Authors: Annette McCleave

Surrender to Darkness (19 page)

BOOK: Surrender to Darkness

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He spun in a circle. Anyone injured would have been taken to the doctor. But where the hell was the bloody infirmary? Most of the buildings in the compound were familiar, but there were a few he had yet to enter. The one at the far northeast corner was the forge, and the four smaller huts near the main gate were housing for the senior warriors like Yoshio.

But there was a slightly larger pagoda near the entrance as well. And the doctor had taken the wounded warrior in that direction.

He ran down the gravel path.

His guess about the infirmary proved correct. Inside the building he found a small treatment room, a two-bed ward, a lab, and a large closet filled with medical supplies. But no doctor, and no Kiyoko.

Which only increased his sense of dread.

If they were at the house, then it was almost certainly Kiyoko who was injured. And if they were off to the hospital, the injuries were grave. Steeling himself for the worst, Murdoch exited the compound between the two frowning
niou
and made his way to Kiyoko’s front door, where he politely knocked.

Umiko slid the partition open.

The scathing look on the old woman’s face when she spied him soured his mouth. So, it was true. He was officially scum of the earth. He had injured Kiyoko.

“May I come in?”

Umiko glared and refused to step aside.

“I need to see her,” he said quietly.

She responded with a few terse words of Japanese that he didn’t understand. Not that he needed an interpreter—her meaning was very clear.
Over my dead body
.

Murdoch was debating how hard he should push when an authoritative male voice spoke from the shadowed interior of the house. More Japanese. More words he didn’t understand. But the rancor left Umiko’s eyes and she nodded. She shuffled back a few feet and bowed, inviting Murdoch inside.

He swiftly unbuckled his boots, kicked them off, and stepped into the house.

Sora stood in the center of the main room, looking decidedly his age. He had droplets of dried blood on his pale chin, and white cotton bandages peeked from the neckline of his black robes.

When he saw Murdoch’s gaze linger on the bandages, he said ruefully, “You are exceptionally fast. I leapt, but the tip of your blade caught me nonetheless.”

Murdoch raked his hair back from his face. “My apologies, Sora-san. Demons open a portal the moment they think they’re losing, and they often try to make an escape. My berserker has become quite adept at making a last-minute bid for the killing slice.”

Sora’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m grateful that, in this case at least, you failed.”

“I, too. I’m hoping that everyone survived?”

“Only Kiyoko and I were injured.”

Murdoch’s gaze drifted over the sensei’s shoulder to the partitioned room where Kiyoko had previously dressed. The sliding door was shut, but he could see the shadow of a person moving inside. “How is she?”

“Not well.”

“Did I—” Murdoch’s throat tightened to such a degree that he couldn’t get the word out. Not on the first try. “Did I cut her?”

“No.” The old man shook his head. “The blame for her injury lies with me, not you. I did not fully anticipate what might happen after I shot you.”

“The arrow in my shoulder? That was you?”

He nodded. “I prepared the arrow with a great deal of care. Not only did I place a very powerful shield pierce spell upon it, I added a sleep spell.”

Murdoch snorted. “You knocked me out.”

“Quite effectively.”

“But … ?”

Sora smiled faintly. “You are correct. There is a
but
. You went down as I predicted, but you fell upon Kiyoko and crushed her. Broke two ribs, the doctor says. Yoshio attempted to pull you off, but in your last moments of consciousness, you created a repel shield that prevented him from reaching you. The weight of your body nearly killed her.”

The chill of narrowly averted disaster claimed him.

“Indeed,” Sora added. “Were it not for your spontaneous roll to one side, I think the outcome would have been summarily grim.”

“May I see her? I must make my apologies.”

“Not just yet,” the old man said. “She still needs a great deal of rest.”

Murdoch frowned. “For broken ribs?”

“Her injury is more complicated than a few broken bones. She overextended herself while she was trapped, and her efforts exacerbated a previous injury.”

Umiko appeared with a tea service, which she laid out on the table next to the inset hearth. No ale today. Only green tea and spiced rice balls.

Murdoch waited for her to leave, then asked, “What previous injury?”

“Three months ago, Kiyoko interrupted the fatal demon attack on her father and took a significant blow to the chest.”

“She’s shown no sign of weakness during training.”

Sora lowered himself stiffly to one of the cushions around the table. “The physical healing was swift. Like many young people, she was back on her feet in a matter of days. It was her ki that suffered the critical damage.” He reached for the teapot, and winced.

Murdoch strode to the table, picked up the ceramic pot, and poured the old man a cup of tea. As he replaced the pot on the table, he slid the bowl of rice balls a few inches closer.

“Her ki?” he prompted.

The old man cupped his tea in two thin hands and brought the steaming liquid to his lips for a slow sip. “Her spiritual energy. Kiyoko is a gifted mystic, and she draws on her ki to perform her spells. As one might expect with a beloved parent, she went to extraordinary lengths in her attempts to heal her father that day. Unfortunately, in so doing, she drained her ki to such a low level, it was unable to regenerate. Were it not for the Veil, she would have died.”

Of course. The goddamned Veil.

Murdoch dropped to the cushion opposite the old man. “The Veil gave her some kind of energy infusion?”

“Not precisely.” Sora sipped his tea again, taking obvious comfort from the warm drink. “Think of it more as a pilot light. As long as it is lit, she can use it to create her own energy. But if the pilot light goes out …”

Murdoch stared at the parchmentlike texture of the old man’s closed eyelids. “You’re suggesting that if I take the Veil away, I’ll kill her.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe it. Kiyoko’s face is quite expressive. She’s been tempted to give it to me on more than one occasion. If she depended on it to keep her alive, I doubt giving it up would even cross her mind.”

Sora opened his eyes. “Thinking about giving it up and actually doing so are two different things, Mr. Murdoch. Her desire to do the honorable thing constantly battles her selfish need to hold on to the Veil. That’s only natural for a person of Kiyoko’s character. But she knows the consequences.”

He set his cup down.

“I fear it is your well-motivated demand for the Veil and the nag of her conscience that are causing the current crisis.”

“You mean her weariness?”

Sora rose to his feet, already looking more hale and hearty. There was some color in his cheeks now. “It’s more than weariness. She has again drained her ki to a dangerous level, and this time her recovery rate is concerning. The Veil’s power remains strong, but Kiyoko is not responding to it as she once did.”

“But she
will
recover.”

“I believe so, yes. The doctor assures me she is steadily improving.”

Murdoch regained his feet with one forceful push. He had to see her. Mostly to reassure himself that he hadn’t slain her in his berserker rage, but also to see firsthand the effect of her diminished ki. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could accept Sora’s bizarre tale. “I want to see her.”

Sora waved a hand toward the back of the house. “A quick look will do no harm. But if you wake her, I will be most displeased.”

At Murdoch’s gentle knock, the partition slid open. The doctor nodded politely to him, then stepped aside to give him a proper view of the futon and the woman who lay under the sheets, still and fragile.

Murdoch was shocked. Kiyoko’s chest slowly rose and fell with regular, life-sustaining breaths, but her face had a hollow look he knew only too well—the look of a soul ready to depart. Her shoulders were bare and thin, her black hair stark against the pillow. Reconciling this image with the vibrant, purposeful woman he’d kissed in the courtyard only a few short hours ago was a struggle.

He had done this to her.

With his uncontrollable berserker rage and his ridiculous urge to possess her.

“As hard as it may be to believe,” Sora said quietly from behind him, “she should be back to normal by the evening meal, except for the broken ribs. Her vital signs are all strong, and her ki is improving minute by minute.”

“Was that intended to ease my guilt?” Murdoch asked. “If so, it was ineffective.”

“Pointing fingers to lay blame is rarely productive,” Sora replied. “Looking for the lesson is a better use of your time. I wonder, for example, why Kiyoko did not cast a shield spell upon herself. The broken bones could have been averted.”

Murdoch glanced over his shoulder. “The same could be said for you, old man.”

The sensei smiled. “My error was not in failing to raise a shield, but in failing to raise a strong enough one. Your sword has a superior shield-piercing capability.”

“Thank Stefan Wahlberg for that.”

Sora lifted a brow.

“The Romany mage who supports our efforts,” Murdoch explained. He backed out of Kiyoko’s room and invited the doctor to slide the partition shut once more. “A very talented fellow.”

“Indeed. Is he also the one who placed the dimensional shift upon the scabbard to make your sword disappear when sheathed?”

“Aye.”

Sora rubbed his chin. “I hope I have the opportunity to meet the man one day. He’s blessed with skills of which I have rarely seen the equal.”

Murdoch nodded. “I’ve only known one other mystic of his caliber in the many years I’ve existed. A Scottish druid back in the thirteenth century.”

“Someone you sought to help free you of your berserker potion?”

“Yes.” But that was water long passed under the bridge. He would never be free of the berserker. Murdoch brushed past the old sensei and headed for the front door. “Excuse me. I have a pressing need to walk.”

“I understand. A westerly direction will eventually take you to the village. A southerly direction will take you to the sea. Take your pick. I’ll call your phone if Kiyoko’s condition changes.”

He nodded and tossed Sora a half smile. “Don’t wait up.”

Opportunity was knocking.

Azazel watched Murdoch stride across the grass and head down the mountain slope toward the village. By the sound of things, the Soul Gatherer intended to be gone for several hours, which should be just enough time to execute a raid. Nothing too elaborate. Just a quick search and snatch.

But first he needed a diversion.

A demon attack on the house, for instance. Unfortunately, he couldn’t simply call in a strike. Satan was unaware that he had survived. For good reason. If he revealed himself before he returned to full strength, his rivals for the Great Lord’s attention, Lucifer and Beelzebub, would use their considerable might to crush him. Orchestrating a demon attack under the circumstances would be difficult.

But not impossible.

Satan’s legions of drones constantly tested the barrier between hell and the middle plane, seeking entrance. They would instantly punch through a weakened area. If he softened this one little spot, right in front of the house, the demons would take care of the rest. It wouldn’t matter how many succeeded in punching through, or what type of demon appeared.

Kiyoko was weak as a kitten, so she wouldn’t put up much of a fight. And as for the others … Well, none of them were real threats.

If all went well, he might get lucky and come away with the Veil. Save the day, and all that. But he’d be happy with the oracle scrolls Kiyoko had told him about in their last session. And the attack alone would earn him a shiny black feather. Perhaps more than one, if a number of
onmyōji
died in the process.

He rolled his shoulders to release the strain of containing his wings inside his slender body.

Really, it was all win.

He had nothing to lose.