And suddenly the full meaning of Murdoch’s earlier warning sank in.
Belong to me
. That was why his berserker came after her. It wasn’t to harm her. It was to …
She blushed to the roots of her hair.
A wry smile lifted one corner of Murdoch’s mouth.
“How much of you is left inside when the berserker takes control?” Sora asked.
“Everything,” Murdoch responded. His gaze remained locked with hers, his message clear. The heat was so intense Kiyoko had to break off the stare. “The basic motivations are mine. I remember who my enemies are, but my actions become so focused on winning that collateral damage is very common.”
Sora frowned.
“
Collateral damage
is an American euphemism for killing innocents and friendlies,” explained Murdoch grimly.
“I see.” Sora turned to her. “And you, Kiyoko-san, did you feel the same energy burst as before?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He would not be pleased to know how deeply disturbed she was by Murdoch. She was supposed to keep clear thoughts and a peaceful inner calm at all times. A master
onmyōji
did not tremble with need and teeter on the verge of throwing herself into her opponent’s arms. If he knew the tumult of her desire, Sora might well change his mind about her future, divination or no divination.
“Fascinating,” said her mentor.
“Well, as interesting as the experiment was,” Murdoch said, “it’s not why I came to Japan.” He picked his jacket up off the floor and turned to Kiyoko. “Let’s talk.”
She glanced at him. “Watanabe-san said you were interested in a relic, something my father might have had in his collection.”
“That’s correct. Some time ago, when Lena Sharpe paid you a visit, she sensed the item in your home.”
“My home? But all of my father’s antiquities are on display in the lobby of the Ashida Corporation building.”
He nodded. “I saw them.”
“And was the relic you seek among the collection?”
“No.”
She mentally reviewed all of the pieces of art in her home, which was easy because the house was sparsely decorated. “Describe it, please.”
“I can’t.”
She smiled. “If you can’t describe it, how do you know it’s not on display at the office?”
“I have a dowser,” said Murdoch.
“A what?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a multifaceted crystal attached to a thin silver chain. Dangling it between his thumb and forefinger, he held it to the light. “A dowser. It tells me if I’m near the item I’m seeking.”
“By rotating clockwise or counterclockwise?” Kiyoko asked with a small laugh. “That doesn’t really work, Mr. Murdoch. It’s a charlatan’s trick.”
His brow lifted. “It doesn’t swing, it vibrates. And I can assure you, the lad who gave me this little gem is anything but a charlatan. He’s a very powerful mage.”
Kiyoko was about to say something further, but Sora put a hand on her arm, staying her rebuttal.
“I’ve seen such things,” the old master said. “But how did your mage tell it what to look for when you’ve already admitted you do not know what it is?”
“The object possesses a dark power. We’ve handled other relics of a similar nature, so Stefan set this dowser up to hunt for an inner darkness.”
“Are you suggesting my father was harboring a tool for the devil?” demanded Kiyoko, aghast at the idea. “He would never do that. He was a dedicated
onmyōji
.”
“Perhaps he was keeping it safe,” said Murdoch softly. “Each of the other relics has a champion tasked with keeping them out of the wrong hands.”
The tide of outrage burning in her chest subsided. Protecting. Yes, that sounded very much like her father. She pointed to the crystal at the end of the silver chain. “Is it vibrating now?”
“No.”
“So, it’s safe to say the item you seek is not in the dojo compound?”
He nodded. “But you don’t live here.”
Kiyoko got a sudden image of Murdoch inside her home, his huge frame crowding the space, and it sent a strange little thrill down her spine. “Are you inviting yourself into my home, Mr. Murdoch?”
He smiled. “No. But I was rather hoping you’d see your way to offering me a cup of ale before you put a boot to my ass.”
“It’s rather early in the day for a beer.”
“Aye, some might say that,” Murdoch said. He tucked the crystal away. “But I was weaned on the stuff. We’ll just blame it on the jet lag, shall we?”
Sora smiled and headed for the dojo entrance. Kiyoko followed, slipping her feet back in her zori at the door. The traditional straw sandals were far more comfortable than shoes. “I trust a Japanese beer will suffice? We have no American ale.”
“If it’s made from hops and fermented, it’ll do,” Murdoch said, stuffing his feet into his boots. A veritable bounty of silver buckles. “I’m not fussy.”
The winding path to the house followed the edge of the cliff quite closely, offering them a spectacular view of the valley as they walked. Kiyoko knew the proximity to the sharp drop often disturbed first-time visitors, and she instinctively moved to claim the position closest to the cliffs. But Murdoch was too quick for her. He subtly inserted his body between her and the edge—ensuring her safety while also avoiding any skin contact.
She smiled.
An
onimusha
who was also a gentleman.
As always, Umiko met them at the door. With a very formal bow for their guest, she ushered them into the wood-floored entranceway, where she offered Murdoch a warm pair of socks. Once his feet were suitably attired, she led them into the tea room, where an assortment of beer bottles stood alongside the teapot on the table. Most prominently displayed was a bottle of Sapporo beer.
Kiyoko smiled. The woman was fiercely loyal, even to the local beer industry.
No sooner had Murdoch ducked under the lintel separating the entranceway from the tea room than he was digging in his pocket for the crystal. Not entirely comfortable with the process, but extremely curious to see the results, Kiyoko watched him dangle the transparent stone on the chain once more.
Her expectations were low.
But apparently Murdoch’s were not. As he held the crystal aloft, he closed his eyes and a frown of intense concentration furrowed his brow. A moment passed. The frown deepened.
“No vibration?” Kiyoko asked gently, as she knelt and poured tea into two cups.
Murdoch lowered his arm and opened his eyes.
“The vibration is weak, almost unnoticeable,” he said, dangerously soft. “But it’s there. One of you is hiding the relic, most likely beneath a mystical blanket spell.”
“I know nothing of an evil relic,” she protested.
Murdoch studied her face, reassured by the genuine confusion and shock he saw there. He swung his gaze to the old man, who appeared as calm as ever.
“But
you
do,” Murdoch said firmly, lowering himself to a cushion.
Sora picked up his tea. “Sample the beer, Mr. Murdoch. Take a moment to breathe.”
“I didn’t fly halfway around the bloody world to
breathe
.” Although his words spilled out in a rush of irritation, a spark of satisfaction flickered to life in his chest. Webster had thought to send him on a fruitless mission. Instead, Murdoch would arrive home the victor, carrying a prize of immense value. “I came to find a relic that could be critical in defeating Satan. If you’re as dedicated to fighting demons as you say, you’ll give it to me.”
“Nothing is ever that simple.”
Kiyoko frowned at her mentor. “What relic does he speak of, sensei?”
The old man stared at her over his teacup. “The Veil.”
She went completely white. So white that Murdoch instinctively put a hand to her sleeve to steady her, prepared for a severe case of the vapors. But she dodged his hand and rose to her feet.
“The Veil is a dark relic?” Her voice was thick with disgust, her hands balled into fists at her sides. From what he’d observed so far, a very unusual display of emotion from the woman.
“Not entirely, no,” her mentor replied.
Murdoch glanced at Sora. “Not entirely? What do you mean,
not entirely
? If Satan gets his hands on it, will it add to the misery he’s currently wreaking on the world? Yes or no?”
Sora sighed. “Yes.”
“Then it’s a dark relic.”
Kiyoko spun around, her arms now wrapped around her waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded of Sora, her eyes dark and wide.
The old master did not waver. “Because I knew you would refuse to use it.”
Use
it? Murdoch’s gaze flickered from Kiyoko to Sora and back.
“Of course I would refuse,” Kiyoko said hotly. “It’s
tainted
.”
Murdoch put up a hand. “Hold on. Back up a mite. Use it? Who is using it, and how, exactly? It’s a bloody spigot of evil.”
“The Veil is not a common relic,” explained Sora. “It has two separate halves: one light and one dark. With the evil side contained, it is capable of great good.”
His answer did nothing to ease the pain in Kiyoko’s eyes. She spun on her heel, shoved aside the shoji with a rough snap, and left the room. Murdoch had to consciously stop himself from going after her. What the hell did he think he was going to do? Give her a damned hug? One touch, and
comfort
would be the last thing he’d be offering.
Picking up the closest bottle of ale, he took a large swig. “Might as well tell me the rest of this ugly tale,” he said to Sora. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“The Veil is a remnant of the large curtain that once hung in the door of the temple of Jerusalem,” said the old man. “It was used to keep the masses out of the temple, allowing only the priests to enter. But at the precise moment Jesus died on the cross, the Veil was torn in two and fell to the ground, a reflection of God’s grief for the loss of his son and a sign that the temples should no longer remain closed to the masses.”
Murdoch frowned. “You don’t believe in any of that, though, do you? You’re not a Christian.”
Sora smiled. “What you and I believe differs. This is true. To me, God and Satan are merely personifications of good and evil—the good and evil that reside inside each and every one of us. I do not worship any relics of the Crucifixion, nor do I seek God’s forgiveness for my sins. But I
do
believe in the negative power of fear and anger and hatred, and the positive power of hope and kindness and enlightenment.”
“And you believe an object can be a container for those powers.”
The old man nodded.
“How the hell did a Christian relic end up in Japan?”
“It was brought here in 996 by a religious knight named Richard of Tournai. It was believed that its dual nature was best guarded by masters of the yin-yang philosophy, so he came to study with us. Unfortunately, he was critically injured in a battle with a demon a year later, and we were unable to heal his injuries. On his passing, the
onmyōji
took the relic under their wing.”
Murdoch squinted at the elderly man. “By
we
, you mean the
onmyōji
, not you personally, I take it?”
Sora smiled. “Richard-san died over a thousand years ago. Surely my bones do not creak that badly?”
“What is the Veil being used for now?”
“You were correct in your guess that there is a blanket spell on the relic—but only the dark side is caged. The good side is free to be used as the holder sees fit.” The old
onmyōji
took a sip of tea.
Murdoch waited for him to continue, but when a moment passed with nothing more than the trickling sound of a fountain, he said, “That’s reassuring, but it doesn’t explain what Kiyoko is doing with the relic.”
“That part of the tale is not mine to tell.”
“Don’t be evasive, old man. You gave her the damned thing. Just tell me what she uses it for.”
“I must respect Kiyoko’s privacy.” Sora lifted his gaze from his tea. “Just because our paths led us to this spot does not mean we have the right to trample every blade of grass in view, Mr. Murdoch.”
It was a surprisingly effective analogy.
He had no trouble imagining himself as the thoughtless boot and Kiyoko as the tender grass. His large, unwieldy body and uncouth manners versus her delicate perfection and quiet, traditional femininity. Aye, he could crush her in an instant, without noticing he’d done it. But, damn it, he was here for a reason. And that reason had nothing to do with playing nice.
He rolled to his feet.
“Then I guess I’ll go talk to the lady herself.”
5