Vampire Hunter D Volume 13: Twin-Shadowed Knight Parts 1 and 2 (10 page)

“Oh, that hurt . . .”

And she wasn't just talking about her derrière. She could tell that the wound on her back had opened again. Warm dampness was sliding down toward her waist.

The quaking subsided. Though she knew it must've been caused by some tremendous force run amok, she couldn't begin to form a definite picture of what that might've been.

Getting the feeling she'd done something that couldn't be undone, Mia surveyed her surroundings with trepidation. And her breath caught in her throat. Not surprisingly, the glowing walls were behaving strangely, their dim illumination now alternating intervals of darkness and light that created a kind of strobe effect. And in these flashes of light, Mia was able to make out a vast expanse of dark soil and rows of gravestones. Originally, this place must've been located far below the floor Mia was on, but apparently it too had been struck directly by that massive quake, as the gravestones had all fallen and parts of coffins or even whole ones protruded from crevices in the earth.

“Who'd have thought there was a graveyard way down here . . .”

Who'd made it, and whom had they buried there?

Crawling over to the closest tombstone on all fours, Mia read the writing on it. It was inscribed solely with numbers. They'd been burned into a metal plate with a laser or something similar.

“These numbers . . . This date is from more than five thousand years ago . . . This one's three thousand . . . And seven thousand . . . And this one . . .”

The numbers inscribed on five or six of the grave markers related the fact that all of them had been erected more than three millennia earlier. At the same time, they also spoke volumes about how long this subterranean facility had been in operation.

“Leave it to the Nobility. But so many of them wouldn't have died so easily. In which case . . .”

Were those interred there human? Or were they—

At that point, Mia should've left. To the rational mind, there was no way remains from more than three millennia earlier could have retained their original forms. However, curiosity burned once more in her bosom, and in a spot less than three feet from her, she saw a coffin that'd been completely exposed. A pain shot through her back and waist as if a knife had gone into them, but she didn't let that bother her. Inching over on her knees, Mia reached for the coffin's lid.

I wonder if it'll even open, she thought, but it slid off easily enough. It came as little surprise that even Mia didn't have enough nerve to peek in right away, but rather she lowered her eyes and regained control of her breathing.

“One, two . . .” she counted, “three!”

She raised her head. There was a face right in front of her. The shriveled, desiccated face of a mummy, its eyes alone glowing.

Not saying a thing, she pulled back. Something cold came to rest on her shoulder. Her hand reached up to touch it. Icy fingers. Mia's eyes stared straight ahead—at the figure about to leave its coffin. And it wasn't the only one.

Rapid shifts came between darkness and light.

Light—the figure in the coffin stood up in the box.

Darkness.

Light—the figure got out.

Darkness.

Light—the figure was coming closer.

Mia watched a coffin in the distance . . . another coffin, still buried . . . Lids were sliding off or pried open, hands stretching out, figures rising . . . figures, figures, and more shadowy figures.

“Noooo!” Mia exclaimed, twisting her body.

There was an impact on her shoulder, but she quickly pulled free. Taking five or six steps on her knees, she rose and turned. Trembling engulfed her whole body.

Zoah was standing there. Due to the dizzying switches between darkness and light, for a little while Mia didn't notice that there was something wrong with him. The shape of his face was strange. The right half of it remained shrouded in darkness.

“It's gone . . .”

Half of his face was missing. And Zoah, too, was closing in on her. There was nothing she could do but retreat. She wondered how, terrified beyond belief, she must appear to him and the others. Were the hands he extended seeking some expression of affection, or flesh and blood?

Her back bumped against something. A metal pole. There was no place to run anymore.

She called out his name. “Zoah . . .”

The forest of arms moved forward. Out of all those limbs like hard, dead branches, Zoah's hands alone still retained the semblance of a living person's.

Her breasts were seized roughly. By Zoah's hands. Mia let out an agonized scream. He was going to tear them off.

Suddenly, her pain subsided. Zoah's hands slowly pulled away, following the arc his falling body described. It wasn't clear whether or not Mia noticed the glittering needle that pierced his temple. The other walking dead also fell to the ground, one after another. Glistening needles were jabbed through their temples, their chests, their abdomens.

“It's my hair,” said a voice off to the left. Just as before, the figure in blue astride the black steed had long hair that covered him to the waist.

“You're—”

That was the only word Mia got out.

How many times am I gonna have to ask that? she wondered, suddenly feeling stupid. Blood loss and the pain in her back were rapidly sapping her strength.

“My name is Yuma. Remember that.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Mia asked, staring intently at his black mount.

“Because he should be here.”

“By he, which D do you mean?”

“Either one.”

To this man, they were both probably one and the same.

“You're an assassin, aren't you?”

The man said nothing.

“Why are you out to get D?”

“He learned too much.”

“Like what?”

“If you knew that, you'd have to die as well.”

“Why did you spare me alone?”

“Because if I take you away with me, he'll soon appear.”

“You keep saying he, but there are two Ds, you know. The real one and a fake.”

Behind the blue hair, something glimmered. Perhaps it was an eye.

“You don't know anything, do you?”

It took her a few seconds to respond to those words. “Know anything about what?”

“I can't say. When I slay him, have him tell you with his dying breath.”

“Don't be so sure of yourself.”

“Get on my horse.”

The black steed came closer, and the pale figure in blue reached down from its back.

“Not a chance,” Mia said, backing away.

“Oh, my. Why not?”

“I don't fancy being bait for you to lure D out.”

“Nevertheless, you're coming with me.”

“The hell I will!”

“In that case, I have no use for you. I'll have to do the same thing to you that I did to the others,” he said, turning his head—or actually, his hair—to indicate the legions of dead.

“Why?” Mia asked, cold sweat beginning to run down her face.

“You were with them. Perhaps you learned the same thing.”

“I don't know anything. But if you're going to kill me anyway, why don't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Everything. Like what you are, for starters.”

The rider said nothing.

“What a jerk you are!” Mia spat. “I give you whatever you want, but you won't tell me anything about yourself in return—that's despicable.”

“Are you crying?”

When he asked her this, Mia finally realized that she was. Zoah lay at her feet. First his head had been cut off, and now he had a hairlike needle through him.

“Yeah, so I cry. Is that a crime? A fortuneteller's daughter is still a human being. When something sad happens, I cry. If something rubs me the wrong way, I get angry. What's the matter with that?” Glaring at the man in blue, who was surely an assassin, she continued, “If you're going to kill me, kill me already. But I'll be damned if I'll let a liar like you use me.”

“That's interesting,” the assassin said, smiling.

“What is?” Mia asked, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

“Are you so loath to serve as my bait? Are you that smitten with the man they call D?”

Mia jumped up.

“D-don't be absurd!” she stammered.

“Is it so absurd?”

“It—it sure is.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. What else do you wish to know?”

What is the other D? The question started to rise in her throat, but Mia hesitated. Looking around at their surroundings, she asked, “What is this place?”

“A facility constructed by the Nobility in ancient times. Certain experiments were conducted here over the course of nearly ten millennia.”

“What for?”

“The fusion of human and Noble blood.”

He said it so casually; she couldn't comprehend it at first. Parsing the words one by one with her brain, she strung them back together to form some meaning. She still had to ask, “What did you just say?”

The figure in blue didn't answer her.

“Mixing human and Noble blood? Is that what you mean? They did those sorts of experiments here?”

“Correct.”

Dizziness swept over Mia. She barely managed to keep herself upright by clinging to the pole, but the impact of that knowledge wasn't about to leave her.

Mia searched madly for her next question. “Well, then—who was it that destroyed this place? There's no way humans could've done it. Was it some falling-out between Nobles?”

“Not even a Noble could've done it.”

“Why not?”

“This place was designed by the Sacred Ancestor. Nobility or not, no one save him could so much as put a scratch on its walls.”

“Then who did it? I've heard there were extradimensional life forms and creatures from outer space who opposed the Nobility.”

“Not them.”

“Quit being coy and just tell me. You're going to kill me anyway, right? Who did it?”

“It was—”

Just as Mia strained her ears to catch the indigo assassin's reply, the ground quaked once more. It continued for several seconds.

Showing no signs of getting down off his horse, the assassin looked up at the ceiling and said, “That's the sort of fight I would expect. But for all that destruction, not a single chunk of debris falls—truly the work of the Sacred Ancestor.”

Though the face he then turned toward Mia might've been devoid of emotion, his eyes gleamed with terror.

“All this quaking and destruction is because he's fighting. What's more, it's getting closer. You truly have become unnecessary.”

His left hand, which had gripped the reins, slowly rose before his face, and then made a sudden jerk. Obviously he'd pulled out a hair. And like a lengthy needle, it would surely pierce Mia's body. In this world where even now darkness and light continued to flash, death closed in on Mia with certainty.

“A pity we didn't have more time together,” the assassin in blue said.

And then he swung his left hand. Off to the left. Only empty space lay there.

Turning in that direction, Mia peered into the blackness. A shadowy figure stood there. Shut in darkness, struck by light. But solitary and imposing.

Mia heard her own voice like some distant call savagely ablaze with hope.

“D . . .”

-

III

-

The mounted figure twisted around without any sign of agitation.

Something shot out, scorching the air as it went. A flying needle of unfinished wood came to a halt about four inches shy of the blue assassin's face. Mia gasped, for what should be wound about the missile but a few dozen strands of blue hair. The assassin's hair was able to act autonomously.

The first strike for each had proven ineffective. And the thought of what the second strike might bring left Mia immobilized. This wasn't a confrontation between two men—it was one between a pair of demons. As the two squared off with fifteen feet between them, the light shone on them, and then darkness swallowed them.

Which D are you? That was the question that filled Mia's head.

“You know who I am, don't you?” asked the assassin in blue.

“He told me about you.”

At D's soft reply, Mia's heart swelled. Standing there was the real thing—the D she knew so well.

“How does it feel to battle yourself? And to knock this research center back to square one just when it was on the road to reconstruction? A battle between chosen ones must be something incredible.”