The Gatekeeper's Son (44 page)

CHAPTER

44

A short bus ride from my house, close to Golden Gate Park, is the best burger place in San Francisco. It’s on a side street, sandwiched between a laundromat and a produce store, the kind that displays fruit and vegetables on the sidewalk in front. It’s easy to miss.

Inside, there are six small tables and three booths in the back that are never available—I’d never once sat there. Most of the time, people are lined up on the sidewalk waiting, but when I got there, Mack was already inside sitting in a booth, looking as if he’d won the lottery.

September is San Francisco’s warmest month, and today was pushing seventy-two degrees, definitely T-shirt weather. It was good to feel the sun. I’d got off the bus in Golden Gate Park and walked the rest of the way, feeling proud that after two months of recuperating, I could finally move around more or less like normal. The scars would never go away, though. I guess I’d take Bartholomew’s advice and tell my future girlfriends it was a shark bite. I could never tell anyone the truth. Would that make me a liar?

Our conversation started casually, like a conversation between any two friends who hadn’t seen one another in a while, but the small talk felt wrong. Mack was an alien to me now, a part of that other world so far removed from my reality. I could barely concentrate on his words. He noticed and the conversation faltered. Pretending to search the menu was a brief distraction, but we both knew what we wanted—we always ordered the same thing. Once the waitress had taken our order, Mack tried to carry the conversation by himself, but he eventually ran out of things to say.

I realized I was nervous. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry about all this, Mack.”

He looked as if he had a response all prepared, but just then our burgers arrived. We both began to eat, but after the first bite, I put mine down. Mack was looking down at the table. He noticed me staring at him.

“Look, I don’t blame you, OK?” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t go home like you said to. That’s my fault. One of those goons remembered me and grabbed me. Things got kind of fuzzy after that.”

I nodded, uncertain. “Do you … do you remember anything from the warehouse?”

“Not much.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “It’s a good thing those cops rescued us when they did—”

“Don’t,” he said, louder than he meant to. He stopped and glanced around. There was fury in his eyes as he lowered his voice. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I saw what you did, I
saw
how you moved!”

“You had a head injury—”

He hit the table, shaking the cutlery and drawing stares. “Don’t lie to me!” He paused for a moment as he struggled to control himself. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, but don’t insult me by thinking I’m still the same old clueless Mack, all right?”

I hesitated. “It’s just … a lot’s changed.”

He glared. “I got kidnapped and had the crap beaten out of me. And people were dropping all around me in that warehouse—bleeding and dying, gunshots, heads cut off. You think
I’m
ever going to be the same?”

I looked down at the table, but he wasn’t finished.

“I know your mom lied to you and that sucks, but you hated it, so don’t do the same thing to me. I’ve been your friend for ten years. I’m still your friend, if you’ll let me be.”

For the first time I realized I wasn’t the only one who’d grown up too fast over the summer.

“I could really use a friend.” Then I grinned. “And you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to tell you all this!”

He cocked his head, and a slow smile spread on his face. “First I’ve got two demands.”

“Demands?”

“One: you never lie to me again. Two: don’t get me beat up anymore, OK?”

I laughed. “I can only promise you the first one.”

We both dug into our burgers. Small talk resumed, with a promise of real answers later in a more private setting. It wasn’t until I’d finished my second burger and sat sucking the last remnants of my root beer float that I felt the energy of the earth shudder. I put my glass down.

“I have to go.” I tossed some money onto the table, more than enough—I’d kept both Walter’s and Jackson’s money in my new offshore account.

Mack looked surprised, but he followed me outside. “What’s wrong?”

It was our first test. “You won’t understand until I give you the whole story, but I have to deal with something and you said you were tired of getting beat up.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Maybe. I’ll see you later, Mack.”

CHAPTER

45

I was passing the botanical gardens, about to turn toward the Japanese gardens, when I finally saw them. Two young girls, maybe twelve or thirteen, wearing matching school uniforms with racket cases strapped to their backpacks. They stood in the shade of the smaller gate of the Japanese gardens with their attention focused on me. They were apprentices—no silver rings adorned their right middle fingers.

I walked past them toward the main gates of the gardens, where the all-too-familiar energy resonated.

Shoko sat on the steps in front of the gates, bathed in sunlight against a backdrop of manicured black pine and maple trees. She looked stronger, her confidence and power more obvious. She didn’t wear a uniform, and she’d cut her hair into a ragged style that ended at the collar of a well-worn black leather jacket.

She noticed me as soon as I stepped into view.

“Hello, Junya.” She gave a small bow and then shook her hair and gave me a smile—noncommittal, uncertain. Her fingers went to the hem of her jean skirt. “What do you think of my new look?”

“I like it.”

“I have never been here before,” she said, nodding toward the gates. “This garden is beautiful, a fine replica of those in Kyoto. You almost cannot tell the difference.”

“You can if you look close enough.”

She turned back to me, her eyes burning with intensity.

“I saw the apprentices back there. They’re kind of young for this, aren’t they?”

She stepped down off the stairs. “They are the best in their class.” A slight smile crossed her face. “And they are petrified. You have become quite a legend.”

I didn’t respond. Instead I stood watching her, saw the breeze move her hair, the sunlight on her face. Had the gods changed their minds? Keeping the darkness at bay was a daily struggle, but I hadn’t faltered.

“Why are you here, Shoko?”

A sad smile turned the corners of her lips. “My duty is my life, Junya. The only life I have ever known”—she paused and her eyes met mine—“until I met you. But the gods need warriors, and thanks to you, I have experience that no other warrior has ever had. I will pass that experience on to others.”

“I’m sorry for what you went through.”

She laughed softly. “But I will not grow bitter like my mother, wasting my days wondering what could have been. I will perform my duties, but I will make my own destiny and trust my heart. I have made that clear to the Kannushi. Neither he nor
you
will stop me from doing as I please—including traveling here.” Then she moved closer, within an arm’s length, and crossed her arms. “Tell me, Junya, what mistake did Bartholomew make that saved my life?”

I reached out and touched the freckle under her right eye. “I don’t know why, but
she
had the freckle under her left eye,” I said. “It made me look harder, deep into your eyes, and when I did, the darkness vanished from my heart.”

She touched her face where my hand had been. “The balance of life and death in a freckle.” She fell silent for a moment. “You have so many reasons to be angry at us. I understand how you feel.”

“You can’t understand, because I never had the guts to tell you anything.”

Our eyes met again. “You still have not told me anything, Junya.”

I reached out and took her hand. She looked down. I felt the warmth of her energy flow through me, pure and sweet, like a kiss from the gods.

“Would you like to ride the cable cars with me and drink hot chocolate?” I said. “I want to get to know you better.”

Shoko smiled. “Maybe I will not kill you after all.”

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

Thank you for reading
The Gatekeeper’s Son
!

Whether you loved it—or didn’t—your opinion is important to me, and I’d appreciate hearing from you! Please consider taking five minutes right now and writing a review on Goodreads, Kobo, Amazon, Barnes & Noble or wherever you browse and shop for books. You can also tell your friends on Facebook or your blog.

Of course, you can also email me directly and tell me what you think: [email protected]

I really enjoyed bringing Junya’s and Shoko’s world to life and I hope you will help me introduce them to many more people.

Chris

COMING SOON

The sequel to
The Gatekeeper’s Son
will take off where this novel ends, because Junya’s journey is far from over.

My neck tingled. Somewhere in the darkness, evil moved closer.

My bokuto felt good in my hand.

I moved a few paces in their direction, probing, sending my energy out. Behind me, a young gatekeeper notched an arrow. Shoko moved off to my right, squinting against my energy.

“There.”

Between the trees, about twenty yards away, stood two men dressed in black, their long black hair shining in the moonlight. A shudder traveled up my spine.

What would I do if they came? What if they transformed into lizards?

One of the men moved and I took a step forward. From behind me, I heard the whisper of a katana sliding from its sheath.

Shoko moved up beside me. “If they come, we will cut them down … together.”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

C. R. Fladmark lives in a small, historic town in British Columbia and travels often to Japan, where he researches his novels among the ancient sites in Shimane Prefecture. To learn more,
www.crfladmark.com
or find him on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/CRFladmark
.