“I’m slowing down in my old age. How long have you been standing there?”
“Right after you flew through the window and up to the roof,” Setsura said in his always carefree manner.
“And how did you get in?”
“The same back window.”
“You were hoping we mutually self-destructed?”
“Works for me.” Setsura nodded like a kid hanging out on a street corner with nothing to do. Yakou’s killer qi wavered just a bit.
“You came here for Kanan-san? I assume you’ve accomplished that much.”
“Sure.”
“What happened to Princess?”
“She was playing Marco Polo in a pool when she up and vanished. The outside world, I imagine.”
“Kikiou and Mephisto too?”
“Kikiou threw me in the incinerator and took off. He must be doing repairs. I don’t know where Mephisto is.”
Yakou threw a swaggering laugh back at the languid face. “That means we can finally get down to business without any outside interference.”
“I guess so.”
Yakou slowly rose to his full height. His wings ruffled, unleashing a gust of wind bearing the intensity of his malice.
The two young men faced each other ten feet apart. The one overflowing with murderous intent, the other as calm as a summer morning. However, the battle would not be resolved by either with such an air.
“Princess says you are not to be killed. But as long as you are around, Princess will surely suffer. You are the one who will.”
Setsura said with a sigh, “Give it a break already.”
“What?”
“First it’s Princess. Then it’s Mephisto. Ryuuki or Kikiou tomorrow? You don’t listen to anybody! A little self-control wouldn’t hurt, you know.”
“Shut up.”
“Naw, I don’t think so.”
“One more word and—”
“—you’ll tell Princess—”
A split second before the wall behind him collapsed, Setsura jumped into the air.
—on me?”
High in the sky, the black slicker abruptly shifted directions and dropped down behind Yakou, who’d unleashed the same qi cannon that perforated pretend Mephisto, and was pivoting just as Setsura buried his heel in the back of his head.
He stumbled forward. Breaking his fall with a one-handed push-up, he shot off another burst of qi without turning around—a feat only the Elder’s grandson could pull off.
He fired purely on instinct. Still in midair, Setsura’s stomach disappeared with an audible pop. The forest behind him became momentarily visible.
Yakou blinked. No sooner had he shot his qi cannon but Setsura’s body seemed to waver and grow indistinct. The beautiful black silhouette stood there as if lost in thought. A puzzled expression rose to his face. He slowly fell over like a toppled tree.
“Shit. That hurt.” Rubbing the back of his head, Yakou sprang to his feet. He could definitely feel a lump. “You sure don’t pull your punches,” he complained, though the triumphalism was clear in his voice. He walked over to Setsura with uncertain steps. “Bit of an anticlimax, that. I almost don’t want to put an end to it.”
“Then don’t.”
Yakou thrust out his arms in response to the unexpected reply. His arms jerked back as Setsura’s left hand plunged into his mouth.
Yakou gagged and coughed. What started out as a hand turned into a fluid inside his mouth and poured into his windpipe and lungs.
“Son of a bitch!” he tried to shout, but he swallowed Setsura’s whole hand into his lungs. Yakou’s consciousness rapidly dimmed. In the middle of a sun-drenched field, the vampire prince in the dark suit was drowning.
Nevertheless, no doubt thanks to the true power of that pedigree, he mustered his strength and pushed his arms against Setsura’s stomach.
Setsura’s torso tore in two, blowing backwards, taking clothing and flesh and torn threads with it. Then it erupted, like drops of water returning to the puddle they’d splashed from.
“I’m half water right now,” the wavering face said in an utterly blasé manner.
Considering what had just happened, it was a hell of a thing to say. The pretend Mephisto’s “treatments,” diluted, caused no lasting harm. It was easier to allow himself to get laid out flat and return to rescue Takako than stand his ground and duke it out.
He’d heard Kikiou’s instruction to leave her there. That he chose to remain silent, offering no resistance while being tossed into the incinerator was a lot harder to comprehend. The reason being that he was curious to see what happened would startle not only Kikiou, but Princess as well.
“Vampires can definitely drown in water. That won’t kill them, but it will knock them out. When you come to, be a good boy and forget all about that bad-tempered lady.”
Yakou heard none of this as the energy drained out of him. Unable to support himself with his free hand, Setsura planted his right hand against Yakou’s stomach. Normal solidity immediately returned to his face and body.
Despite returning to a “normal” state, he couldn’t, in a flash, avoid the situation that followed perhaps because he was still half water.
A grimace crossed his face. He whirled around. Yakou collapsed. Enormous claws dug into his back, the claws of a giant eagle made out of wire.
Setsura staggered. In front of him appeared a white wax-like face. A hand reached up from the grass. Even without seeing the wires clenched between his fingers, the actions of the pretend Mephisto could be easily deciphered.
“Born into this world—for a mere two hours—” The pale lips breathed in the air of the River Styx. “But—I regret—nothing—if I can die—with you. Let us go Setsura. Together. To that—other world. As a present—that man too—”
The trembling hands formed the wires into a stake.
“Knock it off,” Setsura said, and threw his head backward. The bird on his back thumped its beak at the back of his skull.
Exercising his will alone, Setsura forced his more human attributes to take precedence over his liquid state. A moment later, invisible wires cut the bird into pieces. At the same time, the stake flew from pretend Mephisto’s hand. The white doctor’s head exploded.
Blood and brains scattered in a mist, falling in a red rain on the prone Setsura. He shouldered the pain and tried to turn back into liquid form, but the shock from the bird’s attack upset the control of his facilities, and he remained as he was.
Instead, somebody pressed a hand against the back of his head. “That was one of Kikiou’s inventions,” Yakou said, choking on his indignation as much as the water in his lungs. “Disobey him and die. The kind of thing he would do. Thanks to him, the situation has now reversed itself. In memory of the make-believe Mephisto, I shall now send you to the same place. Goodbye and farewell.”
Brilliant lines ran toward Yakou’s body, but every one of them was repelled by his unbelievable power.
“Can you turn back into water, Setsura?”
“Well—”
A moment later—