He watched the blaze from a rooftop a few blocks away. He wasn't surprised that they weren't making too much of an effort to do more than contain it, and prevent the buildings around it from catching fire. It burning down would probably help property values quite a bit, and encourage some new construction there.
It would also help disguise what killed the denizens of the place.
It was unlikely that a great effort would be expended in identifying them. Humans tended not to care too much about the homeless. A bunch of homeless yokai might be of more interest than humans, but they were still just going to be a bunch of bums that burned to death in what was supposed to be an abandoned, and haunted hospital.
He had been careful to destroy as much as he could to hide the true nature of the place. The weapons had been a little more difficult than the computerized equipment, since they didn't have any obvious medical usage, and where would a bunch of penniless homeless people pickup an arsenal of small arms.
After a while longer he turned away. The bodies would burn, and there would be a news story. It wasn't anymore than that. He had much more important things to worry about.
He focused on that smell. It was unique and it was something to scry against. Quickly he saw a Mercedes sedan traveling toward the southern end of the island. He saw them pass a sign that said Kinsale. They were headed for a ship. He wasn't near enough a tunnel to beat them there, provided there was one near Kinsale. He was just going to have to wait.
He stepped through to the War Machine Buick, and once again had to let the nausea pass. He let himself down into the driver's seat. He took a deep breath. He put his fist through the windshield.
He didn't feel any pain from it. He didn't even lose any blood from it. When was the last time he had bled. Not since that battle. Not since whatever this was was put on him.
He wished that he could go back to being just a vampire. He didn't want any of this anymore. He hadn't wanted it from the beginning. He didn't want the killing, or the fighting. He wanted to go home.
He pulled his arm back and looked up at the pristine windshield. At least some of this had a positive, even if it wasn't that useful in most cases.
He got up and placed his hands on the roof of the car. It didn't matter anymore. He was close, even if he wasn't near them. He would find that stone, and he would figure out how to use it. He had to now. He just had to.
He undid the velcro on his plate carrier and tossed it in the backseat. It felt good to get it off, it was stuffy to wear for long periods. He reached over to the passenger seat for the shoulder holster that held his .44. He settled it under his arm and grabbed the long jacket he wore most of the time. It felt better to be dressed like an edgy vigilante, than a Punisher knockoff.
Getting back in the car he started it up, and let the thrum of the diesel engine relax him. He couldn't remember why he had decided to put a 5.9l Cummins twelve valve turbo diesel in the car. The original 455 Buick had plenty of power potential, but didn't have the same kind of torque to carry the extremely heavy body that the car featured now. That was why he had, a simple matter of the car having gone from around 4400lbs, up to 5600lbs. Over a half ton increase in weight took more torque than one would expect on such a platform.
It would run though. He had managed to get it up to a hundred and eighty miles an hour. He would have liked it to go faster, but the engine just couldn't handle the revs needed to do so. It was really pushing it to run faster than a hundred and ten.
He pressed the clutch in and put the car into gear. He pulled out of the alley, and turned onto the road. The sun was starting to come up now, marking about twenty four hours since he had started his assault. All this in a day.
He put it out of his head. He needed something to eat. He might have been the next best thing to a god, but he still needed mortal sustenance. Though Northern Ireland might not be the best place to stop right then. He let the scry return to the back of his mind, and he saw as the men boarded a cargo ship. The Pnévma Spártis. The Spirit of Sparta. He just had to find out where they were headed, and he could wait.
He pointed the car heading south, and drove. He tried to just focus on the road, but he had the problem that many geniuses had. He couldn't get his mind to settle. Whenever he had a quiet moment, his brain would start going over weird and random ideas and bits of knowledge. He would write entire novels that would be forgotten without ever seeing a page. He would revisit his previous attacks and see how he could improve upon them.
It didn't give him much time for rest though. Especially when Utsuki found her way to the front of his mind. It was torturous without her, but when they had been together his mind had been calm. She was the only thing that had ever done it.
He drove for at least a couple of hours, making decent time, but his stomach finally refused to be ignored any longer. Even if there was noone alive that could make him feel pain on the outside, that didn't stop his own internal organs from doing it within.
He drove a little farther, figuring that he would have to wait until he hit Callan to find a place. Then there was a little pub almost from out of nowhere on the side of the road. He almost locked the brakes up as he stopped and turned around in his seat to look back at the small building. It was set back in a stand of trees, and he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking at the mirror on the passenger door.
The chimney has smoke coming from it, so it most likely was open. From what he understood, older pubs and taverns rarely closed. Especially in the smaller communities. Sometimes the patrons would just walk in, pour themselves a drink, and put their own money in the register. That said, an honor system was much easier to keep when you literally knew everyone in the village.
Knowing that it would be miles before he found anywhere else he put the car in reverse, and backed into the parking lot. It was made of crushed granite, rather than typical gravel, which gave it a well used appearance, but a neat one. The building itself was actually a bit larger than initial appearances led a person to believe. It was three stories tall, and most likely deeper than it was wide.
The white was on the the front was immaculate. Everything about it seemed like it was eternally stuck in time. It was extremely charming, and of course it didn't stink the least little bit like yokai. Rather fae given the area. Still, as long as they were friendly, he wasn't going to try to do them any harm.
He looked over at the sign, and found the name and design odd. It was a coffin, with an axe through the lid. The lettering below called the place "The Disturbed Dead". He wondered if it was some kind of zombie that ran the place.
He went in the door, and was a little irritated to find the fit a little tight. Once he got inside though, the place was rather cozy. A nice fire crackled in the fireplace, and a giant black pot rested over it. An old flintlock musket hung over the mantle, evoking times centuries before he was born. Pictures lined the wall, along with painted portraits. He rather liked the place.
"How are ye today, me Lad," a lightly accented voice called out to him.
He turned toward the back of the room and saw a rather attractive red headed woman. He couldn't quite place her age, but she was definitely much older than him. There were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and small silver streaks at her temples.
"Lad, I know that I be rather high on the level of the beauty, but I am afraid I might be just a wee bit on the mature side for ye," she said with a chuckle.
"Pardon me Ma'am, you just surprised me for a second. I have to say, this is a rather nice place you have here," he replied politely.
"Aye, I have been running it since Henry the VIIIth went about chopping those poor gals down a bit. What is it about you that feels so familiar? I would know if I had ever seen such a fine sight as ye before. Hmm, oh my lord. Ye are, well, don't I feel honored," she quickly stepped out to curtsy to him.
It didn't take him more than a second to realize she was a vampire. Thankfully, she wasn't one of those that were way too into worshiping him. He was still a little grossed out from that Maggie girl dropping to her knees at his feet a few days ago. Hopefully she was doing ok.
"I, please don't make a big deal of it. I would rather not even be known as an anything. That said, that stew smells rather good. Would it be possible for me to get a bowl of it, or whatever else you have available," he really hoped this wasn't about to turn into a production.
He also was starting to wonder why it was always a woman he was encountering in situations like this. It was a little disturbing, and he wasn't sure that he particularly wanted to deal with any shenanigans that the worlds wanted to play on him.
"Aye, though I must tell ye, even the Lord of the Vampire's must pay his way. I don't give out nothing free to anyone but me kin. If ye would like to take a seat, I will get ye a bowl and good warm tankard of blood. Don't worry, I don't harm nay a person that don't deserve it. I have a deal with a prison a county over," she said as she swayed over to the counter to pick up a wooden bowl.
"I see. You said Henry the VIIIth? That is a good long while. You must be good at what you do to keep a pub open this long," Tekeshi tried to be polite as he sat at a table near the door.
"Aye, though a pub with a few hundreds years is nothing in these isles. I can't remember the exact year, but it was whichever Anne lost her head. I usually don't have many guests this early in the day, but you caught me before I could get meself dressed down for some snoozing. Oh, wherever are me manners. Cumman Mac Sitric at ye pleasure me Lord," she said as filled the bowl and swayed back over to him.
"Uh, please, none of this My Lord stuff. I am only what I am, under duress. My name is Tekeshi Aono. I'm pleased to meet you," he said as he looked at the stew that was sat in front of him.
"Well, I will not lie to ye Lad, me mouth can do a great many things, but it can't move like that. I'm afraid that ye either need a much simpler name, or I keep on the appellation. Don't make it anything rather daft either, or I will have to come up with something meself," she said as she disappeared into a back room to get his drink.
He thought for a second of all the nicknames he had been given. There had to be something that he could use, that didn't sound stupid. Which he concluded that everything he had ever been called was either only appropriate for a girlfriend, or was the typical good spirited mean name. Looking out the window he saw his car, and had an idea.
"You can just call me Buick," he called out to her.
"Are ye a Skylark, or Regal? I will say, that isn't the worst ye could have come up with. Buick it is me Lad. So what brings ye to the Emerald Isle,"Cumman's face split with a smile as she sat a tankard with steam coming from it beside him.
"I, am something of a hunter of monsters. Specifically those that like to hunt those they shouldn't," he said.
"It wouldn't happen to be a group that likes to hang a couple decorations from a fox's haunches on their collars would it? I can't blame ye, a couple have stopped here before with a little less respect that they should have, and never did quite get on their way again. They think just cause I have a few good turns around the auld sun on me, that I am an easy bit of pickins. I ain't just any kind of vampire though, I have the blood of the old one in me veins," Tekeshi had just taken a drink of blood as she said this and spit it out across the table.
Once he could properly breathe again he turned to her, "You are a shinso?"
"Aye, though I say it ain't so big a deal ye get to just hose me common room down like ye nose is bleeding. Didnae your Maithar teach ye proper manners? Do ye know how hard these tables are to clean blood from," Cumman looked dissatisfied as she went to fetch a rag.
"You don't understand. I was under the impression that my parents were the only ones left, since I became this. I apologize, and I will take care of the cleaning. How have you stayed unknown," this was a big deal to the boy.
"Lad, I run me tavern. I don't go out picking nair a fight. If some knob wants to try his luck with me, he either meets me fist, or me bed. Depends on how I feel that day, and just how good he looks. Me daughters wish I would just use me fists, but even an auld lady like meself needs some fun now and then. Were ye not who ye are, I would not have said nair a word. Though, I don't think me bed is something ye would like to be introduced to, if ye make one more mess, me fist will get real cozy with ye," the woman crossed her arms under her, rather firm looking, breasts and drew herself up as tall as she could.
Tekeshi had to admit, if he went for older women, and wasn't taken, she would be high on the list of those he would go for. Even with a few hundred years on her, she was extremely beautiful. He wasn't one to lie about a thing like that, or really lie anyways.
"Ms. Mac Sitric, I will say you are right. Though if I wasn't taken, and very faithful, a chance at your sheets would be far from the worst thing I could ever experience," he said with a light smirk.
The woman belted out a warm laugh, "OH me, Buick. That was about the nicest things these auld ears have had laid on them in decades. Alas, ye are just a we bit smoother in the face than I like them. Ye know what, that bit of charm is worth more than any stack of euros. Ye eat on the house tonight."
They continued to have a spirited and light hearted conversation as Tekeshi ate, more than he really wanted to. He had heard that Irish women were very hospitable to a person who would treat them kindly, but this was more than he really had expected. She somehow managed to get him to down about four bowls of stew before she would let him say his good bye. He didn't even get those without a promise to bring his parents to meet her at some point.
He felt, different as he got in the car. Like he had a wieght lifted off of his shoulders. When was the last time he had just sat down, and been in good company. He wanted to say when he met the Apache girls a couple months earlier, but that wasn't in the same vein as Cumman had been. The old shinso woman just seemed to enjoy life, and had made the last hour and a half really enjoyable.
It wasn't that much longer until he finally reached Kinsale. Finding the dock wasn't that hard once he had. They didn't serve large vessels, only smaller ones that mostly carried the bounty from the fishing fleet off to canneries around the North Sea. That didn't mean that the Harbormaster was going to be lacking the sailing plan for the ship.
He waited until night fell to break in. Or rather he just walked in through a wall. It was much quieter than pulling the door off the hinges. Once inside he managed to find the Harbormaster's computer, and was stopped by a password. He doubted it, being that the woman he had seen wearing the Harbormaster badge was a human, but there was always a chance. He turned the keyboard over, and there was a list of passwords. God damn it all.
He had to lean back in the chair and massage his temples. Was he the only person in the world that took information security seriously. This was embarrassing, and made him feel a little disappointed that he wasn't going to actually get some use out of all the brain power he was born with.
Once he was into the records database he started looking for the departures of the last day. Once he found them, it wasn't hard to find the Greek named, Norwegian flagged, and Iranian owned vessel. What was the maritime industry smoking. That was so unnesasarilly com-... They were headed to Tokyo. They had a stop over at Bandar Abbas to refuel, and then showed them continuing on to Tokyo with an expected arrival in two weeks.
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. There wasn't much for it, so he was just going to have to find a place to wait. It shouldn't be that hard for a Japanese man to disappear in Tokyo for a while.