. Dressed in a white
hakama
and
keiko-gi
with a scarlet
obi
, Arisada bowed deeply from the waist.