Vampire Hunter D Volume 13: Twin-Shadowed Knight Parts 1 and 2 (7 page)

-

Descending marble stairs, Mia came to a bath surrounded by bizarre stones. It was a natural hot spring that'd been modified for the Nobility's exclusive use. Dropping the towel that'd covered her from the chest to the crotch, she showered, and then got into the water. It seemed to purify her sweat-soaked body. Letting out a deep breath, she looked all around as steam rose like clouds from the rocks beneath the domed ceiling.

Who would've thought this was the interior of an impregnable dome capable of withstanding a direct hit from a nuclear weapon?

More than thirty minutes had passed since Mia regained consciousness. According to the left hand, it'd gone inside and got D some of the Nobility's metabolism-stabilizing drugs, and the Hunter had brought Mia in. Although she didn't find it particularly strange that the limb had become part of D again somewhere along the line, she was delighted by the hitherto unheard calmness in its voice as it drew her attention to a map of the dome projected into thin air and suggested, “Why don't you have a hot soak?”

She melted away into a peaceful state of mind. But from deep in her heart, an anxiety rose that threatened to crush her sense of satisfaction and harmony. The other D—who or what was he? And what was this unprecedented crisis her mother was predicting that would change the whole world? What was she supposed to do, anyway? And how about D?

It came to her in a flash. The dashing Hunter was clearly the only person alive who could avert the disaster in that vision. However, from what Mia had seen, he was ready to depart this area, leaving her with his frosty rejection and indifference as her only mementos. And once he'd abandoned her, what could she do on her own?

A feeling of loneliness more painful than anyone should recall closed tightly around her heart.

“Mom, I'm scared,” Mia said, cradling herself in the hot water. But its warmth felt as empty as an illusion. “I'm not like you, Mom. What am I supposed to do? I can't do anything!”

Her body trembled a bit. That hadn't happened in years. Tears slipped from beneath her closed lids and rolled down her cheeks.

Just then, she sensed someone standing over her. Arriving without warning, they had appeared all of a sudden. And this told her who it had to be.

“D?” she called out, only then sliding down in the warm water up to her chin. “I could just die! What are you doing in here?”

The one she sensed didn't reply. Wondering if he was looking at her, Mia felt as if her body was withering with shame. But at the same time, something about this—just the tiniest bit—made her heart race.

“For the love of all that's holy, get out of here already!”

“Come out of there.”

The second Mia realized that remark wasn't aimed at her, her body no longer felt the warmth of the hot spring. A human shape rose from the bath ten feet ahead of her. Though droplets rained from him, they did nothing to hide his face or form. It was D. But which one?

The D in the bath grinned mischievously. The water came up to his waist. From the elbow down, both his arms were underwater.

“I'm here on business,” he said.

But how had he slipped into the dark abode without D or his left hand noticing?

“Are you going to leave or not, D?” he asked. After a short time, he continued, “Not going to answer? It seems I'm not too talkative. To be perfectly honest, I would prefer that you weren't around. However, considering that I'd have no way of knowing when you might come back, it would seem best to dispose of you right now.”

The D in the bath swiftly sank down. The water came up to his chest, and then a second later, fearful objects assailed the D on dry land. Mia's eyes snapped open painfully wide, because said objects were human heads. Apparently freshly severed, each sported a gory neck wound.

“These are the villagers that let you go earlier,” D declared. “The useless buffoons. But at least now there's a use for them. They were actually grateful to you. Seeing them like this now, don't you feel anything?”

A white streak scorched through the air. A severed head shook. A wooden needle had just pierced it right between the eyes. The D on dry land had hurled it, while the one in the bath had used the villager's head to shield himself. Sending up a spray, his body sank beneath the surface of the bath.

“Move, and the girl dies,” said a voice that came from the water. “My blade is resting between her legs. Is the other me willing to strike if it'd mean a lovely young girl would get slashed in two?”

As Mia felt terror sink its talons into her heart, her senses focused on her groin. She couldn't feel a blade. However, she found it impossible to believe that this man with the appearance of D would be lying. And the source of her true terror was the thought that the D behind her would strike at his foe without any concern for her life.

Mom, Mia thought, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the agony that was sure to be visited on her. She felt lightheaded. Did it last for an instant, or was it an eternity?

“He's gone,” the voice of the left hand said.

“Come out of there,” D told her, sounding as if nothing at all had transpired.

Violent emotions tore through Mia's heart like a sudden gale. Just now, she'd been ready for him to cut her down. And along with her fear and resignation, there was the thought that if it were him doing it, it wouldn't be all that bad. And yet, how could he still be so cold to her? How could he not know how she felt?

Mia turned around. She intended to have a word with D. However, the gorgeous young man was nowhere to be seen in the steaming white bath.

-

I

-

When Mia had dressed and gone back to the parlor, D was standing by the window and staring out. In his black raiment, even as he took such a perfectly common pose, he looked horribly isolated from everything that surrounded him. It was probably the way he'd always lived—perhaps from the very second he was born. What kind of people had this young man had for parents? Inside, Mia quaked with an unusual curiosity.

D, she was about to call out to him when the figure in black turned in her direction. Instinctively Mia halted, unable to move.

Which D was this?

“Relax, he's the real one.”

When she heard the left hand say that, the tension left her. The machinations of the other D had inspired that much fear in her.

“And that other D—has he gone already?”

“We did a thorough sweep of the dome. Most likely, he got away.”

“We can't say that for sure.”

Mia gazed at D in amazement. A single remark from the young man carried much more weight than what the left hand said.

“We didn't notice him slipping in here. The same would probably go for him leaving.”

“Imagine someone coming and going in the Dark Abode without you noticing! I find that hard to believe.”

“He's me. There's nothing strange about it.”

“What are you?” she said, only realizing that the question was pointless after she'd asked it.

“I'm going to take a rest; then I'll be leaving. You can do as you like.”

“Do you really have to go?”

“I'm finished here.”

“Those people were murdered—by someone who looks just like you. He's trying to keep you in the area. At this rate, there could be a lot more deaths.”

“The deaths of others have no bearing on me.”

“He's waiting until you can't stand it anymore. One after another he'll kill anyone connected to you, waiting until you come to him.”

“You're reading too much into this.”

“No, I'm not!”

“If that's the case, then he's making a mistake. I'm leaving.”

“Even knowing that death and destruction and slaughter will cover the earth? Even knowing that the only one who can possibly stop it is you?”

“If you won't leave, I will,” D said, picking up the saddle that was sitting on the table and turning for the door.

Entirely unconsciously, Mia cried out, “Do something, Left Hand!”

“That's Mr. Left Hand to you,” a hoarse voice said from the vicinity of D's hip as the Hunter walked away.

“Isn't there any way to keep him from going? It's like he doesn't even know how important he is.”

“You're probably right.”

“Stop!” Mia cried out wildly as she moved toward the door with him.

“Will you make it worth our while?” the left hand inquired, his voice suddenly dwindling.

“Yes, I will!” the girl shouted without a moment's thought.

“Very well. Do you have money? He's a Hunter. Arrrgh!” A cry of pain was heard from the Hunter's tightly balled fist.

D was about to go through the door, but the Left Hand's words had been enough for Mia.

“Wait. I want to hire you!” she said to him, her words nearly an angry bellow.

When D halted, Mia was confident of her victory.

D turned around, and then walked away.

“Wait a second. I—”

“I was told there are no Nobility in this region.”

He was a Vampire Hunter—there was no point in his staying anywhere where he couldn't put his abilities to good use. So Mia broke off there.

D was about to go. To Mia, all eternity seemed to lie between them. Just then, a certain thought flashed through her brain, but it was unclear whether it could be termed a revelation or a plot.

“D,” she called out to him, the expression on her face so hard and intense she seemed like a completely different person. “You said he's you, right? In which case, he's also a dhampir—he has Noble blood running through him.”

Did the girl even know what it was she was saying?

On the other side of the door, D's form came to a sudden stop, as if he'd turned into a statue.

“I hear there's nothing the Nobility love more than the blood of a young girl—a virgin. If that's so, how about this, D?”

Suddenly raising her left hand, Mia flashed her clenched right hand across the opposite wrist. It was wrapped about the knife she carried for self-defense. Fresh blood dripped noisily to the floor.

“Genuine virgin's blood. Oh, doesn't that do anything for you, D? Please, say something.”

Mia had cut the artery. If she didn't stop bleeding, she'd be dead of blood loss in under a minute.

D turned around. High on that figure the hue of darkness, a pair of lights burned. Like blood-colored rubies, they were filled with a stark and brutal hunger. D's eyes.

“I'm sorry. That was a horrible, stupid thing to do. But I had no choice. D, those eyes are proof of your lineage. Proof of the Noble blood that flows in your veins. Hear my request, D. I want the other you to die—by your hand.”

As soon as she finished saying that, Mia collapsed on the spot. Although this was due in part to a precipitous loss of blood, it was also because she'd eked out every ounce of desperate energy to make that outrageous request. Looking like a white blossom that'd fallen to the ground, she had a red stain spreading from her with a heavy scent.

Mia's eyes were open. He was coming closer, this figure of unearthly beauty. However, he had an air about him so ghastly she thought her blood would freeze. She didn't know this D.

Halting by her feet, the figure in black looked down on her with that crimson gaze.

“Yes, D—drink my blood,” Mia said, raising her left hand as blood continued to stream down it. “I don't mind, so long as it's you. Then go and slay the other you. This is the only compensation I can give!”

Her hand fell limply to the floor, sending out a little splash of blood.

Peering down at the pale girl who'd completely lost consciousness, D slowly bent over. Within her pale throat, a blue line rose into prominence. The jugular vein.

-

That evening, the town's retired but now acting sheriff Old Jal received a visit from a black night wind. A door he was sure he'd locked opened, and the instant he realized that, the nocturnal wind that blew in snuffed his lamp. In the resulting darkness, he saw a figure in black who was like the night wind congealed. Beyond the window, the moon was out.

“Who is that—D?”

As Old Jal sat there with eyes bugging out, the figure lined up five severed heads on his desk, one after another.

“Bury these. But just so you know, I'm not the one who cut them off.”

Old Jal got the feeling he was somewhere out in the solitude of outer space. “I know . . . but folks in town aren't gonna like this.”

“Do whatever you like. I'll be coming and going a lot. Just tell them to stay out of my way.”

“But why in blazes did you come back? Put yourself in my shoes, D.”

“There's a Noble in the area as powerful as I am. Are you trying to tell me I should just let him be?”

“Got any proof? This is a peaceful village. Or it was, until you and that girl came along. Once I let them see these heads, everyone's gonna come gunning for the two of you. But even if we could get a hundred times as many people as there are in this town, we wouldn't stand a chance of beating you. That's what scares me. D, are you gonna raise your hand against innocent villagers?”

“Tomorrow, have everyone gather in the main square,” D said.

Training a gaze that could crush stone on the Hunter, Old Jal asked, “You planning on persuading them all? Or something else?”

“I suppose we can make it high noon. I'll be back.”

Before Old Jal could open his mouth again, the figure melted into the darkness.

-

At the time D had appointed, the village square was filled with a noisy bustle that far outstripped the earlier rumblings in the earth. It was ragged breathing and chatter choked with malice, uncertainty, and murderous intent, all of which spilled from men and women armed to the teeth. The blue sky and sunlight burned deep shadows on the ground. Five pairs of vacant eyes reflected all the square's proceedings. That morning, Old Jal had asked the carpenter to erect a wooden stage as quickly as he could—and on it sat the five severed heads.

The aged lawman had told the villagers everything at the community hall, and after they unanimously decided that D had to be disposed of, they'd all moved on to the square. They had decided to meet with him despite the terror D inspired in them. No matter how great D might be, he wouldn't go away unscathed. And that was the crux of Mia's fear and uncertainty—that he'd raise his hand against the villagers.

“Sheriff, you think he's really coming?” one of them asked Old Jal, who stood beside the stage.

“That's what he said.”

“You don't think maybe he had us all gather here so he could go get whatever it is he wants—”

“He's a man among men. If he said he's coming, he'll come.”

“Well, damned if you ain't the head of his fan club.”

“Shut your hole,” Old Jal snapped back, veins bulging at his temples.

“Someone's coming!” a voice cried out.

They all looked around in every conceivable direction.

“Over this way!” someone finally declared.

A shape was coming down the village street.

“Is it D?”

“No. And it's a group.”

“Why, that's Gael!” an old woman—apparently the man's mother—exclaimed with delight.

“Sesto's there, too. And Coonan! Did they come out of that hole or something?”

“They're alive!”

These men had been among the first to go out to the great subsidence, only to go missing. There were three of them. The whole crowd became one massive tide that went rushing toward them—then stopped. The force of the retreating wave sent those in the rear reeling.

“Gael! Sesto! Coonan!”

There was something strange about the behavior of the men, all three of whom were young. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about their appearance or they way they walked, and yet something wasn't quite right. It was almost as if they didn't belong there, walking in the light of the sun. As the group kept a silent watch over them, the trio walked into the square.

“Gael!” the old woman cried, her stone necklace swaying to and fro as she stepped forward. Her tears glistened. “So, you made it back alive, did you? Your old mother couldn't ask for any—”

Her son—Gael—grinned slyly. At that moment, something whistled angrily through the air.

The mother looked down on the villagers from a terribly high spot. As a severed head trailing a ribbon of blood.

“Gael? Sesto? Coonan?”

Cries of joy became screams of fear.

One of the villagers fired a round from an old-fashioned rifle. Gael's right shoulder jerked back. A split second later, he leapt, sailing more than twenty feet to land directly in front of the shooter, at whose neck he then swung his right hand. It was a vicious chop. Not only was the shooter beheaded, but two more villagers to his left were also caught by the same blow, their necks half severed and sending up fountains of blood as the men toppled.

“Sesto—what in the world's come over Gael?” a girl who couldn't have been twenty asked her older brother in an imploring tone.

Placing his hands gently to either side of her head, her brother made an equally gentle twist to the right. Her head turned precisely 180 degrees, and his little sister died instantly of a broken neck.

Not to be outdone by the first two, Coonan also went into action. When no one was looking, he'd taken up a dead tree branch. Less than five feet long, it still demonstrated impressive force in the hands of the young man who'd returned. One easy swing crushed the torso of a villager wearing an old suit of armor. Another thrust of the same strength impaled a trio of villagers. And that wasn't all.

“Hey!” he called out, swinging the branch toward Gael and Sesto when they turned.

The three impaled villagers sailed neatly into the air. While they were still in midair, the hands and feet of Gael and Sesto went up. The bodies of the villagers fell to the ground, their heads alone neatly removed.

“What are you doing? We're all friends here!”

And along with Old Jal's words, a crimson light shot from his right hand. The ruby laser bored through the right side of Sesto's chest, enveloping it in smoke and flames. Subjecting him to a ruthless fusillade, Old Jal had no sooner dropped the man than he saw Gael coming down at him from above. Oh, shit, he thought as he shut his eyes; only his ears caught the unearthly hewing sound that spelled his new fate.

But what thudded to the ground was Gael's right arm. With a limb lopped off at the shoulder, the young man landed a good fifteen feet ahead of Old Jal and glared off to the right another fifteen feet, where there stood an inhumanly handsome man in black.

Someone called out his name.

D!

-

II

-

Gael said something, and then surged forward like a storm wind, aiming blows at the solar plexus and chest of the rider in black with his left fist. Ten blows in the span of a second—the punches came at ungodly speed.

And D blocked them all. His body described an elegant arc. His sword flashed out. The blade ran in a straight line from the stump of Gael's right arm, slicing his accursed heart in twain.

Ignoring Gael as he fell, D spun around. A thin but deadly branch scythed a horizontal path toward his face.

Coonan poised himself for a second attack, but the branch had been severed by the same slash that took his arm off at the elbow. Coonan stood stock still, unable to move, for jabbing against the base of his throat was D's blade.

“Did you come here to collect corpses for experimentation?” D inquired in a rusty tone. “Or was this slaughter itself the experiment? Answer me.”

Coonan didn't reply. Though his eyes were tinged with fear, he wore the emotionless visage of an automaton. His left arm had fallen off as well, having been severed at the shoulder.

As his foe howled with pain and reeled back, D said to him, “I won't ask this twice. Where is the other me?” It was a soft query.

Wind struck the Hunter's handsome visage. Still facing backward, Coonan's body had taken to the air. Landing a good thirty feet away, he launched another intense jump that took him out of the square, and then raced away without a backward glance.

Saying nothing as he returned his sword to its sheath, D turned to face the villagers. A bell tolled off in the distance. High noon—the time D had promised he'd be there. And as they beheld D, another hue gradually began to suffuse their eyes and piteous expressions.

Approaching slowly, Old Jal said, “I'm . . . I'm glad you came.” Looking down at the two who'd fallen, he asked, “What the hell happened here?”

“They've been changed. What ran amok here were others who'd taken on the form of your friends.”

“Changed? By what?”

“By the man who looks just like me.”

“Now that you mention it, I did get a report back from the guys who chased him yesterday morning. They said he was a perfect double for you.”

“Do you intend to stay out of this?”

“Personally, I wouldn't have complained if you'd just run off.”

Raising his right foot, D planted it lightly on the ground. “He's down there. Someone with Noble blood.”

“That's because he's exactly like you, you bastard!” a mournful scream rose from D's flank. It came from a blood-soaked middle-aged man carrying a girl who'd been impaled on Coonan's stick. Her father, no doubt. “We heard about you from the sheriff. You're a freaking dhampir, ain't you? A human/Noble half-breed. That guy's sure to be your brother. You got us all to gather here so they could attack us, didn't you?”

The air was transmuted. Countless streams of malice erupted in unison from all around D.

“Did you plan on butchering the lot of us? How about it?”

“Answer him!” others called out.

“He's collecting parts,” D responded impassively.

“Parts? What kind of parts?”

“The kind that can be harvested from the flesh of the dead.”

Silence descended. As bewilderment passed through the villagers, the face of one froze in horror. The same followed with other villagers and other faces, for the terrifying import of D's words was finally dawning on them.

“You bastard . . . Not only do you kill a man, but you'd steal what's inside him as well?” screeched a voice so shrill it made people want to cover their ears.

A woman covered with blood raced toward D with a knife in her right hand. A pair of arms closed around her from behind, stopping her.

“I know how you—how all of you feel, but this young fella isn't the culprit. If you need proof, just look—he settled their hash for us, didn't he?”

Two men lay flat on the ground—Gael and Sesto.

“Just another trap. The two of them had the others run wild so he could come to the rescue. To fool us into trusting him.”

Others chimed in with their agreement.

Heaving a sigh, Old Jal said, “Look, D—I'm not gonna be able to keep a handle on this. In the end, I think hitting the road as soon as possible would be the—”

“I've been hired.”

“What? By who?”

Not responding, D took a step forward. The malicious comments died immediately.

“Someone who knows their way around a weapon, step right here,” D said, pointing to the ground in front of himself.

The appalled expressions of the villagers changed once more. Even gut-churning rage cooled in light of what they'd just seen D do.

“Step forward. Doesn't anyone want to have his revenge? I was the one who sent those three out here.”

A silent, crushing wave rolled across the square. He was doing the exact same thing he'd done with the villagers who'd chased him on the highway.

“What, are you scared?” D prodded softly. “This is your chance to avenge your parents, your children, and you'd just let me go? I see. I was right to come here in the first place.”

D turned on his heel. He wore a cool smile on his lips. One of scorn.

After he'd taken a few steps toward where his cyborg horse was tethered at the entrance to the square, a youthful voice howled, “Wait just a goddamned minute!”

D went right on walking.

“You sick son of a bitch! I'm gonna make you pay for what happened to my little sister,” shouted a young man who looked to be under twenty. In his hand he clutched a massive sickle. “I'll show you there are real men in this village. All of you, watch this!”

Though someone shouted out at him not to do it, the young man kicked off the ground in a savage bound. The great sickle he had raised could not only take off a human head, but it'd have sufficient force to cut through two or three torsos at a time.

“Waaaah!”

What he intended as a battle cry came out as a desperate scream as he brought his weapon flashing down.

The sickle had sufficient force and was well within range, but D merely tilted his upper body to the right to avoid it. Without a second's pause, the blade of the sickle reversed direction in an exquisitely timed attack, but it again met only thin air, and, ignoring the agitated young man now caught off balance, D kept walking the way he'd been headed.