White Lies: (The Uruwashi Series #4) (17 page)

Again, Tristan only nodded. He wasn’t in a rush to get to the punch line, he wanted to see just how much Desmond really knew. What he might be hiding. And with his own mind locked up tight, despite or because of, his raging headache, there was no peaking happening by the vampire.

Desmond frowned, standing to tower over Tristan. “It’s no’ right, but that seikonō tastes of water… and wind. Is no wonder I couldn’t shift it before.””

Tristan let out a long breath lowering his head to look down blankly at his own middle. “That’s about the gist of it.”

“No bloody way!”

He jerked when Desmond stormed away in a wake of cursing. With a tired sigh, he struggled to his feet. He was super exhausted suddenly and wondered if he could even risk sleeping with the hopes of waking ever again. “Desmond,” he said tiredly as the vampire stomped down the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“Yew said to stay oot of yur bloody way.” He stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up to Tristan. “I’m giving yew what yew want, oot of yur way.” He spun to leave but spun back, face full of panic. “There’s no way it’s true. It’s myth! Folklore. Not. Bloody. Real.”

Tristan sighed, leaning back against the wall. “That’s why I need your help. God, you’ve made me say it twice now.”

“No. Your lot’s not important ‘nough for something like that.”

“No, maybe not,” Tristan said calmly, feeling his bile rise. Yeah, the knock to his head was a doozy. “But innocent human lives are… Wren is.”

Desmond stiffened and Tristan knew he’d hit the mark. Sure, Desmond tried to melt the poor vampire’s face off, but he still cared. He did it because he cared. Tristan figured out long ago that the man’s ego was huge, so it didn’t take much of a leap to know when Desmond did something, it was out of rashness and hurt pride rather than actual malice. The big idiot probably will never admit it again, but he loved Wren as much as Wren obviously loved him.

“He’s bloody
not
.”

Tristan smiled. “Come on, dude. I know you and I don’t get along worth shit, but I know you better than you think. And Wren, he still loves you.” With a little chuckle to himself, he realized he had a new skill to add to his unorthodox resume: relationship guru to the dead. God, why did he even care?

“Are you really going to let a freak like Xuejiao, who has no problem whatsoever with doing shit like drowning innocent people for the fun of it, make him a captive? And what about all the humans, huh? You have an obligation to protect them as the stronger race, don’t you think?”

“That’s what the bloody pythia are fur,” he muttered. Desmond’s expression was sour but his body had lost the tension he was carrying. The fear was mostly gone now and the stubbornness was trickling in. “Would be what he deserves after he—” Desmond shut his eyes and lowered his face into his hand, rubbing at his forehead. “Bloody hell, we really do hate yew.”

Tristan smiled big and forced himself off the wall. The movement was too fast and he nearly fell. If it weren’t for Desmond’s incredible speed, Tristan would have gone head first down the stairs… and knocked himself in the face with the sword.

He meant to say thanks, he really did, but he was too busy groaning, fighting against his cloudy vision. Desmond helped him into the living room, sloshing through the water and lowered him to the small sofa there. Now that all the snowflakes, save for a few on the fringes, were gone, it was just a puddle of annoying water.

Without a word the vampire turned and crouched, putting his hands into the water. Tristan didn’t need to see to know that the vampire had bit into his wrists and was bleeding into the pool again.

A few moments later Desmond gave a deep moan and then all the water suddenly lifted, gathering in large drops. The last few snowflakes melted away, their electrical energy singeing outwards into nothing. With another little moan the vampire flung his big hands away and the water all left the room to turn the corner, slam the kitchen door open and drop into the sink.

Desmond turned with a pleased smile, hands on his hips in a really wrong version of a Peter Pan pose.

“See, wasn’t so hard if you try,” Tristan said softly as he felt himself drift. “Too bad you didn’t do it earlier…”

“Piss off,” Desmond snapped and then frowned. “Oi?”

The sting of Desmond’s hand was like a brick to the face, but Tristan couldn’t react anymore, consciously or otherwise.

“Oi! Don’t yew bloody kick off on us. Oi! Tristan!”

The last thing Tristan remembered was his middle tingling with vampire goodness and a sense of euphoria.

OOI!”

Tristan gasped awake, his face stung and his hands were automatically reaching for the old man standing over him.

“Yare!” the man cried out, moving faster than someone his age should have. He looked startled but was smiling knowingly. “
Genki ka
?”

Tristan groaned, rolling over to his side to sit up and then thought better of it when his stomach lurched. The movement brought up a musky scent; the linens on the bed were clean but they’d been unused for a while. Resting, eyes shut against the bright light, he sighed. “I’ve felt better…”

The man considered him with droopy but keen eyes. “
Nihongo wa hanasemasu ka?”

“Nope,” he answered plainly. Now, that wasn’t the whole truth. He did speak some Japanese—understood the old man’s question rather clearly. Actually, he understood a hell of a lot more than he let on, but if he said ‘why yes, I do speak your language’, then he’d be caught up in rapid fire Japanese and wouldn’t be able to follow anymore. It was just easier to feign ignorance. Besides, he liked hearing what people said about him when they thought he didn’t understand. It was entertaining.

“Ah, naruhodo… Fix, okay.”

Tristan cracked an eye open to look at the guy. “You gonna tell me who you are?”

“Shop downstairs. Your friend give big money. Big money to wake loud man with mouth.” He motioned at Tristan enthusiastically.

“He paid you to slap me awake?”

The old man smiled big. He was missing a lower molar and the top teeth were all crammed in together. He might not have been as old as he looked though, something in his eyes. He shrugged, smiling in a way that said he wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “Told me, very important, wake annoying American, no matter what. Very important. No matter what.”

Tristan harrumphed and sat up. Despite moving slow, his head still felt sloshy and heavy. Guess he’d had worse. Desmond must have done his vampire voodoo on him too since the cut was all scabby under his hair now. He thought that he really should start wearing a helmet with the way his head got knocked around so much. “Well, I’m fine. So thanks.”

“
Are
…” The old man turned and motioned to the living room. Tristan looked through the open door past the man and saw a bunch of stuff sitting on the kotatsu.
Food
. “I bring food. High protein. Big man say so. Get strong, hai?”

Tristan smiled at the old man as he took stock of Tristan’s already strong physic with a raise brow. “Thanks.”

Nodding the old man turned away to leave.

“Oh hey—erm,
chotto matte
. Do you know Wren?”

“Eh?”

“Uh, Toshiro.”

“Are, Tsukahara-san?
Mochiron
.”

Of course.

“Do you know where I might find him, er, besides here?”

The old man eyed him. “Misunderstand. I know Tsukahara-san, but not…
nakayoshi
—intimate? Hai, not good friend.”

“Acquaintances then?”

“Hai, hai. Tsukahara-san very private man. But very…” The old man frowned, looking lost for words.

“Stands out?” Tristan supplemented.

“Hai.
Gaijin
stands out.” The old man shifted on his feet and looked uncomfortable as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Also, very pretty. Customers confuse for woman sometimes.”

Tristan smiled at that. Yeah, Wren was a pretty dude, even with half his face hidden under his Phantom mask and hair. “So he comes into your izakaya a lot?”

“Hai.” The man’s wrinkles all scrunched together as he frowned. “Only ever drink sake and then leave with someone. Never same person.”

Tristan realized the man might have thought Wren was a prostitute. Well, he didn’t seem to know anything that would help him anyway. Shame. Tristan thanked the old man again for the food and showed him out. He then returned to eat the hot meal the man had left him, contemplating how he was going find Xuejiao if he knew nothing about her or her captive.

After his meal, he inspected the room he’d been previously locked in, Wren’s daylight-proof closet. There was no handle and he still didn’t know how it’d been open for him when he awoke. Not to mention his handcuffs were off too. A cold feeling settled in his belly. He didn’t really want to think on it too closely, because if it had been what he was starting to suspect, then that could mean a whole world of trouble for him and Ash. The last thing he needed was a fucking shinigami following them around on top of everything else. If anything, he prayed it had been Lilith’s intervention—but then, didn’t he always say his luck was shit?

By the time he wandered back towards the bedroom he’d been sleeping in, he started to feel better. The food was a warm weight in his belly, a new strength in his veins. His head was clearer and though he was still tired, he wasn’t dead on his feet. Good thing too, since he had work to do.

This was his first real hunt alone, and never before did he have to dig up clues to locate his target. Even when Ash was taken in Greece, he had Mamoru’s level thinking and experience to guide him. And no matter what the man said, there was no trusting Desmond. Or believing in him. Tristan was on his own as far as he was concerned.

He spent the rest of the day, bleeding into the late afternoon, investigating. He started with a thorough go-over of Wren’s place. And found nothing. Not a single photo or keepsake, nothing that gave any indication that a person lived here. It was just a room, a place to sleep, nothing more. The man’s apparent lonely life let Tristan stop for a moment and think about Ash, wondering how she was handling the knowledge that he was out of reach. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d show up.

Sparked by the small hope of seeing Ash soon, Tristan went out and spent a great deal of time wandering the town. He tasted their foods, shopped their wares and talked to them. He was never a big people person, but had no problem striking up a conversation with complete strangers. The language barrier did make it a bit more difficult and he found himself stumbling through more Japanese than he’d ever attempted to speak before.

Dressed in fresh clothes and feeling dizzy again, he was seated in the old man’s izakaya, waiting on the light dinner he ordered when he felt the flop in his belly. The back of his neck itched and he knew exactly who it was before they’d even gotten in past the door.

“Find anythin’ then?”

Tristan sighed as Desmond’s hulking weight made the natural wood stool next to his creak. Tristan didn’t have the money on him to pay for it if the big vampire broke it.

“No.” The fact was, he hated that he was so bad at this. Sure, he had moral issue with what he did now as his “living”, or whatever, but if he was going to do it, he at least should have been better than suck at it.

He turned his head to the side, cheek resting on his clasped hands. “Is there anything you can tell me about Wren? Maybe a place here he used to like, a favorite… um, type he liked to hunt or, erm, other? Maybe something about Xuejiao? Anything to help us find them?”

Desmond frowned at him and looked away. He caught the attention of the old izakaya owner’s son and ordered himself a drink.

“No,” Desmond said, sounding a bit bruised.

“Come on, man, don’t be like that. What? You think I actually give a shit? That I’ll use the info you tell me against you somehow? Jesus, just what kind of person do you think I am?”

Desmond only glared at him in a side-glance.

Tristan suddenly smiled and leaned in real close. He felt the room react to that little gesture since everyone was noticing the two big foreign men. “Or are you afraid of me falling for you?”

Desmond’s green eyes widened, his mouth dropping open. The stunned silence lasted only a few tense seconds and then the vampire burst into laughter. He laughed so hard, a few of the closer patrons, including the owner’s son as he tried to pour drinks, started to giggle.

The vampire slapped Tristan on the back with a big hand, nearly knocking the wind from him and mumbled something in a language Tristan didn’t know.

“Right then, when yew put it that wey.” Desmond took his drink from the son and sighed as he sobered from his outburst. “In 1807 I was supposed tae be just passing through Edo. I found Wren pissed out of his bloody little mind in a local dive. Were his pain that drew me in.”

Desmond shifted on his stool, making it creak again. “Was fascinated by him and decided to take him, make him mine.” He stopped to sniff loudly. “Was me right as a Master, after all,” he added after a second’s hesitation as if to justify himself.

Desmond sighed into his drink before taking it all down in a big gulp. Tristan had the eerie and uncomfortable feeling that Desmond was dumbing down the story, taking all emotion out of it so that he wouldn’t see that under all that asshole, there was a real man with feelings.

“I had him that very night. Couldn’t help meself and started to turn him. We didn’t agree on words, but I went tae him again the following night and the next two. By the fourth, he was mine and I gave him what he needed to become like us.

“But, he didnae—I buried him and four nights passed and I was sure he failed to become what he was meant tae be, but then he rose and was a vampire. And he was bloody glorious.”

Desmond grunted. “He hated me. Was a beautiful thing, all that hate in his eyes. He stayed with me, but the hate—The next hundred or so years… they were a little rough, aye. Until it all came to a crux. We fought, more or less, and he left. After our parting, he ran off with another vampire. A child vampire. I found them at a kitsune shrine.”

Tristan made a little noise of surprise, drawing Desmond’s attention to him.

“Aye, the very same.”

“He was trying to call Xuejiao out, wasn’t he—er, Wren. That’s why he was at the shrine. He was trying to get her attention, not piss off the kitsune.”

Desmond looked away and held up his glass to order another drink. “Always the bleedin’ sentimentalist.”

Tristan held back a scowl
.
“Do you think he would try to stop her on his own? Even knowing it’s completely futile?”

“Mebbe.”

The two men fell into silence, both going over their own private thoughts. He couldn’t put it in words, but Tristan had this need to save Wren. Sure, his main mission was the stop Xuejiao, but saving Wren was important too. Maybe Lilith’s joke to Ash about them being fast friends was more of an insight. Maybe there was hope for life after Xuejiao.

“Well,” Tristan finally said, “I think the first place we should go is the shrine then. I doubt they’ll be there but it doesn’t hurt to look. We can go by your place too and pick up Yuki and Ash… I think we’ll need them. More pointy things too.”

Desmond looked at him through lowered lids, his bright green eyes darkened with his cynicism. “Xuejiao really has two seikonō then?”

Tristan huffed. “You saw that shit back at Wren’s place, you think I did that? I’m telling you, this girl, she’s dangerous. And super freaky. I mean, she’s all adorable and innocent seeming and then she pulls out her seikonō like that… Dude, she’s not right, telling me she was drowning those people just because she liked it.” But insane? No. He couldn’t call the girl crazy because she was perfectly logical, even if her morals were wrong.

“You’re afraid of a little girl.”

“Damned right I am,” Tristan said, pushing his empty dishes away and slipped off the stool. “She’s stronger than all of us put together with nothing silly like morals to stop her from acting.”

Desmond grunted as he vacated his own stool. “We’ll bloody see ‘boot that.”

“Fine, don’t believe me, but I know what I felt. She was old, super old.”

Desmond considered him a moment, a tiny frown tugging at his mouth. “You can feel our age?”

“No, not age per say, but your…
weight
? I don’t know, it’s like a heaviness on my soul, if that makes any sense. I can tell how strong someone is by the weight of their presence. Like Innokentiy back in Greece, I—”

“Wait a bloody minute.
Who
?”

“Uh,” Tristan looked around as if there was actually someone around to pull the foot from his mouth. “No one.” Did Desmond really not know that Viking with them was Ash’s predecessor? Innokentiy wanted to be thought of as dead still…

“Bollocks, no one. Did you just say Innokentiy? He’s long dead, how do you know aboot him?”

Tristan took a step into Desmond to speak more softly, everyone was watching them openly now. “Don’t you remember? That Viking on Crete?” They hadn’t officially met, or whatever, that Tristan saw, but they were aware of each other while they fought off Genoveva on the island, lent each other a hand when needed.

Desmond’s eyes widened. “
Crete
?”

“You don’t remember… We—Crete?” Tristan asked carefully, watching Desmond closely for a reaction. “The fire and the pythia, Genoveva and Mamoru?”

The vampire stumbled back, reaching for something to catch himself, looking horrified and whispered, “Genoveva?”

Immediately Tristan understood what had happened. Yuki erased his mind of Greece, but why? What was it he saw or did that he wasn’t supposed to remember? As far as Tristan could tell, the vampire hadn’t done anything extraordinary… Well, except for calling up his kōmajutsu, umibozu, into the middle of a populated city. He’d never tell the guy, but that was fucking awesome.