A/N: You guys, you're all sensational. 'Nuff said. Your reviews made my days. I loved reading your reactions and theories as to what exactly is going on. You all get a Computer-Five. Yes, I really high-fived my computer right then. You should too. I know when you don't comp five!
Special thanks to my argumentative reviewers. You're so cool and definitely my favorite. Too bad a lot of you are anonymous. Just know that you rock.
WARNING: This chapter contains implied sexual content. Nothing explicit or beyond PG-13, though. If you've survived Killua's suggestive jokes, you'll be fine. But if you have a problem with semi-mature themes, feel free to skip the first flashback.
37. Strings Attached
The red numbers on the bedside table read 23:55.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Killua propped his chin on his knuckles and held his phone horizontally for a better view. Hooded eyes glued to the screen, he stared at the map before his eyes. A map that was sprinkled with lots and lots of red dots, cluttering the roads on the map that spread like veins. He tried to make sense of what he was saying. At some point, the red dots made a trail, only to scatter around later in the most random way. He sighed in frustration as he zoomed in. The dots stood out like bloodstains; annoying and stubborn.
Just like the man they signified.
It took him years to be able to find that man on the map. Who knew how long it was going to take him to find the man for real? Who knew how long he was going to play the connect-the-dots game?
If only he knew how that man's mind worked….
With a soft groan, Killua put the phone down. He willed his eyes to move around the foreign, messy room he was in, his gaze tracing the edges of the posters and photographs tacked up against the wall. Books and girly magazines were thrown every and anywhere. Clothes were all over the floor. Some of them were his. He probably needed to put them back on and leave. It was getting late. York Shin's August's soothing midnight breeze was wandering in through the window and creeping into his bare skin.
The bedsheets rustled, and then a girl in her late teens was scuttling closely behind him. He felt her body—he couldn't even remember her name—he felt it pressed to his back, warm and earnest. The chill he'd been fighting for past three hours filled his stomach; his bowels clenched.
Leaning forward and rubbing his tense shoulders, she peeked over his shoulder before she cooed her guess. "Ging Freecs?"
Killua lifted his phone to his eyes once again, the screen staring blankly back at him, taunting him with the scattered dots. "He's followed a certain trail for years," he thought out loud, "he was mostly located in the western section, centered around certain hamlets of some islands and mountain ranges. His trail has always been clear and steady before his big leap into York Shin. According to this map, he's been very careful to not step foot into a crowded place before… so what was he doing here? Either he's doing it in purpose to confuse us, or he's doing something unpredictable."
"Don't rely too much on what I told you," the girl replied with a shrug. "The Hunter Committee is very secretive about Ging, in an attempt to avoid any information leaking out about any of the Zodiacs. In all the years I've worked there, nobody has ever mentioned Ging's name in more than one sentence. I was very careful about my choice of words; Ging could be in York Shin. Nobody knows for sure, not even the reliable source who gave me this info. The best thing you can do right now is go to Los Selegna; that friend of mine could find a way to help you since he saw Ging in person. I told him to expect you soon. You have nothing to lose."
Running a hand over his face, Killua sighed. He was staring at the posters again, attempting to make meaning out of the swirls of this mystery.
Ging Freecs was a very, very stubborn man. He spent the last eight years running away from his son. Attempted to drive him insane for the sake of his peace of mind. Ging made sure to succeed every time, leaving them with crashed hopes and runaway wins. He was rather sending them on a wild-goose chase.
Frustrating, but it only made the challenge even more delicious. Only added more to the spine-tingling rush of the hunt.
Snapped rudely out of his train of thoughts, Killua repressed a shudder when the girl nuzzled down his neck. "So what now? What do you wanna do now? Wanna stay here and figure it out? Or do you need some…distractions?" she drawled.
Killua shuddered. Her lustful voice was like a winch around his spine. Her soft touch made his skin crawl unpleasantly.
But he played along; this was his game after all. Girls like her annoyed him, however. He wondered if they really believed half the bullshit that came out of his mouth. He knew he didn't. Girls like her told him what he wanted to hear, accepted the price he wanted to pay. If he told them he loved to kill kittens, they'd tell him they loved it, too.
"Ging must have left," she continued, "so what are you still doing in York Shin? Are you staying for the upcoming annual auction?"
"No. Tomorrow's my friend's engagement party."
"Ooh," she squealed, bouncing on her knees, "can I come?"
Killua gave a little snorting laugh. "Of course not," he said, checking his schedule for tomorrow on his phone. "I don't know you."
"Why not? It'd be fun," she purred seductively in his ear. "We could dance…" Her body was suddenly flush against his back, one hand at his bicep. The other hand forced its way greedily down his chest. "And maybe later we could sneak out for some quality time…"
Killua closed his eyes against the sudden wave of sickness that twisted his guts. "No," he grunted softly. His hand moved to her wrist to still her movement. "I'm leaving."
The girl was confused. "Ehh, what's your deal?" she burst out as he backed out of her arms and off the bed, ignoring her mutters of protest. "You're so hot and cold, hot and cold…." She pouted prettily as she watched his retreating back, then ground out her next words. "You're driving me crazy."
He scoffed, reaching for his pants and pulling them back on. He didn't want to tell her that he suddenly felt used and wanted to get as far away from that bed as possible.
The girl stretched along the bed, displaying a nice body. "I know you were just using me to get information about Ging Freecs," she said. Her voice was empty from any traces of remorse or chastisement; full of careless indifference.
"And you were using me for my body." He fastened his fly and then faced her. "This had been mutually beneficial."
The girl smirked. She couldn't deny what he said. She benefited all right. She benefited quite well.
As much as this kind of girls annoyed him, he hated to use them. He was taught that everything had a price. He believed that everything had a price. And so he gave back, he gave back just enough. Enough to elevate his heart rate slightly; enough to gloss his skin with a touch of sweat.
"You didn't have to do that, though," she crooned, smoothing the white sheets with her hand and wiggling her eyebrows, "I would have given you everything you wanted to know without anything in return…."
"Huh," Killua said in mock disbelief.
She shrugged noncommittally.
Suddenly, she chuckled, a derisive sound. "Remember about my talent, the one I told you about last night? How I can read people very thoroughly? I really can… and you know what… I don't buy this whole 'I'm-all-tough-and-cold' façade of yours."
Killua tensed. His brow was furrowed; his eyes were wary. "What?"
The girl got to her feet and visibly preened, with one hand on her hip. "You heard me. I don't buy your crap. It's not convincing. Especially when it's coming from a guy who's practically living for others. What, are you denying it? Do you even have anything to live for except this impeccable need to help Ging Freecs' son? Perhaps you're doing it to make yourself feel like you've accomplished something in your life with this forward momentum, when in reality, you're really not achieving anything. At least not something that could get you anywhere. You can pretend you have somewhere to go, or that you have someone to go to. That someone somewhere in this shit city cares enough to want you around. But really, do you really believe it? No, you don't. Deep inside you know you don't." She took few steps to stand in front him, a challenging look on her face that caused him to jut his chin up in a classic defensive manner.
"You know that you're nothing but a sad bastard who's just making amends for whatever the wrongs he's done in the past. Who lives to make people safe and happy, but never himself. Who distances himself emotionally just so no one else knows what on his mind, because then they will run away from him, screaming. You're emotionally unavailable, and so emotionally damaged that it's so easy to break you down. It's all written on your face. Your loneliness is like a cinderblock lashed to your back."
Killua's eyes flashed, his lips pursed. It was the first time in his life that he seriously considered killing a girl for a personal reason. He wanted to reach for her neck and snap it between his unforgiving fingers. He wanted to make her life a living hell.
Instead, he masked his anger very well. "Nice character analysis." His mouth curled with his best self-satisfied smirk. "Truly. It was the highlight of my evening."
The girl gasped sharply at the implied insult. He heard her spit all sorts of obscenities as he snatched his T-shirt from the floor and stormed out the room. His smirk faded with every step he took. It was only later, when he slammed the apartment door shut behind him and exhaled a deep breath, that he registered the hollow ache in his chest.
The suite was quiet when I arrived at 11pm after my shift ended. I was groggy and grumpy the entire day. I'd kill for a quick shower and my bed, but Killua's painfully brief text: "Emergency. Come here ASAP" made me change my plans. As I walked down the bedrooms hallway, I decided to trudge toward my shower when I heard that Killua was already in the midst of his own.
Forcing myself to settle in as if I belonged there, I went to my room down the hall. I locked the door and stripped off my clothes on the way to the shower. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and sank numbly to the floor of the stall.
I was on Day Three After Eagle-With-Parchment Night: Round Two feeling like the scaredy cat that curled in a darkened corner, too frightened to face the world and herself.
I was glad the past two days went by in a total blur. I had been, once again, using work as a sedative. I'd taken extra shifts, worked extra hard, even if my heart wasn't in it. I had done everything that could help me slide into the autopilot mode of self-preservation that would get me through the days ahead. I had to keep moving forward, even if I no longer knew the direction I was heading into. I only knew that I was waiting for something to happen, and nothing would bring me back any peace of mind until I found out what that something was.
Waiting was tantalizing. It tormented me with the anticipation of what was to come, sending me into a treacherous game of 'What am I supposed to do until then?' It made me do anything and everything to help distract my mind.
Waiting was dangerous. It drove me crazy with hope or despair. The not knowing was the most excruciating part of patience; the catalyst to shady decisions and inevitable mistakes during the most treacherous situations.
Waiting was emotional. It consumed my mind and ate slowly at my body. It kept me up at night and exhausted me during the day. It made me moody and spiteful and caused me to isolate myself from those I wanted to be with the most.
Waiting was bullshit.
I had been down that road too many times. The road of running into countless of thoughts and emotions that varied from mindless denial to inexplicable terror. I knew I could so easily fall back into my old self-destructive habits to dull the pain of being too much inside my head.
I had to hang on. Get through. Get by. One step at a time.
Finished with my shower, I changed quickly into a pair of sweats and decided to crawl into my enormous bed after I find out what Killua's 'emergency' was. Knowing him, it was probably a not-too-subtle way to get me to sleep at the suite tonight. Ever since I'd made the mistake of telling him that the reason why I acted weird on the phone that night was because of my old apartment, he'd been trying to find random excuses for me to sleep over at the suite.
I couldn't tell him about my thoughts and feelings regarding that letter—yet. I could blame my ever-present fear of loss for that. I was too afraid to risk upsetting the delicate balance between us. Too much of a coward to drop a bomb on this little peaceful land that we worked so hard to be able to just wobble on—especially when I wasn't even sure what that bomb could be. As much as I wanted to share what I was thinking and feeling, I was equally hesitant. After all, I'd always been a person who avoided talking about anything personal for years. He couldn't blame me for being who I was, just as I couldn't blame him for not wanting to cut himself open and let all the ugliness spill out.
We were still approaching each other as if each of us was breakable. Still learning how to work on cultivating our trust again, both in ourselves and in each other. He was still learning to let me in; I was teaching myself to accept all of him.
Whatever that letter meant, it'd rock the boat and shake us even more, in one way or another. I could handle the shaking by myself 'till I figured out how bad the situation was. Just for now.
Thinking before taking any big steps was progress for me. Exhausting, mind-fucking progress.
Needing distraction and some peace from my mind, I got out of my room and headed to Killua's.
"Hey, I got your text. What's the emergency?" I was saying once I stormed in his room… then jerked to an abrupt halt at the unexpected sight before me. Every muscle in my body froze when I was confronted with a wide-eyed Killua in just a towel, slung indecently low on his hips, as he ran a hand through his wet hair. "Oh. I… I… didn't know…" I babbled incoherently. "I didn't… know you… had a… body…."
That was a lie. Clearly, I knew he had a body. Not only that, but I knew just what type of body he had, remembered it well, and recalled it more often in my head than I'd admit, even to myself.
I remembered the taut leanness of his back, the width of his shoulders, and the firm muscles of his shoulders and forearms, saturated with water from his shower. I was aware there was a brutal vein, startlingly green, visible under his skin all the way from the back of his left palm, up his forearm, biceps and shoulder that stopped at his collarbone. And the scars. They were smooth, completely flat, faintly pinkish-white and ivory in the gloom. Because they were old, but they still seemed mean, and they were worn with thorough indifference: something in their color that suggested time-lessness.
This was not the distraction I was looking for.
Killua stared back at me, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, carefully, shifting his weight.
"Like what?" I didn't ask him so much as I asked his very, very defined pecs.
"Like you want to spank me," he clarified.
All I could think about how bite marks would look on the hard, smooth skin of his chest.
"Well, you… you just think that… not allowed… I mean you… you… You!" I said, my voice sharply high-pitched and accusatory. Blinking out of my haze of incredulity, I wobbled on my feet, almost running face-first into the coat rack as I scrambled across the room. I snatched the T-shirt and pants he'd laid on his bed and threw them at his head. "Put some clothes on."
He caught the clothes with one hand and lowered them slightly so his face popped into view. He glanced down at himself and shrugged. "You're the one who barged in here without knocking. Besides, I'm your boyfriend. You're allowed to see me as naked as possible."
"Yes, but I don't trust myself right now. So." I was flushed, when all I'd done was just look. "…Just put something on, please?"
"…All right, all right," he said, and held his pants up. Just as he was about to untie the knot of his towel, he stopped. Looking back at me, he smirked and made a circle gesture with his finger for me to turn around.
"Oh fucking hell," I groaned, pivoting to face the wall. Why not just change in the bathroom and stop being a massive, merciless torturer?
Asshole.
Ten seconds later, he reassured me that it was safe to turn back and I did, the vibe between us easily summed up in two words: awkward and amused—awkward for me, amused for him. And Killua, quite pleased with my gaping, babbling reaction to him, wasn't ready to let it go so easily.
He puffed out his still bare chest—damn it—and flashed me the Devil smile. "Let's just get it out in the open—so you saw me in a towel. It's okay. It's nothing you're not allowed and privileged to ponder."
I responded by popping the bubble of the gum I was chewing loudly in his face as I walked past him, needing the distance.
"You can say it, y'know? 'Killua is insanely attractive.' Say it, Yuki. The truth will set you free."
I didn't say anything, just rolled my eyes and cleared my throat and impressively rearranged my expression into one of indifference in a split second, beating down my first instinct to blush and be a bitch. But, due to his enjoyable ego boost, Killua was extra playful this evening and refused to let it go.
"If you're that embarrassed, we can always even the score. Next time, you come out in just your towel."
"Killua…" I warned.
"Yuki," he intoned with a smile.
I crossed my arms and frowned at him. "What's the emergency?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?"
He grinned. "What do you mean 'what you do mean what do you'—"
"No, no." I held up one finger to stop him. "No being cute. Answer me. Your text. You said there's an emergency."
"Ah, that." He pulled his T-shirt over his head. "Gon and I are getting off the ground tomorrow. We have something to take care of in Los Selegna. I want you to stay in the suite until we come back on Tuesday."
"Wait, what?" I asked, blinking. "Why so last minute?"
"Actually, we were supposed to be there a month ago, but I kept postponing it. I can no longer do that; it's now or never. Gon's father is really putting us through the wringer, and there's someone there who may know something about him. If this trip goes well, we may find some clues. Maybe."
"And you'll be gone for six days?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
"And you're leaving…"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Oh." Scowling, I sauntered over to the dresser and hopped onto it, curling my fingers around the lip and swinging my legs. When I remembered The Letter issue I still had, it occurred to me that this might be fortunate after all. Though half-heartedly, I had to accept that I still needed to find clues myself, and this might be a good chance for me to use these six days to do something productive. Maybe I'd be able to move freely once he was away. Not that he was strangling me or anything, but his absence would make me feel less guilty about going for any adventure that didn't include him. It was time to finally have my field day now.
"Listen to me." Killua walked over to stand before me, his looming height forcing me to tilt my head up to him. "While I'm gone, no funny business," he warned with a hard edge to his voice. "You better behave. I don't want the 'when the cat goes away, the mice will play' attitude. Got it?"
Jeez. He's creepy.
I got an irrational, unfounded fear all of a sudden that my mind was pathetically transparent to him. Trying not to look or sound too suspicious, I twisted this with a joke, shrugging with a grin. "What if I need to be a bad girl?"
I laughed, jumping off the dresser and bumping my shoulder with his as I passed him. "I was kidding. Kind of. I might need to take care of things."
His arms crossed, his brows drawn together in a frown. "Come with us on this trip."
Rolling my eyes, I dropped myself on his bed. "I'm not a baby in a hot car. I can stay by myself without playing with matches or accepting candy from strangers. Besides, I've signed a contract with one of the most-respected Mafia leaders in the country. If I leave the city, I'm either going to get fired or thrown in jail."
He exhaled. "Whatever. Just don't act on this appetite for destruction that you have. At least until I come back."
Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow. I needed a deep, dreamless sleep, so I could wake up in a condition to figure out what I needed to do.
The dimming of the lights and the feel of Killua's arms forced my eyes open. Sliding behind me, he shifted me onto my side, and then the heat of his body was warming my back. One of his muscular arms wrapped around my waist, tucking me close, while the other cradled my head.
"…Is there anything you want to tell me?" he murmured. His ridiculously sharp perception never ceased to amaze me.
"No." I closed my eyes, sinking into the protective hardness of his body. "But maybe later…."
"Okay. Sleep now."
Spooned with him, the biceps of his other arm hard beneath my cheek, I slid into unconsciousness.
The next morning, I was being woken up by insistent knocks on the bedroom door, around five am. I didn't even know being awake at five am, even on a workday, was a possibility for me. I dragged myself grudgingly out of Killua's bed. When I yanked the door open, I found him and his shit-eating grin in the hallway.
"Hey," he greeted me.
He was the opposite of me right now—showered, fresh, alert. Might as well add attractive, awake, and human to that list because I was none of those either.
"Why did you wake me up? And why the hell are you knocking on your bedroom door?" I asked in a sort of zombie-like voice. I was not very pleasant in the morning.
Killua noticed and grinned, shameless. "To get you out of bed. I brought you coffee and doughnuts." He held up a bag bearing the name of my favorite breakfast place that I never go to because it was tucked away in the corner of the city and nearly always had a line. My eyes widened—well, as much as they were going to at this hour—as I snatched the cup and bag from him. He laughed at my enthusiasm. "I figured that was the Yuki Kudo equivalent of a bouquet."
I told him he knew me too well and thanked him, yawning through it.
"C'mon, get back in bed. I'm sorry to wake you up. I just had to see if there was any chance you'd give me my 'alone goodbye' before I leave," he said, taking the food and dumping it on the dresser. I gave him as much of a glare I could through my squinting eyes, and he laughed before he said, "Trust me, that idea went right out the window when I saw your face."
As he walked me back to bed with his hands on my shoulders, I asked, "You guys are leaving now?"
"Yes."
I fell face first back into bed and attempted to speak through my yawn. "I'll come to the airport with you."
"No, stay here."
"I want to come to the airport with you—"
"Yuki. No," he said firmly as he pulled the sheets over me and tucked me in. I was not so sleepy that the gesture didn't charm me. "Stay here. Eat my candy, use my shower, and rub yourself all over my sheets. That'd make me very happy."
I nodded into the pillow and turned my head so he could hear me better. "I hate this. Your bestfriend's father has to have a screw loose, and I have to spend six days without you."
Killua smiled, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I should go now. Don't stop thinking about me."
I nodded, mumbling, "Bye. Go get 'em."
I kept my eyes shut as I heard him moving about, feeling like an ostrich; if I couldn't see him leaving, it wasn't going to happen.
The bedroom door closed behind him, and the front door of the suite closed shut a short time later. I threw the upper my body on his pillow, hugging it tightly.
I missed him already.
On the nightstand, my phone buzzed with a new text.
You miss me already, don't you? The feeling is mutual & I'm still in the elevator. Go back to sleep. Keep my bed warm for me while I'm gone.
I smiled and snuggled into his side of the bed, inhaling what was left of his smell.
I drummed my fingers along the armrest of Marcus' office chair and waited for him to form a reaction. Or hopefully, a useful deduction.
He grunted loudly. "What in God's name is 'the lost night' supposed to mean?"
"I have no idea."
This had been going on for a while now. since I'd snapped a picture of the mysterious parchment and showed it to Marcus three days ago. I was hoping he'd help me out, but he'd done nothing but whine about certain words or verses written in The Letter, and how confusing they sounded to him, the detective extraordinaire. He assumed that since it was sent to me, I'd know what they meant. I didn't.
The content of The Letter wasn't the issue that worried me the most. At least not yet.
"God, it's been four days," Marcus complained, throwing his phone on the office desk, his brows furrowed in anger. "Four days and no clues. Nothing. Every day, we meet up, stare at a goddamn fancy paper—and nothing. We do more staring—nothing. Even more staring—nothing. NADA! I'm telling you, Yuki, it's a prank. A joke. No, it can't be a joke. Jokes are supposed to make you laugh, even the bad ones. But this… this… this makes no sense. It's like a meaningless jumble of words put together, with no purpose whatsoever."
"Nice," I muttered dryly, absentmindedly flipping through a folder filled with articles and printed images related to some of The Letter's phrases. It was all the research we'd done so far. I leaned back into the chair and got lost in a maze of twisty little passages. Every word in that letter had a hidden meaning. Looking for that meaning didn't help. Not when that particular word met another word and created an even more complicated phrase. And when the phrases met to create a mind-numbingly confusing sentence…
I rubbed my eyes. This is going nowhere.
"I have this insane idea. I think I can get something out of 'double-starred knights,'" Marcus announced, and my ears perked up. "'Double starred' leads to two stars. And since both knights are double-starred, means both knights are alike. So, two stars leads to isosceles angles. Isosceles angles lead to a triangle. Which predictably leads to a pyramid. But that could lead you to a bunch of religious slash political bullshit that has nothing to do with anything. Because the top—which tops the two angles of the pyramid signifies the Eye of Providence, the eye that sees everything and knows everything. The hell? No idea. I also don't know what 'knights' is supposed to mean. Perhaps 'knight' symbolizes God? Satan? But why's it plural? Also no idea."
"Okay, I asked for answers not more riddles, Marcus love."
Marcus exhaled, tapping his chin. Then after a thoughtful pause, he said, "Maybe 'the lost night' means the night which memories are forgotten. You know, lost. Gone. Wandered away. Someone wants you to remember something about a certain night."
I raised my eyes to his, speculating. What did that mean—
"Something doesn't quite add up, you know? It seems to me that this letter was written by a kid. A kid with a damn gorgeous handwriting." Marcus spun the screen of his computer to show me a zoomed-in picture of The Letter. "As you can see, the person who wrote it is kind of jumping from one topic to another with little, or no, forewarning, which all are indistinguishable. But at the same time, it's obvious that he/she is trying to deliver only one message, but they're using the most confusing way. Kind of like when you ask a kid to write about how much he loves his mother, and he sort of randomly starts talking about how much he loves cookies and certain dishes and bedtime stories, when they are all related to the same topic—his mother. See what I mean?"
"So whoever wrote this is deliberately trying to confuse me."
"Kinda." Marcus heaved out a sigh. "The other day…I remembered this one thing, but I don't know if it means anything…"
"What thing?"
He breathed in deeply before saying, "Before our fathers' falling out, few months before your family's assassination, your father called my father one night and informed him that he'd received a blackmail letter. Your father was shaken and frantic. The only thing my father got out of what he was trying to say was that the blackmail letter was seemingly written by a kid."
My fingers clenched in my lap; my heart pounded. "Coincidence," I said hoarsely.
"Probably. Why not?" Marcus shrugged. "So here's the thing: I can and I will keep digging. I'll do it until you ask me to stop. But in return, there's something you could do for this process to hasten."
"What?"
"I'm suggesting that we take Killua's opinion about this. He knows crazy, psycho behavior better than we do, so why don't you just ask for his help—"
"No."
"Why not?"
"For two reasons. One, I don't want to, and two, I'm not gonna."
"Why not!"
"Just no, okay? We're gonna have to find another way to figure this out."
Marcus bit the inside of his cheek as he scrutinized me curiously, deciding whether I was thinking what he thought I was thinking. "Wait a minute," he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze was sharp and flat on my face. Detective's eyes. Then: "Is there a chance you don't want to tell him because you think the letter was sent by the Zaoldyecks?"
His question caused a huge lump to form in my throat, making it next to impossible to respond. I swallowed it down. Something on my face only further confirmed his suspicion.
"Oh, fuck." Marcus reared back on his chair. "That's why you're freaking out so much! You suspect that his family is trying to bait you!"
Sighing, I scrubbed both hands down my face. I couldn't lie to Marcus; he could just read me so well.
"Shit, Yuki. If it's true…" The fear in his tortured eyes just didn't help my determination to deny mine. "This is so fucked up, Yuki. I knew it! I knew something like that would happen eventually! Getting back together with him was the stupidest decision you've made so far. If it's true, then you need to consider that this might be something you need to run away from. Run away from fast."
"God." My head fell back with a groan. "Not this again."
"Your feelings for him are not enough. Sometimes you have to think about what's good for you," he spat, sounding awfully parental. This was not what I needed to hear right now. "This might be your only chance—or should I say, this might be your only safe exit. No matter what the hell that letter means, the Zaoldyecks sent it to you instead of sending it to their son. It's a silent warning. Isn't it obvious that they want you to stay the hell away from him? It's your life on the line, for God's sake."
"Marcus—"
"No, don't ask me to drop it! You're telling me that the greatest assassins in the world probably have unfinished business with your ex-assassin boyfriend and have decided that you might be their perfect weapon. I can't pretend that doesn't scare the shit out of me. It should scare the shit out of you, too."
"We don't even know if this is true or not. We're not going to fight over a hypothetical situation."
Marcus tried breathing in and out deeply to calm his nerves. When that didn't work, he opened the desk drawer and pulled a cigarette out. "We need to make sure. And we need to do it soon. I'm afraid that the answers won't come until the first dead body shows up."
I stood and moved closer to the fireplace for warmth. Marcus' words sent a chill down my spine. I refused to let him see that, but I knew the possibility of what he was saying would always be there, at the back of my mind.
"I don't understand," Marcus said, lifting a lighter to the clove cigarette hanging from his lips. "Why don't you just tell Killua about this? If there's an even one percent possibility that his family is trying to contact you by sending out wild birds with creepy letters, don't you think he has the right to know?" He blew a cloud of smoke out. "Just sit with him and show him the letter. Simple."
Very simple. Just the thought of how that conversation would go made me miserable.
"Do we have any reference to the Zaoldyeck's blackmail letters?" I asked when I sat back on my chair. "The Zaoldyecks all use the exact same handwriting for their blackmail letters. We only need one reference."
Marcus rolled his eyes dramatically. "Stop being so damn difficult! Why do you need to go to the market to buy the product which you already got? Ask Killua to write you something!"
"We'll call that Plan B. Do we have a reference or not?" I was pissy, my words coming clipped and fast.
"I told you before," Marcus mumbled, tamping the ash into the ashtray, "nobody ever agreed to show us a Zaoldyeck's blackmail letter. These victims were either in denial or thought of it as a bad omen. You saw that for yourself after you wrecked your dad's office last night and couldn't find his letter. He got rid of it. Probably burned it. So no, we have no reference."
"Do you have a list of these blackmailees?"
Marcus grimaced. "Yeah? But that won't help. They're all dead. The most recent one was the man your boyfriend killed—Kenji Aizawa."
"He did not kill—" My eyes widened with a sudden realization—or more precisely, a sudden memory. "…Wait. Aizawa had an assistant. Aizawa had an assistant and his name is Arasawa."
"Yeah, so?"
"His name is Arasawa; he's still alive. We talked once. He told me that he saw Aizawa's letter. He knows what it looks like."
"Okay?"
"And as a detective, you can get a digital map of every company out there."
"Yeah, but I heard that Arasawa has locked himself in his office ever since the auction ended. He doesn't want to see anybody. What are you getting at?"
"Do you know a good hacker?"
His frown deepened. "…Yeah, I know some. Damn it, Yuki, what's going on through your mind?"
I smirked at him in response.
Eyes wide, Marcus croaked, "Oh, shit."
My legs were swinging in the air as I sat casually but precariously on the sill of twentieth-floor window of the Aizawa Securities building, waiting for Marcus to give me the green light to go inside. He needed to contact an adequately talented I.T guy for me, someone who could hack his way into any system on this planet. I needed someone who could mess with the live recordings of the security cameras monitoring Arasawa's office floor before I went inside the building. I couldn't afford to be recognized; seen or heard. Kurapika would be furious if my face appeared in the newspaper's front page. I could practically see the bold headline: Bodyguard of Untouchable Mafia Leader, Light Nostrad, Caught Breaking Into Building.
I cringed. That wouldn't be pretty. Being scolded by Kurapika would somehow be ten times worse than being caught.
The building was a spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. The climb up to the twentieth floor was done with greater ease than I'd imagined possible—urgency had lent strength to my muscles. I had already figured out how to open the vaulted window. I had pulled a detailed map of the building from Marcus' computer via USB. I knew where the security guards were supposed to be located by experience. This should go smoothly.
My phone vibrated with a text from Marcus.
Now. You have 5 minutes.
Perfect. I could work with five minutes.
I pulled the hood of my jacket securely over my hand, ready to slide the window open. My mind automatically repeated the cautious mantra I'd been internally chanting for the past thirty minutes. Be smooth. Be very smooth. Ignore all your natural instincts. Act like you're invisible. Act like you're mute. Act very smoothly. Act Killua-ish.
The second I slid window open and lifted one knee up… a security guard's face came into my view, staring at me, looking horrified and hypnotized at once.
Shit! I reacted instinctively; my elbow connected with his face. He staggered backward, flailing for balance. His back slammed against the opposite wall, blood gushing blood out of his face as he fainted. Shit, shit, shit.
So much for things going smooth.
With one hand supporting my weight, I vaulted over the window sill, landing soundlessly on the building ground. Bending low, I inspected the man's face with narrowed eyes. His nose was broken.
Straightening back, I shrugged. Well, what are you gonna do.
As I turned around, I saw another guard down the hallway. The moment our eyes met, I lashed out. I crossed the distance between us before he managed to yell his own men to encourage them. Ducking under he hand he extended to punch me with, I rammed my fist into his abdomen and had the relief of seeing him fall to his knees, stunned by the blow. I moved quickly, clamping my palm over his mouth to muffle his whimpers as he lost his consciousness. I carefully supported his falling body from the impact, needing everything to happen as silently as possible.
I scowled. Things should go smoothly starting now.
It worked. I kept my mind focused on being invisible. I avoided running into more guards, narrowly, but I did it. More than once, I was dangerously close to getting caught. There was a lot of them. Knocking them all out would be a waste of the precious seconds I had.
Following the directions of the map on my phone, I moved stealthily down the hallways, rounding corner after corner until I stumbled upon the hallway of Arasawa's office. It was guarded by ten men. They stood by the door, blocking it. I peeked at them from behind a wall, trying to find a way to get the key to the office without having to handle them physically.
I came up with nothing.
I decided to reveal myself, and just get it over with.
I slipped my phone in my pocket and moved from my hiding spot, into the open where they could see me. I raised a greeting hand, giving them my best psychotic-brat face. "Hi."
It was all happening so fast but in slow motion at the same time. There was a collective gasps of rage and confusion. Muscles tensed. Guns cocked. Aimed at my head. Heavy footsteps sounded off the empty hallway as they all lunged at the same time.
.
.
.
Thirty seconds later, I was rifling through the inner pockets of the unconscious guards until I found a name badge that could open the electronic door to the office. Stepping over the men's bodies, I strode over to the office. I slipped the keycard into the swipe-sensor on the door, lodging it between the lock walls. A click, and the door opened.
Finally I stepped inside the office, bracing myself for the loudly stunned, squawking reaction I was expecting. It was like a scene in a movie, a totally cliché big-shot office—portable golf green corner and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The curtains were swaying lazily, as if from a recent movement, even though there was no wind outside. I saw the window that I'd considered using for my dramatic entrance before I decided that it'd be too dramatic to break directly into the boss's command center. If he freaked out without giving me a chance to talk, it'd suck big time.
But this… this I was not expecting.
Arasawa barely reacted at all. He sat behind his massive desk, his head bowed helplessly over his arms on top of the wood. He didn't seem to care about me or my intrusion. He looked haggard and defeated. His office desk was strewn with papers and flat screens streaming news channels from around the world.
"Um, hello, sir? It's me Yuki. From the underground auction? We met once?" I asked, hoping he would remember me despite his drunken state that night. I got no response whatsoever. "I'm sorry for intruding like this, but—" I pulled The Letter out of my pocket. "I need a favor," I said, but Arasawa didn't reply. Or move.
Slightly confused, I took a careful step forward. Frowning, I tried again. "Hello?" I called as I got closer to his desk. Arasawa still wouldn't lift his head. "Sir? You alright?"
No answer.
I shook his shoulder.
Nothing.
Ignoring the voice in my head begging me to leave the place and not look for troubles I couldn't bear to find, I grabbed his hunched shoulder, pushing it backwards. When his back reclined against the chair, my stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me.
It took the few shocked seconds for my brain to register what I was seeing.
Arasawa's face…was no longer there. It was grossly distorted beyond recognition. Golden needles pierced every area of his face. No blood, no features, no bone structure could be detected, the skin discolored, his eyes swollen shut.
Frantically, I looked around me. For a second, I believed that the attacker would appear from behind me, as if this was truly a movie scene.
Nobody was here, nobody tried to advance on me. I was alone. I was all alone with Arasawa's dead body. But…I felt the air stir around me, making me flinch. A silken, heavy blackness enfolded me. Someone was here only seconds ago, but the remnants of their powerful presence were still lurking in every empty corner, every shadow, eager to ambush unsuspecting victims.
Then, like a slap in the face, realization struck me.
Needles. Sharp, golden needles.
The air in the room was charged with a restless energy, something cynical, sinister, dismal—an energy that propagated through every air particle, crackling it with tension.
This aura, this exceptionally intense aura was familiar to me. The type of auras that could bring someone down on their knees. It felt like death. It reminded me of death, and it tugged on something on the back of my mind. I had felt it before, and not too long ago. I had felt it that night in the woods, when I was with Aimi.
But Aimi died that night. I saw her die. Along with her brother.
The room was swimming before my eyes, my ears were throbbing with hurtful heartbeat sounds.
When I registered the rusty scent that suddenly filled the air, I risked another glance at the desk. Some of the scattered papers were dotted with blood. Needing answers, I swept the papers across the desk and onto the floor with trembling hands. There were feathers…all over the desk, hidden beneath the mess of papers. They floated in the air with the harsh movement and clung to my clothes. Streaks of fresh blood covered their unique brown color.
I froze, my heart racing.
My brain tried to process what was happening… What it meant… What was going on….
Sharp, golden, round-head needles.
My mind flashed back to another unforgettable night, the night when I found out that Killua was a Zaoldyeck. I recalled its events, trying to find the thread that linked all these incidents together.
That night, Killua ran away. Kenji Aizawa disappeared. Kenji Aizawa died. Jei was attacked. The gash on Jei's head…Jei's arm…Jei's words.
"He threw a needle at my arm. An acute needle. And then my arm got alive—"
Sharp, golden, round-head needles. Needles that alter the shape of the body.
A cold, rock-hard knot settled in my gut. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. It took a sudden onslaught of memories for one thought, one name to ravage my mind:
Illumi Zaoldyeck.
A vicious scream erupted and Arasawa crumbled to the ground in pain, yelling to the high heavens.
He was not dead.
Legs shaking, I backed up from him, confused by all this.
Glancing once at the door, I punched the emergency button on Arasawa's desk to summon all the security in the building, and fled out of the window.
Lights that were activated by my movements came on when I entered the suite. The energy that thrummed through the space when the boys occupied it was markedly absent. It wasn't until I was alone in the frighteningly quiet living room the nerves really hit me.
Tossing my hooded jacket on the sofa, I went to the kitchen. I poured myself some water and gulped it down the painful knot in my throat.
Aizawa's assassination. Aimi's frenzy. The Eagle. The Letter. Arasawa's face. All of them revolved around one person.
Illumi Zaoldyeck.
The stem of the glass snapped in my hand before I threw it at the wall, causing a horrible crashing noise to echo through the entire suite.
Pure, unfettered anger rolled through every nerve of my body like a physical jolt, before emanating off my skin like a toxic fog intent on choking me. It seeped out of me in a rush of hot energy, causing my limbs to tingle and jerk, my muscles beginning to spasm as I started to pace. My hands shook with fury.
Illumi Zaoldyeck was here. All this time, he was here. He was here in York Shin. And I was in the sniffing distance of him.
Marcus was going to kill me. Not in the way Illumi was insinuating, but figuratively speaking, he was going to kill me. That was if Killua didn't kill me first.
Large cracks started to form along the thick soundproofed walls and marble counter. It wasn't until a row of glasses in the open cupboard broke into thousands of tiny fractures and toppled all over the floor that I realized how much my aura had gone out of control.
Get a grip. You're losing it.
My phone rang.
"Arasawa's dead. What the hell have you done, Yuki?" Marcus shouted when I picked up. His accusing tone sent me in a tailspin. This tone was the reason why I didn't pick up my phone the first twenty times he called.
"Marcus, don't push me," I warned. "It's really, really not a good night."
"You could have been caught or killed!"
"I can't talk right now—"
"That was a close call! Do you realize how fucking lucky you were?"
My teeth gritted.
"I can't talk right now," I repeated monotonously.
His voice changed, softened. "Are you okay?"
"I. Can't. Talk, Marcus. Do you want me to fucking sing it for you? I'll talk to you when I can! Stop calling me, dammit!" I hang up, completely fed up with everyone and everything in my life.
Was I okay? No, I was losing my mind. Illumi didn't kill Arasawa. Illumi intended not to kill Arasawa. Was that a sign? A warning? Did Illumi follow me into Aizawa's company? Did he know I'd be looking for answers there, so he helped me out in his own way? How long had he been spying on me? How long had he been in York Shin? Was he here to challenge me? Hurt me? Both?
Worse, was he here to hurt Killua through me?
The mere thought of the Zaoldyecks being so close to Killua was enough to send me into a panic.
I conjured Killua's words, trying to let them soothe the wild apprehension in my head.
They know that I'm in a different place right now.
I built my resistance.
I cut every wire that linked me to their world.
They're out of my life. For good.
But what if they weren't?
What if Illumi was the one who sent that eagle with the ominous letter? What did he want me to get from it? What was he trying to tell me? More importantly, what was he trying to prove by doing all that? If it was Killua he was trying to reach, then why was he choosing to take the longest road? He was twisting and turning around us without delivering any attack. He wouldn't do it right away. He wanted to take his time… or maybe give us time. But time for what? Time to catch up on his plan? Illumi was waiting for something, and not knowing what that something could be was killing me right now.
How long was I going to wait? Weeks? Months?
Killua had the darkness locked up inside, but how long could it stay that way with Illumi bound and determined to release it?
I couldn't do this. I couldn't fall apart. If this was truly a fight, if I wanted to win this fight, if I was going to keep Killua from being swept back up into the darkness, I was going to have to be a lot stronger than this. I needed to be tough enough to handle whatever Illumi was trying to do to us.
However, I had nothing to do but sit here, waiting to know what became of all this. The thought of doing nothing but waiting made me want to throw up.
I plunged my fists into the counter. "Damn it. Goddamn it to hell."
I couldn't do this alone. Not anymore. I didn't trust myself to make the right decisions. There was no time to play the secret game. Killua was in this. Killua was all in, and I needed to treat him that way. When he got back, I was going to tell him. He needed to know what happened. Killua needed to know everything.
My phone rang again.
Once I hit the green button, I started screaming. "I swear to god, Marcus, if you don't stop calling me, I'm going to—"
"Err, Yuki, it's me."
"Oh, hey, Gon." I pulled myself together, trying to sound calm enough. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't look at the screen before answering. Uhh, what's up?"
Gon chuckled, but it was a nervous sound. "Good. Did I wake you?"
"No, I wasn't sleeping. Did you find anything new about your father? Any progress?" I hoped there was. Killua had to be in a very good mood when I talked to him about this mess.
"No, nothing yet." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Yuki. I shouldn't be calling you at this time, but I had to. It…" Gon trailed off, seemingly having an inner fight within himself over what he was about to say. "S-something bad just happened."
Hearing that, the first name that popped into my mind was Illumi. Suddenly, I had a terrible, disorienting feeling. Assuming that Illumi was indeed the one that had killed Arasawa, then there was no way in hell he would be in Los Selegna right now, noway he could be 2500 miles away from York Shin. No matter the transportation he used, it just wasn't possible for him to be there in a span of one hour unless he had an identical twin or could teleport or something. Not possible. There was noway.
No freaking way.
…Was there?
"You still there, Yuki?"
Hating the direction my thoughts had taken, I said, "Yeah. Tell me what happened, please."
"I'm just calling you to—" Gon stopped, and I could hear his sigh of dismay. His lack of answers was making me crazier. "Can you—can you book the first flight and come here?"
A sickening worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe. "What's going on?"
"Please don't freak out."
"Too late for that. What's going on?" The very few, very slow seconds he paused were my last straw. I yelled into the phone, "Spill it, Gon! What happened?"
"It's Killua," he answered grimly. "He's in the hospital."
A/N: Sorry! Almost every future chapter ends with cliffhanger now. But you can share your theories: what do you think happened to Killua? Do you have any idea what Illumi is planning to do? Do you still like me?
Leave me your opinions. I love and enjoy reading whatever it is that you want to say. So I'll say nothing but: review.