Pilgrimage of the Sacred and the Profane (3 page)

Of course, D didn’t move a muscle.

Seeing that this was having no effect, Granny changed tactics. Her tone suddenly became
tearful. Sobs echoed through the darkness. “Have you no pity for this poor child?”
she asked, her entreaty coming in a nasal tone. “She was only ten when she was taken,
and she spent eight years locked up in a Noble’s castle. Even I don’t know what happened
to her during all that time—and I’m not about to ask. Can you blame me? Somehow, though,
the girl survived. That’s right—she kept herself alive for eight long years, a girl
all alone in a world we can scarcely imagine. Doesn’t she have the right to live the
rest of her life in happiness now? When I found out her family was still alive and
well, it brought tears to my eyes, I tell you. Her life’s just about to begin. Now,
wouldn’t you wanna do everything in your power to help her out?” Winded from her speech,
Granny caught her breath. Tears glistened in her eyes. It was all terribly impressive.

D’s answer was brief: “Leave.” The word had a forceful ring to it.

The crone was about to say something, but decided against it. “Okay, I get the message,”
she spat back in a rancorous tone that would’ve raised the eyebrows of all who heard
it. “I’m gonna call it a night, but there’s no way we’re giving up on this. We need
you. I don’t care what I’ve gotta stoop to; I’m gonna get you to come along with us.
C’mon, Tae.”

As she indignantly turned to the door, the old woman cursed in a low voice. Her back
suddenly hunched over again. Taking the girl with downcast eyes by the hand, Granny
dragged her out into the hall and disappeared.

The door closed with a force that shook the room. The reverberations were absorbed
then by the air and building materials, and mere seconds later, when silence once
again ruled the darkness, the chirping began. It was the small and distant sound of
the bugs pecking at the dark of night, scratching at the hearts of all who listened.
It was the sort of sound that made those who heard it want to lie down deep in the
earth. To those who were leaving town, the songs seemed to bid them adieu. Who knows
how many listeners likened the melody the bugs continued to play to a funeral dirge.
The sound continued just a little while longer, and soon, outside the room’s tiny
window, the light pink petals began to rain down. Yet even then, the figure lying
on the bed did nothing, as if melodies of parting and funeral laments held no relevance
for him.

.

III

.

The next day, the world belonged to the winds. Every time they whistled forlornly,
a thin coat of what looked like gold dust was thrown onto the streets.

It was still early morning when the angry voices surrounded the hotel. The number
of people around the building and packed into its lobby looked like it encompassed
the entire population of the small town. They demanded that the hotel manager chase
off the Vampire Hunter that was staying there immediately, and although he was reluctant
at first, he consented after hearing all the circumstances. And while he understood
the reasons, his heart must’ve been heavy at the thought of dealing with the greatest
Hunter on earth, because his steps were sluggish as he headed to the stairs from the
front desk.

All of the townspeople behind the manager were armed. Although there was usually comfort
in numbers, the reason their faces were as pale as paper was because they, like all
residents of the Frontier, were well-informed about the general capabilities of Hunters.
The fingers wrapped around their stake-firing guns and long spears were stiff, cold,
and clammy.

It was probably the manager’s good fortune that he didn’t have to knock on the door
in the end. The door creaked open before his trembling hand, and the room’s occupant
appeared. As that handsome countenance silently watched them, the townspeople forgot
their murderous rage and were left dazed. But it was the manager who noticed D was
prepared to set off on a trip. Bringing his hand to his heart in relief, he asked,
“Will you be leaving, sir?”

“I can’t rest here any longer.” D’s eyes gazed quietly at the men filling the hallway.
The lust for violence that’d churned there had already disappeared, and they were
gripped now by a sort of lethargy—just from a single glance from the Hunter. As D
walked ahead, the mass of people broke to either side, as if pushed back by some unseen
agent. The only thing showing in the eyes of the men pressed against the wall was
fear. D went down the stairs. The lobby was a crucible of furious humanity. Like the
sea in days of old, they parted right down the middle, opening a straight path between
the Vampire Hunter and the door.

“Your bill has been paid,” the manager called from behind him.

D went outside. In the street, there was a furry of wind and people—and eyes steeped
in hatred and fear. Just as he took hold of the reins to his cyborg horse in the shack
next to the hotel, a cheerful voice called out to him.

“Scaring the hell out of a group that size is quite a feat,” Clay Bullow said, donning
a carefree smile, but D didn’t even look at him as he got up in the saddle. “Hold
up. We’re leaving, too. Why don’t you come with us?” Clay suggested, seeming just
a bit flustered. The hot-headedness of the previous night had burned away like a fog.
He was also on horseback, with the reins in his hands. “My brother’s waiting at the
edge of town. You know, I’m not talking about us all being friends or nothing. We
wanna settle up with you.”

As D casually rode off, Clay gave a kick to his mount’s flanks and headed after him.
Flicking the reins, he pulled up on D’s left side.

“Now, this is a surprise! Guess I should’ve expected no less,” he said, eyes going
wide. His exclamation was entirely sincere. “You draw your sword over your right shoulder.
If you leave me on your left, you can’t try to cut me without turning your horse and
everything this way. Have you got so much confidence that you don’t care about something
like that, or are you just plain stupid? Just so you know, this is my good side.”

By that, Clay must’ve meant the hand he’d use to fight. His harp was on his right
hip. His hand glided toward the strings.

“Care to try me?” the Hunter asked.

Clay’s hand froze in midair. All it had taken was that one question from D. The Hunter
was rocking back and forth on his horse.

The people saw Clay’s mount halt, and the other rider rode away at a leisurely pace.

D turned the corner. The great gates that separated the town from the desert were
hazy through the clouds of sand. They lay straight ahead of him. D advanced without
saying a word.

Massive forms challenged the sky to either side of the gate—enormous trees that were
the deepest shade of blue. Looking like thousands of giant serpents twisted together,
the trunk of each had countless cracks running through it. There were no smaller branches
or twigs. Naturally, there were no leaves, either. The two colossal trees had died
ages ago. Beside the huge tree on the right, a figure in a silk hat sat on a horse,
and next to the tree on the left rested a wagon with a cylindrical cover. Covered
on three sides by a canopy of reinforced plastic, the driver’s seat was occupied by
Granny Viper and Tae. All of them were waiting for D—but the Hunter rode by without
glancing at either party.

“My younger brother was supposed to go collect you,” Bingo said. Perhaps he was still
“sleeping,” as his face was turned to the ground under his black bowler hat. As he
spoke in his sleep, his voice seemed unbounded. “But I guess the Hunter D was a little
too much baggage for him to handle after all,” the elder Bullow continued. “Someday,
we’d like some of your time to settle things nice and leisurely. We’re headed down
the same road you are. What do you say to going with us?”