Onikoroshi Page 7

  Alan hadn’t noticed his fingers tapping along until he felt Graham rising beside him. He grabbed the other man’s hand, ready to advise patience, but the glazed look in Graham’s eyes told Alan that Graham felt the compulsion to join the dance, that the music called to him and beckoned him.

  “Resist it,” Alan said.

  Graham looked at him as if he’d never seen him before, then cast his gaze longingly back at the demon piper and swaying dead. Alan slapped him. Fortunately the sound of the pipe drowned the sound. Graham shook the fuzz from his head, and looked around as if unsure where he was.

  “A living man cannot dance with the dead,” Alan said, peering deep into Graham’s eyes, desperately seeking some sign of comprehension. “Do you understand?”

  Eyes flitting from the zombies to Alan, Graham finally nodded. “It was just so enchanting,” he said.

  “It’s glamour,” Alan said. “You’re English; you know what glamour is.”

  “Of course. The fey use it. My mother used to warn me about wandering off on summer nights.”

  “A summer night like this one,” Alan said.

  “I understand.” His hand closed around his walnut pendant, and his jaw set. Alan knew he would be all right.

  The demon played many songs upon his flute, entrancing the dead. The zombies never grew tired of their clumsy dance, but the piper did. After an hour of playing, he stowed his instrument back within the recesses of his sleeve. Soon the corpses grew restless and fanned out, staggering around and filtering toward the gate. They gurgled and hissed their displeasure at the conclusion of the music. Harada, who’d been crouched in some coniferous bushes near the entrance, stood up and waved his arms.

  “Over here!” the old man cried. He jumped up and down, whooping and hollering. The creatures turned their heads toward the commotion as one. When Harada sprinted down the hillside trail, the horde followed after him, dropping bits of rotted clothes and flesh.

  Alan waited to see what the demon would do, deprived of his companionship. Sitting on the edge of a stone, the creature barely seemed to notice the zombies’ departure. He sighed so deeply that his entire being deflated. His head and shoulders stooped closer to his legs. He rested his forearms on his knees and buried his chin beneath them, staring out at the village.

  * * * *

  “We should attack,” Alan said. “I’ll go first.” He picked one of the camphor wood stakes from the rice sack. Before Graham could protest, he lifted it over his head and rushed toward the demon’s back. The sharpened point of the wood penetrated the supernatural flesh with greater ease than they had hoped. He threw his weight against it, driving it deeper into the demon’s back. The creature howled and thrashed its arms wildly. Alan gave the stake a twist, and a final push, before he pulled a sutra scroll from his pants pocket. He unfurled it as the demon stumbled, clawing at the spear in its back but unable to dislodge it. As it wailed and threw its hair about, Alan tossed the scroll. It stuck to the demon’s shoulder, and lightning sprouted from it, reducing the creature to a twitching heap on the ground.

  Wasting no time, Alan formed a circle with the powder as Graham crept from the foliage.

  “Is it dead?” he whispered.

  “Hardly,” Alan replied, still sprinkling his dust. “Unconscious, maybe. If demons can be unconscious.”

  Graham bit his lip as he looked down at the surreal creature, its eyes closed as if sleeping. It looked even stranger in the moonlight. Part of Graham wanted to touch its cheek, the rest of him wanted to run away, fast. “Hurry,” he told his dark-haired lover, convinced that he had seen the demon move.

  “Almost done.” Alan was inches away from completing the binding circle when an ivory white hand suddenly appeared around his wrist. Graham had not seen the demon move. With lightning speed it stood, lifting Alan off the ground, the container with the remaining powder falling from his grasp and spilling on the grass.

  “Naze?” the demon’s voice was odd, lilting but powerful, and in his head Graham heard the word “Why?”

  “Don’t look in its eyes!” Alan barked. Using his free hand, Alan pulled a squeeze bottle filled with spring water from his bag and blasted the side of the demon’s face. The water sizzled and the demon bellowed and tossed Alan aside, reaching for its wounded face. Seeing his lover land safely, if not gracefully, forced Graham to move. He grabbed another stake of camphor from the sack and raced toward the demon while it was distracted.

  Graham brought the stake down as he collided with the demon, obliterating the circle of powder on the ground. The stake found purchase near the first and the creature screamed again, knocking Graham backward. The creature’s breath came in ragged gasps, its left arm useless with two stakes embedded in the shoulder. It looked up at Graham even as the seared flesh on its face knitted back together, forming smooth porcelain skin again.

  “Naze?” it asked again and again Graham heard the other word in his mind. The demon took a step toward Graham and raised its right arm.

  “No!” Alan screamed, dashing forward with a sutra. He slapped it onto the demon’s arm, lightning once again flashing from the scrap of paper. This time the demon did not fall, only roared and kicked Alan away with a lacquered sandal. Alan out of the way, the beast reached for Graham again. A gout of flame burst from the direction Alan had fallen and the creature lifted off the ground to avoid being scorched.

  “Quick, before it flies away!” Alan pointed to the rice sack. Graham scooped it up, grabbing a stake and tossing it to Alan, then taking another for himself. The demon, hovering in the air, reached behind itself and tore the previous stakes free. They landed on the ground, their tips coated in dark ichor. Alan and Graham pounced at the beast as one, but the demon was not distracted this time and easily avoided its attackers, using Alan’s momentum against him and sending him sprawling on the ground. A wicked little grin played on the creature’s lips and it made no attempt to retreat, only hovered in the air. Behind the beast Alan motioned to Graham to wait. Graham nodded slightly, crouched, obeying the unspoken direction. The demon noticed the nod and rotated slowly to look at Alan. Graham quietly slid another stake from the sack and waited until the demon showed its back.

  “Naze?” the demon questioned. Alan shook his head.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said gazing up at the beautiful, floating creature. “Why what?”

  Graham saw his chance and took it, leaping toward the demon with both stakes raised like some savage warrior. With supernatural speed the demon reached back and caught Graham by the throat, interrupting his dramatic assault.

  “Stop!” Alan ordered, his voice imbued with mystic dominance. The creature, holding Graham at arm’s length, began to chuckle. It was disturbing and lovely. With the hand not holding Graham it flipped its long black hair back carelessly as if they were all just here discussing the weather.

  “Let him go,” Alan’s voice shook with rage and concern. Graham had managed to hold onto the stakes but his vision was getting dark at the edges. He could feel consciousness slipping away.

  Alan rose from the ground with his hand outstretched. “Put him down. Please.” Even through his haze, Graham felt Alan desperately trying to formulate a plan. His thoughts were interrupted by an enormous explosion from town. Out of the corners of his eyes, Graham saw blasts of color. His insides vibrated as the fireworks exploded almost simultaneously. Bursts of light painted the sky and burned their images into Graham’s retinas. Clouds of sulfur drifted up the hill. The demon flinched as the explosion in the warehouse consumed its newly risen minions and it stared in that direction with an unreadable look upon its beautiful features. It had also relaxed it grip slightly on Graham’s neck. That, coupled with the explosion, restored just enough breath and clarity for him to save himself. With all his might he brought the stakes slashing toward the demon, plunging one into its chest while the other cleaved into its back. As Graham and the demon fell to the ground, Alan already sprinted toward the creature with his f
ist full of sutras. He slapped them all at once on the creature’s head and lightning, fire, thunder and wind erupted from the ancient spells with a force that sent Alan flying backward. He recovered himself quickly and moved toward the slumped, unmoving creature.

  “What now?” Graham asked, frantic.

  “Plan B!” Alan thrust some of the silver jewelry into his lover’s hands. He kicked the demon’s shoulder, sending it sprawling on its back. Its prone limbs lay askew around it. “Quick.” The two men adorned the demon with the trinkets, as Alan muttered quietly. Certainly the silver alone couldn’t bind the creature; Alan needed to reinforce it with his power.

  “Alan, why did it keep asking us, ‘Why’?” Alan continued to mutter but shrugged in answer to Graham’s question. “I suppose, I guess, just kill it.” Graham pressed the last stake they possessed into Alan’s palm.

  Alan pressed the sharpened point under the demon’s chin, denting the skin just above its windpipe. He positioned his fist at the top, ready to drive down. Graham could see the conflict on his partner’s face.

  “What?” he asked. “Kill it.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “Just, let me talk to him,” Alan said. “I want to understand.”

  “Are you crazy?” Graham hissed.

  “You tell me you want me to kill him, while he’s helpless on the ground, and I’ll do it,” Alan said, his black eyes boring into Graham.

  Looking down, Graham considered the demon. Long strands of dark hair fanned around his head, and dirt and gore smeared his perfect complexion. His ornate robes fell open, revealing his slender, white body. His chest rose and fell as slowly as a dreamer, and his long-lashed eyelids fluttered. Aside from his horns and clawed fingers, he looked painfully human. Human, and vulnerable. “Damn,” Graham said, under his breath.

  “So you agree?” Alan asked. “I just want to make sure.”

  “This does feel wrong,” Graham admitted. “It, he, seemed so confused.”

  After giving Graham a grateful smile, Alan knelt beside the creature. The stake dropped from his hand, but Graham picked it up, holding it near the demon’s chest, just in case. Alan lightly slapped the ivory cheek, and the creature stirred. Its eyes opened. It tried and failed to raise its wounded body off the ground.

  “All right then,” Alan said, clearing his throat. When he spoke again, his voice reverberated with what Graham could only name magic and authority. “Demon, why are you here?”

  It looked about, as if some one would appear from the shrubbery to save it. It tried to rise again, but the stake Graham had planted in its chest held it fast to the earth. Wincing in pain, it spoke an archaic form of Japanese. Graham heard: “Have I not been summoned here?”

  “Why raise the dead?” Alan asked.

  “Alone. So alone. My kind are all gone. Destroyed by the monks and the samurai. Used, and then cast aside.”

  “You wanted them as company?” Graham gasped.

  The demon turned toward him, his eyes glinting red. “Yes. Yes! So lonely in the void where I was trapped. Does this not please you?”

  “He doesn’t know,” Graham said, more to himself. “He thinks we want this.”

  “Yes,” Alan agreed. He smoothed the suffering creature’s black hair away from his sweaty brow. His hand remained on the demon’s head. Then he looked at Graham. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll finish him off, if you tell me to. But, he could help us.”

  “How?”

  “The people who are after me,” Alan said, still stroking the demon’s glossy mane. “He could protect us from them.”

  Confused, conflicted, Graham sputtered, “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll kill him if you ask me to.”

  “No, no. Let him live.”

  “Will you go with me?” Alan asked the demon. “I am a conjurer, and I swear to treat you well. Not like a slave, but like a partner.”

  Graham balked a little at Alan’s phrasing.

  “Sorcerer,” the demon said. “Master.”

  “No,” Alan replied, pulling the stake from the demon’s chest. “Not master, friend.”

  “I have never been called such by a mortal onmyoji,” the demon said, sitting up and rubbing his wounded body. Already he’d begun to heal, and was able to move without pain. He regarded the jewelry on his wrists and fingers, and his lip curled up.

  “I’m self-taught,” Alan explained. “I follow my own way. Now, call the dead back to their resting places. Please. Please, my friend. End the attack on this village.”

  “Hai.”

  “Thank you,” Alan said, as the few zombies not destroyed in the blast shuffled back into the graveyard and returned to their rest in the earth. He touched the demon’s wrist, and, again, Graham stiffened. “Will you come home with me? I promise you all the freedom you desire, as well as my companionship. You will not be alone.”

  “I do wish this,” the demon said, bowing deeply. “You are a very intriguing magician, sempai.”

  “I’ll hide you in here, then.”

  Graham stood back as Alan pulled a small red lantern from his bag. It was meant as a souvenir and only the size of an apple. “What’s that for? Another gift for my collection?”

  “It was, but now it can be a haven for this creature. And a way for me to have him with me, should I need him.”

  “In that?” Graham looked skeptical. “But it’s so tiny.”

  “It’ll be bigger on the inside,” Alan answered, winking. “Here,” he thrust a candle into Graham’s hand, “Light this.” Graham did so and passed the candle back.

  “I wonder what happened to Harada. That was a huge explosion,” Graham said aloud, looking toward the smoke of the burning warehouse.

  “After we take care of this, we can go check,” Alan said, distracted. He stood, finished with his preparations, and recited a lengthy spell in a language unlike anything Graham had ever heard. The demon and lantern both glowed faintly white. Then the demon’s body took on a pale, translucent look, as if it were fading away. At the same time the lantern rose a few inches off the ground. The demon’s body was pulled into the lantern like smoke. The lantern dropped innocently to the ground and the glow subsided. Alan walked over and picked up the lantern, holding it up like a trophy for Graham to inspect.

  “Is it over?” Graham asked trying to peer into the lantern. Alan dropped his hands, fastening the lantern to the strap of his messenger bag.

  “For now,” he answered, “The demon is still inside it. As far as the village is concerned, they won’t be plagued with walking corpses any longer. Right now, we should see to Harada-sensei.” Graham nodded and took Alan by the hand. They made their way slowly down the narrow trail. His eyes searching the shadows, Graham feared what he might find. Beside him, the little lantern tapped against Alan’s bag as he walked. For now Graham tried not to think about the implications of what Alan had done, what he’d agreed to doing, but he knew their lives would change as a result of it.

  The warehouse—a smoldering, metal shell that reeked of sulfur and burned flesh—appeared as they turned a corner. Graham choked and covered his nose. Alan gagged and followed Graham’s example. Slowly they approached the gaping hole at the front of the building. “Oh, my dear God,” Graham said when he saw what the warehouse contained: heaps of burning flesh and scorched bones, many of them smoking if not still afire. The explosion had torn a hole in the building’s metal roof and a shaft of moonlight illuminated piles of mangled bodies several feet high. As Graham stared in horror, his eyes watering from the foul smell, Alan turned away and wandered around the side of the warehouse, where more twisted metal and severed limbs littered the ground.

  “If Harada was inside,” Graham said, scarcely able to imagine it, “if he didn’t make it out, he’ll never have survived. It’ll take days to sort through this, this—” He shook his head, unable to find a strong enough word for the horrible scene.

  “Graham,” Alan called. He sounded upset, and
Graham hurried toward his voice, finding him a little further down the hill, crouched at the edge of the trail.

  Alan looked up, his face white in the moonlight and tears silver on his cheeks. Graham knelt beside Alan and put his hand on Alan’s back. Professor Harada lay on the ground with one arm draped across his chest and a slight bend in his knees. His face looked almost peaceful, his glasses sill intact though one of the lenses had cracked. Graham lifted the old man’s hand. It felt cool and light, the skin as brittle as the ancient papers Harada had loved during his life. A little bit of black ash marred Harada’s lined cheek, but Graham could see no injuries on him. “He didn’t make it,” Graham said, a hitch in his voice.

  “No,” Alan agreed, touching Harada’s forehead, “but at least he was at peace. Looks like maybe he had a heart attack. I only hope that he lasted long enough to see that he’d done it. I hope he knew that he was a hero.”

  “So do I,” Graham said. “He did the right thing, in the end. I only wonder, Alan, did we? Would he have approved of what we’ve done?”

  “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you? Do you think we should have killed him? There aren’t many demons left. And I have this one. How can I destroy a treasure like that? There’s so much I can learn from him. He controls magic unlike anything I’ve ever heard of!”

  As Alan’s voice rose with excitement, Graham’s misgivings only grew stronger. He doubted he’d ever be able to convince his partner to part with his new “treasure.” He looked at the lantern dangling by Alan’s hip. As he’d spoken, Alan’s hand had gone to it. Even now his fingers fondled the little tassel at the bottom. The demon was with them. He would always be with them, but Graham was too tired to digest the scope of his presence; the fact that he existed at all challenged everything Graham knew about the world.

  Sighing deeply, he lifted Professor Harada’s body beneath his neck and knees. “I don’t like leaving him for the animals,” Graham said. In this, at least, he knew he did right. There was no muddled grey area, and it felt good to be sure of something. “Let’s take him home. The village isn’t far now.”