Read Surrender to Darkness Online
Authors: Annette McCleave
Surrender to Darkness (29 page)
“For a time, they refused to believe I was Jamie Murdoch at all. The changes wrought by the potion were so dramatic that even my own mother did not recognize me.”
Kiyoko looked for the wounds in Murdoch’s eyes. But he was as calm and confident as ever. Not a hint of distress. “Your common memories eventually swayed her?”
“Aye.”
“And?” she prompted again. Frustrating man. How could he be so generous with some explanations and so stingy with others? “Did she embrace you then?”
“She accepted that I was her son.”
Not quite the same thing. “Surely your family must have welcomed another hale and hearty man into the fold? Your new talents must have made them proud.”
His socked toe played with a silver buckle on his boot. “My presence was felt. The Vikings never again made a successful raid on our shores, and the MacDonalds ceased to steal our cattle.”
“You brought peace to the land.”
“No, not peace.” He lifted his gaze. “Imagine me as a young man of twenty-five, honed to the sword, seasoned by battle, but never having developed a mote of control over the beast inside. Imagine me set free among tender, breakable humans.”
Dread tugged her lips down. “Did you slay a family member?”
“More than one. But my kin adapted, learned to keep their distance as we fought.” He sighed. “The problem was not with my own kin, but with the MacDonalds. After my return, the hostilities between our two clans faded, and the MacDonald laird offered me his daughter’s hand in marriage to cement our new alliance.”
Kiyoko blinked. “You married her?”
“No, there was no opportunity for that. I killed her several months before the wedding. Her, and a dozen fine MacDonald warriors.”
“By accident.” She was sure of that.
He grimaced. “Is it fair to label anything the berserker does as an accident?”
“How did it happen?”
“She was promised to me. I did not love her—barely even knew her, in point of fact—but my berserker accepted her as mine. When I chanced upon the lady in the apple orchard, kissing the captain of MacDonald’s guard, the beast rose up and with one miserable swing of my sword started a bitter feud that would last four hundred years.”
Kiyoko lowered her gaze to her hands.
“Had I slain only the soldiers,” Murdoch added, “all would have been forgotten. Rough justice, they would have said. But MacDonald’s daughter was killed in the fray. And that changed everything.”
She nodded. “You died in a battle against the MacDonalds.”
“Much later. After a wealth of poisonous events colored both sides. By then, even my death could not end the feud.”
The story was tragic, but Murdoch delivered the tale with an ironic twist of his lips that discouraged pity. Still, Kiyoko rubbed her arms to banish a guilty twinge. His berserker had already given him much to grieve over. Rousing it to tap into its strength for the ritual might well lead to more. Could she live with that?
She gave his comment a brief, respectful silence, then said, “Do you fear that your berserker will do the same with Watanabe-san as it did with the MacDonald captain?”
A faint smile crept onto Murdoch’s face. “I’ve had seven hundred years to teach the beast some manners. It would take a sight more than your hand upon Watanabe’s sleeve to provoke an attack.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So, your suggestion that the berserker could break loose at any moment and snatch his life is nothing more than jealous manipulation.”
The smile deepened. “Perhaps.”
“How very dishonorable of you.”
“Not dishonorable,” he disputed. “Careful. The connection we share has caught me left-footed on several occasions already. I’d prefer not to learn a harsh new lesson.”
“Is such a connection part of the berserker lore?”
He shook his head. “Berserkers are bred solely for war.”
Outside, a cloud drifted over the sun, dulling the light in the bedroom to a gentle gray.
“Do you have a theory about why we respond to each other the way we do? About what causes the dreams?” she asked. There was nothing remotely warlike about the way he made her feel. Being close to him was like riding a roller coaster of hot, achy need. The sizzle of awareness and the urge to press her skin to his never faded, never waned. She was almost getting used to its incessant, nagging presence.
“I don’t believe in soul mates, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. “Mother Nature is a wise woman. To create only one mate for each woman and one woman for each man would bring a swift end to the human race.”
“I agree.” And she did. But Murdoch’s crisp repudiation of the soul mate theory still stung. “I suspect it’s the Veil.”
At the mention of the relic, Murdoch’s gaze sharpened.
“Which you carry on your person at all times.”
She nodded. “Your berserker is probably reacting to the power of the Veil. Resulting in some kind of mystical storm whenever we’re near each other.”
The sun reappeared on the other side of the cloud, pouring a bucket of vivid color into the room and spotlighting Murdoch in the chair. He rose to his feet and sought shade. “There’s a quick way to test that notion,” he said. “Remove the Veil.”
The invitation in his eyes was a powerful lure.
Remove the Veil and let us kiss again.
But the eager energy coiled in his body countered the thrill of his words. One mention of the Veil and he came alive. She didn’t doubt that he was attracted to her, nor did she doubt that his desire to claim her was real. But given a choice between the Veil and her, he would pick the Veil.
She broke free of his stare and looked out the window. The cedar deck and scattered chairs in the back-yard didn’t truly interest her, but they provided her with a moment to compose herself.
“I think not. The influence of the Veil is a possibility, not a fact.” Taking advantage of her inability to see his face, she forged on. “I have no desire to find myself ripped apart by your berserker because we acted without sufficient proof.”
They were cruel words. Hurtful words.
But they were the only weapon she had against Murdoch’s charm. Even as she spoke them, her heart shuddered at the lost opportunity to trade the Veil for a few blissful moments in his arms.
“You have very little faith in me,” he said.
“This has nothing to do—” A slim figure darted from the evergreen hedge to the red front door of a single-story building farther down the path. A second later, that very same figure glanced quickly over his shoulder, then slipped inside.
Frowning, Kiyoko turned to Murdoch.
“What reason would Yoshio-san have to enter MacGregor’s house?”
15
I
t took a moment for Kiyoko’s question to make any sense. Murdoch was swamped by wounded pride. Aye, she had good reason to believe he would hurt her. But hearing the accusation fall from her lips tore a hole the size of Gibraltar in his gut.
t took a moment for Kiyoko’s question to make any sense. Murdoch was swamped by wounded pride. Aye, she had good reason to believe he would hurt her. But hearing the accusation fall from her lips tore a hole the size of Gibraltar in his gut.
“Yoshio?” he asked.
She pointed out the window. “There.”
Murdoch followed the direction of her finger. “MacGregor’s at the hospital and Emily is down at the arena. There’s no reason for Yoshio to visit.”
“Shall we confront him?”
Murdoch didn’t bother to respond. He led the way downstairs and out the back door. The Judas coins were no longer stored in MacGregor’s house, but there were plenty of other valuables inside. “How well do you know Yoshio?”
“Extremely well, or so I thought.”
Murdoch tossed her a frown. “Something happen?”
“Not really. Small things. During the demon attack on my father’s house, he abandoned his position. That’s very unlike him. Then just a few minutes ago, I bumped into him leaving the ranch house. He had no better reason to be there than he has to be in MacGregor’s house.”
“Could he be possessed by a thrall demon?”
“And still maintain normal auras? I don’t think so.”
They reached the house. Murdoch peered through the narrow strip of glass next to the door, but saw no movement inside. He twisted the knob and slowly opened the door.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll check things out.”
Kiyoko arched a brow, drew her sword, and stepped over the threshold. Murdoch held back a grin and followed, protecting her back.
They moved quietly toward the faint rumble of a voice—through the hall, past the kitchen, and down to MacGregor’s office. The door to the office was ajar. Enough to let them hear what was being said, but not enough to offer a view of the room. Unfortunately, Yoshio was speaking Japanese.
In a one-sided conversation.
Murdoch glanced at Kiyoko.
She was frowning, and as their eyes met, she held up a finger in a silent request for a minute. The longer she listened, the deeper her frown got. Finally, when she’d heard enough, she kicked the door open.
Yoshio was seated behind the desk, talking on the phone. He leapt to his feet, dropping the phone and immediately reaching for his sword. But as soon as he spotted Kiyoko, he relaxed. His hand fell to his side, and he bowed.
“Ashida-san.”
A furious exchange of Japanese took place, with Kiyoko very much the aggressor and Yoshio answering with polite but firm, unapologetic responses.
“Could we do this in English?” Murdoch asked, reaching across the desk to hang up the phone. “My Japanese is limited to
domo arigato
and
hai
.”
domo arigato
and
hai
.”
“He was sharing the details of the ranch layout with the other
onmyōji
,” Kiyoko accused. “Against my specific orders.”
onmyōji
,” Kiyoko accused. “Against my specific orders.”
“Their role is to protect you,” Yoshio answered. “To do so, they must have the means.”
“One of them is a spy. You are revealing critical information to our enemy.”
Yoshio stiffened. “The
onmyōji
are honorable.”
onmyōji
are honorable.”
“Perhaps
you
are the spy.”
you
are the spy.”
His gaze flew to meet hers, then quickly fell away. “Surely you do not believe that. I would never do anything to harm you, Ashida-san. Your father entrusted me with your safety the day of my arrival at the dojo, and I have never ceased trying to prove his faith in me.”
At the mention of her father, Kiyoko’s stance softened. “What were you doing in the ranch house earlier?”
He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to Kiyoko. A series of Kanji characters alongside what looked like telephone numbers.
She accepted it, her gaze trailing over the information.
“Contact information for the North American
onmyōji
. You stole this from my phone.”
onmyōji
. You stole this from my phone.”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“Wait,” Murdoch interrupted,shaking his head.“There are
onmyōji
here in the United States?”
onmyōji
here in the United States?”
Kiyoko glanced at him. “As Sora-sensei mentioned your first day at the dojo, there are
onmyōji
sects scattered around the globe. Our philosophy is an ancient one.”
onmyōji
sects scattered around the globe. Our philosophy is an ancient one.”
“And they all fight demons?”
“In the beginning, we engaged in martial arts merely as a form of exercise and self-discipline. But when the balance between good and evil was disrupted, we felt obliged to use our skills to defend the innocent. Still, only a handful of
onmyōji
outside of Japan patrol the streets.” She held up the piece of paper. “And these are them.”
onmyōji
outside of Japan patrol the streets.” She held up the piece of paper. “And these are them.”
“They live to serve you, Ashida-san,” Yoshio said. “I sought to give them purpose.”
“Live to serve you?” Murdoch smiled at Kiyoko. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I am a descendant of Abe no Seimei. I carry his sword.”
“And, of course, your father’s divination says—” Yoshio halted, intercepting a glare from Kiyoko. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
“Oh, don’t stop there,” murmured Murdoch. “I’m all ears.”
Kiyoko sheathed her sword. “He has nothing to add. He has never actually read my father’s divination. Yamashita-sensei was the keeper of the oracle. The rest of us have only been privy to bits and pieces.”
Despite Sora’s warning, Murdoch couldn’t help but believe the information in the scrolls was vital to Kiyoko’s survival. Every conversation eventually pointed there. “Bits and pieces will do.”
“Perhaps later,” she said. “Yoshio-san, I am greatly unsettled by today’s events. Whatever your reasons, stealing information and communicating with the other
onmyōji
without my permission was unforgivable. I’m sorely tempted to put you on the next available flight to Sapporo.”
onmyōji
without my permission was unforgivable. I’m sorely tempted to put you on the next available flight to Sapporo.”
“But, I cannot leave you—”
“The decision is mine to make,” she said firmly. “I delay only because my anger currently overwhelms my reason. Whatever I decide, consider your reaction well. A wise man would focus on regaining my respect.”
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