A handful of people arrived at a nearby street. They moved to the intersection and looked around with intense and focused eyes.
“What are you guys looking for?” came a voice from above them.
They looked up—a kid wearing a polo shirt; a mutant studded with electrodes; a garishly made-up girl naked from the waist up; an housewife in a dress—a normal slice of Shinjuku street life that otherwise would have hardly drawn a second glance.
Their bared their teeth. The moonlight glittered off their fangs. They saw something in the sky. The mutant’s body quivered all over. Blue light rose into the air.
“Hey!” came their startled responses. The light spread out in a kaleidoscope of colors. Several black figures descended to the street on rudimentary flying devices spouting jets of fire. Releasing their hold on the hand-controlled balloons, silently, like prowling cats, they closed in on the vampires.
These were the men who had assembled in Yocho only minutes ago.
What made the vampires stop and cower was not only the murderous intent of the assailants, but something else their transformed senses told them—they were vampires too.
Streaks of light—that solidified into stakes of white wood—pierced them as they crouched there. As the vampires arched their backs, clutching at the stakes, their attackers dropped to the ground behind them and severed their heads with huge Chinese broadswords.
“Nothing personal, but chaps like you are ruining this city.”
“We finally found a place where we can live in peace. We don’t want the likes of you fucking it up. You all deserve to be killed on sight.”
Their identities could be easily ascertained from their motives—these were the residents of the Toyama housing project, the vampires who had assimilated into Demon City.
The Elder was dead. Yakou had not returned. Their homes had been destroyed by a nuclear blast for reasons unknown. Right now they lived in a building leased to them by the ward. Every night they went to work hunting down vampires.
They knew better than anyone that the number of new vampires was outrunning their abilities to eliminate them. They were equally hindered during the daylight hours, when vampire hunting was the most effective. Not to mention lingering doubts about the source of the nuclear strike.
Nevertheless, the Toyama vampires not vaporized in the attack had come together and now cooperated with the authorities in patrolling the Shinjuku nights. They knew as well that Shinjuku was their last refuge, and there was no compromising with this new breed that recklessly hungered after blood with no other end in mind.
“There’s that abandoned building down the street,” called another group from the other end of the alley. “The basement door is secured. No doubt about it.”
“Make it quick,” the leader said to his colleagues.
They neatly lined up the severed heads and bodies. On each of the still and quiet faces of the dead they placed a peach, wards against evil. But the white smoke rising from their own hands betrayed their own natures.
“We’re done.”
“Good.”
They raced down the street like a black wind. Ahead of them, their eyes were drawn to a point of glimmering blue light. It was a woman. Her naked limbs swaying in the watery glow appeared as delicate as blown glass. Her face was shining so brightly her beauty was difficult to ascertain.
These men weren’t the easily surprised type. If anything, what caught them off guard was the intuition that she was one of them. And the indescribable power she must possess.
And all the stranger, the leader couldn’t tell whether she was friend or foe. She emanated the aura of a “virgin” vampire, that yet possessed an indescribably cool and refreshing feel.
This woman—it wasn’t possible—was she in fact Princess? No way. That woman was said to be the rarest beauty in the world.
Without coming to a decision, the leader ordered his men to deploy. They rapidly formed a cordon around her at equal distances. She stood there, unmoving, her features blank. The leader’s killer instincts wavered.
“Lady—who are you?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t look at him. She took a step.
“How do we handle this?” asked one of his men, brandishing a stake.
“We don’t know if she’s with us or against us. Take a breather. It looks like she’s lost her memories. Hey, can you hear me?”
She silently walked forward, the silhouettes around her keeping pace.
“Get her,” the leader commanded. In this situation, that he didn’t say to kill her was more than generous.
The men tossed peaches at her. They passed right through her and rolled up to the men opposite.
“Figures. Some sort of ghost or dual personality.”
“If we leave her be, it’s hard to see how she could attack anybody. Let’s get to that building.”
“No,” the leader objected. “There’s no way for us to know what kind of threat she poses. This is Demon City. She could be packing one mean punch. Ren—take care of her.”
“Roger that.”
From in back of her, he vaulted over her, slapped a paper talisman against her head, continued in his arc and stuck the landing. This evil-countering talisman could affix itself to even a transparent wraith.
The ghost here was not necessarily evil, but the existence of anything here that did not conform to natural law could inflict mental and physical confusion upon the surrounding environs. For starters, most humans who witnessed such ghosts would experience a dangerous drop of blood pressure and body temperature.
The woman’s feet stopped. Her features gradually emerged from the blue light. The leader and his subordinates were visibly shaken.
“You?”
They were familiar with the face of Takako Kanan. Then her eyes flashed red.
“Halt!” cried out the leader.
The blue light rose up before him. Red stained the blue with a fleshy thud. Gouging at his neck, her arm around his waist, Takako pressed her lips against his throat.
Half a dozen stakes split the air, sinking through her back and protruding out her chest. The leader’s body shuddered. Takako released her hold. Her pierced body staggered and collapsed, her face turned upwards.
“Crazy bitch.”
The men ran forward and peered down at her face. Amidst the pool of dazzling azure light only her mouth gushed red. Though they stood there transfixed by the strange sight of terror and beauty, they too were vampires. They set upon her at once, full of hostility and vengefulness.
But even as they drove their fists and stakes into her, Takako’s hands and fangs tore at their throats without the slightest show of consternation.
Who would have believed that the best and brightest Toyama had to offer could be so easily rebuffed? As the cold ground absorbed the last of their convulsions, from Takako’s mouth poured thin, high, ear-shattering laughter.
Ah, she sounded so much like Princess in that moment. Still laughing, Takako started walking again. Her vacant face and distant eyes were once more surrounded by the blue light.
“Yes, keep on going.”
These words were suffused with infinite loathing. Thirty feet behind her stood another naked woman. However, the limbs and the contours of this bewitching body seemed shaped by the hand of God himself, while set into a countenance of heaven-blessed beauty were eyes of unparalleled evil.
Princess.
The light dimmed as she turned the corner. Following after her, Princess looked up at the eastern sky.
“The day is dawning. This night is dying. Where will you rest your pretty head? Remember—from tomorrow night onwards, this place becomes a literal city of death. She will see to it. I will see to it. I have destroyed kingdoms and empires. Do you think I will be outdone by the likes of her? Yes, let madness reign. Seek the blood of all living things. I will paint this town red. Hoh. Kikiou, it looks like I will bring to pass your dreams, perhaps even despite myself.”
She was certainly the one person who could make the words of indescribable evil cloaking this hideous pronouncement come true. She was certainly the one person who would. She would not be outdone by Takako. This would be a contest of massacres. What manner of fate had just been called down upon Demon City?
A sudden feeling of apprehension made Princess turn around. “Spirited away from the hot springs, and yet I managed to meet up with her. But where did Setsura Aki sally off to? Did he return to this city? Or to someplace else? That man will harry my thoughts to the very end.”
Princess set off in pursuit of Takako, dashing down the blood-soaked streets. Ah, the breaking of the day. In one more day—no, Demon City Shinjuku had but twelve more hours—a brief stay of execution during which he must prepare to repel this final assault.