Chapter Fourteen
When Syaoran heard the door click open, he assumed the others had returned early. He kept his head down in the book he'd found the first day here, a history of Infinity, trying to understand the subtle nuances of the written language. His ears registered the light footsteps moving across the living room floor, and their slow, deliberate pace. The words had started to blur together on the page after an hour of reading, and he found himself focusing more on those footfalls.
His pulse quickened as he realized there was only one set of footsteps moving through the apartment. Sakura wouldn't just wander around the apartment, would she? he wondered, lifting his head and pressing an ear to the wall. This amplified the footsteps, allowed him to pick up the less obvious characteristics. Boots, not shoes. Someone else then. Now they're hitting the carpet. He winced as a floorboard under the carpet creaked.
Closer now. They're getting closer. His pulse pounded in his ears, the loudest sound in the tiny apartment.
The footsteps ceased. Syaoran stopped breathing. Some childish part of his mind was shouting, Go away, go away, go away.
I can't fight when I can't even walk, another part of his mind reasoned. But I can't stay here either, and they'll hear me if I move.
Horror slithered through him. They'll hear Sakura. They'll find her before they find me, she's closer to the door. His whole body trembled as he took a deep breath, and he flinched at the noise it caused.
In the other room, he heard a door swing open. Not the front door, he knew at once. A beat later, he heard a startled scream shatter the silence.
Before he could comprehend what was going on, he was running, damaged feet pounding wildly against the floor. Pain climbed up his legs like wildfire.
The startled scream of a moment ago turned to one of fear. Syaoran tore through the living room, almost running into the couch in his haste. "Sakura!"
The scream cut off abruptly. Syaoran's heart sunk, even as he plowed through the half-open door of Sakura's room.
Tears ran down Sakura's cheeks, her face stretched into a mask of terror. A black-sleeved arm was coiled around her waist, pinning her delicate arms to her side where they could do no damage. Another arm had wound around to her neck, where a sharp piece of steel rested precariously over her carotid artery. A line of blood trickled down her collarbone, a shocking contrast to her milk-pale skin.
Syaoran glanced up to see his Seishirou's face above Sakura's. "Drop her," he hissed.
"Oh, I will. We just have to talk first."
Syaoran took a step forward, then froze as Sakura whimpered. His eyes flashed down to the knife, noting the increased flow of blood down her neck. In desperation, he said, "You can keep the feather, just let her go."
"I want to make a deal with you."
He stood silent, waiting.
Seishirou swept on, satisfied that he had the boy's attention. "There's something I need from you, something that will require you to go to other dimensions with me. I can't tell you what it is, but I assure you, it's nothing that will hold up your journey more than a few months."
"I can't leave."
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. I have a price to pay, and I need help. Yours, preferably, but if you'd rather, I can take her along instead." He shifted the knife just slightly, moving it to an undamaged part of Sakura's throat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Syaoran shook his head.
Something like irritation passed across Seishirou's face, and his dark eyes flickered to the door, just for a moment.
"Why does it have to be one of us?" Syaoran asked, stalling.
"You both have abilities far beyond the norm for your kind. You have your magic. She can talk to spirits, see fragments of the future. Truthfully, I would take the magician traveling with you if I thought I could contain him. But you'll do."
Time. I need more time. "And what would I have to do, if I went with you?"
"Just travel by my side until we reach the world I'm looking for. Then, you'll work a little bit of your magic, and I'll have Yuuko send you back to your friends."
"What kind of magic?"
Annoyance passed across his face. "You'll find out when we get there. Remember, Syaoran, you trusted me once. The book, remember?"
His teeth buried themselves in his lip. "I remember."
"I promise you'll be returned safely after we're done. You know I can do that."
Syaoran looked down at his bandaged feet. "I know."
His old teacher's voice softened a bit. "You'd be better off with me. I've been watching you. You're feeling rejected, lost, alone. You won't have to feel those things with me."
"I'd rather stay here," he said weakly.
"Come now, Syaoran, you must realize they're only keeping you around for convenience. They don't trust you. You don't trust them."
"I trust them."
"You're lying."
"No . . ."
"I'll still allow you to collect feathers for the princess if you come with me."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I take her, and your quest up until now becomes entirely pointless." His eyes flashed to the front door again. Syaoran retreated a step, regaining his teacher's attention. Sakura looked at him, an accusation on her face. He could almost hear the words racing through her mind as she stared at him: Only a coward would give up someone they care about to spare themselves.
"Come with me now, and I'll let the princess go."
Syaoran glanced toward the door, as if it offered some escape. But Seishirou would catch him before he even made it out into the hall. I'm not helpless, he told himself. I'm not weak. I'm not a coward. He closed his eyes. "Let me think."
"We don't have time."
You mean you don't have time, he thought. The others will come back, they have to come back. The three of us will be able to fend you off. "Just a second," he whispered, still stalling. They must be close, if he's so impatient. He keeps looking at the door.
"You have to be decisive when traveling through dimensions. There's no time to hesitate."
Syaoran heard something outside the door, footsteps moving closer. Please be them, he prayed, just as the door flew open.
Seishirou heard the movement and dropped the princess. She landed on her knees, clutching her throat. Before Syaoran could react, his old teacher shot past him, out into the living room. He felt something tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him back. He lifted a hand to his neck, startled by the sudden movement. A stinging pain radiated through his fingers as Seishirou slapped his hand away and pinned it to his side.
His body flailed wildly, eyes roving around the apartment even as a sharp edge pressed against the skin of his neck. He caught sight of Kurogane, ripping Souhi free of its sheath, and Fai, nails turning to claws. The world spun wildly, and for a moment, all he could see was the corner of the room, where the cracked walls met the ceiling. Spots formed in his field of vision, obscuring everything. A pressure settled over his throat, cutting off his air supply and parting the first layer of skin caught under the knife.
"It seems we won't have to meet over dinner, after all," Seishirou said, though Syaoran had no idea what the words meant.
"Put the kid down."
He struggled to breathe despite the arm wrapped around his throat; he couldn't.
"You won't be able to use that sword on me. Unless you wanted to tear him to shreds."
"Bastard . . ." Kurogane muttered.
"Sakura-chan!" Fai yelled, voice shrill with horror.
The name pushed Syaoran's mind into overdrive. Sakura's hurt. Sakura needs help. The words repeated over and over, driving his thoughts back into clarity. His vision still swam with black dots, and his arms wouldn't move from his side, but there had to be something he could do. Sakura's hurt . . .
Instinct took over, and he did the only thing he could think of. He opened his mouth and drove his teeth deep into Seishirou's hand, an inch from the knife. He heard the blade clatter to the floor as he wriggled free. A hand snatched his hair, trying to pull him back. He ripped free, wincing as Seishirou ripped his hair out by the roots.
Somewhere far away, he heard Kurogane yelling. A flash of white blinded him, filling up the whole room.
The last thing he was conscious of was the dull throb of pain in his legs as he crashed to the floor.