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CHAPTER XL—ACQUAINTANCES AND FRIENDS

Shinjiro whirled onto the door. “Rōkura?!”

The muffled sound of her second scream came through the door and the samurai very nearly grabbed the doorknob, but recoiled at the last moment, remembering the spell Sir Withersbee had put on it.

Hesitating for a moment, he tried the word he was told on his lips, then he attempted to say it out loud. “Ses—sesq—ugh!—ses-quip-edalian!” Nothing happened. “Sesquipedalian!”

The knob flashed with magical brilliance and he slammed his palm over it, turned it and flung the door open. Shinjiro burst into the room and came up short as he found Rōkura kicking in the bed as she pushed herself up against the headboard, her face a mask of rears and utter anguish.

“Rōkura?!”

He lurched across the room and took her cheeks in his hands. “What is the matter? Rōkura—what is wrong?”

“It was him!” She looked up into his eyes, took hold of his wrists. “Shinjiro—it was him!”

“Who was it? Rōkura, tell me what is happening!”

“The dream! My memory. I remember! It was him!!!”

Her face fell into anguish once again as hot tears flooded anew across her cheeks. Shinjiro felt her sorrow, pulled her into an embrace and drew his hand over her back. “Shh. It’s all right. It was just a dream, right?”

She shook her head. “No. Memories. Shinjiro. My own uncle.”

Rōkura knew no other way to handle this new knowledge concerning her family’s betrayal, how they were all kidnapped and taken to another world and executed in a disgusting ritual of sacrifice.

But why? Why had he done that to them? To her!

He loved us—didn’t he?

It made no sense.

And now some of them were here. In the mansion. People who saw her sacrifice, had participated in the event of her death, and the deaths of her mother Masako, and her father, Sujin.

Asana had also been killed.

Before, she thought her dream of the battlefield, when Rōkura had commanded armies and conquered lands, she thought those dreamlike memories to be her own, and yet they were not—never had been.

They were of her sister.

And yet… How could she know? Experience things like that, as herself, but really be in her sister’s place? “I think…”

Shinjiro pulled back, looked into her swollen eyes. “Yes?”

“I don’t know.”

She wanted to speak of her sister Asana, but she didn’t know what to say, or how to explain it.

Rōkura… What is happening to you? Whatever it is, I will be here, to help you. “Do not dwell on what has happened. Dreams, nightmares. Or memories. You need time to think through what you have seen.”

She swallowed, nodded, wanting so badly to be able to trust what he was saying, but did Shinjiro really even know himself? Rōkura sighed heavily.

Suddenly a man came thumping up the stairs and Rōkura looked past Shinjiro’s shoulder as he whirled, put his hand on his sword hilt, but what he found was the surprised look of the mustached Sir Withersbee.

“I…” he hesitated. “I felt a tingling in my ring.” He gestured toward the door. “The enchantment.”

“Hai,” Shinjiro said with a nod. “ I came into the room.”

Sir Withersbee looked at Rōkura and frowned. He had no idea what was going on, but with a look, he questioned them.

“Memories,” Rōkura said. “Given to me by Ogai-sama. He said that I would get them the next time I went to sleep.”

Sir Withersbee breathed in deeply as he realized this was his fault. He stumbled into the room. “I am… so sorry, my dear. I…” he looked to Shinjiro.

“Do not blame yourself,” the samurai said, and Shinjiro knew that what had happened was not Sir Withersbee’s fault in the least. She would have gone to sleep eventually. The only difference is that she is going through this now rather than later.

“What?” asked Rōkura. “Why would Sir Withersbee blame himself.”

“It is nothing,” Shinjiro said.

“No,” said Sir Withersbee, cutting the air with his hand. “It was me. I gave you a sleeping tonic in your water earlier.”

Rōkura’s eyes widened as confusion and anger touched her face.

“I meant to it to calm you only, but…” He left the rest hanging. Then suddenly he added, “I am sorry.”

She sighed, realizing that what he had done had been an honest mistake, and yet… she decided it was better this way. She wanted so badly to know what her memories contained, and now she did.

But she did not like that he had given her a drug.

She stood. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Sir Withersbee nodded subtly.

“But,” Rōkura continued. “If you ever drug me again, I will rip that mustache off your face and beat you to death.”

Shinjiro’s eyebrows went high, and even Sir Withersbee’s eyebrow raised in a skeptical sort of appreciation. “Very well,” he said. “Again—I am sorry, Rōkura.”

She pushed herself off the bed and sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Let’s just move on. We have a rich lady to murder, don’t we.”

Sir Withersbee handed Rōkura a handkerchief and she took it, wiped her face. Once she handed it back to him, Sir Withersbee said, “Yes. But the play is almost over. I suspect many of the visitors will leave then.”

“Show us which tunnel to use,” said Shinjiro.

“No,” he said.

“What?”

Rōkura frowned.

“Lord Bellefeuille told me you might try to interfere,” said Sir Withersbee. “And he told me that should you attempt to ‘lend your assistance,” that I was to flat out reject you and to make certain you were not involved.”

“He’s right,” Rōkura said. “You are still recovering from earlier.”

Shinjiro cut the air with his hand. “Tch!”

Rōkura put her hand on his shoulder. “Please.”

“Fine,” he said. “But I don’t like this.”

“Hans will be there to help her,” Sir Withersbee said. “And if it’s any consolation, samurai, Lord Asher will be here in the mansion as well. Believe me”—he jerked his head—“he would rather be out there.”

Shinjiro nodded. Then to Rōkura he asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m all right,” she said, though she didn’t feel all right. If her uncle Kamino really betrayed them, then he was the worst of them all.

It could still be a trick by Ogai. I wouldn’t put it past him at all.

The shock of seeing the events in her sleep, both as an experience and as a dream, shook her to the core. She was still shaking.

“Are you certain?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” said Sir Withersbee. “We should prepare. Hans is downstairs now.”

As the play ended, the audience clapped. Hans slapped his gloved hands together and flicked his shrewd gaze between Lady Kazuno and her companions—some of them were missing, and Lord Asher, who gave him a subtle nod.

Hans stood up quickly and went in search of the missing members of the Soulless Night gang. Since Shinjiro was with her, he wasn’t concerned about Rōkura. And besides, they wouldn’t know where to look anyway.

Lucian did not clap his hands like the rest of them. Such an action was beneath him. Why Kazuno had dragged him out of his study for this, he didn’t know. He glanced about, saw the guest of honor and her vane clothes, her vane mannerisms and her overly prudish bore of a guard.

The Lord Asher wasn’t much better. He exuded arrogance and false pretenses, though… there was something about him. Something… lucky, he believed. That would could be trouble in a fight, he decided.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The one called Hans Bellefeuille has suddenly extricated himself. Where was he going? I do not belong here. I should be studying! He had a man chained in hid dungeon even now that he intended to cast his enchantments upon to study the effects of his new spells. Lucian was on the verge of a breakthrough.

Though he could sense the abilities of others, he couldn’t sense them intensely enough to call them out completely. He intended to change that.

But he had much work to do.

This is a waste of time.

He scowled, and then suddenly met the face of Kazuno. She sauntered to him in her black dress. Lucian hadn’t even bothered to dress for this occasion—he had no need to. He always wore black boots, fine silken black trousers and a cloak to match, though now he kept the hood down, exposing his dark brown hair tied back into a tight tale.

Kazuno smiled saucily. “Do not scowl that way,” Lucian. “Though it becomes your handsome face, it’s not a look that suits you in a place like this.” She dragged her hand across his shoulder. He was a handsome man, a think he never took advantage of.

“We should leave.”

“And why ever should we do that?”

“Is that Rōkura girl so interesting to you?”

She raised an eyebrow, glanced about to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “You were there when she was sacrificed, were you not?”

“No,” he said. “I was… busy.”

Kazuno almost gasped, though the action would have been a facetious one. “Then you can tell her as much when she comes to kill us.”

Lucian sniffed derisively. “Let her try.”

“Oh—I intend to. She killed Sir Alaric. I barely liked the pompous bastard, but he killed one of our own. The price of which…”

“Is death,” said another voice, smooth and silky, and full of arrogance.

“Esmeralda,” Lucian said. “I half expected you to have simply left.”

“Oh, and miss the pleasure of affine party?” she asked, flipping her palm up. She laughed musically. “Never.”

She was a tall woman with full lips, painted eyes and a stunning gown full of colors and thread of gold. Lucian glanced down at her breasts.

That made her smile. She always loved to peacock in front of men, and by the gods, she was nearly popping out of her dress.

“Do you like what you see, Lucian?”

Most men might have reacted differently, but Lucian only sneered. “Your lewd style only communicates your desperation, madam.”

She laughed. “Please, and coming from a man who spends more time in his shadowy spider’s pit than even Severin.”

“Hey,” Severin said in his squeaky voice. “Leave me out of your quarrels, woman.”

“Oh, but why? They’re so…” She sighed. “Fun.”

“He’s right, Kazuno said, and all of them sobered, save possibly for Esmeralda. She enjoyed the edge, and she always pushed things right up to the line, and even, a little past it. “We have more important things to do tonight.”

“Like what?” Esmeralda said, her lips and tone pouty. “I just want to have fun.”

“Perhaps you can have fun with that oni girl,” Severin said.

“I bite,” a voice said from behind.

They all whirled. It was her, that oni girl they had sacrificed from before. The princess Rōkura Yōzei.

“Hmm,” Esmeralda hummed with amusement. “You like it dangerous too, I see. Perhaps we could get along, you pretty little thing.”

“I don’t remember your glowing eyes,” Severin said. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but then, why ever would he not? Kazuno certainly seemed to have no problem with it.

“And neither do I,” said lady Kazuno.

“A gift,” Rōkura said.

“Oh?” Esmeralda said. “From whom, dear, I should love to know. We all would, isn’t that right?”

“Indeed,” said Kazuno.

I don’t recognize any of their faces, and yet I know they were there. She curled her lip, a think she didn’t have to do by design. “Given to me by Ogai-sama.”

Severin’s eyes widened and he actually took a step back.

“Fascinating,” Lucian said. “I should very much like to study them.”

By “them” Rōkura understood that he meant “while they were outside of her head,” the piece of filth. I’ll gut this one.

“Now is not the time,” Rōkura said, “but I am very much looking forward to killing you all.”

Kazuno smiled and Esmeralda laughed out loud so hard she leaned back and exposed the top row of her teeth.

When the lovely woman of the Soulless Night group laughed, Lord Asher turned his head and his eyes widened. He hadn’t realized Rōkura had come down, and there was Sir Withersbee. What is he doing—letting her speak with them without Hans or myself present?!

He broke out of his conversation with some nobles and strode over at once, smiled. “Hello, dear guests. And how might you all be this evening?”

“Lord Asher Boone,” said Esmeralda.

“Lady Esmeralda,” he said. “I do believe I have had the pleasure before?”

“Indeed,” she said, offering her hand. He took it and kissed her pale white skin. “It was the Royal ball thrown at the palace two months ago. You nearly spilled you brandy on Daimyō Hujo.”

“Oh, is that right?” he said, nodding. I did that on purpose. I’m never so unlucky as all that. Inwardly he smiled. “It feels like just yesterday.”

“I dare say you’re making a slight at me by assuming I’m so easily forgotten.”

“Never,” he said with an affable smile.

Rōkura had to force herself from groaning. From within her new memories, so many thoughts were rambling threw her mind—actually, racing more like, and she had so many memories of court intrigue, of gossip, of the small talk of nobles.

She wanted to grind her teeth.

“I think all this talk is upsetting your pet,” said Lady Kazuno.

“My pet?” asked Lord Asher. “Oh no—I assure you, she’s not mine, though I wouldn’t mind if she were.” He looked at her, but she had nothing to say about that, and she didn’t remember being any good at this kind of small talk.

At least not in the face of my enemies.

“Oh there you are, Lord Asher!” called Lady Victoire. Behind her strode her bodyguard Salomé. “Should a host be so elusive for his guest of honor?”

“Guest of honor?” he asked with a mild laugh. “Aren’t we being a little presumptuous, my lady? I don’t recall naming a ‘guest of honor’?”

She laughed. “Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged excessively. “That’s what everyone keeps calling me.”

“Why then, you must be the guest of honor! My apologies. I was speaking with our new acquaintances. Fascinating people.”

“To be sure.”

Well, bringing Lady Victoire into this conversation will certain complicate things. Time to extricate ourselves. “Come, Rōkura”—and it would be best to keep her from these people—“let us go view the galleries. I have a secret I have never shown anyone.”

“Oh?” asked Lady Victoire.

“Indeed,” Asher said. “And don’t mind your Salomé—she can come too. It fact, she’s quite lucky to be in your employ tonight.”

Rōkura shared a glance with the other woman, but of course she said nothing as Lord Asher led the way.

“Ta-ta,” Lady Kazuno said, sounding—in mock—like something Lady Victoire or Lord Asher might say. She waved. “We will see you soon, I am sure. We’ve invited ourselves here to meet you—and I am certain you will do the same. You know where to find us.”

Lord Asher heard everything she said, but he kept his mouth running in the most benign way possible as he spoke affably to Lady Victoire. It was quite difficult to split his concentration.

Fortunately Rōkura turned from Lady Kazuno and her party and followed along. If he was sweating now, he was sweating even more. That could have gone badly.

Salomé watched Rōkura, saw the intense line across her jaw, how her fists were clenched, and how her eyes lingered upon then, then how the oni swept them away dismissively.

Once they were clear, she said quietly as they both hung back from Lady Victoire and Lord Asher, “You don’t like them very much.”

Rōkura almost flinched as she looked at the other woman. “I…” What am I supposed to say? “There is bad blood between us.”

Salomé nodded. ”Mm.”

“I am not just Lady Victoire’s bodyguard.”

Rōkura frowned as she glanced up to the backs of Asher and Victoire, then she looked to Salomé for an answer.

The woman continued. “She is much more capable than you think. Most of her vanes is an act. She saved my life, you see. I swore I would never leave her side.”

Rōkura could barely believe what she was hearing. She’s quite open… “Why are you telling me this?”

She took pause as they headed up the stairs. The halls up on the second level were darkened, at least in this part of the mansion. “Lady Victoire and Lord Asher are friends.”

“Really?” They didn’t seem like “friends” to Rōkura.

“Neither of them will admit it, but they have history, and they are friends, even if they won’t say so.”

Rōkura almost gasped. And he’s willing to kill her? Or… does Salomé misunderstand completely? “I don’t think you understand—“

“Trust me,” said Salomé.

Rōkura nodded. “All right.” Even though she said the words, she didn’t tell them. How could this be possible? Lord Asher acted as though killing Lady Victoire was an easy thing.

Lady Victoire sighed contentedly. “I get so tired of the huge balls, Ash. This is… quite nice.”

“Hmm,” he noised musingly. “Perhaps we can spend some time on the roof in the quiet of the night later.”

She looked at him and smiled. “I would like that very much.”

Oh Victoire, why does it have to be this way? Always in my way—and now, more than ever. He took it in stride. He would do what he had to do. He was Lord Asher, he was a murderer and a servant of a dark god once again. Where Ogai-sama was involved, there was no use in crying about what could not be changed.

Best to go along and find happiness somewhere else by other means.

Or release.

“Ah,” Hans said as he spotted the missing member of the Soulless Night. “The cat would be skulking in a dark corridor.”

She turned. “Hm? I am not ‘skulking,’ little man.”

“Then, pray tell, what are you doing?”

“I have Night Vision,” she said, her tail flicking. “I can see perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Should you be in these halls?” he asked. “What if someone you weren’t expecting happened to show up? What if something happened?”

She put her hand on her hip. “Don’t try to scare me—and don’t try to threaten me. It won’t work.”

“You fought well today.”

She paused. “So did you and Rōkura. Say… how is she still alive? I saw Fujiwarai press a dagger through her heart.”

Hans sighed with a contented arrogance. “A mystery, to be sure.”

“Fine,” she said. “Keep your secrets. I am certain Kazuno will kill her again.”

“Why is that?”

“A hunch.”

“If my understanding is correct,” Hans said, “the Soulless Night gang has no direct connection to the worshipers of Hokorash.”

“Hmph.”

“Am I wrong?”

“We do… favors for them. In return, we get to be present for their rituals.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Did you or the Soulless Night have a part to play in the kidnapping of Rōkura’s family?”

Kezia smiled toothily. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Bellefeuille.” Her chin perked up. “I have to go.”

Hans raised an eyebrow, then, not impeding her, he gestured for her to pass him through the corridor. She scurried by, uninterested and unafraid of Hans.

But then suddenly she turned. “To answer your question. I don’t know. I just know I was there, and if Kazuno wants her dead again, then we’ll kill her.”

Hans smiled. “Trust me—you will be the ones to die this time.”

Kezia laughed, turned and disappeared to join the others. She could sense their auras leaving the mansion.

Hans sighed in the dark.

“The night is almost done. Time to get to work.” But where was Rōkura?

They followed Asher and Victoire into the gallery, and Victoire instantly gasped as she put a hand to her breast. “They’re amazing, Ash.”

“Hmph,” he sniffed with amusement, though he had to admit, it felt good to be praised by her.

“Oh, I remember this piece.” She pointed. “I tried to outbid you on this.”

“Indeed,” he said. “I spent a fortune keeping it from you.”

She laughed, and he joined her, both of them genuinely amused, and a little bit hawkish in competitiveness. The two were often adversaries of a kind, and yet they were acquaintances. Sometimes Asher hated her, and sometimes he rather enjoyed her company and fencing spirit.

The feelings were mutual, except now Lady Victoire looked upon Asher tonight with another interest in mind. I’m surprise I’m feeling this way about him. He’s always so annoying.

She glanced back, a subtle queue for Salomé, and by extension, the lovely oni with the glowing eyes. Don’t worry, Rōkura. I will speak to Hans about you later.

As Salomé hung back, Rōkura slowed her pace. They stopped near the windows, and Rōkura saw the Soulless Night members getting into their carriages. She ground her teeth and went close to the glass.

“Something tells me,” Salomé said, “that there’s more than a little bad blood between you.”

“They murdered my parents,” she said, not bothering to turn,.

Salomé gasped. “And… and you’re just going to let them walk out of here?”

Rōkura was surprised. There was a furiousness to her tone, though she kept it well contained. She nodded. “Mm. For now.”

Salomé sighed. “Why did they—I’m sorry. It isn’t my business.”

“I…” Why am I telling her anyway? She didn’t know what, but she wanted to tell Salomé about it. “I don’t know why,” she said. “Plots.”

Salomé watched the carriages go, the horses clopping along the cobbles drive. The party in the lower part of the house was still lively and food was being served as muffled music made its way to their ears.

“If you want some help...”

She left it hanging, and Rōkura turned to her. I’m going to kill her mistress tonight and she’s offering to help me with the Soulless Night!

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Salomé nodded. “Give it some thought.”

Rōkura closed her mouth.

She blinked.

I can’t kill Lady Victoire!