Fiends of the Rising Sun (17 page)

Angela forced a smile. "It's about the wedding, father. I'm not sure I can go through with it. I'm not sure how much I love Juan Martinez."

Hitori peered at US battleships through the midget sub's periscope. Kimura had navigated their way into Pearl Harbour, stalking the minesweeper past the American defences, just as Commander Kozo had suggested. Now the midget sub was lying off the docks, studying the positions and strength of the enemy's vessels. The battleships were moored in pairs, one beside the other. It was the early hours of Friday, the fifth of December, and Hitori knew Japan's strike force was two days away. Judging by the lack of action on board the battleships, the approaching attack remained unseen and undetected by the US Navy. There must be at least half a dozen battleships moored in close proximity, a perfect target for torpedoes and dive-bombers. Hitori smiled. The Imperial Japanese Navy would wreak havoc in this harbour come Sunday, all being well.

Hitori's mission was to help ensure that the attack remained undetected, it was the reason that he and Kimura had travelled halfway across the Pacific to this place. He could have entrusted the mission to Suzuki and one of his other lieutenants, but the kyuuketsuki leader wanted to be there. He wanted to be part of the moment when the world changed irrevocably. He wanted to be a witness to history in the making. Most of all, he wanted to show his cadre of vampyr samurai that he would always lead them from the front, that he'd never ask his kyuuketsuki to do anything that he was unwilling to do.

"It's time." Kimura sat below him, gripping the vessel's wheel. "If we're to scuttle the sub and make it to shore before sunrise, it's time."

Hitori nodded. "Take us to the deepest part of the harbour. We'll open the hatches and let the water have her."

Once they were in position, Kimura turned off the engines and released all the air from their tanks. As the midget sub sank into the watery depths, Hitori opened the hatch atop the small conning tower. He had to use every ounce of his inhuman strength to force it open, the weight of water threatening to defeat him. Once he succeeded, his reward was a crushing wall of water forcing him and Kimura down inside the tiny compartment. Panic took Hitori for a moment, a lifetime of breathing making him gasp for the air his vampyr body no longer needed. But once the pressure inside the midget sub had equalised, he was able to stand upright again. Pulling Kimura behind him, Hitori swam up towards the moon shimmering overhead.

They broke the surface, both panting from the effort of escaping the midget sub, happy to have eluded the iron coffin. The two kyuuketsuki trod water while they looked around the harbour, searching for anyone who might have noticed the sudden appearance of two Japanese men in the water. But the harbour was quiet, with no sign of movement nearby. They were at least half a mile from the nearest stretch of shoreline.

"How's your swimming?" Hitori asked his disciple.

"Not my best feature," Kimura admitted. "You chose me for my record as a foot soldier, not as a fish, remember?" A wicked smile spread across his features. "We could always fly to our destination," he suggested.

"This is a covert mission. The less we draw attention to ourselves, the better. Revealing the presence of Japanese vampyrs on US territory would jeopardise our forces' surprise attack."

"Getting cold feet before a wedding is perfectly natural," Father Kelly said. "Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and not something to rush into. You wouldn't be human if you didn't have doubts, Angela, but that doesn't mean getting married is a mistake for you, either. Tell me, what's brought this on? Have your feelings for Juan changed?"

"No, father, I want to be with him."

"Well, then, that's a good thing-"

"No, father, you don't understand," Angela cut in. "I want to be with him. I want us to be together, as man and woman, if you know what I mean."

"Ah," the priest said.

"I want him more than I ever wanted anything in my life. I was brought up to believe that should only happen inside marriage. That's why I said yes when he asked me to be his wife. But now..."

"You're worried that you're in lust with Juan, not in love." The nurse nodded, her freckled cheeks blushing bright red. Father Kelly took her hands in his. "I've seen the two of you together, Angela. I've seen how you look at each other, how much both of you care for each other. You have much more than the simple animal longings of two creatures that find one another attractive. What you two have is better than that. I believe you love each other, and you can make that love last a lifetime. But it doesn't matter what I believe."

Angela looked him in the eyes. "I have to believe it."

"And so does Juan."

She nodded. "You're right. It's all happened so suddenly, and with my transfer orders coming through I was worried we were rushing into this for the wrong reasons. But I don't want to lose him, father."

"Then go to him. Tell him how you feel, and look into his eyes as you just looked into mine. You'll find all the answers you need there."

The nurse smiled. "Thanks, father. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried from the chapel, leaving the priest alone again.

Father Kelly turned to the altar and saw the crucifix, the image of Jesus on the cross staring back at him. "I told her what she wanted to hear," he said. "If we do go to war soon, what are the chances that both of them will survive? What gives me the right to deny them a little happiness now, while they still have that chance? Didn't Catherine-"

He stopped, biting back the rest of his words. The priest could feel his emotions churning inside, wracked by guilt and shame over what had happened to Catherine. He could have sworn the crudely moulded replica of Jesus was laughing at him, sneering at his pain. Father Kelly snatched a hymnal from the bench where he'd been sitting and threw it at the crucifix. The book thudded against the altar but the crucifix didn't budge. "Damn you! Damn you to hell!" The priest burst into tears, unsure if he'd been cursing his saviour or himself.

Tetsuzo Nagara propelled the last drunken GI from Tokyo Joe's with a kick to the backside. "And stay out!" he shouted at the soldier as they staggered away into the early hours of the morning. Nagara muttered curses under his breath. The sooner his countrymen came and bombed this island, the better. He couldn't wait to get home to Japan and his own people, instead of acting as barman and confidant to a nation of drunkards without dignity or honour.

A shimmer of darkness in the night caught Nagara's eye. He peered at the alley where the movement had been, trying to make out what was there. The moon was full overhead, casting heavy shadows in the night and bleaching everything else a cold, metallic blue. Nagara shivered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his instincts sensing what his eyes could not see in the darkness. "Is somebody there?" he asked, aware that his voice was trembling. "We're closed now, no more drinking tonight!"

Closer
, a voice whispered in his thoughts.
Come closer.

The Japanese barkeep had no intention of getting close to whatever was lurking in the shadows, but his feet and legs had taken on a mind of their own. No matter how much he willed them to stop, they sent him staggering towards the alleyway, his pace quickening with each step.

Closer still. Come into the darkness with us.

"No, please!" Nagara whimpered. His voice was still his own, but control of anything else was beyond him. His body felt as if it was possessed, drawn ever nearer to some malevolent presence in the alley. He could see a pair of terrifying eyes there, glinting in the night.

Be one with us. Become like us. Together we'll climb Mount Niitaka!

Nagara realised the voice in his head was Japanese, speaking in a Tokyo accent. He relaxed a little, remembering a message he'd received the previous day from Kohichi Seki. Officially, Seki was treasurer at the Japanese consulate in Hawaii. In reality, he was one of several spies stationed on Oahu. The decrypted message from Tokyo had said two friends from home would be visiting before Sunday. Black Dragon agents were required to acknowledge the authority of naval intelligence spies at the consulate, but Nagara's first loyalty was to his masters in Tokyo. Mount Niitaka was a favourite code of the Black Dragons, a recognition phrase designed to identify fellow members.

But as Nagara got closer to the shadows, he could see that the creatures waiting for him in the dark were monsters, not spies. Their hands stretched out elongated fingers, their nails like the talons of a predator. Their features were more like savage masks of hunger than faces, inhuman eyes aglow in the darkness, skin stretched taut over bulging bones. Worst of all were their mouths, black tongues licking dry lips, while razor sharp fangs protruded from their jaws. "What are you?" Nagara whispered.

Destiny, desire... and death!

The Japanese spy opened his mouth to scream but the cry for help never came. One slash of those talons severed his vocal chords, slicing open his throat and exposing the sinews within. Blood gushed from the wound and the two creatures dived forwards, lapping at the dying man's neck with their grotesque tongues, sucking and licking every morsel from his bleeding arteries. Nagara sank to his knees, still bewildered by the voices in his head.

Feed us,
they hissed,
sustain us, all in the name of the emperor.

Martinez was sharing a drink with Wierzbowski when Angela found him. The two soldiers were sitting outside their quarters, each sipping from a bottle of beer that Wierzbowski had bullied out of Buntz. The suds were warm and sticky, much like the humid air in the Philippines, but that didn't diminish the novelty of having a beer. Buntz considered the stores his own private domain. Rumour had it that he'd been diverting supplies that went "missing" en route to the base.

Some said he was selling the lost items on the black market, while others claimed Buntz was squirreling away the lost items into caches around the island, in anticipation of a Japanese attack. Whatever the reality, anyone at Fort Stotsenberg who wanted contraband went to Buntz first. Most soldiers had to make it worth his while, or leave empty-handed. Wierzbowski was the exception, his imposing physique and malevolent gaze enough to erode even Buntz's cocky arrogance. So it had been with the bottles of beer.

"Can't believe I'm getting married on Sunday," Martinez said. "I thought I was coming over here to defend peace and democracy, not find a wife." He glanced at the big man by his side who shared so little. "What about you, Wierzbowski? You ever think about getting hitched?"

The other soldier shook his head. "I'm not the marrying type."

"Don't say that. You never know when some little angel of love's waiting around the corner." Angela appeared from the far side of the base. "Speaking of angels, here comes mine now." Martinez drained his beer and stood up as the nurse got closer. "Welcome to our humble abode, Nurse Baker. And how can we help you, this fine evening?"

"Juan, I want to ask you something," she replied.

"Ask away."

Angela's eyes flickered towards Wierzbowski. "It's important."

"Oh. Right." Martinez turned to his comrade. "Umm, Wierzbowski..."

The other man drained his beer and stood up. "No problem. I've been thinking it's a good night for a walk anyway, so..." He nodded and smiled to Angela before strolling away, whistling something jaunty and tuneless.

"He's a good guy," Martinez whispered once Wierzbowski was out of earshot. "Most of the others are scared of him, but I'd rather have him by my side when the shooting starts than somewhere else."

"Why?"

"He's a bigger target than me." The private laughed at his own joke, before noticing the look on his fiancée's face. "Hey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I need to tell you something and I need you to listen. No jokes, no teasing and no interrupting me, okay?"

"Okay," Martinez agreed.

"I think I'm in love with you," she began.

"Just as well, since we're getting-"

"No interruptions, Juan."

"Sorry!" He pretended to pull a zipper across his mouth, turned an imaginary key to lock his lips shut and throw it over his shoulder. Angela smiled at the elaborate mime before resuming her speech.

"I think I'm in love with you, but I'm not sure, not a hundred per cent. I know I want to be with you all the time, want to share my bed with you, share my body with you. But I'm worried we're rushing into the wedding because of my new posting and everybody talking about how war is coming anytime now. So I need you to answer a question for me. By the time you finish, I'm hoping I'll know what we should do. Is that okay?"

Martinez nodded.

"Why do you want to marry me, Juan?" He pointed at his mouth, the lips still pressed together. Angela laughed. "It's okay, you can talk now."

He smiled. "Why do I want to marry you? That's easy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have children and grandchildren with you. I want to grow old with you and be with you, always. I love you, Angela, like I've never loved anybody before. Yeah, I know we're both young and maybe we haven't seen a lot of the world - I sure haven't, not yet - but I've seen enough to know you're the one for me. I've known that from the moment I met you."

Through all of this Angela stared into her fiancé's warm, brown eyes, searching for the answers Father Kelly had promised would be there. She waited until Juan had finished before turning away, her feelings threatening to get the better of her. "Well?" he asked. "Do you know what we should do now?"

"Yes, I do," Angela replied. She flung herself at Juan, kissing him as if they'd never have the chance to kiss again. Her hands clawed at the buttons on his uniform, scrabbling at the fastenings, desperate to undo them. Martinez grabbed her by the wrists.

"What do you think you're doing, Angela?"

"I want you, now!" she replied, her voice brooking no opposition.