The Rose Princess (22 page)

—

A lovely princess, valiant knights to guard her, and a sinister and powerful foe bent
on taking the life of the lady—I’m sure this setting from many medieval legends and
fantasy tales is familiar to most of you. And this theme is just what I wanted to
try my hand at this time out. Except here, everything is turned on its head. The lovely
princess is a vampire. D is her sinister foe. And as for the secret ingredient—immortality.

In the famous Hammer horror film
Brides of Dracula
, the vampire Baron Meinster drags the lovely school teacher Marianne out in front
of Dr. Van Helsing, whom he’s already bitten, and says, “Beautiful, isn’t she? What
a pity such beauty must fade . . . unless we preserve it.” In the masterpiece that
is Universal’s
Dracula
, Bela Lugosi’s Count delivers a line that’s quite sentimental and not at all what
one would expect from a fiend: “To die, to be really dead—that must be glorious!”
And near the finale of Christopher Lee’s last entry in the Dracula series,
The Satanic Rites of Dracula
, the master vampire plans to destroy the world with bubonic plague bacteria, but
Professor Van Helsing makes him wince when he asks, “Is this your own death-wish?”
Apparently, the eternal life and youth humanity has always dreamt of isn’t necessarily
so cherished by the vampires who possess it.

In his short story “Hail and Farewell,” Ray Bradbury paints a
grim picture of the loneliness of a man who, due to his eternally youthful appearance,
eventually becomes the object of suspicion and fear for those around him and must
move on to a different area. However, that’s only the dark side of immortality as
seen by people who will surely die. Unable to escape the absolute enormity of “Death”,
people continue to long for life eternal, no matter how sad it may be. Given that,
you can probably understand the final actions of this story’s heroine, Elena. In order
to escape the fear of death, religions have been born and numerous other comforting
concepts created. In the west, there’s Heaven. In the east, reincarnation. And although
the existence of either has yet to be proved, they can’t help but make me marvel at
the human mind.

I have some news that might interest fans of the Vampire Hunter D books in English.
The comic
Hideyuki Kikuchi’s “Vampire Hunter ‘D’”
is scheduled to be released by Digital Manga on November 25
th
2007, with illustrations by Saiko Takaki. In addition to the English version, there
will be simultaneous releases in German, Italian, and Finnish. “D” is spreading across
the globe. Cheers!

—

Hideyuki Kikuchi

July 3, 2007

While watching
Hostel

—

I

—

L
e
ss than five minutes after thunder rumbled in the western sky, white streaks started
to fall, noisily battering the leaves all around the traveler. Having surmised that
this might happen from the look of the sky at dusk, Ry wasn’t overly concerned, but
rather clucked his tongue at fate. Although it was probably no more than an evening
shower, he still had to do something. It was actually his good fortune that woods
lay like black haze to either side of the narrow road. Before diving in, he’d listened
intently, and the thunder had died out. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about being
struck by lightning.

Once inside the tunnel formed by the interwoven branches, the fusillade of raindrops
ceased as if it no longer existed. The forest was renowned as one of the largest and
most thickly wooded in the area—it took less than five minutes for the blue sky to
be replaced by jet black. Getting through the forest would take an hour at the very
least, and after that it would be an additional hour’s walk to the village of Anise.

“Guess I’ll be camping,” Ry said with resignation.

This wasn’t a safe woodland. The forest spirits could breathe out a greenish cloud
that put travelers to sleep so the monsters might steal their still-beating hearts,
and werewolves, gold-eyes, and tree-dwellers were undoubtedly watching Ry from somewhere.
A cursory glance at the tree trunks around him would’ve revealed the marks left by
their fangs and claws.

However, now that he’d settled on this course of action, Ry quickly went to work.
Taking a sleeping bag and pneumatic gun from the duffel bag on his back, he then put
“owl eyes” into his own eyes. A pair of thin membranes that almost completely covered
his eyeballs, they served as infrared filters, allowing him to discern his surroundings
even in pitch blackness. In situations where building a campfire might prove deadly,
travelers found such lenses indispensable.

Though the young man had intended to eat some jerky before climbing into his sleeping
bag, his eyelids were suddenly on the brink of collapsing. After pressing on with
a scant three hours of sleep per night the last four or five days, it seemed he was
finally paying the price. Checking that his gun was loaded and pressurized, he
’d just slipped into his sleeping bag when the sandma
n came to claim him. Still, he remembered to at least switch on the security system
connected to his sleeping bag.

No sooner had his eyes closed than the buzzer went off. Ry quickly grabbed the timepiece
he wore around his neck and pulled it up for closer inspection. More than six hours
had passed since he’d dropped off to sleep.

The grass was whistling. And the sound was accompanied by movement—movement from all
around Ry to somewhere off deeper in the forest. A chill ran down his spine as he
watched, for something was moving through the grass. The lines a number of creatures
cut through the verdure were almost elegant. Then, his terror faded. And even his
surprise at that melted away softly.

A faint song trembled in the air, and the voice was soft and sweet. However, it issued
from the throat of a man.

That song?!
Ry thought, leaping from his sleeping bag as he did so. As he walked off with only
his pneumatic gun in hand, there wasn’t the least bit of uncertainty in his steps.
That song
, he thought.
Those lyrics. That melody—

These thoughts alone swirled in his brain. A red spider came to rest on his shoulder,
and something slimy wrapped around his ankle. He didn’t even seem to mind.

The face of his father appeared to him. He looked weak from his suffering, and he
was reaching out from his bed with one hand. The young man thought he was going to
tell him something. Though his father had always been a man of few words and he’d
never sermonized at his son, surely he’d have at least one thought he’d like to leave
the boy. But Ry soon realized he was mistaken. He saw himself reflected in his father’s
eyes. However, it was not him that his father saw. His dry lips trembled, his mouth
yawned like a cavern, and what came from him made Ry forgot all about his father’s
imminent demise.

There wasn’t much he could remember of the lonely funeral service or the eulogy in
which the village mayor had praised the old man as a splendid cobbler. His ears still
rang with that song and the one thing he’d said.

The village of Anise
.

And then his father had shut both his mouth and his eyes. That was all.

The day after the funeral, Ry had set out on a journey—to Anise. The seventeen-year-old
never questioned the notion that the song and the final words the old man had left
this world were inseparably linked.

As he walked, he heard the sound of rain above him. Strangely enough, only his sense
of time remained—little more than five minutes had passed since he’d started walking.
The singing had long since faded. And yet his body moved naturally, with clear conviction.

Far off to his left he heard a horse whinny. Not halting, Ry turned his face alone.
He could see through the dark of night. The horse and its rider seemed to be swathed
in a color deeper than the darkness. He couldn’t see the rider’s face, but he wore
a long coat or a cape of some kind. Ordinarily, he would’ve called out to the stranger
immediately just to have some human companionship. But now, the thought didn’t even
occur to him.

Facing forward again, Ry kept walking. The rider behind him remained silent as well.
After going another five or six paces, the young man became somewhat curious and turned.
He didn’t know exactly why.

The figure had been swallowed by the darkness. And he got the feeling that if he were
to call out, he’d receive no answer, but would be devoured as well.

I must be seeing things
, he thought instantly.

Only after he’d gone another ten paces did he finally see the flames. By the capering
orange flares some thirty feet ahead of him, several figures were moving around. Three
of them. Instinctively, Ry hid himself behind a colossal tree. Something strangely
ominous seemed to be gusting at him.

One of the figures sat before the fire while the other two stood a short distance
away, surveying the area. Their faces were slightly downturned—they seemed to be scrutinizing
the ground. Although Ry couldn’t make out the face of the seated man, the other two
sported beards. One of them wore the jacket and pants of a khaki-colored uniform of
some sort, while his companion was covered from the neck down by some sort of protective
metal armor. Each wore a longsword on his hip.

Crouching down, the one in armor snatched something from the grass in a movement that
was swifter than the eye could follow. Seeing the long black shape wriggling as the
man grasped it with his right hand, Ry was horrified.

“I got one, too!” said the armored man.

“Hell, I’ve got three already,” said the one in khaki, sticking out his left hand.

A trio of similar creatures thrashed in his fist—surely that must’ve been what’d slid
so noisily through the grass. Judging by the color and size of them, they were undoubtedly
wood snakes.

“Good eating tonight,” the one in armor said, first holding out the creature, and
then suddenly flinging it into the air. His right hand became a blur. While the wood
snake fell as a single animal, as soon as the flames touched it, it split into three
pieces that vanished into the glowing blaze.

“Don’t forget these,” said the uniformed one, effortlessly doing the same to several
more serpents before he turned to the man who was seated.

The flames gave off a bluish smoke.

“It sure is something, I’ll give you that,” the one in uniform remarked. “When they
hear that song of yours, everything from the little rock-eaters to mountain snakes
comes right over to us. With service like that, we’ll never go hungry.”

“Sure as blazes is a funny song,” the other one said. Shoving his right hand into
the fire, he continued, “Oh, they’re cooking up real nice. Hot, though! You know,
no matter how we try to imitate you, we can’t sing a bar. Strange, ain’t it? Wish
I could’ve heard
the real deal
, too.”

Ry thought his heart might stop. By “the real deal” could he mean the same song his
father had
heard
? Who’d sung it, and where? Had one of these men actually heard it, just like his
father? And were they headed someplace special?

Ry turned his gaze on the last of the three. His heart began to beat once more—loudly
enough to reverberate within his own skull.

The flames seemed to add to his beauty. His age couldn’t have differed much from Ry’s
own. The glow from the fire made it impossible to tell the color of his complexion,
but he had golden hair. His closed eyes, his lips, the line of his nose—he was so
handsome that anyone who dared to declare him as anything short of beautiful was likely
to have their heart stop cold from mortification. The other two didn’t look like they
belonged with him at all.

Feeling a little angry, Ry thought there must be some sort of mistake.

Just then, the gorgeous young man turned to him and said, “Hey, you—come over here!”

Ry stiffened with shock.

Apparently even the rougher-looking pair had noticed him, and they wore daunting smiles
as they called to him, “Yeah, come on out!”

“Have a bite with us!”

—

II

—

Not surprisingly, Ry hesitated. There was something dangerous about this trio.

“You know, you ain’t the first person that song’s dragged over,” said the one in uniform.
“Everyone from old men and women right down to babies just comes right on out at the
sound of it. It’s a weird song, all right. Come here and have a drink with us. We
got us some mighty fine hooch.”

Ry came to a decision. This was no time to stay in hiding.

When he stepped out with his pneumatic gun pointed toward the ground, the grins of
the bearded bruisers grew even deeper.

“
Well ain’t you a looker! You’re liable to have the she-devils chasing after you.”

“Yessir, real men were made for traveling. Well, come on over already. It ain’t like
we’re gonna eat you!”

“Before I do—could I ask you something?” said Ry. His voice was a lot steadier than
he thought it’d be.

“And what would that be?” the lovely young man asked, his eyes still shut.

“Where are you guys headed?”

“Hell, we got no destination at all,” the man in uniform said, shrugging his shoulders
before he hunched over. Quickly sticking his hand into the fire, he pulled out a chunk
of wood snake. He brought the smoking meat up to his mouth, but it stopped right before
his lips.

Ry got the feeling there’d been some odd change to look in the eyes of the two men
as they stared at him.

“Now
this one
looks tasty!” the uniformed man said, throwing the chunk of flesh he held down at
his feet. His hand came up smoothly, and he beckoned with it, saying, “Come to daddy!”

Ry saw that his eyes gave off an unsettling red light.

I’ve gotta get out of here!
he cried to himself in his head.
This is just too dangerous. I’ve gotta leave, and fast!

However, his feet were stuck to the ground. His arms wouldn’t move, either. It was
as if lead had been injected into his veins.

“Come on now,” said the man in uniform, beckoning once more.

Behind the boy, something moved. Passing over his head, it slid down right in front
of his face. What Ry saw was a trunk about as thick as a man could reach around, and
it glittered a bluish green as it reflected the flames.

It couldn’t be—this couldn’t be what he’d hidden behind after mistaking it for a tree
trunk.

“Come to me,” the uniformed man said again, and then his mouth mysteriously stretched
to either side. It split from ear to ear, as the saying goes. Only in his case, it
went even further, opening all the way around except for about an inch at the back
of his neck.

The gigantic wood snake Ry had mistaken for a tree flicked a little red tongue from
its mouth. It could probably swallow the man in the uniform whole. That thought alone
was what had the young traveler completely paralyzed. With a hiss, the tongue stretched
out a good three feet to strike the face of the uniformed man.

Just then, the strangest thing occurred. The man’s head from the mouth up—or to be
more precise, from his upper lip—flipped backward sharply. The hinge connecting these
two portions was a narrow section of skin at the back of his head less than an inch
wide. Beyond rows of teeth in his disturbingly large jaws, there was no tongue or
tonsils—there was merely a cavernous opening as wide as his neck. And the wood snake’s
head was swallowed by it. The serpent’s head was three times as wide as the throat
of the uniformed man, but it effortlessly slid into the opening. Naturally, his neck
swelled tremendously—it wouldn’t have been at all surprising if it’d split wide open.
Ry stared in amazement at the man’s belly, now swollen like a keg of beer.

Illusion, sorcery, or reality—while the young man was still trying to decide what
to make of this, the snake kept being sucked into the man’s bizarre mouth until only
the tapered end of its tail remained, and even that promptly vanished. At the same
time, the half of his head that’d gone backward flipped forward again, coming down
on his jaw like the lid of a jar. From below his ear came the sound of bones snapping
back together. And then the incredible man gave a slap to his great drum of a belly
and let out a resounding belch. That alone would’ve been enough to give anyone goose
bumps—ripples could clearly be seen spreading across the surface of his stomach.