Vampire Hunter D: Pale Fallen Angel Parts Three and Four (25 page)

“Very well. We have a contract, then. It's too late for second thoughts.”

At the weird and otherworldly air that voice carried, the brother and sister finally began to suspect that something wasn't right.

“Miska—what's all this about a contract?”

In response to May's query, the Guide said, “I have been summoned by a Noble who has lost her place in this world.”

From the beginning of their history, there had been Nobility who'd lost everything to which they might've returned. Relations with other Nobles were not always amicable. To the contrary, the days spent in grueling conflicts would probably be far longer. Long ago, in the time the ancients had referred to as the Middle Ages, nobility of another sort with the emblem of a beautiful rose on their swords and spears had watered those flowers with death and destruction, and the ageless Nobility seemed to live for unceasing and fruitless conflict precisely because they were immortal, as if they were stalking war-torn streets. In that each conflict produced both a winner and a loser, their world was no different from any other.

Just as victors in the Middle Ages had seemingly been lacking in mercy, so the contemporary Nobility were extremely thorough in rooting out and annihilating the vanquished. Fugitive Nobles at times defected to neighboring realms seeking aid, while at other times they fled to haunted passes high in the mountains and far from civilization, or caverns far underground, or cities in the depths of the sea. Ruins that could be found even now out on the Frontier in the mountains or beneath the earth were remnants of such places, and the murderous machines that roamed their vicinity were the last surviving examples of the devices of destruction sent out by the searchers. The giant whirlpools that swallowed mariners and the monstrous kraken up to sixty miles long were weapons of war born of the finest technology possessed by either the attackers or the defenders. Even now there were many who were chased across the face of the earth.

Realizing there was no place in the world to call their own, they decided to seek a safe haven in a place that was not of this world, as if resigned to their fate. Combining ancient tomes on demonology with the most advanced quantum mechanics and the fruits of mysterious engineering techniques, their efforts consumed thousands of years and tens of millions of lives before they finally succeeded in tearing through into another dimension—and it was said that those who fled there found a utopia. The promised land of Shangri-la—that image was always a sweet fantasy burning in the hearts of fugitive Nobility, though no concrete information was ever shared about it. A museum of antiquities was said to have a display of a few decaying letters from Nobility who had reached the other side, each addressed to friends or relatives who'd remained in our own callous world.

At present, the paradise of Shangri-la was said to be a mere legend—either that, or all who knew the method of reaching it had died out. In fact, the only thing connected to it that would fill the Nobles' hearts with real terror was talk of the Guides. Faces hidden by gray hoods and dressed in robes of the same hue, they were said to suddenly appear in answer to an ancient and secret rite, offering to show the way to Nobles seeking a path to the promised land, and at the same time entering into a fearsome contract. Essentially, they required that those who sought the promised land give up the lives of innocent children. Granted, that'd been a fairly common condition from ancient times. But that wasn't the horrifying part of entering a contract with the Guide. The single illustration that'd terrified both Sai Fung and Lagoon depicted a Guide raising the severed heads of children which, for some reason, even then continued to weep most vividly.

“Come with me,” the Guide said, beckoning with his hand.

The brother and sister backed away reflexively. But their backs were blocked by Miska's hands.

“Miska?” one cried.

“What are you doing?” asked the other, but they were silenced by a voice that spread like the wings of death.

“The woman has entered into a contract. In exchange for my guidance, I am to receive your lives and your souls. And now that we have an agreement, there can be no escape. If the contract is broken, the contractee will also be subjected to a punishment the likes of which this world has never seen.”

“He's lying, isn't he, miss?!”

“Help us, Miska.”

Ordinarily, legs built up by acrobatics would've sent the pair flying through the air. But they remained on the ground as if they'd taken root partly because of Miska's strength as she held them by the scruffs of their necks, and partly due to the eerie aura surrounding the Guide.

The Guide's hands touched the heads of the pair. All strength then drained from the brother and sister, and they collapsed on the spot.

Starting with May, his blade drew a faint ring of blood around the base of her neck. Once he'd finished doing the same to Hugh, the Guide took a step back and said, “Watch closely.”

He pointed to half of what appeared to be a large, vacant hall.

“Huh?”

As Miska gave a gasp of surprise, her eyes caught sight of an expanse of sea by night. The waves were a riot of white crests, but there was no telling what world this scene was from. Four moons shone in the heavens.

Suddenly the hall faded away. This was neither a dream nor an illusion. As they lay on the floor drained of all strength and sensibility, even May and Hugh knew that. The sound of the waves that reached their ears was real, as were the birds flapping across the disks of the moons. But what made it most real was the vast, unbridgeable distance of the entire tableau.

“Oof!” the pair groaned in unison.

How horrible it was. Fresh blood gushed out at once from the rings around their necks and began to soak every inch of them. Not only that, but it felt as if salt—no, acid—had been smeared in their wounds as acute pain shot through them.

“Now I shall cut off your heads,” the Guide announced as he raised his machete. “But it will bring you no peace. Your heads will be tormented by the pain of death for all eternity. Even after this world is no more. But in exchange for that—there is
this!
”

Miska realized the last part was directed at her.

Beyond the sea fractured by the night waves, a hazy light had begun to come into focus. Land. In no time at all, it became a gleaming city.

And Miska was convinced.

-

I

-

The legendary city cast its reflection deep in the rapt eyes of the Noblewoman.

Did the groans of the young brother and sister rising plaintively from her feet not reach her ears? Could Miska not fathom the suffering of these children who'd taken her at her word about setting off on a journey of hope, going underground with her because the least they could do was send her off, and even going so far as to say how painful it would be to part company with her?

Her dignified face twisted in an ugly display of selfish joy, and she even licked her vermilion lips. The two children were already covered in blood.

Just then, the black surface of the water was pushed off to either side as a lone strip of white road appeared from the sea.

“That is the road to your Utopia. However, you can't cross it without my guidance. You would do well to consider yourself fortunate.”

Even if those words reached Miska's ears, it was impossible to tell if her brain could make sense of them. Fixated on escaping reality, all the young Noblewoman did was stare at the distant land mass.

“Now, step onto the road,” the Guide said, clutching Hugh's face and rolling him over onto his back. The tip of his blade brought a circle of blood.

“Stop it!” May cried out in a thin voice.

D wasn't there. Nor Balazs, nor Lagoon. That only left one person—

The machete that rose so smoothly halted in midair at that moment. It wasn't merely the physical stop required prior to striking with it. A slim, soft hand had seized the Guide's wrist.

“What is this—?” he asked Miska quite gently as he turned around.

Twisting his arm around, Miska sent the Guide flying, and then stepped in front of the children. Oh, who could've imagined the young woman in white shielding those two?

And then she shouted, “Flee!”

The emotions stirred by her voice and the sight of her gave the two bloody children strength. Rising unsteadily to her feet, the girl grabbed her brother's wrist and dashed toward the door.

As he watched all this, the Guide did nothing, but once the pair had vanished from his field of view, he turned to Miska and said, “You know what this means, do you not?”

Miska didn't reply, didn't even nod. Her blue eyes were filled with a powerful conviction that showed her the truth and a staunch determination to defend the others.

“Once a contract has been entered, if it is broken, both the sacrifices and the contractee shall be cursed for eternity. Your punishment will be dispensed immediately.”

As he approached Miska, he raised the machete high. It was a terribly impudent combat pose when facing a Noblewoman, but for some reason, Miska didn't move. Although nothing could be seen within the hood save deep black darkness, now a pair of glows—incredibly profane gleams—transfixed her. The Guide's eyes. At that instant, Miska retained the ability to think, but lost control of her muscles and nerves. Even her heart stopped.

Whistling through the air toward what some might describe as the forlorn nape of the woman's neck, the machete sank deep into it. Blood gushed out. And though spasms rocked Miska's body, she didn't make a sound due to the pain. A blow from the Guide hurt thousands of times more than one from anyone else.

Jerking the gore-stained weapon back and forth to free it, the Guide then raised it unceremoniously for another blow to the top of Miska's head. The eyes in his hood gave off a particularly vile light. But the right one unexpectedly vanished.

As the Guide pressed one hand to it, a small rock fell at his feet. And at the same time, the grip of his evil gaze seemed to wane.

Letting out a horrible wail of pain, Miska fell to the floor.

A small red figure rushed over, pulling her up as he said, “Hold on, Miska!”

It was Hugh. The boy hadn't fled and left the woman to her fate.

However, before they'd even gone ten feet, the ash-gray figure stood before the pair, blocking the way.

“You may have been freed, but the pain the Guide has given you won't fade. My job, you see, also involves guiding pain.”

The machete was swung.

Executing a back flip and narrowly dodging the blade, Hugh let the rock he held in his hand fly from midair. Although it was an exquisite display of acrobatics, the amount of speed Hugh's wounded and bleeding body put behind the missile wasn't enough to keep it from being effortlessly avoided.

The Guide approached.

“Stop,” Miska called out feebly.

He brought the blade down—but luckily, the acrobatic Hugh was able to get out of its way.

“What's this?!” the Guide gasped in astonishment.

Hugh's position was at the boundary between the real world and the weird sea. Taking a step back, the boy's foot slipped toward the ocean, and Hugh fell headlong into the black water.

Both the spray and the sound of the waves were the real thing.

At that instant, a dimensional rift formed. The otherworldly sea summoned by the Guide sought something similar on this side, here in our world. The expanse of water filled with a sense of the bizarre.

Desperately thrusting his head from the sea, Hugh saw a reddish-black figure standing before him and exclaimed, “D?!”

Yes, D. What's more, D had just finished cutting off Lord Vlad's metallic arm.

The subterranean lake and the seawater had been mixed.

“Stop it!” the Guide shouted as he reached out for Hugh.

His strength and will both spent, the boy had latched onto the road across the sea—the path to Shangri-la—and pulled himself up.

Everything was stained blue and white. And in the midst of what could be described as calming colors, a human figure thrashed feebly.

-

The next thing Hugh knew, he was lying on the floor of a hall. Beside him lay the blood-soaked Miska, who May was looking after. And looking down at them was the gorgeous Vampire Hunter.

“D—I was . . .”

“I heard.”

Getting the impression D had given him a little nod, the boy felt rewarded.

“Er . . .” he started to say, but he caught himself because both D and Miska were looking at the back of the hall—and the black sea.

But there was no sea there. The flames of the candelabra illuminated the baron in blue and woman in white on the cold stone floor. The woman lay there with what looked to be some kind of scepter jutting quite far from her chest. Yet the woman's dress remained white because all of her blood had apparently left her body and been diffused in the water. Clearly someone was bidding farewell to one who wasn't long for this world.

At that point, the woman in white opened her eyes a crack, despite the fact that her heart and lungs had already ceased functioning and not even a faint thread of breath whispered from her paling lips.

“In the end . . . it comes to this,” the baron's mother said, her voice quiet and clear. “I can no longer do anything. Do as you like. While drifting underwater, I saw the stars. Your stars and your father's stars. They're completely incompatible. You and your father . . . No matter how you battle, eventually it will come to an end. But . . . what kind of end will it be? Byron, my son . . . I'm terribly afraid.”

“Mother . . .” the baron murmured. One who knew what fate had in store could say no more than that.

“Please, don't follow along after me,” she said, a hand damp with water rising to touch the baron's brow. “And please . . . forgive me. Forgive your mother . . .”

Her arm was about to slip away, but the baron caught hold of it and held it in place. His shoulders didn't quake, nor did he shed a single tear. Beneath his blue glove, his mother's arm lost its definition and turned into brown dust. Even then the baron didn't break his pose. For the longest time he remained as he was.

“D,” he called out after even more time had passed. “Is de Carriole here?”

“No.”

“Right now, it is he that I would like to see more than anyone,” he said in a tone without cadence. “Lady Miska is here. With de Carriole's assistance, the Destroyer within her could be transferred to me.”

“He stayed back at the underground lake. If Vlad's in his right mind, he'll probably have him executed as a traitor. Also—”

“What is it?”

“I think the gray hooded figure was a Guide. He's there with Vlad, too.” Turning to the fallen Miska and the siblings, D said, “And she broke her contract with the Guide. No matter what, he won't give up until he's delivered the death penalty.”

“You think he'll join forces with Vlad?”

“I don't know. My second blow split your father's head open. He's seriously injured, but he won't die.”

The baron got to his feet. From his hands and his lap brown dust spilled, spreading across the floor. Not even looking down at it, the baron took what remained in his fist and put it in a pouch in his cape before stating, “I'm going to de Carriole's mansion.”