Vampire Hunter D: Dark Nocturne (7 page)

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I

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Oh, he's a big deal all right, but he's had it now. Leave him to me!” Bijima said, giving Price a slap on the shoulder before taking a step forward.

Did D notice the bizarre contortions the man's belly was undergoing?

“You know, I've got a nickname. Embarrassing as it is, I'm known as ‘Bijima the Second Stomach.' The village where I was born was dirt poor and cold as hell. Evil bugs or demon snakes, if it was edible, I'd eat anything. And I tried so hard to make things last that I eventually ended up like this. Anyway, I hope you'll just sit back and enjoy the show.” Chuckling, Bijima added, “Only problem is, you can't see a damn thing now.”

His uniform split open lengthwise. Since all the buttons remained affixed, he undoubtedly had it rigged with Velcro so it would fly open when he exerted any strength in his belly. But his clothes weren't the only thing that was rent. The depths of the gap were a deep red where Bijima's stomach had ripped open. Disturbing creatures spilled from the wound to rustle in the grass. Venomous striped ganja snakes, deadly scorpions with tails raised high, gaseous creatures shrouded in a white mist—and there were more than a few of each variety. Even one of these supernatural creatures would've been a nauseating sight, but more and more of them fell to the ground and then trampled a path through the grass as they charged straight for D, Ry, and Amne.

D could probably handle the monsters somehow. However, Ry and Amne would undoubtedly be peering into the abyss of death within five seconds.

Amne fainted without so much as making a peep.

And that's when it happened. The song that rose from the depths of the earth seemed to shower midday with the still of night.

More than the agitated monstrosities, it was the entrance to the underground chamber that drew Ry's gaze. Before his very eyes, the unearthly creatures rustled back through the grass like a torrent. Surging toward the hole, they became a multicolored stream that poured directly down the stairway, driven by the unholy tune in a march to their own death.

“Son of a bitch!” Bijima snarled in anger. Throwing better judgment to the wind, he drew his broadsword and charged straight at D. It was the biggest mistake of his life.

Though D supposedly couldn't see, his blade left a silvery streak in the air.

Even as he felt something hot in the vicinity of his torso, Bijima kept running out of habit and fell headlong into the hole.

Ry raced over to D. Price had headed for the hills as soon as Bijima turned his blade on D.

“That was incredible! You dropped that bastard with one shot. You can see, after all!”

But after the boy spoke, he quickly bit his tongue.

D's eyes remained firmly shut. And yet, after returning his blade to its scabbard, the figure in black suddenly started walking around.

“Is the hole over here?” he asked, turning in the proper direction with ease.

Ry was filled to the ears with such awe it made him tremble as he gazed at the Hunter, and then he shouted, “It's closing!”

But his cry came too late. The massive stone column spun in the opposite direction of when it'd opened, and before D could even take a step toward it, the hole in the ground was sealed forever.

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†

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It was just about time for the forest and river to sink into a faint blue hue when they returned to the mayor's house. The blind D had said he was going to go check on another set of ruins, and though he wasn't the kind of man who'd ask them to lead him there, Ry and Amne decided to accompany him.

Amazingly enough, he seemed to be able to “see” everything around them better than either the boy or the girl. When they started to head into the woods because it was a shortcut, D quickly ordered them to put the wagon's top up. Doing as he said without even knowing why, they didn't have a minute to spare before a swarm of venomous golden wasps attacked.

These creatures wouldn't leave until they saw their prey dead, and they swarmed in wave after wave. The only ways to escape were to kill them all, to remain concealed, or to suffer through sting after painful sting.

But D chose yet another course. He thrust his blade right into the heart of the buzzing insects through the wagon's covering. When he pulled his weapon back inside again, the golden queen of the swarm was impaled on the tip of its blade. Now leaderless, the wasps immediately dispersed. Since he'd struck through the wagon's covering, the Hunter couldn't see his target. The only thing he had to rely on was the fact that the sound of the queen's wings differed from that of the other wasps. Apparently, D's hearing was so keen he could accurately discern that one sound out of the buzz of thousands of wings.

In the vicinity of the village, there were more than a dozen ruins. Vacation lodges for the Nobility, arenas for mechanical gladiators, dams to alter the flow of the river however they pleased—and standing alone amid these decaying heaps of ancient rubble floored in green grass, the young man in black truly looked like some beautiful illusion. But illusions ultimately vanish in time. What the boy and girl saw was nothing short of pure elegance and solitude given human form, a vision that would never be allowed to fade.

As D stood by a stone wall in a garden that had long since been reclaimed by the forest green, Ry walked over and quietly inquired, “You wouldn't by any chance happen to be a dhampir, would you?”

“Can you tell?” asked D.

Ry nodded. “After all, the Nobility's ruins just seem to suit you too well. So well it's scary. For the first time in my life, I actually found myself thinking it'd be nice if more of the Nobility's things had been left in the world.”

“What's lost will never return. The sun has set on one world, and it won't see another dawn. That belongs to a different time.”

“Are you talking about the Nobility and us?”

“Have you heard stories about the Nobility?”

“When I was a kid, I used to hear them all the time from an old chatterbox of a nanny,” the boy replied.

“And do you remember them?”

“Yeah. Every last one.”

“Were they all scary stories?”

“Pretty much. But there were some good ones, too. Stories about how some machine left behind by the Nobility had healed someone of an incurable disease, or talk about the moon and the stars.”

“Be sure to remember those,” the Hunter told him.

“Because that would've made the Nobles happy?”

“No, I don't imagine it would've mattered to them. They never would've wanted that. Perhaps it was their wish to wither away without anyone even knowing about it.”

“Then there's no point in remembering, is there?”

“Not where the Nobility are concerned,” D said, turning his unseeing gaze toward the castle walls. For a second, Ry thought the gorgeous Hunter might just disappear in that direction. “Reflecting and remembering only have meaning for those that do them. It's not a matter of learning or knowing something, but merely recollecting things from long ago. Maybe you could call it ‘gratitude.'”

“Gratitude?”

Although Ry tried to divine the meaning of the word from what D had said, he had little luck. He posed a different question.

“Why did you follow me, anyway?”

D didn't say a word.

Sensing something unapproachable in the Hunter, Ry went back to where Amne waited and was terribly surprised. The headstrong girl who headed the historical research society had tears glistening in her eyes.

“What's wrong with you? You look like hell. If you go and get all weepy every time you see a good-looking man, people will take you for a bumpkin.”

“You ass,” was all the girl could say before she hiccupped. “Doesn't it make you sad? Don't you feel anything when you look at him? He's carrying a burden that's really, really old. The weight of what's already been lost. And because of it, I'm sure he'll never . . .”

“He'll never what?”

“I don't know. I just can't find the right words. But you've gotta be able to see it, too. If you can't, you must be a real blockhead.”

As the girl's back shuddered again and again, Ry stroked it gently.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to call you a blockhead.”

“It's okay. I'm used to it.”

“He's going to go away.”

“Everyone does, you know.”

“You're just a kid, so don't just regurgitate platitudes.”

“But it's true,” Ry told her. “Even if we don't have any way of knowing just where it is we're going. The Nobility didn't know—and we humans don't either.”

Just as Amne's case of hiccups was getting especially bad, D came back.

“Did you make her cry?” asked the Hunter.

“No way,” Ry replied.

“You're going to be quite a heartbreaker.”

“You're the last person I wanna hear that from,” the boy retorted.

“Shall we go?”

“Sure!” Amne said with a vigorous nod, her eyes swollen from her tears.

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II

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There was no sign of the mayor at her house. When the servants were asked about her whereabouts, they said she didn't appear to have left.

“I'm heading up to the mansion,” said D. “You two can come with me part of the way, and then head back to the inn.”

“At this hour, the sun will be down before we reach the inn,” Ry countered. “We'll stay here. If I lock the place up tight, it'll be fine. Plus, I've got earplugs. If the song was going to lure me away, I think it would've done so last night. But if you're that worried about us, hurry back.”

“Understood,” D said after eyeing first Amne, then Ry. “Take good care of her, heartbreaker.”

The boy didn't even have time to growl at that remark before D had gone.

Darkness quickly descended. The mayor didn't come home. A servant showed the boy and girl to their respective bedrooms.

Right after Ry climbed into bed, he heard a knock. Going over to the door, he asked who it was, and a female voice replied, “Me.”

“What is it?”

“Open up. It's so creepy being all alone I can't get to sleep.”

Amne was dressed in pajamas. Ry recalled that twenty years earlier, the mayor had a child who'd been lured away by the song.

“Oh, a girl?” he said to himself.

“You're damn right I'm a girl. Where have your eyes been?”

“No, I didn't mean you.”

Amne seemed to be glaring intently at the boy, but then she suddenly threw herself against him and told him to hold her.

“What for?”

“I'm scared, you idiot.”

Though she clung to him despite his attempts to push her away, her zealous and feverish form made Ry think of something. Suddenly the boy said, “You know, I'll be moving on soon, too.”

“Stop trying to be like Mister D. Back at our inn, we're shorthanded and could use some help,” Amne said, putting her strength into the arms she'd twined around Ry.

Heartlessly prying his way free of the girl, Ry got to his feet. The severity of the gaze he concentrated on the door made Amne's anger turn to fear.

“What is it?” the girl asked.

“Someone's coming.”

“What?!”

“From the first floor. They'll be coming up the stairs any minute now. And there's a bunch of them.”

“Well, I don't hear anything. And how come you know all this?”

But Ry couldn't afford to let that question leave him reeling. The footsteps from the first floor were now climbing the staircase, and even Amne could hear them gathering just beyond the door.

“I don't like this,” said the girl. “Who on earth could it be? I didn't think there were even that many people in the whole house.”

Just as Ry was considering an escape through the window, there was the sound of the lock being disengaged and the door slowly opened. The figure that waded into the feeble light was familiar to the two of them. As were the wraithlike figures that lingered to the rear.

“You're still awake, it would seem,” the figure said.

“But you're . . .” Amne began through chattering teeth.

“Madame Mayor . . .” said Ry.

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D got off his horse in the courtyard. A crisp incandescence filled the ruined garden this evening. Moonlight. He looked at the window. A human figure melted into the fleeting lamplight.

D entered the mansion. As he walked down the ancient corridor, he seemed terribly well-suited to the mansion by night. More than anyone else, this young man was a perfect match for decay.

The door to the room was open. The beautiful figure that sat by the window turned to face D.

“A little late, aren't you?” Price said mockingly.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm waiting. For the singer, that is. I, too, grasp the beauty of the night.” Once the youthful warrior had confirmed that D had his eyes shut, his expression became one of amazement.

“And are you going to become a descendant of the night?” asked the Hunter.

“Why would you ask that? You know something after all, don't you? Once again, I ask you the same question.
Why have you come here, D?
”

“But that's not something for the singer to decide,” D continued in a leaden voice.

“Well, who shall decide then?”

“The will of the night—the one who created both the singer and the song.”

“And that would be—?” Price began to ask as he left his place by the window without a sound. His eyes were giving off a red glow.

The seat by the window was reserved for the singer. Price was dumbstruck as he gazed at the woman in the gossamer gown. Particles of light glistened in the folds of her dress.

“I have heard your song,” Price said in an absent-minded tone. “And that's why I've come here. I finally realize that I was summoned.”