Read Kalindra (GateKeepers) Online
Authors: Sondrae Bennett
Kalindra (GateKeepers) (19 page)
Moe followed him off the ship. “She barely speaks Japanese.”
“Who?”
“The puker.”
He shrugged and continued along the dock. A truck backed close to the ship. “Load the livestock in there. I’ve hired new handlers, so show them what to do.” He dropped a gold coin into Moe’s waiting hand.
Unfortunately, changes happened quicker in the mortal world. Not many dealt with gold or silver anymore. Humans wanted paper or plastic now, but where was the warm and shiny in that?
Moe liked gold. Koishi could appreciate that in a male, and he trusted greed. They worked well together. Too bad Moe would be dead in a few decades. Finding ships, not only to transport, but to make his purchases on the main island, grew more difficult with each generation. If he had to start hunting the old fashioned way, they’d find a replacement fast, he guessed.
“Don’t let them release the dogs. They escape the pastures too easily, then the fucking locals adopt them. Master Ishi hates to make little girls cry.” He gave Moe a meaningful glare. Some of those Chihuahuas had escaped the pen last week. Little slippery snacks. His old handlers didn’t want them eaten.
Nobody would ever see him setting farmers’ poultry loose because he didn’t agree with the human penchant for winged meat, though technically, chickens couldn’t fly. He wouldn’t eat them. It wasn’t ethical.
Moe bowed. “Please extend my apologies to your master, Koishi. I’ll make sure these handlers are more respectful and unauthorized releases never happen again.”
* * * *
Sandra stared at the mocking gray waves. They rolled the ship back and forth, back and forth, back and…she heaved one more time, pain radiating across her stomach, but nothing came out. Vomit had stopped flowing out of her before they’d docked. There was only so much a woman could puke, after all.
The lovely captain, who smelled of a wonderful combination of aged sheep and fish, had yelled at her the whole trip. Every time he approached and made her lean over the side of the ship, his stench would start a fresh wave of heaving. She needed to get off this forsaken boat before they had to bury her at sea.
Pushing against the railing, she took one stumbling step at a time across the rocking deck. If she waited for the world to stabilize, she’d grow old and gray before making one move. As she fell forward, something hard caught her under the arm and prevented a full force belly flop. A nibble on her fingertips shocked her straight out the nausea. She jerked her hand away and braced herself against a wooden pen.
Sheep.
She wiped the ewe spit on her shirt, next to the vomit stain. A sob knotted in her chest. She had to be here. She’d had no choice. Glaring at the animals, she wobbled away, using the pen’s fence as a crutch.
Captain Moe stood on the dock speaking with a tall Asian man. Hell, they were all Asian. She was the foreigner here. Japan had sounded so distant a few days ago, yet here she stood after spreading her DNA across the narrow strip of ocean separating the main island from this small one.
She hadn’t met too many Asians who were taller than her. Eyeing him, she appreciated the way his jeans clung to his muscular legs. His white t-shirt had a few dirt smudges on the front. He folded his thick arms over his chest and watched her slow progress with what she thought was a hint of amusement.
On weak legs, she stepped off the death trap and took a deep breath. It didn’t smell any better, but it at least didn’t smell worse. She had to find somewhere to stay before beginning her search. Someplace with a shower. Oh yes, a long, hot shower with lots and lots of soap to wash away the boat journey’s nightmarish memory.
The last few months had shredded her world. Her sister’s condition had taken a turn for the worse and the doctors had told Beth that her prognosis was poor. When Sandra had left, they were trying to convince her to send Beth to a hospice. She’d refused the idea.
Beth was all the family she had left. Nothing would stand in Sandra’s way of finding some hope, a procedure, or a…cure.
Not even a dragon.
She had run to her best friend and they’d cried on each other’s shoulders. That was when her friend had confessed a have-to-take-it-to-the-grave secret or her employer would kill them both. Her friend worked for Baker Morris, an agency that researched, chronicled, monitored and sometimes was forced to police creatures that came from another plane.
This other world was called Outremer and certain areas of both worlds touched to create gates. That was when she learned about gatekeepers. Especially about a certain dragon keeper who hoarded magical treasure.
Humans didn’t know about the magical realm. Hell, it had taken some convincing to get her to believe, and she was desperate. Determination could stiffen any spine and give courage to any coward. She’d need to muster all she could to face Gatekeeper Ishi. They didn’t have dragons in the mid-west. He’d be her first, and she didn’t know shit about them.
Flipping through her English-to-Japanese phrase book, she approached the captain and asked for the closest hotel.
Both men blinked and stared as if she grown a second head.
The stranger snorted, then threw his head back laughing. He slapped the captain on the back and dropped him to the ground. “Oh!” Bending over, he helped the captain back to his feet. “We don’t run those types of tea houses on the island anymore. It’s frowned upon.”
“Tea house? I asked for a hotel.” Slapping the book closed, she stuffed it in her pocket. “You speak good English.”
“So do you.” He continued to grin as the captain bowed to him and returned to the ship. “It’s an odd time of the year to visit Izu Oshima Island. Tourist season doesn’t start for another month.”
“Good, it should be easy to find a room. Can you point me in the right direction?” The seasickness fogging her head faded and her vision cleared. Her gaze met the man’s dark, intense stare. Heat flushed her cheeks in a wave of awareness. In her state of disarray, puke stains and all, she wanted to crawl back on the boat.
His gaze traveled lower, caressing her curves, before returning to her face. Only a predator could own such a hungry stare. “If you make a right off the dock, it will lead you to the main road.”
“Thank you.” She shifted the weight of the pack on her back and marched toward the street.
He twisted as she passed him, his gaze weighing heavily on her. “It’s about a three hour walk to the nearest hotel. If you run, you might beat the storm.”
She spun around. “What?” she wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face. The trip across the strait had been harrowing enough. She wasn’t in any shape to hike in a storm. “Do you have cabs?”
“Yes.” He approached her. “During tourist season.”
“Then how do people move around the island? There have to be buses.” She peered at the storm clouds, which appeared closer than before. She hadn’t considered the consequences of rushing here. Time was running out and she’d jumped on the first flight out to Japan.
“They walk or bike. There are a few buses, but I don’t know their schedules.” His gaze lowered to the opening of her blouse. “Maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement.”
Gasping, she clutched the edges of her blouse shut. “I don’t think so.” She must look better than she felt or smelled. How could anyone be interested in her in this state?
He rolled his eyes. “I meant your necklace.”
“Oh.” The heat of her mortified blush almost blistered the skin off her cheeks. Of course, he wasn’t making a crude pass at her. He was only trying to swindle her. Nice.
He gave her a crooked smile as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. “The gold reflects the light very nicely.” Reaching for her jewelry, he bypassed her swatting hands until he held the small heart-shaped pendant in his palm.
She yanked it away. “It’s not up for trade. My mother gave it to me.” She’d died in her sleep a year earlier after a long, happy life. Out of all the things from her estate, Sandra had only wanted this necklace. Her father, who’d passed years ago, had given it to her mother when they’d first met.
“It has a nice weight to it and is well crafted.” His gaze lingered on her necklace for a second longer before meeting her stare. “I have a truck. I could drive you into town where you would have a pick of fine hotels.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“For the necklace.”
She growled like a rabid dog. Yes, it had been that kind of day. “I said no. Nain!”
“Nine?”
“What?” She threw up her arms and abandoned all hope of help.
“That’s what you said. Nine what? Rides? I usually don’t play taxi for tourists, but…” His gaze grew heavy with darker promises. “For you, I’d offer a ride on me.”
She blinked. Did he understand what he’d just said? “I think we lost something in translation.” In both their cases. “I’ll manage on my own.” Stalking to the road, she ignored his laughter and pulled out her phrase book. Lost and tired, all she wanted was a room. Maybe she could stay in someone’s home for the night. But how did she ask? These sentences were more tailored for people who had already arrived at their destination.
Where is the bathroom? Where is the phone?
She didn’t see a
Can I spend the night?
written anywhere. Then again, that could translate improperly and she’d end up in a worse situation.
Reaching the road, she turned right and kept searching for some kind of help. Another American tourist, an embassy, or even a flipping McDonald’s would be welcome.
A pick-up truck slowed next to her and the window rolled down. “Maybe you have something else to trade?”
The stranger had followed her and she gave him a what-the-hell look.
“I’d hate for you to walk all that way after such a harrowing boat ride.” He winked at her.
“That’s very kind of you.” She stopped walking, forcing him to slam on the brakes to maintain their conversation. Could she trust this stranger who exhibited a touch of stalker tendency? Flashes of serial killer music sang through her thoughts. She glanced around at the mostly empty road. What choice did she have? At least he spoke good English so when he murdered her she’d understand his evil monologue. “Maybe you could offer to drive me for free?”
He stared at her with mock surprise. “There’s such a thing?”
“Yes.” She dropped her pack to the ground, her shoulders already aching, and tried her best to not smile back at the jerk.
Leaning forward, he tilted his head to the side. “Why?”
She shook her head. “It must be a cultural thing.” Kneeling, she rummaged inside her bag and pulled out her wallet. She was on a tight budget. All her savings had gone to purchasing information. “How much?”
“Money?” He grimaced. “I don’t like paper. Don’t you carry anything valuable?”
“Most people would consider money valuable.” She mumbled under her breath as she shoved her wallet back into her pack. With a little more digging, she found her small carrying case and held out two silver earrings. “That’s all I’ve got. Take it or bug off.” She laid them on his outstretched hand.
He sniffed at the metal. “There’s not much silver in this.”
“How can you tell?” Her shout echoed over the water.
“I just can. Get in. I’ll give generosity a try.”
She climbed inside the old cab with peeling leather seats before he could change his mind. “It’s only charitable if you don’t keep the earrings.”
He dropped them in his breast pocket. “Believe me, this is charity.”
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Koishi by Annie Nicholas
GateKeeper, #1
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