Shinobi (A Katana Novel) (9 page)

14

Japan, 1492

H
e wasn’t coming. It’d been a year since her capture and her samurai had yet to show.

Chiyo sat on the ground whimpering as she pulled the arrow from her shoulder. It was bad enough being Ryuu’s
canvas
, but even worse when he loaned her out to his men for their amusement. Today she’d been the target in archery practice.

She breathed deeply as pain washed over her in hot waves.
Just two more.
She cried out as she pried another arrow from her stomach, and a final one from her upper thigh. She threw the arrows over her shoulder and fell onto her back, panting as the ache dulled to a throb—a sign her wounds were healing.

She blinked back tears as she stared at the blue, cloud
less sky above her. She was supposed to be married to a
handsome samurai and living within the village walls. If
things had gone according to plan, maybe she’d even be a mother. She never imagined she’d end up the play thing for a camp of violent bandits.

But maybe, just maybe, that could change.

Someone tsked and Chiyo sat up to find Ryuu standing before her. He folded his arms across his chest. “We are going to have to get you new robes
again.
Look at you. You are a mess.”

Chiyo glanced down at her bloody and tattered robes. They could be washed and mended, but she knew Ryuu wouldn’t allow that. He kept all her blood-stained clothing in a chest, collecting them the way her father had collected calligraphy when he was still alive.

“No matter.” Ryuu waved a hand dismissively. “Am I to understand you were looking for me?”

Chiyo inhaled, hoping to slow her rapid breathing. Since her previous attempts at escape had ended in severe beatings, she normally spent her days hiding from him. Today was the first she’d gone looking for him. The spark of an idea had come to her when the first arrow pierced her shoulder, an idea she had no choice but to implement if she hoped to survive.
“I noticed—” Her voice broke and she was forced to swal
low before continuing. “I noticed you have not taken a wife. I thought, given the situation, I might make a suitable match.”

Ryuu’s eyes flew wide and he laughed. “What is this? You wish to
marry
me?”

Actually, Ryuu was the last person Chiyo wanted to
marry. But couldn’t bear to continue on as she was—with every day bringing more torture than the day before. And hadn’t her father always told Chiyo that a husband’s duty was to care for and protect his family? Surely if Chiyo were to become Ryuu’s wife, he would end his daily “art” sessions and no longer allow his men to abuse her.

Chiyo nodded. “I do.”

Ryuu scratched his chin. “What an entertaining idea.” He looked at her,
really
looked at her, as if seeing her in a new light.

Could her plan actually be working? A shiver of delight traveled through her body.

He held out a hand for her, the first gentle touch he’d offered in the year she’d been with him, and helped her to her feet. “I must say, Chiyo,” he said as he escorted her through the camp, “your proposition is an intriguing one. We must discuss this more in depth.” He stopped in front of his tent and brushed the flap aside, ushering her inside.

Waves of nausea rolled through her stomach as she stood in the middle of the room where most of her torture took place. She swallowed the bile burning up the back of her throat and squared her shoulders. If she had any hopes of convincing Ryuu, she must appear sincere. “It makes perfect sense. Surely you want children to carry on your legacy. And I have proved myself to be more than obedient and loyal to you.” Her eyes drifted to a patch of dried blood on the grass below her feet. Perhaps
too
obedient …

“I rather like this idea.” He smiled and walked a slow circle around her. “But I do have one concern. How do I know this is not a trick? How do I know you would pledge your love and loyalty to me forever?”

A tremor danced down her spine. She’d been prepared for this, and she knew she had no choice but to offer. “M-my body.” With trembling hands, she began to untie the sash at her hips. “I offer it to you.” For as much as the men loved to hurt her, none of them had ever touched her in
that
way. And the thought of allowing Ryuu to do so made her gut clench. But still, if it kept her alive and safe, she would gladly give herself away.

“Wait.” Ryuu grabbed Chiyo’s wrist, stopping her from pulling open her robe. He licked his lips and Chiyo fought the urge to shrink away from him. “I have a better idea.” He released her hand and pulled his dagger free from his obi.

No.
A pit of ice formed inside her gut. This was not how her plan was supposed to play out.

“If your body truly belongs to me, then I should be permitted to place my name on it?” He grinned. “Would you not agree?”

Tears burned Chiyo’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. After all she’d endured, she could be brave one last time, if that’s what it took to make him happy. “Of course. Where would you like to put it?”

He licked his lips. “The place it deserves to be—that is, if you really love me. I wish to write my name on your heart.”

Chiyo’s throat tightened to the point she nearly choked. “You cannot be serious. T-t-that would kill me.” She started to back away, but Ryuu snagged her wrist.

“Would it?” He pulled her against him. “We do not know the extent of your healing abilities because they have not been fully tested. Let us do that now.” He brought the dagger to her chest and pressed the tip of the blade into her skin.

The pain blinded her, flashing spots before her eyes. Chiyo screamed and thrashed in his grip. She didn’t have to be tested to know a dagger to the heart would kill her. She twisted in his arms and clawed at his face. But he struck her against the temple with the handle of his blade, making the world around her spin.

“Hold still,” he hissed in her ear as she tried to maintain her balance. “This is a delicate procedure and we would not want any accidents, would we?”

A sob escaped her lips. She pushed against him but he snatched her wrists with one hand and placed the blade against her chest with the other.

“No!” Chiyo cried. Fear jolted through her like an electric current. Her fingers tingled. “Please.” She pressed her palms together to plead for her life when a streak of blue electricity arched from her fingers and struck Ryuu in the chest.

His eyes fluttered wide and he cried out. The blade fell from his hand and he stumbled back, his body jerking awkwardly before he fell to the ground with a moan.

Chiyo blinked at him, her chest heaving, as she tried to figure out what had happened. After all, she’d barely touched him. But when she lifted her hands, she saw the blue waves crackling between her fingers like lightning. She sucked in a sharp breath. What was going on?

Ryuu gasped and Chiyo realized her questions would have to wait. She dropped her hands and looked at Ryuu to find him grasping wildly for the dagger just beyond his reach. Chiyo knew that once he claimed it, he was sure to finish what he’d started. If she wanted her nightmare to end, she wasn’t going to have a better opportunity. She reached down and grabbed the dagger.

Ryuu’s eyes widened in terror as she gripped the blade with both hands—the same blade that had been used to carve her skin every day for the last year. With her pulse racing, she raised the dagger over her head.

Her samurai wasn’t coming to rescue her.

Sometimes,
Chiyo realized, as she slammed the knife into Ryuu’s neck,
you have to rescue yourself.

15

I
sat up with a gasp, sure I’d just woken up from the world’s scariest nightmare. Only now that I was awake, it appeared the nightmare had bled out of my dreams and followed me into consciousness.
Where the heck was I?

My pulse leapt inside my throat, so heavy and thick on the back of my tongue I could almost taste it. Unable to see, I used my hands to feel around the pitch-black room I found myself in. But there was a noise—the hum of an engine? And then a bump as the floor lurched underneath me.

Oh, God.

I wasn’t in a room—I was in a vehicle.

My head swam as a thousand questions raced through
at once. Where was Kim? How long had I been asleep?
How did I get inside this vehicle? Where was it going?

I found a padded rubber wall and used my hands to guide me into a standing position. My breathing came in short gasps, making me lightheaded. If I didn’t watch it, I was going to hyperventilate and pass out again—which would
not
be very helpful in figuring this out.

“Just calm down, Rileigh,” I muttered to myself.
I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, held it for the count of five, and slowly exhaled. After I’d repeated the process several times, my head finally stopped swimming.

“Better,” I sighed
.
But I couldn’t relax too long—I had to figure out where the heck I was, or, more importantly, how to get out. I grasped for the katana at my hip only to find it missing, sheath and all.

Perfect.

The darkness was so complete I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face—so how was I supposed to assess my surroundings for an escape? The vehicle hit another bump, and I was thrown forward. I rubbed my aching shoulder where it had collided against the wall.
Think, Rileigh. Think!
Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to stand up in a trunk—so I had to be in something bigger … like a truck … like a
Network
truck.

Impossible.
My throat tightened, and it took several tries before I was able to swallow. Was this the transport truck meant for Sumi? And if so, how did
I
get inside it?

With my heart racing, I felt my way along my enclosure. In order to get inside something, you would need a door—so finding it was the first step to getting out. I’d only just felt my way into my first corner when someone groaned from within the darkness.

I whirled around and pressed my back against the corner. “Who’s there?” My voice sounded foreign—probably from the tight grip of fear around my throat.

“Where am I?” the voice asked.

Son of hibachi.
I’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Whitley?” Anger sparked through my veins like a spark burning through a fuse. I should have known he had something to do with this, and I’d make him pay.

“Whitley’s here?” the distinctly Whitley voice asked.

“Funny,
really
funny.” Fueled by rage, I pushed off from the wall and took several steps forward in the hopes of locating him. “Don’t even bother with your stupid games. I don’t know how you and Sumi pulled this off, but you won’t have to worry about her killing you anymore—because I’m going to do it!”

“What are you talking about?”

I ignored his question. I didn’t have time for his games. “I’d love to know how you pulled it off—not that it matters. As soon as the truck stops and they realize I’m in it, they’re going to let me out.”

“Who
are
you?” the voice demanded. “Because you’re not making any sense. I’m
not
Whitley, and I have no idea what I’m doing in this truck.”

I laughed. “For someone who’s not Whitley, you sure sound exactly like him.”

“Well, I’m
not
.”

I took another step until I was sure he was just in front of me. My fingers curled into fists. I didn’t need light to fight. My past-life samurai training would help my foot locate his face just fine. I shifted my weight to my back leg and lifted my front leg in the air. “If you’re not Whitley, then who are you?”

There was a long pause before he answered. “Quentin.”

What felt like a ball of ice slammed into my core. I lowered my leg to the ground. “
What?
”

“My name is Quentin,” he repeated. “Now who are you?”

“Not funny,” I growled. I clenched my hands so hard my knuckles ached. What game was he playing? “I’d have to be an idiot to not recognize the sound of my own best friend’s voice.”

“
Ri-Ri
?”

I jerked back at his use of my nickname. How had Whitley known that’s what Q called me? “Of course it’s me,” I said.

“You don’t sound like you.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Then who do I sound like?”

“Sumi.”

My blood boiled through my veins. What the heck was Whitley trying to pull? If this was a game, I definitely didn’t understand the rules. “Listen to me, because I’m only going to tell you this once. I am not Sumi!”

Something beeped and the scratchy sound of an intercom filled the space around us. “What’s going on back there?” a man’s gruff voice asked. A second later, a fluorescent light flashed overhead and the back of the truck flooded with a blue light.

I raised my hands, shielding my eyes until the black dots in my vision stopped flashing. When I dropped my hands, the guy sitting on the floor in front of me was exactly who I thought it’d be.

“Whitley.” I growled his name through clenched teeth. “I knew it was you, you lying snake.”

His visible eye—the one not hidden behind a curtain of hair—flashed wide as the color drained from his face. “Sumi,” he muttered. “I knew it.” He scrambled backward on his hands and knees until his back hit the opposite wall. “When Rileigh finds out what you’ve done to me, she’s going to kill you.”

I groaned. “Oh give it up already. The light is on. I can see yo
u and you can see me. I know you’re not Quentin and I know I’m not Sumi.”

“
Really
?” Whitley narrowed his eye. Then why do you look
exactly
like her?”

I lifted my hands to my face. “I don’t look—” But the words died on my tongue. My hands—they didn’t look anything like my hands. Their color was more olive than pink, the fingers were longer, and there was a trace of chipped black polish on the clean nails.

“Oh my God,” I whispered as my stomach clenched in horror. There had to be a logical explanation—maybe my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light yet.

“Your
hair,
” Whitley prompted.

With shaking fingers, I reached to the top of my head and pulled the rubber band free from my sloppy bun. A second later, a curtain of black hair fell to my shoulders. My knees buckled, and I slid down the wall until I sat on the padded floor.

Across from me, Whitley held a strand of his own long blond hair in front of his face. He let go of the hair and slowly his good eye met mine.

“Quentin? Is it really you?” I asked, my voice tight.

He nodded. “Rileigh?”

We locked eyes. One of us screamed, I couldn’t be sure who started it, but the other joined in until our voices filled the back of the truck and I thought my ears would rupture from the noise of it.

The intercom clicked on again. “Settle down back there or we’ll turn on the gas!”

The lights flickered once before turning off and leaving us bathed in darkness. For me, this was a good thing. It calmed me to no longer see the body that didn’t belong to me. The scream faded and I snapped my mouth shut. Quentin fell silent as well.

My mind spun in an attempt to make sense of it. Obviously, Sumi had done this with her knife and bracelet ritual. But the question was, how had it worked? Was there a way to reverse it? Or were we stuck like this forever? And if so, did that mean Q and I would spend the rest of our lives locked up inside Network headquarters as Sumi and Whitley?

A whimper escaped my lips.

“Are you okay?” Whitley’s voice asked.

I flinched upon hearing it. If my best friend was really trapped inside Whitley’s body, would I ever be able to get used to the fact that he looked and sounded like one of my worst enemies? “I’m okay.” But the quiver in my voice betrayed my words. “I’m just—”

“Yeah, I know.” Q sighed. “Every question that you have, every worry that’s racing through your mind, I can assure you I’m thinking the same thing.”

I laced my fingers together in an attempt to get them to stop trembling. “How do I know it’s really you?”

“Ask me something only I would know.”

I chewed on my lip. Sounded simple enough. “Okay, what’s my favorite store in the mall?”

He snorted. “That’s easy—the candle store. You like to smell things.”

I smiled and, even though I couldn’t see it, I knew it was a sad smile. Yes, I was glad to have my best friend with me, but it also meant he was in the same mess I was.

“My turn,” Quentin said. “What did you buy me for my last birthday?”

“Also easy,” I answered. “A subscription to
Psychology Today
because you’re going to be the world’s greatest psychologist.”

He sighed. “Well, that was the plan … you know, before this … ” I heard the scratchy sound of a hand rubbing over face stubble.

“Do you think we’re trapped like this forever?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how this works. I know Sumi’s a healer like me, but she uses her powers to hurt instead of heal. I only recently figured out how she altered minds. This? To switch bodies with someone? This took a lot of power, and I don’t know if it can be undone.”

“What?” I jerked forward as an invisible hand curled fingers into my heart. “Of course it can be undone!” There had to be a way. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life trapped inside my worst enemy’s body.

“Okay,” Q said, sounding weary. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say this switch Sumi performed
can
be undone. The only way I see that as being possible is if we perform the same ritual on them.”

A flicker of hope eased the tension inside me. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Quentin sighed. “Yes, well. In order to do that we’d have to find the
real
Whitley and Sumi—who I imagine look like us right now.”

“Oh, God.” I pressed my hand against my head. I hadn’t even considered the other aspect of this switch—that they were in
our
bodies. “They’re going to be living in our houses, with our parents, and hanging out with our friends. Sumi will finally have—” Acid burned the back of my throat, and I struggled to swallow it down.

“Kim,” Quentin answered. “Yes. I know.”

I jumped to my feet as a wave of hot fury washed over me. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Don’t forget she’s still Kim’s inyodo. If you kill her, Kim would die as well.”

I cried out in frustration. “You’re a healer, right? How about I
almost
kill her? You could heal her, and we can repeat the process over and over again.” I twisted my hands in the air like I was strangling an invisible neck.

“There’s just one problem with your plan.”

I stopped strangling the air and let my hands fall to my side. “What?”

I heard a sliding sound as Q moved closer. “In order to do those things, we first have to get out of this truck. And if I remember correctly, didn’t Dr. Wendell say it was built so no one could escape?”

“Crap. I hadn’t—wait a sec.” I placed my hands against the wall. “The wall is covered with rubber—probably to absorb any attempts Sumi would make to use her electricity. This truck has been designed to hold Sumi—
not
Rileigh Martin.”

“
Rileigh
,” I could hear the warning in Q’s voice. “Let’s not do anything too hasty, okay? Maybe we could wait until the truck stops and explain who we are.”

I snorted as I felt my way along the wall. “You really think they’d buy that load of crap? There’s no way they’d believe us. Our only chance to get home and stop the
real
Sumi and Whitley is to break out of this truck.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Finally, my fingers brushed over what I was looking for—a seam, barely noticeable since the rubber covering the doors was so tightly pressed together. If there was a way out of this truck, it was here. “The doors are right here.” I smacked my hand against the rubber.

“How exactly does that help us if there are no handles?” Q asked.

“I don’t need a handle.” I transferred my weight to my back foot, spun around, and kicked my heel against the seam. The rubber muffled the clang of metal as the doors reverberated against my foot.

“Did that do anything?” Quentin asked, sounding hopeful.

“Not yet—but maybe if I keep going … ” I lashed out over and over again, landing blow after blow with both my foot and my elbow. The walls around us shook as I continued to pound against the seam.

The crackle of the intercom clicked on. “Cease what you are doing at once. This will be your only warning.”

“
Rileigh,
maybe you should stop.” Quentin’s voice drew nearer in the dark.

I snorted and wiped away a line of sweat trickling along my temple. “I’m not stopping until we’re out. What’s the worst they can do to us, anyway? Even if they were to stop the truck and come back here, once they open the doors that would provide us with another opportunity to break free.”

“I don’t know … ”

I pounded harder. With the walls as padded as they were, it was unlikely I was doing much damage to the door at all. But if it got the truck to stop, maybe we stood a chance of escaping.

The intercom clicked on again. “Have it your way.”