The Druid's Spear (Ascent of the Gem Bearers Book 1) (6 page)

“Did you bring the book John-boyee?” Yamada
-san
asked through the narrow opening in the door.

John whipped out the manga, the overly busty anime girl prominent on the cover.

“
Hai
, Yamada
-san
.”

A withered hand made its way through and snatched it from John’s grip.

“Uh, uh, uh.
chotto matte
,” he tsked in mock anger. “You know what I want.”

“John-boyee,” the old man moaned.

“That was our deal.”

On a long exaggerated sigh, the old man shut the door and various locks unhinging clanged against the door before he opened it again.

John stepped inside the small apartment. Debris lay everywhere, a massive pile of things that should have been thrown away years ago. Rotted food, stiff aged cloths, and dusty furniture filled almost every inch of the place.

“I can’t give anything today,” Yamada—
san
murmured, head down
John shook his finger. “Yes, you can, old man. Or else I take the book back right now.”

The old man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He nodded toward the general vicinity, a mournful expression plastered to his face. Then he tucked the book under his arm and raced to a door down the hall and closed it.

John let out a gentle laugh and then dug his way into the kitchen. Every week for the past three years he had chipped away at the hoarder’s mess. After a year, he had cleaned out the space that led to the front entrance. Where once a mountain of junk stood, empty space now resided. It was a slow road, but he’d do what he could to help. In exchange for the manga, Yamada—
san
allowed him to take two or three bags of refuse without question.

After his work was done, he gathered the debris and left, not bothering to say ‘
ja mata’
to the old man. He’d see him again next week. Kenny’s apartment was across from Yamada—
san’s,
so he unlocked the door and tossed his packages on the couch before taking the garbage down to the refuse area.

Good deeds done for the night, he made his way back to Kenny’s apartment. The door was ajar but he thought nothing of it, thinking maybe he forgot to shut the door. He closed and locked it behind him and then sat on the couch.

He figured he and Kenny would probably spend the night playing video games and drinking before conking out in exhaustion. John debated calling the waitress at the diner who had forgiven him enough give her number, even though they hadn’t been formally introduced. He’d wait to call her tomorrow since Kenny was still trying to get over Aoki-kasan’s
death. They both were.

A tear threatened to leak out, but he cleared his throat and picked up the book he’d retrieved from the library.

He flipped to the page he bookmarked earlier and studied the photograph. Kenny’s ancestor gazed out from the page among the others men standing there. The more he read about these particular men the more he—
A black clawed hand covered his face in a blink of an eye. John screeched in terror and pain as the talons sunk into the soft side of his chin and lifted him into the air. His body jerked like a fish on a hook, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind as he tried to assess what was happening. Blood gurgled from the back of his throat, filling his mouth with the coppery salty taste. Blindly he lashed out, hitting the arm of whatever it was doing this to him.

His head banged into the ceiling and he came face to face with his attacker.

Glowing eyes set in the hooded figure. A musty, animal-like smell emitted from the adversary. A low hum grew louder and turned into a snarl. The talons dug deeper, puncturing into the base of his tongue. Strangled though he was, John still found enough courage to kick his feet out and clutch at the cruel weapon attached to him.

“You are not Rhychard’s seed!” The creature’s grip sank in further, a near threat to ripping off his jaw.

With his last ounce of cognizance, John gushed out, “No, I am not.”

“Hmmmm,” the attacker growled. “You know of who I speak.”

The talons withdrew their hold from his chin and he dropped back to the ground. His body shook in agony, and rivulets of blood streamed down his neck and drenched his shirt. Cold washed over him as the heat evaporated from his external extremities. Clutching at his throat, he watched as the hooded figure descended to the floor. In an almost graceful movement, it rose fluidly to stand several feet in the air above him.

“Are you of the line of Gilon the Great?”

John lay mesmerized as the attacker bent down, eyes glowing iridescently into the darkness. He stared unable to move, losing his breath every second that passed. He shivered as the being inhaled.

“No, you are not. Yet if you know of Rhychard, then you must know of—”

He was wrenched up once more, held in midair. “Where is the blood—”

John used the last vestiges of his strength as he felt his life seep out of him to draw his head back and slam into the face of his enemy. This was the end, and he’d rather die fighting, even if it was futile.

His skull cracked an audible crunch that mixed with the roar of whatever it was that held him. The last thing he saw was the large black clawed hand reach for his face.

Vibrant streaks of red met Ken’s eyes as he stepped into his home. It marked the cream-colored carpet, beautiful in the seemingly haphazard way it sprayed and dotted the floor. But the smell did not detract from what the red stain was…blood. Fresh, pungent, and foreign.

The briefcase dropped from his nerveless fingers. He took a step forward and felt something under his feet. Bewildered, he glanced down and froze.

It was a hand.

Moonlight mixed with the room’s low light landed on a body. Dull green eyes glazed upward from the face of his brother. Lines of drying blood flowed from puncture wounds under his chin. His neck bent at an awkward angle.

Bile and acid rose at the back of Ken’s throat. He grabbed his stomach in hopes to stay the contents of the food he and John had eaten earlier. A harsh sob erupted from his mouth and he staggered to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him upright.

“John!” he screamed, anguish filling every part of his frame as the second most important person in his life had been torn from him in just four days. But this was different.
Okasan’s
death had been long in preparation. But this…this…

Who had done this?

The thought sparked the electric current in his brain and he got up again.
Who did this?
he asked himself the question again.
Why would anyone do this to John?
His heart, which had slowed in reaction to the vision of his brother in death, sped up. He took in the room, realizing that whoever had done this could still be here.

But if they were, they would have attacked him by now.

A sigh escaped as logic reasserted itself and he patted his body for his cell phone to call emergency services. Despite his rationalization, he glanced around the room. It was mostly dark in the corners except for the lamplight illuminating his friend’s corpse. He studied all around him, searching for any sign of activity.

Then, he saw something move above his head.

A shadow-like form was in the upper corner. As he eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the form was man-like and hanging upside down, like a bat. A black cloak swung, and gloved hands pressed against the wall. The head moved and gleaming blue eyes, too shiny to be human, stared back at him.

Ken’s heart jumped in his throat.

Rhychard, at last.
A deep raspy voice filled with an unholy satisfaction echoed in his head.

Before Ken could even ponder that, the thing moved. One second Ken was standing; the next sent him hurtling into the refrigerator door. A cry escaped his mouth as pain coursed along his body. The thing stirred from the crouched position and rose in one movement. The cloak billowed about its frame, towering easily at seven feet. Heavy, raspy breathing filled the room.

It came at him again with the same lightning speed, but Ken darted to his left and fell on the floor before it reached him. Scrambling backward on his hands and feet, the blood chilled in his veins as a ferocious howl reverberated in the room. Large gloved hands smashed the refrigerator, leaving a fist imprint. Ken rose to his feet and ran into the living room. The thing followed. It moved like a blur, but Ken jerked back before it could touch him. He raced down the hall.

A guttural roar sounded behind him, but Ken focused on getting to the bedroom. The soft glow of the lamplight from the interior illuminated the hall. He ran in, slammed and locked the door. It splintered. Through the slits the glowing eyes narrowed on him. His eyes searched for a barrier and landed on the massive chest of drawers. Quickly he grabbed and hefted it in front of the door. The drawers fell out and littered the floor with clothes but he didn’t care. A thud sent the piece of furniture teetering toward him.

He had to get out of here. He rushed to the window and opened it.

A crash exploded behind him. The barrier fell to the floor. A swift glance showed the door broken to pieces. Next a jean-clad leg kicked the chest of drawers, breaking it into splinters of wood.

Ken faced forward to jump out when he was grabbed by the throat and thrown away like rag doll. The wall stopped his momentum. More pain shot through his body, but he didn’t scream out. Instead, he seethed. A raw coil of rage burned him on the inside. He didn’t know why this was happening, but he wouldn’t stand by and allow this…whatever it was to take him down without a fight.

The thing towered over him, the glowing eyes so full of hate it seared him clear to his soul.

Rise, Seed of Rhychard.

It spoke in his mind once more, but he refused to analyze that now. Wincing, he stood and faced his attacker.

Sweat beaded his brow as they confronted each other. He throbbed with discomfort but met his opponent’s gaze. If he were to die this night, then it would happen with him on his feet. The soft light of the lamp on the other side of the room wasn’t strong enough to show the face of his enemy, but it showed him the long, tattered, black cloak. The shadow it cast landed on the far side of the wall.

What was it? Why did it come here?

A thousand questions tumbled over themselves in his mind but he shut down that part of his brain. If he survived this night, he might not want to know the answers.

The temperature of the room climbed until the place felt like an oven. Droplets of salty sweat rained down into his eyes, stinging the cuts found there. He blinked the moisture away. The thing gazed at him, unmoved by the heat. Soon, the stifling warmth grew hotter. Blisters formed along his exposed arms and he fell to his knees. His heart thumped frantically in his chest. Saliva dribbled down his mouth as the temperature rose. As the oxygen disappeared from the room, his lungs fought for air.

Then things got bad.

A cloud of sulfuric, hot steam came at him. In slow motion, Ken noticed it streamed out in two lines of attack from the vicinity of the glowing eyes. From the nostrils?

Ken screamed as the steam scorched his face. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the room. He held his face instinctively and then howled again at the pain. He attempted to get away, clumsily rising to his feet, but he was lifted into the air and thrown across the room to once more hit a wall. This time, his elbow landed hard, with a distinct crack. His body clattered to the ground, his feet and legs crashing against the night stand with the lamp falling over. Agony surged up his injured arm and he cradled the useless limb. The thing grabbed him by the throat, its hard hands so large it covered his mouth.

It leaned in, the eyes bright as miniature stars, hypnotic.
Where is the blood gem?

Ken swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

Rhychard gave it to you. Where is it?

“I don’t know what you talking about.”

The thing came nearer and the light from its eyes cast an illumination on its face. Dark, porous skin gleamed under the rays emitting from its eyes. His resolve failed him. How could he have even thought he could conquer something like this? John was dead after being accosted and now he was well on his way to following his brother. Ken’s heart fluttered, a bird trapped in a cage. Foreign, alien power emanated from the creature. It dipped its head, bringing with it descent, more heat.