BAM!
Akechi Goro's eardrum seemed to scream inside his head. He was used to gunfire, but one's body never quite got used to unexpected shots- especially at such close range. His body flinched. His eyes squinted briefly from the noise and the flash and the powder.
When they reopened, he saw Lady Niijima Makoto staggering back, wide-eyed, a red hole blown into her upper chest. Her face was surprised and- disgusted? Frustrated? It was something along those lines, but there was fear, too. Akechi knew what fear looked like, and there was some of it in Niijima's pretty crimson eyes as they closed and her body went limp.
Then that bastard dhampir caught her in his arms, and as Niijima slumped groundward, Akechi saw the dhampir's face become monstrous: his grey eyes widened to an inhuman size; his mouth opened in a bestial, fanged snarl; his body seemed to suddenly bulge and Akechi could hear the faint squeaking of armor stretching. Akechi's spine sizzled with an instinctual dread; his hand reached for the hilt of his sword; his body suddenly screaming to his mind that it was time to fight or die!
"Ren…" gasped Niijima, her voice fading like she was sinking into a deep sleep, then crackling into a soft rattle.
Her voice acted like a spell. In an instant, the dhampir's expression reverted to human-like concern, and it knelt down with the slumping body of Niijima, one of its pale hands reaching out to examine the gunshot wound. Akechi could only watch; stunned by the unexpected gunshot, stunned by the dhampir's brief transformation and recovery, and now he was transfixed by the oddity of the beast's tender concern for Niijima's surely fatal would.
Then, Akechi's universe halted briefly as the political ramifications of this situation slammed home.
Holy fuck! One of his men just killed Lady Niijima! Which meant he, Akechi Goro, just killed the youngest daughter of Vampire Hunter Niijima! Because the public would blame him as the man in charge! And his Father would never be able to save him- not that the bastard would even try!
Akechi swallowed on a throat suddenly constricted by grief. He would be exiled. His influence lost. His birthright destroyed. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! And it wasn't even his fault! He didn't order the shot! Just one of his stupid subordinates had his finger on the trigger and then this crazy bitch grabbed the rifle and tugged it!
Was there a way out of this? Could he pin it on someone else? Yeah! Could he do that? Or could he make everyone here disappear? No people, no claim, no problem, right?
Akechi theorized: He could shoot this filthy dhampir; He could shoot the blond kid and finish off the blond girl in his arms (not that she seemed conscious, but better safe than sorry). Then there would be no witnesses, right?
No. No there would be his soldiers. Well, he could kill them, too. And he could make it look like the dhampir killed them, but- there were a dozen of them and Akechi doubted they would all stand around and let him kill them, even if he ordered them to. Maybe he could kill… maybe four of them before the rest reacted? That left a lot still alive and with guns in their hands.
Damn! No! That just wouldn't work! And besides: then there was Niijima's contacts. Her family. And who knew who else? Everyone loved this dumb bitch these days!
Fuck! There were just too many people to kill! There was no way to cover this up! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!
Akechi grabbed the trigger-happy soldier and spun him around. He was a teenager, barely more than a kid, the baby fat still rounding his young face. His brown eyes were round, fearful, and shocked. Of all the soldiers, Niijima had to play chicken with this dipshit?! Akechi felt himself swell with rage.
This fucking private! This fucking greenhorn had just ruined his goddamn life!
Akechi wound up a blow and smashed his knuckles into the rookie's stupid face. He felt bones break under his knuckles. The asshole's nose crunching was a cathartic sensation for Akechi. The soldier collapsed to the ground, his face a bloody mess.
Fucking asshole! Akechi tried to follow the unconscious boy to the ground, but a strong hand gripped his shoulder and held him back. Who would fucking-?! Akechi spun, his vision ringed in black rage. It was his sergeant; a man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and the dull eyes of a career soldier who'd seen it all:
"Sir. Killing him will make it worse for you."
Akechi snarled and shrugged off the sergeant arm. He turned and cocked his arm to punch the sergeant, too. But the man greeted the threat with such an icy boredom that it gave Akechi pause. Like a clarion bell cutting through the fog of his rage, Akechi realized if he attacked the sergeant, he would have a fight on his hands- and that would do him no good. And the bastard was right, anyway: he needed the stupid rookie alive to admit to the mistake. It wouldn't save Akechi, but it might open the path to political resurrection at some point… if he took a diplomatic post as an envoy to another city? Perhaps in Sen-Die to the north, or Yoko-Ham to the south? Akechi could-
"She needs a physician! Get out of the way!"
Akechi turned to find the dhampir standing with Niijima's limp body draped in his arms. The other soldiers, well used to Akechi's volatile nature, continued to cover the dhampir and the blond kid with their rifles. Rifles on his side; bleeding, dying women on the other. Akechi felt a sudden flash of delight: what a pathetically desperate situation for the dhampir! It was kind of hilarious.
But then the dhampir's words cut through Akechi's mind: a physician?
"She's alive?" said Akechi, a small bit of hope suddenly blossoming. Could it be? She might not die?
"Get out of the way," said the dhampir. His expression was hard and his eyes gleamed with a light Akechi recognized: the apathy of an executioner.
Akechi had an instinctive urge to deny the dhampir's desire. He was an enemy and Akechi didn't want to do anything an enemy wanted him to do. But in this case: could he have more to gain by letting these bastards go?
"Can you save her?" said Akechi.
"Maybe," said the dhampir.
Akechi gritted his teeth. He hated the idea of letting the bastard go; but if Niijima wasn't dead- neither was his career. But Niijima was heart shot. Surely there was no coming back from that, was there?
But if there was even a small chance-? He could always kill the dhampir later.
"Guns up!" said Akechi, "Let them pass!"
The soldiers lifted their rifles, and it was suddenly like Akechi no longer existed. The dhampir strode urgently towards the open mansion doors, the blond kid behind him. Without a backward glance or glare, they left. And Akechi watched them go.
Akechi felt defeated, which he hated. He felt scared, (which he didn't admit to feeling at all). And he felt angry that this night even happened! A whole lifetime of effort! Probably wasted! If that stupid bitch didn't make it…!
And it was all-! It was all-!
Akechi's eyes fell on the mangled, headless corpse of the vampire he and his men had slain. That had been only moments ago, when he had ruled the world and nothing was wrong. Now, Akechi's world was much worse.
And it was all HIS fault!
He strode to the corpse and kicked it savagely. The corpse (being a corpse) didn't complain- but it moved with the force of the blow, and Akechi felt a rib break through the leather of his boots. It was another delightfully cathartic feeling. Akechi kicked the corpse again. And again.
Fucking freak! Fucking piece of shit! Fucking blood-drinker!
The corpse jumped and jostled under the force of Akechi's kicks. Bones crunched and blood splattered on Akechi's white pants. But he didn't care. It felt good to maim something. To break it.
A glowing green ball fell out of the corpse's blood-spattered robe. It rolled slowly across the stained wood floor and stopped- spotlessly gleaming despite the drying blood it rolled though- as if it was immune to it.
Akechi stopped kicking and stared at the orb, suddenly and immediately captivated. What is this? He… he wanted it! Akechi bent down, his hand reaching, the orb seeming to pulse slightly with illumination.
*What denies you is an illusion…*
Akechi filched at the voice. He looked over his shoulder where his soldiers stood, all watching him with wary and worried expressions. They knew from experience to keep their distance in situations like this.
"What was that?" said Akechi. "Who said that?"
His soldiers looked at each other in confusion, then looked back at him.
"Sir?" said the sergeant.
Akechi realized they hadn't said anything. Then? Who had? He turned his attention back to the green orb.
*...a curse put upon you by the heartless…*
Akechi reached out for the orb. It seemed to brighten slightly as his hand neared it. Almost like it wanted him to take it and-
"Don't touch that!" cried a female voice.
Akechi jerked his hand back, his body instinctively responding to the commanding tone. And that reaction made him angry. Akechi touched what he liked and no one told him to stop. Especially women!
Akechi turned and glared in the direction of the new voice. He was in command here! Akechi didn't follow commands! He gave them! Who presumed to tell him to do anything?! And who was intruding on an official crime scene, anyway?!
Two black-robed women had entered the atrium, one taller and one smaller. The flat, squarish tops of their nunnery frocks identified them as members of a certain religious order: Med-Jed. The inquisitors. The militant wing of the Church.
Damn, thought Akechi. Well, he had sent for them, hadn't he? Stupid idea, it seemed now. But what was done was done. Med-Jed was a political power in the city. Akechi knew he had to tread carefully now.
"Has anyone touched it?" said the taller nun. Sharp eyes glared at Akechi as she strode into the atrium, the younger nun following meekly behind. The nun's expression carried a concentrated seriousness which parted Akechi's soldiers like children in a schoolhouse; she had challenging eyes behind spectacles, under which poked a small, sharp nose. Meanwhile, the smaller nun looked barley more than a girl: large round glasses; slightly dour and demure; also having a small, sharp nose; with wisps of red hair spilling from under her frock.
"No one's touched it," said Akechi, "No one's touched anything. We've been waiting for the Church to send someone to check this place out before we tear it apart."
The tall nun came to a stop before Akechi. "I was sent. I am Inquisitor Isshiki Wakaba. So, you and your men may stand down, Captain Akechi. This place is under Church Interdiction, by order of Med-Jed."
Akechi blinked. That wasn't what he'd had in mind. The Church was taking over the place? He'd wanted someone to poke around for traps or spells or whatever vampire crap might be in this house, but now this frocked bitch was kicking him out? Before he could even loot the place? Like hell!
"No, this is a crime scene," said Akechi, anger already spilling into his voice, "The Council Guard will remain in jurisdiction until all the related evidence is gathered."
Inquisitor Wakaba smirked, but her eyes remained hard. "This place is a crime against God. All the evidence needed is lying at your feet. Your investigation is superfluous. Our jurisdiction is clear."
Akechi looked down at the headless corpse of a vampire. Damn! She had him there. Akechi had to switch tactics- but what could he do? The Church maintained vast authority alongside the City Council, and there would be political consequences if Akechi, the son of the City Council Chair, defied a major move of the Church. And anything involving a Med-Jed inquisitor was a major move by the Church.
And he was already in trouble with the whole Niijima-getting-shot business!
"Very well," said Akechi, forcing a (what he hoped was) agreeable expression onto his own face. "My men and I will maintain a guard on the property and make sure the Church's business is undisturbed."
Wakaba's smile also turned agreeable. She bowed. "Thank you, Captain Akechi. But there really is no need to occupy more of the City Guard's time. I will have my own guard handle matters of security. You and your men may return to your normal duties."
Behind Wakaba, eight men in black leathers filed into the room, pistols and swords at every hip, a grim look on every face. Akechi suppressed a sneer at the sight of them. Church Paladins: zealots raised from childhood; or reformed criminals who'd been tortured into nothing and then rebuilt; by an inquisitor like Wakaba herself. They were not people Akechi's own soldiers could shove around, so any plan to gently push Wakaba back out of the house, (in concern of her safety, of course), now seemed impossible.
"Good day, Captain Akechi," said Wakaba, a smirk of victory on her face. She then turned her attention to her young companion, "Futaba. Pick up the persona. You remember what to do?"
The small nun made an affirming grunt, high-pitched and girly though it was. She bent down towards the orb. It glowed and gleamed, like it had when Akechi had reached for it. Futaba wrapped it in the folds of her robes and stood, the strange thing swaddled in her small arms.
"What is that thing?" said Akechi.
"An abomination," said Wakaba, "and no concern of yours, Captain."
She gave Akechi one last victorious smile, then turned and ushered Futaba back towards the grim platoon of paladins. If Akechi's eyes were swords, he would sever Wataba's spine. But they were not. He would need to think of some other way to explore this house.
The hell he would let Med-Jed cart away all the treasures! If he was about to go into exile, some extra money would be a necessity.