Moon Child Page 8

  “Is that so?” Genoveva’s laughter had cut off abruptly and she was staring at Ash now with an angry sort of curious look. “All these years and you’re finally willing to accept being a monster?”

  “Not a monster. I am nothing like you, Master or Vlad. I am who I chose to be, Genoveva. Can you say the same with strong confidence?”

  Genoveva threw herself at Ash. The gilded knife bit into Ash’s chest between her breasts, sinking hilt deep. Vampire didn’t need to breath but it was still a shock to the system, especially when one ran most of their body as if it were still alive as Ash tended to. She liked the illusion of breathing, it felt normal.

  “Your blood’s so cold,” Genoveva whispered and then louder said, “I know what I am, a monster. I embrace that. And when you do too, you’ll finally understand who you really are… and then I’m going to kill you.”

  “You are wrong,” Ash choked out. The knife in her chest made it hard to speak. “I have changed. And you will not frighten me, no matter what you do, you will not succeed. I have nothing to fear anymore.”

  “No?” An orb of compacted earth rose in the air from behind Genoveva to hoover over her shoulder. Then a dozen more of various sizes formed, the lose particles swirling up from the ground. Ash didn’t need to hear Genoveva’s master torture plan to know what the vampire meant to do with the projectiles. It’d all happened before. And the physical wasn’t even the worse part of what Genoveva could do to her.

  “Let’s see what I can do to change that attitude of yours—or more rightly, realize that you never changed at all. And after that… we’ll tackle your pride and prove that you still have plenty to fear. That you were never strong.”

  6: Funky Shit

  IT felt like a blink really, but when he opened his eyes again it was morning. Bright, sunny-ass, disgustingly cheery, Disney chorus line morning. Tristan let out a long groan. His head felt foggy and when he reached up to put a hand to it, he realized his predicament. His eyes popped open and he looked down. His hands and feet were tied. The rope looked brand new.

  “Fucking perfect.”

  Somewhere in the room, upstairs maybe, there was water running. And singing. Mamoru was taking a shower. Tristan cringed to himself and wiggled around on the sofa, feeling his body. Nope, nothing hurt. Well, besides his wrists and ankles where he was tied. Point was, he was pretty sure the guy didn’t have his way with him while he was out. Good start, he guessed.

  The water shut off and then it was blissfully yet painfully quiet. Tristan must have held his breath for nearly five minutes while he waited to hear something, anything. Then he tried struggling against his bonds. They were tighter than they needed to be and his fingers tingled when he tugged too hard. He tried to roll off the sofa quietly to sneak out but he hit the coffee table and the tea service that was set up there and everything came crashing down. A few of the cups broke and he knew it was loud enough that upstairs, his “guest” heard it. A door opened and a head popped out over the landing above Tristan.

  “Ah!” Mamoru said, his hair dripping wet and upper body naked. “Ohayō gozaimasu. Choto matte… I’ll be right down.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Tristan tried to get up, but he was bound too tightly and with a sigh, gave up. For the moment. He waited there on the floor, broken teacups under and around him, cheek pressed to the stiff grass-woven rug while he waited on Mamoru.

  The Japanese man finally came out of the room and down the stairs. He was dressed in a fresh outfit that made him look like a thief and had his hair all slicked back from his face. Tristan hadn’t noticed last night with the way he wore his hair, but the guy had a nice bit of gray starting at his left temple. He looked human enough, but Tristan knew his luck just wasn’t that good.

  Fuck you, karma.

  “Hope you don’t mind, I took the smaller room upstairs last night, it looked like it wasn’t being used. You know, there’s no luggage in the other rooms though. I guess you’re only here for the day?”

  Tristan only glared up at him.

  “Don’t tell me you’re mad. Look, I’m not here to hurt you. I didn’t touch you or anything funny, I just need you to help me.”

  What the hell was up with everyone needing his help lately? “And drugging me and tying me up has always been a sign of peace.”

  Mamoru shrugged, looking unashamed. “No. But it was necessary. If I hadn’t drugged you, you would have spent all night drinking and you needed your rest.”

  Well, dude had a point. Tristan was fully prepared to just call it an all-nighter when the others left. He was past the point of sleep deprived delirium and was just… awake.

  “And the tying part, well, you seemed pretty angry last night when I brought you back to your room. You said you were going to kill me. I was just ensuring everyone’s safety.”

  “Ahuh.”

  “Please, may I help you up? I’ll even untie you if you promise not to do anything rash.”

  Tristan narrowed his eyes at him. He was willing to behave, a little. The moment he didn’t like what the guy was saying though, that’s when they’d have a problem. “Fine.”

  Mamoru pulled a small folding knife that Tristan took close note of which pocket it returned to. Flexing his hands to get the blood flow in them again, Tristan righted himself on the sofa. He had no idea what the guy did with his gun, but that didn’t matter. So long as Mamoru didn’t have it on him, Tristan was confident he could take him, even with that little knife. Hell, he’d had worse than that knife.

  “What is it you think I can help you with?”

  Mamoru smiled at him, pouring tea in the two remaining unbroken cups. “Tea?”

  “Thanks, but you understand if I pass.”

  “Yes, of course.” Mamoru took one of the cups, leaving the other behind to steam on the table and took a seat on the chair across from Tristan. See, a nice safe distance away. No funny stuff. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Holy Christ,” Tristan scoffed, flopping back against the sofa. “Why does everyone think I’m sort of water witch?”

  The other man frowned. “Water witch?”

  “It’s—I’m not a professional anything, okay? I don’t find people.” I just kill vampires.

  “You may not find people, but who I’m looking for couldn’t strictly be called a person.”

  Something cold and scaled coiled in Tristan’s middle when he met Mamoru’s keen gaze.

  Mamoru tipped his head in Tristan’s direction, coldness in his eyes. “And from what I’ve heard, you just might know where this… non-person is.”

  “Who?”

  The other man smiled, looking sinister for the first time since their meeting. “But I think you already know.”

  He was looking for Ash? Like hell he’d help. “Why? I mean, why do you want to find this… “person”?” he asked with exaggerated little air quotes, trying to hide his apprehension.

  “The why is simple… because I’m like you. I kill vampires.”

  Tristan felt blindsided. Mamoru had been dancing around the word but then saying, “I’m like you. I kill vampires” was pretty blatant. Still, Tristan wasn’t ready for the statement and hadn’t reacted in the best way.

  “You’re fucking mental.” He jerked to his feet and his head spun. He meant to walk off, but he didn’t feel up to full speed just yet. “There’s no such thing as vampires.” Again, there was something about pants and a fire here.

  “Don’t you think saying such things would hurt Ash’s feelings? She feels too, just like the rest of us.”

  Tristan’s hands balled into fists at his side. “What do you want with her?”

  “Her…? Ash?” Mamoru put his tea down and relaxed back in his chair. “Nothing. Oh you—ha, you think it’s Ash I’m hunting? No, she’s safe from my retribution. It’s that other one of Ash’s line, her predecessor, Genoveva, I’m after.”

  Tristan’s heart literally stopped. If this guy was really after that freaky vampire than that meant… No,
he couldn’t get his hopes up. He didn’t know the guy and definitely didn’t trust him.

  “Where is she?” Mamoru asked, eyes narrowed on him.

  “Genoveva? No clue.”

  “No, Ash.”

  Tristan sighed and took a seat again. “Genoveva took her.”

  “Sō ka,” the other man muttered, lost in thought for a moment. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Well, fate believes in you and has brought us together. We can help each other out after all. I help you find Ash, you help me kill Genoveva. Win-win, really… don’t you think?”

  Tristan shook his head. It was a tempting offer, he really could have used the help. But— “I don’t even know you.”

  “What is it you want to know about me? What would put you at ease?”

  “I’m not the easily trusting type. And you know what,” he said standing again as if he meant to leave. “The last person I agreed to help, almost killed me.” By accident, but still. “And you know what? You’ve not exactly left me with a good impression.”

  Tristan stood, eyes finding a clock on the other side of the room. It was almost eleven. If he left now he could ditch the pythia and elf and have enough time to get lost a little while he tried to find the ferry that went back to mainland. He was getting off this island and leaving all his baggage behind, including this guy.

  Mamoru stood with him, drawing Tristan’s attention back to him. “Please, we really can help each other.”

  “I work alone.”

  “No you don’t. You work with a vampire. A vampire that’s missing. And unless you find her soon enough, you and I both know Genoveva will kill her and when she’s done, she’ll come after you because she remembers the Uruwashi, hates them. Even if she doesn’t come for you, then the next vampire will kill you out of spite, or for fun... I can help. You need my help.”

  “What? So you can just kill Ash too? I don’t need shit from you,” Tristan spit out and turned away. He was leaving and no one would stop him.

  Only, someone tried. Mamoru gave a karate type cry and Tristan spun, blocking the guy’s first attack, but didn’t see the second that took him in his stomach. Healed but still tender where he’d been nearly eviscerated months before, Tristan doubled over, gasping for air. He stumbled back to get away but Mamoru grabbed him and flipped him over and to his back. The rest of the air left Tristan’s lungs and he fought to gasp down a fresh breath. With the, surprisingly heavy, Japanese man sitting on his chest though, he wasn’t having any luck.

  He tried to flip the man off, but his arms where pinned over his head, twisting them the wrong way to the full extent of his double-jointed elbows would allow until it hurt. He found the breath then to cry out.

  “Shhshh,” Mamoru said over him, face close to his as he held Tristan immobile. “I didn’t attack you to hurt you. I just need you to understand that I’m not as weak as I look. I can help you, if you help me. I really don’t mean you or Ash any harm.”

  Tristan’d managed a gasp of air that tasted bad in his deprived lungs and chose to use it poorly. “Fuck you! Get off!” Holy crap, why was this guy so fucking strong? He was smaller than Tristan, average sized, if you were Asian. So why couldn’t Tristan move at all? Why did he seem as strong as a vampire?

  Mamoru suddenly smiled as if he knew what was going through Tristan’s head.

  Tristan saw them then. They were small, no bigger than Ash’s or Desmond’s, but this guy had fangs.

  “What the—” Tristan looked to his side again, in disbelief, to make sure it was really daylight out.

  Ah, everything outside looked so peaceful. He wanted to be there… off someplace warm and sunny with Ash in his arms. His daydreaming was interrupted by the burn of Mamoru’s hands where they held onto him.

  Tristan cried out, bucking under the man. “St—stop!”

  The heat subsided as quickly as it came on. “Do you understand now? I’m not just a human, Tristan. I really am just like you…” He grinned a lot of teeth, showing off those fangs again. “Well, maybe better than you because I’ve been bitten.”

  “Holy shit,” Tristan whispered, falling still. “You’re an Uru—”

  Across the room, the suite door opened and in stepped a very tall man and a very short woman. They stopped, blinking in shock at Tristan laid out on the floor with another man pinning him down, faces mere inches away.

  Chrysanthe turned to her companion with a grin and said, “I guess we should have paid more attention to that Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Looks like we’ve interrupted something interesting… Do you think Ash knows?”

  Silas grunted a laugh, taking off his glasses, not having really looked at the stranger pinning Tristan to the carpet.

  “Get the fuck off me,” Tristan growled. “God.”

  Mamoru opened his hands and put them up, slowly climbing off Tristan. He’d made his point, now he had to have faith in Tristan to make the right decision.

  The two men met eyes when Mamoru put his back to the others and tapped the side of his nose with a wink. The “Holy shit, you’re an Uru—” thing was their secret.

  “Where have you been all night?” Tristan asked, attention darting between Mamoru and Chrysanthe. Not that he really cared.

  The pythia put her hands on her hips. “That disgusting codger… he sent us on a wild, pointless hunt. I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose too.”

  Silas grunted his agreement as he pushed the hood off his head and shook out his feathery hair. It was still a shock every time Tristan saw the fuchsia and bronze tipped feathers and wondered if they were as soft as human hair. In the back of his mind Tristan also thought that whatever else he might be, that it wasn’t elf since he didn’t have the hair and eyes, assuming he’d inherit those traits at all.

  “Honestly, that old—” She stopped short, eyes fixed on Mamoru. The man’d just taken his seat again and picked up his tea, but he was frozen mid-motion too, tea cup hovering before his mouth, staring back. Next to her, Silas’s eyes widened as he tensed, really seeing the man.

  “Oh dear,” Chrysanthe muttered.

  The elf swallowed dryly, making eyes at Mamoru that Tristan didn’t understand. Mamoru took a careful sip of his tea, pretending he didn’t notice the sudden tension in the room and that the elf wasn’t trying to tell him something.

  “You’re the one I’m looking for.”

  “Me?” Mamoru asked, hiding his unease by taking another sip of tea. His attention shifted to the elf for just a moment, but Tristan saw something in Mamoru’s eyes that made him wonder about the man.

  Chrysanthe licked her lips, looking suddenly nervous. “Tell me, what are you?”

  His attention flicked to Silas again for a bare second before raising a brow at her. “If you don’t already know, seer, then it’s not your business to.”

  “You’re an Uruwashi, aren’t you?”

  Mamoru sighed. “That’s not your business, pythia.”

  “Oh dear, but it is. I’ve been paid to find you.”

  Tristan spun to give her his full attention. “You what?” God, he knew he couldn’t trust those two.

  “Sorry, it’s just business, you understand?”

  Silas gave a cry, jumping into motion as his companion lifted her hands in front of her, emulating a ball between them. Mamoru threw his tea, cup and all at the pythia and flipped the chair he was sitting in over on its side with him in it still. He was rolling away before his shoulder even slammed into the hard, unforgiving floor.

  “Get down!” he shouted as he grabbed Tristan’s calves and yanked.

  Tristan fell with a surprised cry, disorientated and confused. Silas was the only one in the room that could see the actual manifestation of the energy that tore through the bottom of the chair Mamoru’d been in, but Mamoru knew it was coming and reacted fast enough to save him and Tristan both from a really nasty hit.

  The room was heavy with the cloying scent of ozone and Tristan c
oughed to get the taste of it out of his sinuses.

  “What the hell is going on?” Tristan hissed as he scrambled to sit upright next to Mamoru, back pressed to the side of the sofa they were using for cover.

  “I wish I knew,” Mamoru muttered, mostly to himself.

  “Chrysanthe!” Tristan shouted angrily.

  “Oh dear, I did apologize. Now come out and step back. I only need to kill one of you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tristan asked, sounding exasperated. “Why does one of us need to die? We’re the fucking shinwa police, for shit’s sake.”

  “Who are you working for?” Mamoru asked.

  “Oh dear, I can’t tell you that. Now. Come. Out.”

  Tristan swallowed back a nervous groan and looked to Mamoru. The other man was calm and reserved, an ornate knife in his hand. He’d lost track of Silas, but Chrysanthe’s big skirt made so much noise when she moved that he knew she was still by the entryway. “Her employer must know about me.”

  “What about you?”

  “We need to leave. Here—” Mamoru leaned down, shoulder almost to the floor, all up in Tristan’s business as he dug under the sofa. Tristan was about to argue about the face in his crotch when the other man came back with his gun. “You take this, I don’t do guns.”

  He gladly took the weapon and did a quick check. Ten rounds, plus one in the chamber, just like he left it. He left the safety on but lifted it to point at Mamoru’s head. “Tell me why she’s trying to kill you.”

  Another ball of energy tore into the sofa behind them, making them both duck. Tristan had no idea what it was or that pythia could even do something like that. He was as impressed as he was miffed. She wasn’t aiming at him, not really, but he was in her line of fire and that didn’t seem to stop her. The little witch.

  Mamoru huffed. “We don’t have time for this, Tristan.”

  He clicked the safety off and chambered a round.

  “Because I can work fire, okay? I’m of the House of Fire.”

  Tristan’s eyes widened. He knew that, of course he did. He felt it when Mamoru almost burnt him but it didn’t really sink in. “You—Lucien’s your Master?”