Senshi (A Katana Novel) (22 page)

44

W
hitley and I didn’t speak as we drove to, well, wherever it was we were going. I figured I’d find out soon enough. After zipping through the various side streets and alleyways between skyscrapers, it became apparent that our destination didn’t require an interstate. So, yay, another night spent downtown.
Awesome.

“Do you like your present?” Whitley asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I shrugged. “While I was disappointed this one lacked venom and didn’t try to kill me, I guess it’s alright.”

He laughed and I couldn’t help but smile back—which I found deeply disturbing. What the hell was going on with my life that one of my only friends was my psychotic sworn enemy? When had my life become so … wrong?

I didn’t want to tell Whitley, but I adored his gift. There was something so calming about having my sword rest against my body. I felt stronger, braver. My sword had saved my life countless times in the past. I could trust it—which was a whole lot more than I could do with the guys in my life. But who needed a boyfriend when you had razor-sharp steel?

Whitley stopped the car in an alleyway I was already familiar with.
Son of hibachi.

“What’s wrong with you?” Whitley frowned. “What’s that face?”

“It’s my
I can’t believe this is happening
face.” I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger-side window. We sat parked in the same alleyway I’d been in when I was first attacked by the ninja. A chill skipped down my spine as I looked at the rusted Dumpster that had almost turned me into a splat sandwich with Kim’s car. “What are we doing here?”

Whitley pulled the keys from the ignition. “The kanzashi is here. I saw the announcement in the paper this morning for a Japanese jewelry exhibit. It was supposed to happen more than a month ago, but the shipment was delayed. Apparently it includes several kanzashi.”

“How do you know the right one is here?”

He stared out the window into the dark alley. “It has to be. I know it’s nearby, and I know the kunoichi knows it too. I can feel her power growing. There aren’t many ancient Japanese artifacts in St. Louis. But if it means stopping the kunoichi, I’ll find them all.”

“That sounds … dangerous.” We had a really close call with security at the Art Museum. I wasn’t exactly eager to repeat the experience.

Whitley looked at me, his eyes deadly cool. “It would be more dangerous if we didn’t.”

Yeah, there was
that
—the whole “if the kunoichi gets her powers back we’re all going to die” thing. And, while that would suck, I really didn’t want to keep stealing from museums and art galleries. It was dishonorable, something a ninja would do. I shuddered at the thought. If we didn’t find the right kanzashi tonight, I vowed to find a different
way to locate it that didn’t involve breaking and entering.

But since we were already here, it didn’t make sense to back out now. I put my hand on the door, but before I opened it a movement to my right caught my eye—something or
someone
lurked in the shadows.

I sighed. And so it began.

I opened the car door and jumped out. Reaching behind me, I grasped the hilt of my sword. “Show yourself!”

“Relax, Ri-Ri.” Quentin stepped under the streetlight decked out in another one of his ridiculous cat burglar outfits.

Just Q. I exhaled, loosening the knot of anxiety inside my chest, making it easier to breathe. But then a new worry crossed my mind. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Quentin crossed his arms and spoke in a high falsetto. “Oh, Q, thank you so much for leaving your house in the middle of the night to help me. I know it’s late and you were asleep, but who else am I going to be rude to in a stinky alley?”

“My voice does
not
sound like that.” I turned to look at Whitley. “This was your idea?”

He gave me a look that implied I was an idiot. “Do you really want to go into battle without a healer at your side?”

“That healer is my best friend and he’s not a fighter. We’re going against experienced killers and he’s only going to be in danger.” I glanced at Q to find him scowling at me. “Uh, no offense.”

His hands dropped to his side and he pushed his shoulders back. “Offense taken. Don’t assume to know what I can and cannot handle. Why don’t you worry about finding the kanzashi and I’ll worry about taking care of myself. Who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“See?” Whitley glided past me to the side door. The same door Kim and the other samurai disappeared inside of the night the ninja first attacked. “He can take care of himself.”

I glared at Whitley as he removed a lock-picking kit from his pocket and began fiddling with the door. Whitley looked out for Whitley, and he only wanted Q with us to save his own ass. But if Q got hurt, I doubted Whitley would care.

But Quentin made a good point too. Maybe I was being a little overprotective. He could make his own decisions and, as long as he knew what he was signing up for, who was I to tell him no? “Alright then,” I told Q. “Since you’re coming with us, maybe you could stay close to me? Just as a precaution?”

He raised his chin. “Maybe you should stay close to me. Just as a precaution.”

I suppressed a smile. “Fair enough.”

The lock clicked and I turned to find Whitley holding the door open and gesturing us inside.

“Wait a sec.” I raced up the stairs and placed my hands on the door frame. Last time I was here, the kunoichi had
used her powers to trap Kim and the others inside the building. But the metal door frame was cool against my fingers, betraying nothing from the dark magic that had possessed it only months ago.

“Well?” Whitley’s voice tickled the hairs on the back of my neck. “Do you sense anything?”

“No.” Whatever magic was there before wasn’t now.

Whitley nodded and walked inside.

I motioned for Quentin to go ahead of me and I brought up the rear, shutting the door behind me.

Inside, a single fluorescent bulb lit the dark interior of the gallery. In the corner of the room, a small red light brought my attention to the security camera perched there.

Whitley stood next to me and followed my line of sight. “You don’t have to worry about that camera,” he said. “It’s a dummy.”

“But the light?”

He shrugged. “It’s part of the illusion. I cased the place earlier today. Their security is ridiculous.”

You’d think after being robbed last month they would have beefed up security. I looked at him. “If the security is so ridiculous, why do you need me? Why not just come back and take the kanzashi on your own.”

He smiled, clearly amused. “Because I’m being followed. And whoever is doing it is good. Really good. I can’t catch sight of them no matter how hard I try. They’re always just outside the corner of my vision.” He looked around the room as if he expected someone to jump out of the shadows.

Heck, maybe someone would.

“You’re not the only one,” I said. “I was attacked while on a date tonight.”

He didn’t look surprised. “I imagined their attacks would increase. Especially now that we’re working together and closing in on the kanzashi. That’s why I asked you here tonight. We’re both being followed, but we’re stronger together.”

“Maybe … ” I thought about the message I asked the ninja to deliver. “Or maybe the kunoichi will come for us herself.”

Whitley’s eyes flashed with … fear? I couldn’t tell because the emotion was gone as fast as I’d seen it. “Let’s hurry, okay?”

I nodded.

I followed Whitley across the large room, our shoes not making a sound on the polished hardwood floors. We stopped beside Quentin who stood in front of a glass case. He looked at us, his brow creased into lines of worry. “We have a slight problem.”

“What?” But I’d answered my own question the moment I peered into the case. Inside, five Japanese kanzashi were mounted on display. And in the case next to that, another five. I counted a total of six glass cases with nothing but Japanese hairpins of various ages and design.

“What do we do?” Q asked. “There’s more than thirty.”

Whitley brought a gloved fist up to the first case and smashed it down, shattering the glass at our feet. “We take them all. We destroy them all.”

My throat tightened. Destroy them all? These hairpins were hundreds of years old. Irreplaceable and beautiful in design. I couldn’t—wouldn’t do it. “No,” I told him as he stuffed the kanzashi into a sack. “There has to be a better way.”

Whitley sighed impatiently. “Don’t be such a girl. If we have to smash the pretty things, we have to smash the pretty things. Get over it.”

I narrowed my eyes and snatched his wrist before he could grab another hairpin. I shoved him back. “For once in your life, have some respect. You’re stealing pieces of history. Our history. You of all people should understand the importance of that.”

“Please.” His sneered. “I appreciate my BMW and air conditioning. But if you long for the days of your servitude, then fine. If I have to agree to leave the kanzashi unharmed to get you to speed up? Fine. But then it’s up to you to figure out which one is the one we’re looking for.”

I bit my lip. Yeah there was that …

Q walked to another case and peered in. “The combs are grouped together by their century of origin. Most of them are from the 18th and 19th century. What century is the one we’re looking for?”

“Fifteenth,” Whitley and I answered in unison.

Q wandered to another case and looked in. He shook h
is head and went to another, and then another, before stopping. “Here!” He tapped the glass with his finger. “This case has three combs from the 15th century.”

Whitley darted over. He drew his hand up and brought it down. But instead of shattering the glass, his hand bounced off the top with a sickening thud. He cursed and cradled his hand against his chest.

Weird. I studied the case. It didn’t look any different than the rest of them. “What happened?”

His eyes held the wild look of an injured animal. His lip curled in a snarl. “Magic,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “That kunoichi bitch infused the glass with it.”

I stared at the case, but nothing about the glass appeared out of the ordinary. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” He rubbed his injured hand with his other hand. “I think my hand is broken.”

“What do we do?” Q asked.

I was at a loss. If I couldn’t make it bleed, my options were limited.

Whitley dropped his swollen hand to his side and cocked his head. “Do you hear something?”

I snapped my mouth shut and held my breath. And that’s when I heard it. A hissing sound, just loud enough to overpower the buzz from the fluorescent bulb. “What the—”

“Gas!” Q pointed to a thin cloud of smoke seeping from a vent high on the wall.

No sooner had he spoken than smoke began filtering out of two other vents on opposite sides of the room until we were surrounded by a toxic cloud.

I took a step back only to bump into Whitley and Q.

“If you’ve got any good ideas,” Whitley said into my ear, “now would be the time for them.”

45

I
deas? My breath hitched in my throat. I thought it was obvious. “We need to get out of here.”

“No!” Whitley placed his palms on the case. “The kanzashi is here and the kunoichi knows it. This”—he gestured to the gas filtering from the vents—“and this”—he gestured to the display case—“is her magic. This means she’s on her way. If we don’t take the kanzashi before she gets here, we’re as good as dead.”

“We’ll be dead if we stay!” I watched as the tendrils of smoke uncurled and reached for us from every corner of the room.

“We’re not leaving the comb,” Whitley repeated. “Buy us some time.”

Buy us some time? Um,
okay
. But how could I fight gas? My mind raced as fast as my beating heart. Maybe there was one thing I could try.

I reached for my sword. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this … ”

“Less talking, more doing.” Whitley took a step back until his back pressed against mine. Q backed up against our shoulders. We were surrounded by a wall of smoke. Even if we wanted to leave, we couldn’t.

I closed my eyes and channeled the ki inside of me from my body to my fingertips where it bled into my sword until the steel blazed blue. When the steel held all the energy it could, I closed myself off, twisted the blade in my hands, and slammed it down into the floor. And then I muttered a quiet apology to the building owner whose floor I just cracked.

The katana pulsed once and then bled my ki into a shield that surrounded the three of us and the kanzashi case. I let go of the sword and took a tentative step back. “It won’t hold forever,” I told them. “We’ll have to work fast.”

“So what do we do?” Q asked.

I shrugged. “I’m open for suggestions.”

Gas flooded the entire gallery, so much that I couldn’t make out more than a couple feet beyond the shield.

Whitley studied the case. “I’m willing to bet the magic infusing the glass is location centered. If we carry the case outside, we can break it open there.”

Q frowned. “But the case must weigh a ton.”

“And you’re forgetting something else.” I tapped the shield that rippled under my fingertips. “This shield is held in place by my sword. The moment I pull it from the ground, it will disappear. And then the dying will commence.”

Whitley didn’t look at me. Instead, he pushed against the case, sliding it a couple inches across the floor. “So move the shield with us.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? A moving shield? Do you know how much energy that would take? It would kill me and then you by default.”

Whitley stopped pushing the case and glared at me. “Yes, but you forget you have a healer with you. Draw from him.”

I blinked at him. Draw energy from Q? I’d never used another person’s energy to supplement mine before. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Whitley shrugged. “If you use all his energy, yes. Then we all die.”

The color drained from Q’s face.

“No.” I shook my head. “I won’t do it. I’m not about to risk my best friend’s life.”

“Too late for that.” Whitley tapped a finger against the shield. “This isn’t going to hold forever. How much air do you think we have left?”

“Um … ” Typically, I only used my shield as temporary protection during an ambush. I didn’t have the energy to sustain them for long periods of time and I never housed multiple people inside of them. “Maybe a minute or two?”

“Exactly.” Whitley lifted the corner of the case off the pedestal and tested its weight. “So you better think fast.”

It didn’t look like we had any other option. But still, I was going to do something so risky without Quentin agreeing to it. “Q—”

“Let’s do it.” Quentin stepped beside me, his mouth pressed into a determined line.

A knot twisted inside my stomach. He trusted me. I could do this. I
had
to do this.

Q licked his lips. “How’s this going to work?”

I glanced at Whitley. “Do you think you can handle that case on your own?”

He nodded. “It’s heavy, but if we’re fast I think I can manage.”

“Okay.” I took Q’s hand in mine and squeezed. “On the count of three, I’m going to pull my sword out of the ground. Before I do, I’m going to push more of my ki into it to keep the shield from disappearing. Normally, that would take too much energy for me to do on my own, so I’m going to take some of your healing ki.”

“Have you ever done this before?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

He swallowed but said nothing.

“Can you wrap up the pep talk?” Whitley slid his hands under the case. “The remaining air isn’t going to last forever.”

He was right. I could already feel a difference. I deepened my breaths, but couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. Not to mention I was starting to feel light-headed. Not good.

I looked at Q. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

I sucked in another unsatisfying breath and reached for my sword. With my fingers around the hilt, I pushed my remaining ki into my sword at the same moment I pulled the blade free from the floor. The sword pulsed blue and the shield wavered like a bubble on the end of a bubble wand, but it stayed intact. I wobbled on my heels. It had taken more energy than I anticipated, but I had done it. I should have felt relieved, but instead all I could concentrate on were the black dots flooding my vision.

I stumbled and would have fallen on my face if it weren’t for Q’s arm suddenly around my shoulder.

“Give her some energy, you idiot,” Whitley snarled. “Before she passes out and then we’re all as good as dead.”

“Uh.” I could hear the uncertainty in Q’s voice. “Okay. Let me concentrate.”

“Hurry!” Whitley said.

I wanted to tell Whitley to shut up, that Q was doing the best he could, but the words turned to mush on my tongue. My eyelids drooped. All I wanted to do was slide to the floor and take a nap. Just a short one. I tried to push away from Q but his grip tightened.

“Stay with me, Ri-Ri,” he whispered.

Exhaustion pulled at me with velvet fingers. Why was he bothering me? Couldn’t he see how tired I was? I slumped forward but something caught me around the waist. It didn’t matter. I was tired enough to sleep bent over. But even as I drifted into unconsciousness, a strange warming sensation spread through my body. It got hotter and hotter until I thought my skin would burst into flames. But it didn’t hurt. It felt good—no, great.

My eyes flew open and I jerked upright with a gasp. Quentin released his grip on my arms. The fire inside of me cooled, leaving my skin tingling and my muscles coiled. I shivered and tightened my grip on the katana. “What the heck was that?”

“Me … I think.” Q shrugged. “But I don’t know how long it will keep you strong, so we need to hurry.”

“Agreed.” I held up my free hand and flexed my fingers, half expecting to see electricity shooting from the tips.

Whitley grunted behind me and I turned to find him hoisting the case off the pedestal. “Let’s go.”

I held my sword in front of me and said a little prayer. I’d never moved a shield before and, quite frankly, wasn’t sure it could be done. I raised my free hand and pushed a bit of my newly refreshed ki out of my body and thrust it against the shield. To my surprise, the shield moved an inch.

Whitley made an impatient sound. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

I shot him a dirty look. “I’m sorry I’m not instantly good at something I’ve never done before. Now if you could shut up and let me concentrate, I can focus on getting us out of here before we suffocate and die.” Before he could respond I turned back to the shield and pushed again, harder this time and with more energy. The shield moved a couple of feet. Better.

Keeping my concentration on the shield, I said, “We’re going to have to hamster-ball our way out of here, so make sure you keep up.” I thrust again and the shield jumped forward. I continued pushing, scooting the shield at a speed fast enough that Q and I had to jog and Whitley huffed and puffed behind us.

The gas pressing around the shield made maneuvering through the gallery difficult. I bumped into several display cases, knocking an expensive-looking vase off a pedestal where it shattered on the floor. I flinched, muttered an apology to the artist, and kept moving. After another minute of wandering through the thickening gas, the air inside our shield had grown so sparse we were all gasping for breath. Just as I wondered if we were going to make it out in time, I spotted the red exit light through the haze, like a lighthouse beckoning through the fog.

Whitley’s breathing turned ragged and Q stumbled beside me. We had to hurry.

I shuffled us forward and pushed the shield as close to the door as it would go. “On the count of three. One … ”

“Three!” Whitley shoved past me, pressing himself to the front of the shield.

The shield, weak as it was, fell apart like a popped balloon. I was thankful I had held my breath as we were instantly surrounded by gas. Whitley rammed his hip against the exit door bar and the three of us stumbled outside.

Q fell to the ground, clutching his chest and gasping as I slumped to my knees beside him. Air had never tasted so sweet.

Whitley swayed on his feet, the muscles on his arms straining under his shirt as the glass case slipped from his fingers. I had only a moment to dive out of the way to avoid the shattering glass. After brushing myself off, I stood on shaky legs and started to tell Whitley to be more careful. But when I caught sight of the hairpin lying next to me, the words died on my tongue.

I picked up the kanzashi and examined it under the moonlight. It was tarnished, but I could remember a time when it gleamed. Crafted from silver, two long pins were joined by a silver basket overflowing with coral flowers. Thin pieces of silver dangled from the basket, each holding a coral bead at its base. I closed my eyes and listened to the tinkling of the chimes, knowing—but not how—that I had heard its melody before.

But how was that possible? I opened my eyes and studied the hairpin, the ring of familiarity striking a chord inside of me. When I was a samurai, I never wore anything quite so ornate—hair accessories weren’t exactly practical for a warrior. So if it wasn’t mine, did that mean I’d seen it on the kunoichi?

Did I know who the kunoichi was?