Please read Disclaimer in Prelude.
Title: Firebird Sweet C9: The Love Hotel Gambit
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond
Rating: T
Summary: While Hiei tries to steal some alone-time, stalkers plot
another attack.
A/N: Thanks to Accidental Enlightenment for beta-ing! Warning
for brief bit of naughty language, but do please review.
Firebird Sweet C9: Romantic Soldier, Take Two: The Love Hotel
Gambit
by
Kenshin
The concept of the Japanese Love Hotel is often misunderstood by
gaijin.
These hotels, renting out by the hour (although they can also be
booked for overnight stays) are not solely geared toward illicit
transactions.
To the contrary. In crowded Japan, where many young marrieds
live with their parents, they also provide the welcome relief of
privacy that most Americans, unaccustomed to rice-paper walls,
take for granted.
Often known by amusing, Westernized names, love hotels are seldom
fleabags, and can be luxuriously appointed, with Roman baths,
large-screen TVs, and fantasy themes. Some of the more
outlandish examples are shaped like spaceships or giant
representations of fruit.
Love hotels are also designed to minimize interaction with staff.
With numerous entrances, clientele are able to slip in and out
without attracting attention, and usually rooms are selected via
an impersonal panel of buttons in the empty lobby, and paid for
by inserting cash into a pneumatic tube.
And while the Kuwabara residence, being a Western style of
architecture, lacked rice-paper walls, it also lacked the absence
of Shizuru and Kazuma.
There was one such hotel within walking distance of Lermontov's
dance studio.
The street on this fine hot August morning, about a month after
the success of 'Firebird Lament,' was noisy and crowded with
people going about their business. Jaganshi Shayla Kidd and
Jaganshi Hiei were two of those busy people.
Even when he was not using what she called his 'teleportation'
abilities, Hiei was hard to keep up with.
Shayla Kidd plucked at Hiei's sleeve, more to slow him down than
to gain any comfort or protection from his touch, though she
needed that as well; they had enjoyed precious little privacy
since coming to Japan. Though Hiei never reminded her that she
had wasted their only afternoon alone showing him an old movie,
it ate at her.
Hiei turned to fix her with what was no doubt a penetrating
glare, only it was hidden behind a pair of sunglasses that did
nothing to disguise his distinctive appearance.
"I am not taking you to a love hotel!" he snapped.
"Why not?" She adjusted her own oversized sunglasses.
"Ch. It's a disgusting concept."
"It's a privacy issue."
Hiei pointed dramatically up the street. "And going to this
public venue is private how?"
She walked doggedly onward; Hiei followed. "More private than
Kuwabara Central Station," she said.
This earned her another "ch."
"And why are you shouting at me?"
"Do you have pencils in your ears? No means no."
"It doesn't cost that much."
"It's a revolting idea."
"It's only for two hours."
"I refuse. Someone could be pointing a camera even now."
"Can't spend your life in hiding, Dragon Boy."
"We'll be photographed to the shame of our children."
"Who aren't even born yet. Besides, no one's looking." I THINK.
Darting a glance around her, Shayla wondered whether any of the
passers-by were paparazzi in disguise, she had the uncomfortable,
nagging sense that they were being followed.
It's just the crowd, she told herself. Not to mention a good
case of nerves.
Sliding the sunglasses down his nose, Hiei gave her a garnet-
hued glare this time. "You really want this sort of publicity?"
"Any publicity is good publicity," she countered. "Get a move
on. We're blocking traffic."
Hiei got moving. "We'll catch all sorts of diseases."
"No, Three-eyes, I will. You're resistant to most human
diseases, remember?"
"I'm not doing it." Hiei glanced at the building to the right of
them. "Is this the one?"
'This' was the Hotel Carrot which, unlike its name, was not
shaped like the root vegetable.
It was an unassuming four-story building, gray concrete on the
outside, narrow of window, discreetly walled off from the street
behind an equally-gray concrete barrier. Inside the wall, Shayla
caught a glimpse of some rather pleasant landscaping.
Hiei slid the sunglasses back up his nose. "Wait here," he
instructed. "I'll take a quick look and come for you if the
coast is clear."
Trying to become invisible, she tucked her purse tight under one
arm. I feel like a gangster, she told herself. This is stupid.
We're not doing anything wrong.
She caught sight of Hiei bulleting out of the hotel, mouthing,
"Coast! Clear!" Grabbing her hand, he pulled her inside the
walls. Then they were speeding along the empty lobby and into an
elevator.
Hiei thumbed the panel of buttons. The elevator door hushed
shut, and they rode up. "This is stupid," he muttered.
Although privately she agreed with him, she said, "We're here,
aren't we?"
The elevator took them to the third floor and ejected them into
an equally empty hall that was thickly carpeted and softly lit.
Hiei pulled her along to a room numbered 302. His card snicked
into the lock, and they went in.
Even when Hiei snapped on the light, she had to remove her
sunglasses to see. The room, tastefully appointed in pink shag
carpeting and purple foiled wallpaper, smelled faintly of
cleaning agents.
Hiei rounded on her in triumph. "See? Germs everywhere. You're
happy? Now let's go."
"Baka." She tossed her handbag onto a pink and purple armchair.
"You already paid, didn't you?"
"Cheap lesson, then." He darted looks around the sizable room,
as if expecting the other members of Romantic Soldier to explode
from behind the long silver curtains and shout: Gotcha!
"Let's go," he whispered, tugging at her hand.
"You're nervous." She grinned at him. "How kawaii."
"I am not nervous," he insisted, striding to a window to yank
aside one of the long silver panels and dart a glance outside.
She could see that the room overlooked a courtyard with a neat
little garden.
Even when Yuusuke, Kuwabara, and Kurama failed to leap out from
behind the other set of long silver curtains, Hiei remained at
the window, his back to her.
The room was muffled for sound, but she could hear her own heart
beating. Still Hiei did not turn.
"All right," she sighed, defeated. "You win." She headed for
the door.
Quick enough to take her breath away, Hiei was at her side. In a
spasm of whirling muscles, he pulled her close, then dumped her
onto the bed.
0-0-0-0-0
The heavy, dangerous purr of Hiei's voice woke her. "Hey.
Stupid woman. Get up."
Someone bit her arm. Someone with whose strong white teeth she
was intimately familiar.
"Time to go," Hiei insisted.
"Five minutes," she groaned, and rolled away from him.
"No five minutes." He smacked her rump. "Time's up."
"You're mean."
"Come on, woman. Don't make me dress you myself."
She rolled over, facing him with a great deal of amusement. "As
if you'd know how."
The dark, expressive brows rose. "Is this a challenge?" The
corners of his mouth twitched; he reached across her for the
mint-green camisole that lay on the pillow.
"Give me that thing." She snatched the scrap of silk from his
hand, aware of his eyes on her as she dressed, a faint warm flush
rising to her cheeks.
We should do this more often, she told herself, and then it was
her turn to watch him dress. That only distracted her more.
Decently clad at last, they tiptoed into the empty hallway, then
rode down the elevator in languorous silence.
"Maybe we could do this more often," Hiei murmured, as if he'd
read her mind.
She often wondered whether he could.
The elevator dinged, depositing them in the lobby. She opened
her mouth to echo agreement, when Hiei cut across her sentiment:
"Oh, crap."
There was another couple in the lobby, poking gingerly at the
panel of buttons provided for room selection.
Hiei ducked back into the elevator, and she looked at him a bit
helplessly. "There's a back way out, I think," she whispered.
Nodding, Hiei lifted her in his arms. "Hang on," he cautioned,
then thumbed the elevator open again.
Knowing from experience what was coming, she clung tight and shut
her eyes against the inevitable vertigo of traveling at Hiei-
speed, and the rush of air as Hiei 'teleported' them down the
hall away from the other couple.
The back entrance gave onto the landscaped courtyard, where she
spent a few minutes sighing in relief and admiring the view. The
flight had disarranged her hair, and she instinctively reached
for her handbag to pull out a little brush to set it right again.
Her hand found nothing. "Oh, no!"
Hiei spun to face her, alarmed. "What is it?"
"I left my BAG in the room."
He relaxed visibly. "So?"
"So it has all my ID in it! And my candy!"
He rolled his eyes at her. "Wait here. I'll look."
"But you'll have to go back into the lobby," she protested.
He shot her a smug glance. "I think maybe you forget who you're
talking to. And our room was facing the courtyard."
Hiei darted to the building and bounded up the wall, then
rocketed back down to approach her, his left eye twitching.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone's using the room."
"Already?"
"Already."
"Fifty billion rooms in that overdecorated joint and they have to
pick the one we just used?"
"Room 302. Probably the same couple we spotted when the elevator
opened," he muttered.
"What are we going to do?"
Hiei shrugged. "Wait here two hours. Then I'll get it."
"What if whoever's in there steals my bag?"
His face clouded.
"Think of it," she went on. "My purse with my ID found in one of
these joints. Can't you see the headlines?"
"I thought you were the one who said any publicity is good
publicity."
She put a hand to her head, groaning. "And we can't stay here
for two hours---we're due back at the studio."
"Ch. As if Lermontov isn't already mad at us."
She peered worriedly up at Room 302. "Maybe they won't take the
whole two hours. Maybe that man is faster than you are when it
comes to certain things."
"Shut up." Flushing slightly, Hiei shot a determined look at the
hotel, then glanced around the little courtyard.
Twisted cypress trees and well-trimmed yews surrounded a
showpiece boulder low enough for seating. Hiei pulled her along
and placed her on the rock. "You like rocks, yes?"
"I liked them when we were sitting on top of one looking down at
El Chupacabra and I like them now."
"I'm going up again. Try not to attract attention. Pretend
you're a tree or something."
"Or something," she assured him.
While he was gone she waited, placing her hands flat on either
side of her. The boulder was warm from the sun.
Hiei, she reflected, was like Lake Champlain: calm and glassy on
the surface, but containing bottomless depths---possibly with
monsters.
Her sigh was underscored by the shrill sawing of cicadas. We
need our own house, she thought wistfully, looking around the
courtyard. A house with a little yard like this. A sitting rock
and some bushes. Kurama could help with the landscaping.
What are you thinking, she admonished herself. Even with the
success of 'Firebird Lament,' they lacked the money to rent an
apartment of their own, much less a house.
The bushes rustled. Something was in them, watching her. Hope
it's nothing worse than a squirrel, she thought.
It was not a squirrel.
Jaki are small bipedal demons of varying coloration, size and
ability. One thing they have in common is a low level of ki.
This, combined with their innate stealth, makes them perfect as a
messenger and spy class.
Hornless, the jaki in the bushes had a very human-appearing face.
An odd little specimen, with a broken nose that had set badly,
giving it a distinctive right-hand twist.
A tuft of rufous hair atop its head stood out like a demented
Mohawk, and it had a prehensile tail that was wrapped around the
branch of the yew where it sat, regarding her intently with its
glittering black eyes.
So they had been followed. Her suspicions were correct. Well.
What an excellent opportunity to give Command Voice another trial
run.
Tapping her fingers on the rock before her, she called to it.
The jaki tensed, bunching its muscles to dart away, tail flicking
nervously.
"Heeere, jakijakijaki," she purred. In fits and starts,
resembling a squirrel so much that she had to stifle laughter, it
drew closer to her, then stopped just outside her reach. "What a
good jaki," she told it. "Come to Shay-Shay. That's a good
jaki. What are you doing here?"
"Spying on you." Its piping voice was that of a child.
"What a good little jaki! Do you like candy?"
The liquid black eyes narrowed; it flicked a glance sideways.
"Yes. What's candy?"
"I have some in my bag."
"There's a demon coming up behind you," it said. "Black hair.
Black coat. Red eyes."
"Good little jaki!" she enthused, not wanting to take her eyes
from it. "Hiei," she said, not turning. "Approach slowly." She
heard his slow, measured footfalls. "Come around where I can see
you."
Hiei stood before her, holding her bag clamped under one arm.
His garnet gaze flicked to the jaki. "What the---?"
"Shhhh." Back to Command: "Jakijakijaki. Let the nice demon
pick you up."
"Okay."
Hiei gave her a puzzled glance, yet he reached for the creature,
curling one hand around it.
"My bag?"
Still holding the jaki, Hiei gave her the purse.
"Here you go, little jaki." She rummaged her purse for the
Lifesavers and extracted a yellow one for the creature.
"Hey---" Hiei protested. "How come he gets a Lifesaver and I
don't?"
"Eat the whole roll if you want," she told him, watching the
jaki. It held the candy in its little claws and began to crunch
greedily. "Jakijakijaki. Good little jaki. Who sent you?"
"Can't tell you." Its voice was somewhat gluey with candy.
"Give me another."
Hiei snorted. "How about I kill it instead?" he suggested,
tightening his fist ever so slightly on the little creature.
"Stop!" she cried, in genuine alarm, recalling the jaki whose
neck Hiei had broken at the Spencer ranch in Arizona, back in the
days before she even knew what a jaki was.
And now that she did know---
She did not want this one killed. Not long ago, the twins had
started kicking. The jaki's bodily warmth, its childlike voice,
had set her maternal instincts firing on all eight cylinders.
"Don't crush him," she pleaded. "He might become a valuable
resource."
"Valuable? A jaki? If it bites me I promise nothing."
"Hiei!"
"Oh, all right. You can summon Botan. Or that nitwit Hinageshi.
Someone to take this little monster. Let Koenma sweat it for a
while."
"No, wait," she began, and held out her hand. "Give him back to
me."
"Why?" Hiei protested, but handed the creature over.
The jaki nestled on her palm, blinking at her dopily. Slowly she
put out a forefinger to ruffle the Mohawk, causing him to shut
his eyes and gave a little shiver of delight. Then she went to
scratching his ears. He was just about purring.
"You never do that to me," muttered Hiei.
Holding her hand flat so he could get away at any time, she
crooned, "Jakijakijaki. Come and tell me things from time to
time. I'll give you candy."
"Uh-huh," he piped, opening his eyes.
Hiei knelt at her side, his voice low. "They have no concept of
right and wrong. You do realize that."
Leaning forward, she deposited the creature back in the yew bush.
He remained where he was, his liquid black eyes intent upon her.
"You're nuts," Hiei informed her.
"At any rate, let's not come here again."
"Don't worry." Hiei gave a little shudder. "I will build you an
entire house, brick by brick, with my own two hands, before that
happens."
"Jakijakijaki," she purred. "Want another piece of candy?"
He nodded, his eyes huge.
"Hey," protested Hiei. "Save me red one."
0-0-0-0-0
Inside Warehouse Number Four, Carlos sat at a card table,
engrossed in a baguette thickly spread with ripe, runny Brie. He
was only a bit annoyed when an oni approached. "Hey, Chief---Boss
wants to see you in his office."
Carlos glanced at the creature. It was impossible to tell
whether it was pale with fear, or blushing with embarrassment, or
cool as a cucumber, because its skin was a dusky plum color from
its black-maned head to its clawed feet.
Sighing, Carlos rose, still grasping his sandwich, then went to
the half-open office door and knocked.
"C'mon in," rumbled the Boss.
The office reeked of stale sweat, and the bitter undertone of
sake. The demon king, sitting with his boots propped up at the
gray steel desk, looked so much like the cat that swallowed the
canary Carlos was surprised there weren't tell-tale feathers
sticking from the corners of his mouth.
"You wanted to see me?"
Was it possible the Boss was finally getting around to discussing
their purchase of an old chopper? The logistics of where they
would 'park' the thing, and how the Boss would get to it when
escape became necessary, had proven particularly thorny.
The Boss gave a toadlike grin. "Whatcha know 'bout poisons?"
"Not much," Carlos admitted, around another mouthful of sandwich.
"Takes more'n any ordinary poison t'kill a fire demon," the Boss
went on. "An' I know 'em all." Rising from the chair, the Boss
patted his belt.
Carlos had never really studied the demon king's belt, much of it
being hidden by his overhanging gut. Black like the close-
fitting black breeches encasing his legs, the belt was some two
inches wide, and, Carlos now saw, hung about with pale gray
leather pouches. Taking another bite, Carlos nodded.
"Poisons, venoms, toxins, whatever ya want, I got. Some that'll
stop yer heart dead in minutes. Some that's gotta be injected to
work, an' some that's tasteless so's you'd never even notice it
in your food." The Boss shot him a sly glance.
Carlos stopped chewing. The sandwich turned to cardboard in his
mouth.
Throwing back his head, the Boss roared with laughter. "If you
could see yer face just now! Don't worry. I ain't put nothin'
in yer food."
Swallowing a paste of bread and cheese that felt like gravel,
Carlos put the sandwich down. He half-believed that any moment,
his throat would swell with the effects of some exotic poison,
and he would choke, then cease to breathe at all.
"'Sides," the Boss chuckled wetly, "there's somethin' I want ya
to do for me now."
Sweat prickling his back, Carlos awaited instructions. After he
heard them he returned to the cavernous space and found his way
to the card table again. Some of the oni had fled after the Boss
immolated the orange one. 'Go buy more,' the Boss had said. But
Carlos had to take up the slack with humans.
None of the Boss' oni could pass for human. Only the Shifter had
that ability.
In any organization, you make friends. Well. Maybe not friends
in the strictest sense, but fellows you drank and joked with and
played cards with. Here, they called him "Chief," ceded their
tables to him, but never invited him in on their card games or
their games of dice fashioned of human skulls.
He hadn't learned their names, not like Gutierrez and Tasco, his
men in the rose-brick building. He simply referred to them by
color.
There were ten in the main group. Two had been killed already:
Orange, of course, and earlier on, Big Gray, courtesy of the
target's associates.
It was Green, the one who'd clued Carlos in during the Boss'
bender, who had fled, taking Yellow---appropriate name---with it.
This left only six oni and one Shifter, the other Shifter having
been blown away by their target.
Carlos spent some time studying the oni who were gathered around
the other card table, ignoring their glances and whispers.
There was Purple, big, brutal, black-maned, who had given Carlos
the message. Red, his counterpart and near-twin. Olive, no
larger than a big human and the first Carlos had met, along with
Little Gray, a quiet fellow who knew about the Boss' history and
the strange relationship he had with the Water Dancers. Ocher,
keeper of the bone dice, and Brown.
Carlos made his choice at last. Brown was big, but also
relatively fast. That one would do for the Boss' latest job.
0-0-0-0-0
One day after his visit to Hotel Carrot, Hiei paid a visit to its
polar opposite.
Whenever he entered the Immaculate Heart church, Hiei gave a
little pause, aware of the sting of Holy Light as it streamed
from every font, picture and statue.
Sting it might, but Hiei could bear it. He could even use it as
a weapon. This made him unique among demonkind.
Silently, he passed through the outer hall, genuflecting in the
direction where the altar lay behind oaken doors. Then he dashed
down the short flight of stairs leading to Father Brian's office.
Near the end of the hall a dark wooden door stood in stark
relief. Hiei knocked. The familiar, lilting voice called out
for him to enter.
He slipped inside the crowded room with the cluttered desk wedged
into one corner, and the religious paintings nearly hiding the
whitewashed walls. With no windows, it was impossible to tell
night from day here, though it was now late afternoon.
Father Brian was seated behind the desk, his attention fixed on a
newspaper.
"Father," Hiei began. "What was so important that you couldn't
tell me over the phone?"
Folding the newspaper, the priest shot a dangerous black glare at
Hiei. "For an undercover agent, you sure picked yourself a
splashy profession."
"I've got twins on the way, and bus-boying doesn't pay enough.
Besides, I'm keeping a low profile."
Father Brian angled the newspaper toward Hiei. "Is this you,
keeping a low profile?"
Aghast, Hiei thumped down into a chair.
The Tokyo Tattler is a notorious scandal sheet with an
appallingly high circulation. The headline blared: Romantic
Soldier In Love Hotel Tryst With Mystery Woman!
Beneath the screaming headline was a grainy black and white photo
of himself and Shay-san, both wearing the flimsy disguise of
sunglasses. They had been caught just outside Hotel Carrot.
"I need a drink," groaned Hiei.
"Tough cheese, kiddo. Rosa's on her way with coffee." The
priest shook his head. "The pair of you couldn't look any
guiltier if you'd just committed mass murder with a side order of
shoplifting."
"But we did nothing wrong---I mean, it's not what it looks like,"
protested Hiei. His insides had begun to churn.
"It's exactly what it looks like. Did you think I was born
yesterday, in a turnip truck?"
"But that's not---"
"Please. I know whose photo it is, you dumb little shit. Give me
some credit for bein' able to recognize a member of me own flock,
much less me favorite little colleen. But the damage is already
done. By the time you force 'em to print a retraction, no one
will care."
"Shay-san will be embarrassed," Hiei said, almost to himself, his
mind racing horribly. "Kaasan will---"
"Welcome to the wonderful world of fame."
"Whatever happened to love the sinner, hate the sin?"
"Sometimes love comes on the end of a fist." Clenching one work-
scarred hand for emphasis, Father Brian used the other to cover
up the paper.
An instant later Hiei knew why. Rosa slid into the office,
bearing a tray with two styrofoam cups of coffee, a middle-aged
woman with dark hair and eyes and almost invisible demeanor. She
deposited the tray, then, silent as a ghost, slid back out.
Hiei grabbed his coffee, took it at a gulp, then shuddered at the
bitter taste. "We needed privacy, me and my firebird."
The priest removed his hand from the offending headline. "If you
call this privacy."
"But I have every right to be with my own---"
"Doesn't matter. I've got the one sister who's with the Boston
Blazers roller derby team, that's Bridget, and the other's been
singin' in nightclubs since I was in swaddlin' clothes, Theresa
that is, so I know all about the inclinations of the print
media."
Crumpling his cup and tossing it into the wastebasket, Hiei shot
the priest a suspicious look. "I thought you said your sister
was a Dominican nun."
"Ursula?" The priest shrugged. "I've so many I lose track." He
looked again at the screaming headlines. "Ah, me. Now
everyone's seen it, every last man, woman and child in the
parish. I'm sure at some point even Rosa will pick up on it,
bless her innocent soul."
"She still scared of me?"
"I promised her there'd be no killin'."
"Well. That's a load off." Dusting styrofoam from his pants,
Hiei rose.
"Oh, and kiddo?"
Hiei's eye threatened to start twitching. "What."
"Don't go usin' your Sword of the Archangel on any of the
paparazzi."
"Thanks for the advice, Father." With his left eye twitching
like a frog on a griddle, Hiei left the priest's office.
0-0-0-0-0
Down the hall from Father Brian's office is the church bathroom,
which is open to the staff at any hour, and to churchgoers during
most hours. A dormitory-style design, it is a long tiled room
with four stalls and two sinks.
Standing at the sink closest to the door is Rosa, church
secretary, most harmless of creatures, her dark eyes curiously
flat and unseeing as she stares into the mirror.
She enters one of the stalls and extracts from the pocket of her
simple gray dress a tiny bottle, the kind used to transport Holy
Water. Opening its screw top, she upends the contents into the
commode.
A keen observer might note the slightly un-natural stiffness of
her movements, as though she were a very advanced robot, operated
by a remote control from which all the bugs had not quite been
worked out.
It takes only a moment to empty the bottle of its clear liquid;
her instructions have been to add a mere drop or two to the
target's coffee. Any more and the bitterness of its taste would
be a tip-off.
Still dull of eye and stiff of movement, she flushes away all
evidence that there was ever anything inside the bottle more
damaging, and far more sinister, than Holy Water.
0-0-0-0-0
Awakening in a graveyard at night is a sobering sight for any
creature, human or demon.
Cold, stiff, with an acrid taste in his mouth, and a throbbing
drumbeat behind his eyes---all three of them---Hiei sat up and
took in his surroundings.
He inhabited a city of the dead.
Fog slithered close to the ground, winding around the headstones
like ghosts.
Ch, he thought. Someone slipped me a mickey. Is it beyond even
Father Brian to put knockout drops in my coffee to teach me a
lesson? If not, who? Not Rosa, certainly. But someone.
Symptoms unmistakable. Headache, dizziness, thick head, old-
sweatsock taste...
He groped for the 'Bat-phone' in his pocket, but his fingers were
clumsy. And anyway, he told himself, what would you say? Pick
me up, I'm in a graveyard. Where? Don't know.
A single glance assured him this wasn't the Immaculate Heart
cemetery; the gravestones were not of Christian design, but big
marble obelisks bearing no cross.
He made it to his knees, then sucked in a breath.
On the ground near him lay a dead oni---a big one, dark of skin,
and in pieces now.
The fog in Hiei's head matched the fog in the air. I don't
remember killing that, he thought.
Flicking his gaze elsewhere, he spotted a nearby tree.
When in doubt, go vertical.
He was too cold, too stiff, his knees were on fire, and his leap
wasn't what it should be, but he made it into that tree.
And was promptly slammed down again by something that felt like
an iron club. Landing hard, Hiei rolled, fetched up against a
headstone, struggled to his feet, panting.
No enemy in sight. Yet Hiei sensed demonic ki. Heard laughter,
rich with malice.
"Whyn'cha use your DRAGON," said a thick, mocking voice,
difficult to pinpoint in this fog.
There came another needling laugh, and a lighter, quicker voice:
"Haven't you heard? Dragons are out of style this year."
His back to a headstone, Hiei could see no one, but if someone
had slammed him down from the tree, then that someone must still
be up it.
He raised his head. There: lambent eyes looking down on him from
the leaf-frilled branches. The eyes were situated far apart in a
wedge-shaped head, the whole creature resembling a man-sized
dinosaur. The dusky green body was strong and whiplike. Hiei's
gaze traveled to the tail wrapped around the tree trunk.
In Raptor-type demons, that tail can be used as a fifth limb. It
makes quite a deadly weapon.
Hiei sneered. "Stragglers from that barrier rift in May?"
"Ooo," chuckled the Raptor. "Smart guy's figured it out all by
himself."
Hiei wasted no further breath. Raptors were not only armed with
tooth and claw, but speed that was nearly a match for his. And
this one wasn't alone. There was another demon around somewhere,
possibly another Raptor. Keeping one eye on the enemy in the
tree, Hiei cast his senses about.
"Lookin' for this, pal?" From behind the headstone, a clawed
hand the size of Hiei's head slammed down into his shoulder.
Snarling in pain, Hiei spun to face his attacker.
A One-eye! Thickly furred, it had a single, oversized eye, its
head connecting to the husky body sans benefit of a neck. With
long, clawed arms it looked a bit like an animated cactus. Hiei
reached back for the comfort of his katana.
It wasn't there. Uttering a wicked curse, he cast around for his
sword while the enemy jeered.
"What's wrong?" cooed the Raptor. "Baby lost his rattle?"
"C'mon," said the One-eye, gesturing Hiei to come close. "I got
the goods to put you outta your misery quick, punk."
"Quick's my middle name," interjected the Raptor from its tree.
"But let's have a bit of fun before we kill him."
"Sounds like a plan. Wanna make the little creep beg?"
"Sure! What color is his blood, do you suppose?"
Sloppy! Hiei berated himself; Careless! The sword should've been
your first thought!
He spotted it beyond the body of the dead oni. Darting forward
to grab it, his fingers scraped the sheath, but the Raptor hurled
itself down from the tree. With a blow from its long tail, it
knocked Hiei spinning away from his sword.
In a flash, the One-Eye was upon him, claws snaked around his
neck.
With his right hand Hiei fumbled for his Rosary. The other
lashed out at the One-eye, but the Raptor was already on his
back, fangs piercing his shoulder before it danced away.
Hiei struggled to wrench free of the One-eye's claws. But the
knockout drops had weakened him. There was a pounding of blood
in his ears. Sparks danced before his eyes. I'm losing, he
thought, losing! To these nonentities!
Another cry, full-throated, split the air above him: "Iron reaver
soul-stealer!"
The One-eye exploded into a swath of blood and gristle.
Wasting no time, Hiei flicked to his sword, yanked it from its
saya, and bisected the startled Raptor before pain could even
register on its nerve endings.
Unlike his own nerve endings; with the small effort it took to
split the Raptor in two, Hiei felt as though his body had been
dipped in an acid bath. Raptors are not poisonous, but the bite
was deep, and throbbed nastily.
Peering through the fog to make out his rescuer, Hiei saw the
white-haired hanyou boy they had encountered at the Crazy Dog
Diner.
"Man!" The hanyou scowled at Hiei. "Do you ever look like you
drank from the wrong end of the bottle."
Hiei regarded the dog-boy in silence.
"Someone musta been looking out for you, though, 'cause I was
gettin' close to the shrine, but I got this funny feeling and
turned around." He surveyed the bodies of the three youkai.
"Lucky for you."
"Why did you---?" Throat still raw from the strangling, Hiei
could not speak further. He sank to his knees, coughing.
The boy waited for silence, then shrugged. "I owed ya one for
lettin' me go back then, runt." And before Hiei could say
anything else, he went leaping off through the trees in a flash
of scarlet garb and silver hair.
It took a while before Hiei recovered enough to retrieve his saya
and shove it into his belt. The enemy had known about the loss
of his Dragon. He would have to file a report. Just now, until
his head cleared, he had no wish to speak with Father Brian.
The wind picked up, shredding the last lingering fronds of fog.
Somewhere above, a nightthroat called.
Straightening, Hiei looked around for the graveyard's exit.
Then collapsed against a headstone, partly from the lingering
effects of the drug, partly from the double sting of pain and
humiliation.
I can't even defend myself! he railed. How am I going to keep
my family safe?
-30-
(To be continued: Smoke and mirrors.)