Eternal Samurai (45 page)

At Sadomori’s nod, the bull freed Tatsu’s arms, bowed then lumbered back down the stairs. Tatsu massaged his wrists, desperate to bring feeling to his numb hands. He ignored the bone-deep chill on his naked flesh.

“Like I said,
konjo nashi
, Tatsu jeered to distract the vampire.

Sadomori expelled a cold, pitiless laugh. His thumb pushed the
nodachi
a mere inch out of its
saya
, ready to draw. “Ignorant whelp. I
have
the balls. I will enjoy ripping yours off much like I did to that whore Fukashima. The one who calls himself Fornax.”

Tatsu’s genitals hiked up in a blinding, primal hate.
Jigoku
somehow, someway he had to kill this monster. He focused on the treacherous curve of the dome, looking for any advantage. If nothing else, he would throw the psychotic vampire off the roof even if he had to go with him.

The Daimyō snorted at the hate rolling from the boy. He indicated the dome’s edge with a casual wave. “Perhaps I will throw you off this roof. Fittingly dishonorable,
neh?
But I will wait. My Primary climbs this tower even now.”

He brayed with laughter at the dismay in Tatsu’s jade eyes as they flicked toward the door. “You fear for your lover’s life.
Wakatta.
I’ll give you a chance to save him, you little
izumi
.” Without warning, he tossed the Ikkansai toward Tatsu.

In one flowing, lightening move, Tatsu caught the spinning sword, pulled it free from its black lacquered sheath. Power flow into his body. Arisada had given him this weapon just for this. For revenge.

Before Sadomori drew his next breath, Tatsu lunged, slicing the vampire from shoulder to hip. The
kami
of vengeance bellowed its approval.

Instinct and supernatural reflexes saved Sadomori from that death cut. Unscathed, he danced back and drew his sword before Tatsu brought his blade down again. With a scream of rage, the Daimyō launched a furious counterattack, plying the heavier
nodachi
as if were as light as a fan. Their swords clashed, sending sparks to be snatched away in the wind.

Tatsu sought the
kami-hasso,
the spirit, of his sworn enemy. Found it in the way
kyūketsuki
shifted his body, moved his feet, held his blade. In the evil cunning in his scarlet eyes. That knowledge flowed into Tatsu’s
ki
. His entire life’s purpose came down to this one fight. The honor of the Kurosaki house—and yes, his love for the
kyūketsuki
Saito Arisada—all rested on the next few minutes, perhaps the next few seconds.

They fought across the slippery curved dome. The unending rings of steel on steel drowned out the sounds of the battle below. Left, right, left, pressing each other across the expanse of the halo. And all the while, Tatsu prayed Arisada would not come through that door.

Sadomori expelled a guttural bark of astonishment at the boy’s knowledge of the most ancient ways of sword fighting.

“So, you stole the secrets of the Seikanjito Shinden?”

“No, I learned them from the
kensei
Shiniichiro Kurosaki. My Grandfather.”

For a moment, Sadomori recoiled. Then his scream of “Kurosaki scum!” shattered his restraint. But before his sword moved, Tatsu attacked. With blinding fast cuts, Tatsu drove him until his foot rested an inch from the dome’s edge.

The cunning old
kyūketsuki
rallied. “Stupid boy, You think to trick me?” In a blur of speed, his sword flashed back and forth, forcing Tatsu to retreat toward the center of the halo.

Silence enveloped them save for their panting and the ring of steel against steel. Tatsu did not sense the passing of time, just the execution of every cut, delivered with only one intent—kill this monster. Yet, he knew his tortured body was failing. Sweat poured off his skin, flooded his eyes, made every step wet and treacherous. His lungs heaved in an effort to gain air. Every muscle, deep in oxygen debt, burned with pain. The Ikkansai fought him, its weight dragging against his arm.

He considered the unthinkable—he was going to lose.

Soft and dreamlike, he heard the voice of
Ojii-san. “Sukun,
remember the four principles.” The foundation of every samurai’s faith: Eye, footwork, courage, strength.

Those four simple words sent power surging through Tatsu’s exhausted body. He risked everything in one radical move. A move he learned from Arisada. He stepped under the high sweep of Sadomori’s blade. Singlehanded, Tatsu cut his sword upward, blocking the
nodachi
. His other hand, fingers folded into a wedge, drove into the vampire’s chest with enough force to stop the heart.

For a heartbeat, Sadomori faltered, fanged mouth agape, seeking to pull air into his punished lungs. Then he rallied. With a great sucking gasp of air, he raised his sword, legs braced. Brought the blade down in blur.

Tatsu rolled out from under the vampire’s cut, leaped up and slashed his blade tip across the Daimyō’s elbow. Muscle and tendons parted.

The vampire screamed, flipped the
nodachi
to his uninjured hand and drove toward the center of Tatsu’s exposed abdomen. Tatsu spun. The blade skittered across his ribs, slicing open skin and flesh. Hoping to trick the vampire, Tatsu cried out as if in great pain and retreated several steps. His bare heel caught on a razor-sharp rent in the steel roof. Agony lanced deep into his foot. He slipped.

“Now, you will die!” Sadomori screeched in triumph. He leaped high, spinning in the air. His foot lashed out, the side catching Tatsu across the temple. Tatsu crashed backwards, the back of his skull slamming onto the dome. His vision went black.

The Daimyō swept his
nodachi
down in a blinding arc. Tatsu blocked with the Ikkansai. With a clang of angry steel, the heavy blade caught Sadomori’s weapon, skidded down its edge and locked against its
tsuba
. Sadomori grunted with surprise, grabbed the Ikkansai by the blade and tore it from Tatsu’s grasp.

“Say hello to your dishonorable ancestors,” Sadomori hissed. He lunged, driving death toward Tatsu’s exposed abdomen.

The tower door burst off its hinges and crashed on the roof Saito Arisada, his
kotagiri
raised above his head, stepped onto the dome. The war cry of the Mii-dera Sōhei rent the night air. In it was centuries of injustice.

“He belongs to me!” Crimson eyes blazing, fanged mouth snarling, Arisada leaped, reaching Tatsu in the space of a single heartbeat.

Arisada’s
kotagiri
rang against Sadomori’s sword already descending with its death cut. Tatsu rolled, felt the kiss of air as the
nodachi
missed his spine.

With a matching scream of rage, Sadomori turned on his Primary. The two supernatural creatures, twins in skill and strength, clashed. One fought for hate, the other for love. Over and over, their swords clashed in a maelstrom of steel and fire and hate.

But even the finest weapons made by human hand are no match for vampire strength and fury. Both swords shattered, leaving Arisada holding only an inch of blade and Sadomori with more than a foot.

Crowing his victory, the older vampire drove length of steel into Arisada’s belly. In bizarre parody of their first meeting centuries earlier, the Daimyō twisted it through skin and muscle and viscera. Then Sadomori buried his fangs into his Primary’s throat.

Tatsu stared up in horror at the two creatures locked in mortal embrace. Heard Arisada’s agonized screams. Felt the hot splash of the vampire’s blood into his face.

In desperation. Tatsu scrabbled about for the Ikkansai. He found it and grabbed it—by the blade. No time to shift his grip to the protection of the
tsuba.
No time to think the sword would sever his hand. Just cut.

With a yell that came from the deepest part of his
ki
, Tatsu swept the
katana
sideways, ignoring the agonizing bite from its naked edge. A wailing shriek rent the air. A fountain of ichor drenched Tatsu. He rolled from under the struggling vampires, and saw he’d severed Sadomori’s leg at the knee.

“
Arigatō
,” he whispered to the
kami
of revenge.

Off balance, the old vampire staggered a hair’s width from the dome’s rim. Arisada reached for him, trying to pull his Sire away from the deadly edge. “
Seisakusha
, my Sire. No.”

Sadomori clutched the front of Arisada’s
keiko-gi
. “You will always belong to me.” Then he took them both off the roof.

Arisada’s flailing hand caught one of the protruding beams of the sundeck. Gripped it’s the steel in white-knuckled desperation. His other hand clutched the heavy fabric of Sadomori’s coat. Their plummeting fall halted with a jerk that nearly tore his arm out of its socket.

“Fool, we die together,” Sadomori hissed through blood and spittle. The old
kyūketsuki
’s eyes shone with a maniacal hatred. He clawed Arisada’s hand holding the beam, trying to dislodge that life-saving grip. His other hand twisted the sword imbedded in Arisada’s guts.

Arisada thrashed in agony, his knee catching Sadomori’s swollen groin. The old vampire shrieked, lost his hold on Arisada’s wrist. At that moment, the sword tore out of Arisada’s belly.

Sadomori’s scream of rage matched Arisada’s cry of loss as his Sire tumbled into the dark below.

“Arisada. No!” Tatsu cried out with horror. He flung himself over the dome’s edge, hand extended in a futile reach that encountered only air. Off balance, he nearly followed Arisada into the dark. For a heartbeat, he reveled in it. But he owed a debt to the
kami
of death. He twisted back onto the dome, lay gasping for air, shuddering with exhaustion and shock.

“Tatsu. Help me.” A choked whisper from below.

Hope surged through him at the sight of two hands clutching the rim. Sobbing with relief, he grabbed the vampire’s wrist, but his blood-drenched fingers had no strength. Arisada began to slip from his grasp. Tatsu leaned further out, the metal ridge digging painfully into his naked stomach. He caught the vampire by his
obi
, heaved with mindless desperation, and pulled his lover onto the dome.

Mind soaring with relief, moaning, “You’re safe, you’re safe,” Tatsu rolled onto the dome. He clutched Arisada tight against his chest.

But his relief last only a second. Blood gushed over him. Arisada’s blood.

The vampire lay inert. Tatsu struggled to his knees, cradling Arisada while he pulled off his
obi
. He pressed it with raw urgency to the
kyūketsuki
’s stomach. The cloth blossomed dark red, the stain spreading with ominous speed.

Don’t take him, don’t take him, Tatsu begged the
kami
of death. The words repeated in his head like a mantra. He pressed and prayed for what seemed like eternity, his eyes darting from the blood pumping from the vampire’s abdomen to the ragged hitch of his chest.

Arisada’s breath stuttered then halted.

“
Iie
! No!” Tatsu’s scream rent the cold, night air. He crushed his beloved against his naked chest. Rocked him just like
Ojii-san
had rocked him so many years ago. “Don’t leave me,
koibito,
please.” Against him, he felt a quick struggling gasp, then another, then a wonderful even rise and fall.

The vampire’s eyes fluttered open. “
Koibito
?” he whispered, wonder coloring his voice.

Tatsu hurt, oh hell did he hurt, body and spirit. But his beloved was in his arms. He could not stop running his hand over Arisada, seeking reassurance that his lover was alive. Overcome with relief, he moved to kiss him.

The vampire’s backhand flung Tatsu flat on his back. Shocked, he stared up at the
kyūketsuki
looming over him. He faced only a mindless predator—all reason, all emotion, all love gone.

Arisada bared his fangs.

Tatsu stared at that face contorted with an animal’s viciousness. Vicious yes, but beautiful. And mine. The certainty of that thought sent a tenderness throughout Tatsu’s body.

“Go ahead.” He offered his throat. “I won’t stop you.”

The acceptance in that voice obliterated the vampire’s blood lust. He pulled away from the youth, scrambled a dozen yards backward until he hit the blackened wall of the spire. Cowed, he turned his face to the wall. “Leave me! I beg you, leave now!”

Tatsu stared at the stricken vampire for a second. One hand pressing into his bleeding side, he dragged himself across that expanse of that endless roof until he reached Arisada. Touched that bowed head.

“Please, go.” Arisada trembled with the effort not to seize the boy, pierce that tender neck and drain his blood. He closed his eyes, shrank further away. The back of Tatsu’s hand caressed warm and tender down his tear-wet cheek. Steel-strong fingers clamped under his chin, an insistent pull, demanded he turn his head.

“Saito Arisada, look at me.”

Arisada groaned with desolation and turned to his beloved. He wanted to close his eyes against the terrible compassion in Tatsu’s emerald gaze. The blood rage drained from his body. His mouth stung as his fangs slid back into his channels.

“
Watashi wa kimi kara isshou hanarenai yo
,” Tatsu whispered. “I will never leave you.”

A wisp of breath caressed the vampire’s cheek. Warm, pliant lips touched each eyelid, brushed over his rigid mouth, the moist tip of a tongue traced over the seam. The sheer wonderment of it all left Arisada breathless.

“Beloved,” he murmured into Tatsu’s pretty mouth, and locked it into a deep, life-affirming kiss.

“Cobb! Cobb, answer me, man.” Passebon charged onto the dome, sweeping the area with his bow, Galloway right behind him. The Cajun spotted Tatsu clutched in the arms of a vampire, both surrounded by pool of blood. He sighted his weapon and squeezed the trigger.

Tatsu saw the big Leper out of the corner of his eye. “No, Chain, no.” He flung a protective arm around Arisada’s bowed head.

“Stand down, Bro,” Galloway ordered as he slapped Chain’s weapon upward. Three bolts wasted themselves on the night sky.

“Where’s Sadomori?” Passebon shouldered his bow.

“Over the edge.” Tatsu mumbled.