Vampire Hunter D: Dark Road Part Three (14 page)

“So, you finally caught up to me. The
real
me.”

As she said this, a beastly pair of fangs poked from between her lips.

“You're the seventh?” D asked.

“Yes. But I only realized it just now. Those were the days, D. I miss the girl I was when I was traveling with you.”

Rosaria shifted her gaze to Lord Rocambole, still lying on the floor. “If you'd killed me to begin with, you might've slain D,” she said.

“There's still . . . time . . . Kill . . . D!”

Rocambole's sheer will to live must've been nearly exhausted, because the vermilion line running through him was growing broader. No doubt the words that spilled from him with that bloody foam were part of his last gasp.

“Pleasant dreams, Lord Rocambole.”

“Damn you . . . You've betrayed . . . all of us . . .”

Before he'd even finished speaking, his body split in two again. Even his fearsome Noble vitality had reached its limit.

Rosaria looked down at his remains for a few seconds, and then walked toward the door. Without even turning around, she said, “I'm going to find Gaskell.”

When D started to follow her, a hoarse voice called out, “Hey, wait for me!”

D held his left arm out in its direction, and the hand whistled through the air and reattached itself to his wrist.

“That's a convenient accessory you have,” Rosaria remarked coolly.

“What are you talking about? I'm an independent—” the hoarse voice started to squawk, but one clench of D's fist silenced it as the Hunter followed Rosaria through the doorway.

—

“So, the Hunter and the traitor are coming?” General Gaskell mused with a nod, his eyes closed as he stood in the room that housed the great stone statue. Though there wasn't a single monitor screen there, apparently his shut eyes were viewing something.

“So be it.”

He opened his eyes. They held a ferocious glint of determination.

Turning his face up a bit, he said in a voice that was like a rumbling in the earth, “Destroy the castle. Have it completely disappear fifteen minutes from now. And cancel all the abort sequences.”

“Affirmative. Your commands will be carried out,” a mechanical voice responded from nowhere in particular.

“I wish you luck, D!”

A white light that radiated from the ceiling enveloped General Gaskell's body. A second later, he was on the rooftop of the castle. Ahead and to the left rested an object that looked like a misshapen globe entangled in a trio of cylinders. An aircraft for escape purposes, it was usually stored on the floor below. Walking over to it with broad strides, Gaskell was about to climb in through the hatch that opened automatically, but then he felt something cold creep down his neck.

The general turned around. Before him, a pair of silhouettes basked in the moonlight.

“Oh, and just how did you get here?” Gaskell must've realized that his plan to escape had been foiled, because his voice swelled with an impressive resolve.

“Actually, I'm one of the assassins you selected. So I'm in sync with this castle,” Rosaria replied matter-of-factly.

Standing beside her, D had become a vision of beauty.

“I see. Meaning that anything I can do, you can also do? And I'm the one who made it that way.” Staring intently at D, he said, “I understand why this Hunter would come after me. But why you? Have you forgotten your mission as an assassin?”

“I was given the task of making D lower his guard so that I might slay him. Perhaps it was because my approach was different from all the rest, but the will of a certain great man remained in my head. General—I'm sure you probably realize as much already, but we were all born to be
slain
by D.”

“I know that. Now,” the general replied. “The timing of my resurrection, my calling you all together for what I thought was D's destruction, and even D coming here—all these things were determined long ago by a majestic will. Do you realize that?”

The general's gaze bored through the gorgeous Hunter.

“People are waiting for me,” D said softly, as if all of what Gaskell had said was merely an illusion.

“Hmm—then the truth of this doesn't matter to you? You frighten me. Your mind does. Can you understand that, D? It's because you remind me of a certain great man.”

An astonished face turned to look at D—that of Rosaria.

“It can't be—there was nothing about that in my memories, but . . .
D, are you . . .”

“That's right, Rosaria. It wasn't I that guided you toward this destiny. Long ago, a certain eminent personage laid it all out. Surely you realize by now who that was, don't you? And what his relationship is to this Hunter,” the general laughed wickedly. “So, whom will you bare those fangs against? D, or me? Give this careful consideration. You and I—together, the two of us are more than D could handle at one time.”

Rosaria was gazing at D. A weird kind of miasma had begun to rise from her body.

His grin broadening, the great General Gaskell drew his sword.

“D,” Rosaria said, tears gleaming in her eyes, “I really enjoyed traveling with you.”

A cloud of miasma sailed straight up from every inch of the woman. In midair it took on an enormous, beastly form, with a tail streaming behind it like a comet as it streaked into battle—against General Gaskell!

“What idiocy is this?” he shouted, the tip of his black steel slipping through the beast's white back.

Lifeblood spread like ink in the moonlight.

General Gaskell staggered as he held the nape of his own neck.

The beast bounded to a spot a good fifteen feet away. Its body like a mass of fog, the creature didn't have a mark on it. On the first night the woman had met D, it was this beast that had destroyed everyone in the valley of victims.

“I'm done taking my revenge,” Rosaria announced coolly. But was that statement for the general's benefit? Or for D's?

“And now I must complete my mission. D—no matter what kind of attack you use against this beast, it won't die. And there's nothing else I can do. Slaying you is—”

Without warning, Rosaria turned her gaze to the castle wall. She couldn't see down it. However, it seemed she'd glimpsed something anyway. The smile that graced her lips was terribly warm.

“Those three transporters—it looks like they got here after all. They had to come see you, didn't they?”

“No, to see
you
,” D said softly.

“They're such sweet guys. The most fun I ever had was the time I spent being human.” Suddenly crinkling her brow, she continued, “But I wonder how on earth they ever got through the gates.”

The blue pendant on D's chest gave off a delicate glow.

“Why don't you say hello to them?”

Rosaria stared at D as if stunned. Something glistened in her eyes.

Walking over to the stone wall, she peered down. Not long thereafter, a voice was heard to say, “Look—it's Rosaria!”

“Sergei!” the woman exclaimed.

D nodded ever so slightly.

“You're still okay? Excellent!”

“And Juke,” she said.

“We're coming. Hold on!”

“That's Gordo's voice,” Rosaria remarked, waving one hand.

A cheer of
Yeah!
went up.
Just hold on!

Rosaria went back to where she'd been. Something glittered its way down her cheeks.

“I don't want those guys to see any of this. I don't want them to see me . . . D.”

And as she said this, her teary eyes gave off a blood light, and the air of insanity around her vicious beast swelled as it pounced.

D's longsword went into action.

The Hunter put pressure on his shoulder, and blood that looked like wine trickled out from between his fingers.

When the beast landed about fifteen feet away, there was no sign of a wound on it.

“Not even you . . . can defeat that beast . . .” said the great General Gaskell, who was soaked in blood as he slumped back into his aircraft. “If you're going to deal the coup de grâce, Rosaria, you'd better hurry. This castle has less than five minutes remaining until it disappears.”

There was turbulence in Rosaria's eyes as she focused them on the castle wall. Was she concerned for the transporter trio?

A second later, D leapt. The beast counterattacked. Both blade and talons were brandished in midair.

At that moment, something happened. Rosaria looked up to the sky in amazement, and even General Gaskell bugged his eyes.

Had D really done
that
?

The beast ripped open diagonally. Like a common cur, it yelped in its death throes and dissolved in midair.

At the same time, Rosaria also fell. The instant she did, her body split along a diagonal line. D alone could see that the angle and placement of the cut were exactly the same as the wound he'd dealt the beast.

“Wha—what the hell did you do?”

Even though D recognized the voice that rang out behind him, he didn't turn around.

The first one over the castle wall had been Gordo. Juke and Sergei were just poking their heads up now. Grappling hooks were snagged on the castle walls—they'd used the ropes attached to them to make their ascent. Because each rope gun was equipped with a winch, it could haul its owner all the way to the top.

“I saw everything. How could you do that to Rosaria?”

Anger had stained Gordo's brain with madness. Needless to say, he hadn't actually watched D cut down Rosaria—what Gordo saw was Rosaria fall and split in two. Based on her location, it couldn't have been Gaskell. So, that only left one person. Gordo didn't think,
No, D could never do that.
He was prejudiced against dhampirs. Besides, anything could happen out here. This was the Frontier.

Drawing the machete from his hip, Gordo charged forward.

“G-Gordo!”

By the time Juke and Sergei had jumped down onto the roof from the top of the wall, their compatriot was running at D's back with his machete poised waist high. D made no effort to dodge it, and Gordo's machete sank into the figure in black all the way to the handle. The end of it poked from the Hunter's abdomen.

Ahead of D, the aircraft rose. There was nothing the seriously wounded D could do about it as it climbed, then flew off to the west.

“Another day, I guess,” D said, looking up at the constellations, and then he turned back to Gordo. The most unruly of the transporters had been pinned to the ground by Juke and Sergei.

“You idiot!”

“How could you be so stupid?”

Ignoring them as they kicked and punched the third man, D walked over to Rosaria.

“Was she under some kind of spell?” Juke asked.

“Yes,” D replied. Of course, he didn't tell them that she'd been a Noble from the very start.

“Two minutes,” the hoarse voice told them. “The castle will be destroyed in two minutes—so run for it!”

“We can't just leave Rosaria here,” said Sergei.

“Come on,” D said, reaching out and grabbing Juke with one arm and Sergei with the other.

“Hey, what am I supposed to do?” Gordo pleaded.

“Grab on,” D replied, already headed for the castle wall.

“Shit!” the man cried, running over and grabbing D around the neck.

A second later, the four of them were in the air. There was no saying how long it was before they landed. Nor did they know why there'd been no shock on impact.

The castle collapsed as if it were made of sand. Blasted by the minute particles, the three humans had to shut their eyes tight and turn away—unlike D.

“Can you use a blade now?” D inquired once the storm of sandy grit had abated.

As Juke and Sergei watched him, Gordo looked down at his hands, his eyes open wide.

“No problem—it's like, when I stabbed you . . .”

“That was a present from Rosaria,” D said.

The reason was obvious.

Still holding the same pose, Gordo dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his wildly bearded face.

—

It was a week later that the group's journey came to an end. After bringing their merchandise to the last village, the three transporters bid farewell to D at the edge of town.

“If we're ever in trouble again, come bail us out,” Juke said, offering his right hand.

Saying nothing, D gripped it. No one was surprised—it seemed perfectly natural to all of them.

“We'll be waiting for you as long as we live,” Gordo said, with a clap on D's shoulder.

“Hell, we don't need you,” Sergei said, shooting him a grin. “My smarts will be enough to save us all.”

D remained silent as he wheeled his steed around. The trio headed back down the road that had brought them there. D was headed forward, as always.

“Gaskell got away. He'll be back again,” a voice from the vicinity of D's left hand said after some time had passed. “But even if all seven disobeyed the Sacred Ancestor, I wonder why he'd go to all the trouble of having you destroy them at this late date? Sacred Ancestor or not, I guess he couldn't prevent them from entering that sleep. His laws are ironclad, and there's no point in them even rebelling against the Sacred Ancestor again. Hmm.”

The hoarse voice was neither posing a question nor seeking D's agreement. It knew it would never get an answer out of him.

“Oh, look at the sky—those are thunderheads!”

Before the voice had finished speaking, a shadow moved across the sun, and thunder echoed in the distance.

“Even nature is against you—you must have some really bad karma!”

D rode forward without saying a word. His elegantly beautiful countenance suggested that not a single memory remained of those two women and three men.

—

END