Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sublunary ❯ Clouds and Eclipses ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: see part one.

AN: Sometimes, I wonder if I'm cursed. A flood, a very sick cat, and painful flare-up of carpal tunnel delayed this one. (Well, that and the knowledge that you'd all kill me if I posted two cliffhanger chapters in a row.) Hard to update when one is limited to 20 minutes of comp time a day. My apologies, folks. Hope you enjoy this one. ::clutches virtual rabbit's foot::>

Mood music for this installment: Shin-Getsu (Music From Japan CD), Mary (Tori Amos)

Misoka drove the van, keeping the chartered bus in sight, but not tailgating. Akira chattered to no-one in particular, stared out the window, and played with the radio until Misoka threatened to set his tail on fire. Nozomu smothered a grin.

"Hey, Fangs, settle down, will ya?" Mitsuru demanded.

"Huh?" Nozomu stared at the tengu beside him.

"Well, you're sighing, can't sit still, you almost smacked me in the head... Are you carsick or what?"

"I don't think shape-changers like us can get motion-sick, Mitsuru," he said.

Mitsuru rolled his eyes. "Watching you sigh after her might do it. The sick part, anyway. Y know, she usually spends this much time away."

"I know," Nozomu snapped. "I just don't like the Princess being someplace we can't get to her if we have to."

Now Mitsuru sighed. "It's a school trip. Trust me, nothing happens on these things."

"Hey, Mitsuru!" Akira hung over the seat. "You went to a school with humans, right? For real, I mean, not pretend, like we did. Did you go to high school and stuff, too?" The werewolf's tail sprouted, looking more like something that belonged on an akita.

"Idiot. Would I be here if I had? I quit after junior high."

Akira's ears drooped. "Aww, but why?"

"Because you can't be really different and go to school." Mitsuru folded his arms and glared out of the side window with such ferocity a nearby car actually slowed down.

"Besides, the good ones are tough and expensive, and so's cram school. You think the state pays out for weird kids who aren't some kind of genius? And what demon in his right mind wants to spend all damn day cooped up with a bunch of noisy humans, anyway? Now shut up about it already."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Nozomu, eyeing Mitsuru, thought there might have been another reason. The vampire used his looks to lure in potential donors. Mitsuru had no use for that ploy, but even waiting tables at the Moonshine, he drew attention--attention he didn't like. The girls would've loved him, the guys would've hated him for it, and either way, he'd have been mobbed. Tengu did not do well in crowds.

Misoka grabbed Akira's tail one-handed and yanked. Akira yelped and fell back into his seat.

"Stop slipping form like that," Misoka ordered. "You'll cause an accident if someone sees you."

Nozomu tilted his head back and closed his eyes, tuning them out. He had something much more interesting to concentrate on. Mahiru's blood wound through all he was. A little went a long, long way when one's primary donor was Mahiru Shiraishi. So long as he had some of her blood inside him, he couldn't be separated from her. She's seventeen, he cautioned himself. Still in school. Feeding me doesn't mean she's chosen me. Besides, she was the Princess. That... complicated things.

"Damn!" Misoka's voice cut across his thoughts. A sudden deceleration shook the rest of the van's passengers like dice in a cup. "Sorry about that."

He looked ahead. Two car lengths ahead of them, a sporty compact stalled in mid-lane, sending up billows of grayish steam. Akira made a gagging noise and hastily rolled up his window, rubbing at his sensitive nose. Already, the other lanes began to snarl into the inevitable knot that formed around a traffic mishap. Through the haze, they could see Mahiru's bus rolling along on its route.

"Great," Misoka sighed.

"I could--" Akira reached for the door handle.

"Don't you dare!" Misoka said. "Too many witnesses, and any illusion I could weave now would fall apart with distance."

"But-"

"We know where she's going, where she'll be," Nozomu said. "We'll catch up."

"I told you, nothing happens on these things." Mitsuru flopped back in his seat. "You're wasting your time worrying."

Nozomu sighed and settled back. It looked like they weren't going anywhere for a while.

It took almost an hour for the road to clear, an hour that frayed everyone's nerves with the traffic noise and close quarters. Mitsuru snapped at Akira until Misoka finally lost his patience and snapped back. Only the sudden openness of the road kept it from blossoming into a full-out brawl. They didn't reach the inn until nearly moonrise.

Oboro and Katsura, traveling in a different vehicle, had split away from them. They'd departed for the Moon Palace, taking the recovered Teardrops with them. Nozomu silently cursed their latest orders. The situation at the Moon Palace must be growing desperate if they wanted to perform the dedication with only five Teardrops-and without the Princess.

He was starting to feel the pinch as well. Overnight, it seemed, they'd almost run out of time. Maybe that explained his rash behavior with Mahiru. He held back a shiver. The sickness sweeping through his people affected each race differently. Only the outcome remained the same: madness and death. Nozomu tried to remember any accounts given of vampires falling sick, but came up empty.

The Lunar Race, as a whole, viewed sickness as a human weakness-or a deliberate attempt at poisoning by humans, depending where one stood along the paranoia spectrum. After all, if one dwelt in pure surroundings, untainted by corruption and pollution, one wouldn't get sick. Sickness was a fault, a failure in perception, a shame one hid away.

Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised at their desperate acts. Humans are so much more sensible about this sort of thing, he thought, climbing out of the van. Get sick, go to a doctor, answer a bunch of nosy questions you'd slug somebody else for asking under different circumstances. But they got answers. The sick got help. The authorities went looking for sick people, bombarded the media with warnings and updates.

Only when sickness had crept into the Imperial Court itself, in the very heart of the Moon Palace, had action begun. By then...

Hey. Up here.

Frowning a little, he scanned their surroundings. The bat he'd given Mahiru spiraled down to him. He got the impression of achy, cramped wings, stuffy air, little food-

"Don't you start," he warned. "And why aren't you with her?"

Nozomu caught brief images of many girls in the same uniform Mahiru wore, a big room. An open window. Mahiru's hands, cradling the bat, then releasing it into the twilight. She'd looked tired, but untroubled.

"Okay, okay," he sighed, waving a hand. "Scoot. Come back for me if there's trouble."

Mitsuru shoved one of the bags at him. "Take one of these will you? And for the grief you people give me for not being careful, why are you spacing out in the parking lot with that damn flying rat ?"

Nozomu scowled at him. Wait 'til he discovers tengu resonate with beasts, too. Maybe he'll get a mile-long trail of adoring otters and badgers following him for days. Cheered by the thought, he followed the others inside, bag slung over his shoulder. To Mitsuru's credit, it wasn't the heaviest. They both left those for Akira. Misoka stood waiting for them in the lobby.

"The clerk said all the school students arrived safely, and have already gone to their rooms for the night." By the gleam in the fox-demon's eye, that clerk had been 'encouraged' to part with the information. "Our room is ready, too. Farther away than I'd like, but apparently, they try to separate visiting classes from the regular patrons. We'll arrange to meet up with the Princess tomorrow."

Yawning, Akira pulled a much-folded paper from the pocket of his jeans and held it up. "General sightseeing, tomorrow. I think whoever put this itinerary together read 'Kyoto in a Day', or something."

"Whatever. Gimme the room number." Mitsuru stalked off in the indicated direction, Akira at his heels. Nozomu hung back to talk to Misoka.

"Are you sure this place is secure?"

"Not my first choice," the fox-demon admitted. "The group setting works in our favor, though. She'll be harder to isolate. Many of the entrances here are clear plate glass, and all the gardens can be watched from a balcony like ours--or from above."

Nozomu frowned. "I'd sleep better if she were with us."

"I bet you would."

"Hey, that's not what-" he broke off, spotting the glint in Misoka's eyes. "Damn fox," he muttered.

"It's better you spend time apart, anyway," Misoka said. "Too close, too soon, you'll go mad. That's another reason he waited ten years."

"Much good it did either of them," Nozomu muttered. He didn't want to voice his growing suspicion it might already be too late.

Misoka stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I won't allow risk or harm to her. So go slowly, if you intend to continue. Stop now, if you don't."

"Careful, Misoka," Nozomu said lightly. "Your bushi nature is showing."

The fox-demon's gaze didn't waver. "She is our Princess. And I've seen first-hand what can happen to those like us who take the road you're on."

Some things you just couldn't argue about with a kitsune, especially one of the males. Nozomu just nodded. "I think we're all pretty committed."

"Some more than others."

The vampire sighed. Was everyone going to take a shot at him tonight?

Once settled in their room, he changed for bed, then slipped out onto the balcony. He felt tired, but he wanted some time with the Moon and the night. From a short distance, he heard a car take off in a hurry. He grinned, imagining that someone needed to get home before a spouse put to two and two together and got a divorce lawyer.

Folding his arms, he looked up into the sky, letting the moonlight wash over him. The Moon gleamed half-full, showing its smoothest face. He missed Mahiru. Beyond her luck, beyond her blood, he missed her. She should be with them, watching this moon, sharing this night.

He frowned a little. There it was again, that urge to keep her away from other humans, keep her close by. Some of it stemmed from simple common sense-she couldn't help them if they were separated-and the protective reflexes built up by months of guarding the Princess. Add in how recently she'd fed him-well, Hunger made one a bit possessive, quick to interpret anything as a threat to that bond.

He grimaced. I'm thinking like Mitsuru now, seeing everything with a distorted view. Still, he couldn't say he hadn't been warned of the possible dangers.

"Humans are our weakness," his father had warned him. "You take after me more strongly than you do your mother, so it falls to me to warn you."

"Weakness?" Nozomu blinked up at his father. He knew what it meant inside when the Moon got small, but how did humans fit in?

"The gods, or kami, if you will, made humans the answer to all we need: respite from hunger, need, loneliness, physical and spiritual warmth."

"And humans really do all that?" he asked skeptically. It didn't match up with what he knew of other children in Osaka, the ones who taunted him for his light hair and blue eyes.

His father laughed. "Some do. The Children of the Sun burn, some fast, some slow, some so brightly, they seem as stars fallen to earth. I tell you this now, even though I know you don't understand. It is never a question of if we succumb to that fire, but when. And when it is time, you will remember what I have told you. And you will do as you have been taught is honorable and wise-from both of us."

Honorable and wise. Did those words apply to his actions? In Misoka's eyes, at least, he was treading the line. Nozomu smiled, an expression with little humor. With any other human, no-one would have bothered to comment-except perhaps to wonder why he left them alive. But Mahiru was the Descendant of the Princess, and the last of her direct bloodline. Their last hope.

Her will is still her own. She's free to accept me or refuse me, as she chooses.

Wasn't she?

Or did her remarkable sensitivity tangle the ties between them, holding her more strongly than he realized? If so... If she'd lost that freedom to choose, he would have to surrender his own. Before Misoka kills me.

Misoka had made a point of making sure he realized how vital a role the Princess played in their hope of salvation. Had the first blood been anything but Opportunity, he'd have conceded the legitimacy of such concern. But Opportunity was the blood of blessing, the sign one waited and hoped for. It couldn't have been bestowed, couldn't even have manifested itself, if it had been wrong to take it.

Except, that little voice in his head pointed out, it was incomplete. So... wrong to take, or just wrong then? He shook his head. Argh. Too much thinking. He'd come out here for some peace of mind, not to rake up more questions he couldn't answer.

He looked back up at the night sky. The Moon showed its most impassive face, offering no guiding counsel. How to find that peace he sought, when his heart and mind were in such tangles? A familiar stirring began within, a push to the only honest expression he knew. He made no conscious choice, stilling his thoughts and allowing the emotions to rise up and take what form they willed. Very softly, so as not to disturb the others, he began.

'Let us not this parted be,

The rhthym came slow as a late summer's night, languorous as a lazy river.

'In your journey, take my heart,
Which will not deceive.
Yours it is, to you it flies,
Joying in those loved eyes.'

Each verse served as a new discovery, opening windows into his own heart, measuring the depth of feelings he had not dared to examine too closely.

'Time, nor place, nor greatest smart,
Shall my bands make free.
Tied I am, yet think it gain.
In such knots, I feel no pain.'

Her presence was muted to a near-whisper. She must be asleep, dreaming her dreams of ancient times. Not once had he given in to the temptation to spy on her while she slept, though it would be so, so easy... He knew, on some level, she would not forgive that. Yet he could hope the same Moon that shone down on them both carried his intent, if not his words, to the one who slept not so very far away.

'Yes, dear heart, go, soon return.
As good as there as here to burn.'

He remained with his head bowed, letting the last of the song drain out of him. He often didn't have this luxury at the Moonshine, with its request lists, and the pressure to meet a crowd's expectations. Except when they sang for the Princess. She always sat quietly, her expression rapt, drinking it in. She never spoke until they seemed ready to hear.

He had his answer now, the tangles of confusion smoothed away. Whatever the future held, Mahiru dwelt at its heart. Daughter of the Sun, Lady of the Moon, the light in his people's darkest hour. Without her, there was no future-at least not one he cared to live in.

When did she become so precious--not just for blessing she might give, but for herself? She'd come so far from the frightened, confused girl he'd first met, overcome so much. She'd faltered, but never fallen; questioned, but never lost faith. If his feelings first sprang from gratitude and attraction, what sustained them now went to places only song could do justice.

A sound from behind him made him turn around. Misoka stood in the doorway, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. Akira peered over his shoulder, ears pricked forward.

"What was that?" Misoka asked, keeping his voice low out of respect for the song.

"English," Nozomu answered. "Archaic English, at that. From a poem my father taught me."

He remembered the weighty book spread out before them, his father's patience as he taught his son how to puzzle out words not only written in the wrong direction (to his Japanese eyes), but in an entirely different alphabet. Of all the Bandits, he was the only truly functional bilingual member. Misoka knew more dialects-modern and ancient-than any being he'd ever known, but only he had a strong enough command of English to use it without recourse to a translator or a dictionary.

It had proven amazingly useful in their work.

"Hmn," Misoka said, stepping back to let him back into the room. Mitsuru was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, where's...?" Akira gestured to where Mitsuru had piled up his things.

Nozomu shrugged, unsurprised. "You know how he gets. Music is fine. Singing?" The vampire shook his head.

It had come as a great shock to them to learn that not only had Mitsuru never learned to sing, he loathed the very idea. How could one petition the Moon without song? Unless... Mitsuru didn't believe? To him, the Moon seemed just something to measure his strength by.

Which would explain why he doesn't get how important Mahiru is, Nozomu thought, sighing. "He'll be back when he's feeling better. He's been alone so long, I wonder if maybe he doesn't prefer it that way."

Akira gaped. "Huh? That makes no-"

Misoka reached up and tweaked one of the werewolf's ears. "Your folk are close-knit, Akira, bonds you don't even question. It's not the same for everyone else."

Akira flicked his ear out of Misoka's grasp. "I know that. But even humans... even they want to be around others."

"He always comes back, doesn't he?" Misoka pointed out. "Let him be, Akira. That's one of the things we offered him, remember? A chance to be fully himself. Now get some rest. You and Nozomu are close-guard on the Princess, tomorrow."

The Descendant of the Princess, back in Kyoto. A good sign, he thought, lying down. She brought them so much good. The Moon Palace would see it, too. They had to, for if Master Oboro's theory proved correct-and he'd yet to see Master proven wrong-the only real future the Lunar Race had lay in the blessing she alone could bestow.

One crisis at a time, he warned himself. Sleeping at night still took a conscious effort, and if he got all worked up now, he'd be up until sunrise. He closed his eyes, letting the day and its tensions drain away. Tomorrow, they'd find some excuse to seek out Mahiru's group. Once she was in his sight again, he'd feel better...

In his dream, Nozomu walked along a black sand beach. The incoming tide lapped and swirled at his bare feet, rising as high as his ankles. He could see flower petals bobbing in the surf, tumbling in the sea foam. Rose petals of every color, whole lilies, the budding heads of irises, even a peony. He continued walking, his feet leaving no imprints on the firm, water-packed black sand. The narrow ribbon of shoreline gleamed like marcasite.

A full moon hung overhead, so large and golden he could see as well as by day-better, even. He wasn't sure where he was walking to, or even where he was, but it had been too long since he'd had a night of peace.

Except Mahiru wasn't here, nor any of his friends. Contrary to legend, vampires were actually social creatures, unhappy with extended solitude. Such a beautiful place. Why wasn't Mahiru with him? Daughter of the sun she might be, but she loved the sea, and he knew she had room in her heart for the Moon. She should see these waters strewn with flowers, like offerings for the beach-

"Nozomu."

He stopped, looked around. From horizon to horizon, he couldn't see any sign of another living thing.

"Nozomu!"

He jolted awake as a rough hand shook his shoulder. Light from the east struck his eyes and he winced. Much to his personal distaste, sunrise was well underway. He could bear daylight--he just liked to put off dealing with it for as long as possible.

Open up! Open open open!

One of his bats beat its wings against the window. A twinge of anxiety went through him. Stupid thing... it could hurt itself like that. What, you think you're a bird, now, flying into closed windows?

Mitsuru jabbed at his shoulder again. "Will you shut that thing up before it wakes up the entire place?"

"A little louder next time, Mitsuru, and you can have the job yourself." Nozomu pushed back his blankets and stumbled for the window. What do I hate most about morning? All the parts before sundown.

The others were stirring, awakened either by the bat or Mitsuru. He opened the window and the frantic bat flew in, dipping and swirling around him. He recognized it as the one he'd given Mahiru. He held up his hand, offering it a place to perch.

She wouldn't have sent the bat unless something was wrong. Why did she send the bat instead of calling for him through it? Idiot. She's surrounded by other humans. She can't call for me that way right now. But what could be wrong? This soon after sunrise, she should still be asleep. They wouldn't be waking her this early to prepare for a sightseeing tour, would they?

The bat refused to settle, instead flying in ever-wider, erratic circles in the room, scattering mental images in its wake. He heard Mitsuru curse.

"I thought you could control these damn things. Get it out of the room before I throw it out."

Nozomu ignored him, concentrating on sorting the images the bat sent him. An untouched futon, a familiar bag resting beside it. Mahiru's friends from school, sleepless themselves with anxiety. The night stars wheeling across the sky, marking the passing hours. Angry voices, frightened whispers. And then back to that untouched pile of bedding.

"She's not here ?" he said out loud.

That woke everyone else in a hurry.

"The Princess?" Misoka asked, reaching for the glasses he needed in his human form.

"I... think so," Nozomu said, distracted. "This is the one I gave her... wait... "

In his ears, the bat's keening grew even shriller. The images darkened, falling away from the safe, modern inn. Outside, now... a dark road-Mahiru! He could see her weaving along the side of the road, barely staying on her feet. She clutched something to her chest, something the bat's eyes couldn't distinguish. Or maybe she was in pain, or- Still dark in that scene, he noted. But the sun's risen, now.

"How long did it take you to drag your fat self back here?" he demanded of the bat, grabbing a wing. "Where is she now?!"

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Misoka hissed a warning for quiet.

"Mahiru's not here?" Akira asked.

"Not from what this one says," he said, glaring at the fluttering bat. "She's been missing most of the damn night and this idiot shows up just now to tell me!

Why hadn't the idiot bat stayed with her? More importantly, he thought as he yanked on his clothes, how could she have vanished at night without so much as disturbing his dreams? She promised me she'd be more careful! Even without Need to carry a cry from spirit to spirit, the simple fact of a threat to her safety should have colored his dreams. Instead, he got a flower-strewn sea and a pretty walk on a beach.

Flowers on the sea... like lanterns floated for the dead.

His hands shook as he did up the last of the fastenings on his clothes. He grabbed his sunglasses, cramming them into his shirt pocket. Mahiru was human. For all her gifts and raw talents, would she even know how to dreamwalk, much less send a clear message? He remembered her telling him about her dreams, how vivid they'd seemed to him.

She knew. She'd been doing it all along, he realized, just didn't know enough to give it a name, or understand what she actually did. His damn fault for not figuring it out sooner.

"Nozomu?" Misoka asked, somehow already dressed and waiting. A world of questions in that one word. "Nothing!" he spat. "Not a thing! Not a glimmer, not a warning. Until Fatty here," he waved at the bat, "showed up, I thought she was sleeping."

"A ward could have concealed her from us," Misoka mused, "but she doesn't know that kind of magic."

"They do." He'd seen the talisman Dawn's Venus plastered to the cage imprisoning Akira. But how would they know to go after Mahiru? Even if they'd gotten a good look at her at the WPF, they could have no idea how important she was to the survival of the Lunar Race.

"Unless they thought she was one of us," he finished out loud. An even worse thought whisked through his mind. Or they mean to use her for bait.

Misoka gave the vampire a sharp look. So you thought of that, too. If Dawn's Venus thought Mahiru was of the Lunar Race, they'd strike first and learn of their mistake far too late. As bait- she was irresistible.

"I would know if she'd died," he said, mostly to convince himself than anyone else. A frayed thread hurt. Two broken threads should have dragged him screaming out of his sleep. Could even Dawn's Venus craft a ward powerful enough to conceal the death of their Princess?

No. I won't, I can't, believe they've grown so strong and we've become so weak!

"Just perfect. Akira, outside," Misoka ordered. "See if you can find any trace of her. And don't let the humans see you!"

The werewolf nodded and loped out of the room, for once keeping to his human form.

"We really dropped the ball on this one," Nozomu muttered. "All four of us here, how the hell did this happen?"

Misoka didn't bother to dignify that with a response. "First, we need to learn if her friends know anything."

Mitsuru grimaced at the idea of being confronted with a gaggle of girls this early in the morning, but he said nothing, falling in with them as they left the room. In the hallway, they heard raised voices, running feet. One of the inn's attendants approached them.

"We are very sorry for the disturbance. Please, return to your rooms. Calm will be restored shortly."

Nozomu drew breath to speak-and Misoka hit the unsuspecting human with a focused burst of his hypnotic compulsion.

"Tell me what has happened to the visiting students."

The attendant's face went slack, dark eyes glazing over. "One of the girl students... has been injured. It didn't happen here, the inn is not responsible-"

"Idiot!" Misoka pushed past him.

Nozomu steered the still tranced-out attendant to the side, so she could lean against the wall. It wasn't like Misoka not to 'clean up' after himself after using his power. He's really worried. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Misoka seemed... scared. Halfway to the commotion, they met up with Akira.

"Akira! Did you find her? Was she the one hurt?" Misoka asked.

Akira nodded. His piercings looked cast-iron black against his pallid skin. "It's bad, guys."

Nozomu pushed past Misoka to grab a handful of Akira's loose robe. "How bad?"

"I'm not sure, they made me leave before I could get a good look. She's bleeding, though, I could smell it. And that dark-haired guy, the one whose voice did all that weird stuff," Akira said quietly. "I could smell him, on Mahiru's clothes. The other one, too, the one with the bow."

There was a collective wince at the memory.

"And..." Akira's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Another girl? But there wasn't a girl with them last time. Maybe it was one of her friends."

"Koudokui," Misoka said, as if the name were a curse.

Bleeding... Blood she'd given freely to him, spilled by some careless human hand. Wasted. Raw anger surged through him, pushing him towards a shape better suited for expressing it. He could feel her now, a muted presence that seemed far too frail. He'd failed his princess, after he-after they all-had promised to protect her. His human shape shivered. The Moon was waxing, he had his power-charm, it would take only a little more effort. Akira gaped at him.

"Get control of yourself, Nozomu," Misoka said, low-voiced. "Remember where we are."

Oh, he knew exactly where they were: in the middle of a disaster. Dawn's Venus had taken their princess. They'd hurt her, here, in this city that had once been the home of his people. Insult, injury, and insult again. He'd collect from that Koudokui bastard personally.

He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes. Mahiru comes first, he reminded himself. No good would come of transforming now. He didn't know where Koudokui was, couldn't take the time now to hunt him. He let the breath out slowly, feeling his body settling, falling back into his human shape.

"Akira, where is she now?"

"They-the teachers from her school, I mean-were taking her to another room."

"Damn. We have to get her back, get her away from here."

"She's hurt," Akira protested. "Shouldn't we let a doctor take care of her first?"

"We've been too careless with her safety," Misoka said. "I will not leave her unguarded in human hands- -or in a place they know to look for her."

There was no arguing with Misoka when he used that tone. After making sure they were unobserved, Misoka put on an illusion of Master Oboro. Following Akira's directions, they started for the room where Mahiru had been taken. With every step, Nozomu's sense of Mahiru grew sharper. They had to have hidden her from him, using their damn pentagrams and corrupted spells. Hidden her, so they could hurt her.

Beasts in human form, they called the Lunar Race. Looked in a mirror lately? he seethed at the mental image of the gloating thugs. Why did they let her go? Did they realize she's a human? Except nothing he'd ever been taught about Dawn's Venus included an account of that kind showing mercy. A human who helped the Lunar Race was even worse than demonkind, so far as they were concerned.

A small cluster of humans stood outside the room Akira indicated. Nozomu wrestled down the urge to snarl at them to make way. Damned gossips, he thought in disgust. Running their mouths instead of doing their jobs. Halfway there, Misoka paused.

"Not possible," he breathed.

Nozomu stirred, about to ask when the answer slapped up against his own senses.

A Teardrop. Or was it Mahiru? He narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint just where it was coming from. His sense of Mahiru and of a possible Teardrop tangled together. He couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. It might not even be a Tear, but just an echo of one, sensed through his ties to Mahiru. He couldn't make his focus any sharper. Useless. He'd never been good at this sort of thing.

Misoka glanced at him. Nozomu gave the smallest of nods in acknowledgment. A Teardrop, their Princess taken and injured, Dawn's Venus in Kyoto... it had all the earmarks of a trap. Not as elaborate as the one that had ensnared Akira, but possibly more dangerous. At the WPF, the black tent had offered some concealment, allowing them some chance at fighting back. Here, surrounded by humans, their options were much more limited.

One of the lurkers outside Mahiru's room glanced up, did a double-take at seeing the disguised Misoka.

"Oh!"

"I am Oboro Kurosaki," Misoka announced, using Master's exact inflection. A singer as good as Misoka also did mimicry quite well. "Mahiru Shiraishi is in my employ. I am led to understand that an incident has occurred?"

"Ah... " The other adults glanced at each other.

Nozomu didn't need any special gift to sense their thoughts.

A female student, disappearing at night, only to reappear bloody and injured. The scandal! It would certainly reflect on the school, and someone would be forced to retire for this. The school sought to keep face. The inn sought to keep face, the teachers... For once, he empathized with Mitsuru's tendency to express himself through violence.

"Perhaps," Misoka began, and Nozomu could feel the wave of compulsion rolling out, "it would be best to release Shiraishi-kun to my care. There is no need to disturb others, all will be seen to, this matter can be resolved without trouble."

It was exactly what they wanted to hear. Katsura couldn't have done a better job. With token protests, the other teachers faded back. A dour-looking woman opened the door and let them in, giving them their first glimpse of Mahiru.

She sat curled in an armchair, almost huddling in on herself. The blood Akira had smelled smeared in dry streaks over half her face, down to her chin. She cradled something to her chest, the bundle he'd seen from the bat's perspective. From Misoka's harsh breath, he knew it had to be the Teardrop. An older woman, presumably one of the chaperones, kept trying to get Mahiru's attention. Mahiru flinched away and curled up smaller.

The sight woke something in them all, even Mitsuru. Without conscious thought, they spread out through the room, blocking the only exit. Any human who did not make way, who stood between them and their Princess...

The woman who'd escorted them in hurried forward. "Shiraishi-kun, Kurosaki-san is here."

Mahiru stirred at that, lifting her head. Her eyes were darkly bloodshot, the skin beneath them so shadowed it looked bruised. Nozomu had never seen a living person so pale. The chaperone reached for Mahiru's arm again.

"Shiraishi-kun?"

Stop pestering her! Nozomu thought, resisting the urge to yank the woman back. A stranger so close to Mahiru made him twitchy. Mahiru began to straighten up in the chair, her gaze fixed in their direction.

Now, Nozomu could see the rusty stains on her pajama top, where blood had dripped and splattered against the fabric. He could think of too many ways for that blood to have been drawn. All of them made him want to drop Koudokui from a great height and hear his bones shatter against bare rock. The anger flexed its claws inside him again, testing the limits.

He found it difficult to breathe. How... dare he... put his filthy, murdering hands on our Princess? How dare they think to keep her from us? In an earlier time, such presumption would have cost the wretch his life. Perhaps it's time to revive the practice. He hated wasting blood-but a tainted soul like Koudokui's curdled the blood. What had already spoiled couldn't be wasted.

Mahiru looked up at Misoka, and Nozomu had the feeling she didn't see the illusion at all. With great care, Mahiru held out the bundle she'd clutched in her arms. Lengths of thin, sturdy climbing rope looped around and around a silk-wrapped object, making it twice its original size. More reddish-brown stains splotched the cords.

"What is that?" the chaperone asked, leaning in for a closer look.

"Not your concern," Misoka replied. "Moegi-san, if you would... ?"

It took Nozomu a moment to realize Misoka meant him. He almost never used the name in relation to himself, except when having to deal with the paperbound human world. He stepped forward, purposefully shouldering the chaperone aside.

"One moment, what is going on here?" The chaperone looked from Misoka to the teacher who had escorted them in.

"Kurosaki-san wishes Shiraishi-kun returned to his care. We are in agreement that this is the best solution."

"I was not consulted on this. Shiraishi-kun's legal guardian is her aunt. I insist she be contacted before we allow these strangers to leave with one of our students!"

"How very diligent of you," Nozomu said through his teeth. "Pity you didn't show such care and concern last night. This might not have happened."

"Moegi-san," Misoka said. The fox-demon's tone remained even, but Nozomu could hear the unspoken warning. Stay in control. There's too much at stake to indulge in temper.

"I will not be spoken to in such a manner! Who are-" the woman began.

"We do not hold you responsible," Misoka interrupted, a breach of manners the fox-demon would never have stooped to had the situation not been so grim. "Shiraishi-kun's guardian will be contacted. However... wouldn't it be better for all..."

He left dealing with the humans to Misoka. Mahiru's hands lay slack in her lap, as if she'd given up the last of her strength along with the Teardrop. He crouched down, looking into her face.

"Mahiru-chan?" he asked.

She blinked, and he thought he saw a spark of recognition. He didn't know if the tightness in his chest came from the ties between them or the whiplash recoil of the fear-relief-horror run his emotions had taken. He brushed her hair back out of her eyes, taking care just to touch the right side of her face. The feel of dried blood under his fingertips, knowing it was her blood, the same blood that ran through him, would be more than he could stand.

"We'll take you back with us," Nozomu said, watching for her reaction. "Are you ready?"

After a long moment, she gave a slow nod. He shifted so he could gather her up in his arms. So small... she's so small, like this. It was then he saw the rope burns on her wrists and neck.

I'll kill him, Nozomu thought. Some day, someway, I'll kill him for this. Nozomu looked down at Mahiru's pale, still face. Though if there's anything like justice, I'll find a way to- what am I thinking? Violence done in her name was the last thing Mahiru would want. What he wanted... had to be set aside, left to simmer in that hot, dark place where dark dreams of blood and vengeance kept their restless watch.

With Mahiru nestled trustingly in his arms, Nozomu started for the door. Out in the hall, he wished he-or one of those jaaw-flapping humans- had thought to get her a blanket. Mahiru was a modest girl. The first thing she'd done, at their first meeting, had been to gather her skirt around her knees, blushing tomato red. She'd hate the very idea of being carried around a public space in her pajamas, her injuries exposed for all to see.

Akira rushed up beside him, still keeping a human face, Nozomu noted with relief. The werewolf held up what looked like an oversized bath sheet. Apparently, he wasn't the only one aware of Mahiru's vulnerability.

"All I could find nearby," Akira said apologetically.

"Good job." He stopped to allow Akira to drape the sheet around Mahiru.

A wave of anxiety and relief washed over him, in jagged resonance with his own feelings. ...she's sick but she'll get better she's with us now- Akira drew back, and the sense of outside emotions faded. How does she do that? he wondered. The sensation was familiar to him, very like speaking through one of his bats. Does she even know she's doing it?

It had been so long since one of the Lunar Race encountered a blessing-bearer, so long that any real knowledge of those abilities had been lost or distorted to the point of uselessness. Even Misoka, the acknowledged expert on the properties of the Teardrops and their legends, couldn't say what Mahiru was capable of.

"Misoka says to go straight out to the van. I've got the keys," Akira said in a low voice. "Mitsuru's getting our stuff."

"Bet he's loving that," Nozomu sighed. He made no attempt to mask his relief. We're getting her out of here. Misoka, as usual, had been right. They'd been too careless, with Mahiru, with the Teardrops, with everything. They could no longer afford mistakes.

"I'll go help him once--" Akira glanced down at Mahiru, swallowed hard. His eyes seemed too bright.

"Steady," Nozomu murmured. "We're not done yet."

Akira gulped and nodded. "Right. Let's go."

The van stood where they'd left it the night before. Its sturdy box-like shape stood out among the compacts, company cars, and family vehicles that usually occupied a hotel's parking garage. Akira held up a hand, gesturing for Nozomu to stop.

"Let me check it out first," he warned.

There was no reason to believe their vehicle had been tampered with. There'd been no reason to believe Mahiru would be a target for Dawn's Venus, either. Reason, it seemed, no longer applied.

He watched Akira prowl around the van. The werewolf knew little about machinery, but nothing could be planted on or in the van without leaving a scent-trail he could detect. Mahiru stirred in his arms, trying to raise a hand to block out the brighter light. She looked a little green, Nozomu noted. Akira came back to them.

"It's okay."

"Get the door, would you? I think the light and the smell are getting to her."

Akira wrinkled his nose. "Garages reek," he agreed.

With Akira's help, he settled Mahiru into one of the rear seats. She made an odd picture, her bare feet dirty, her pajamas wrinkled and stained. The dried blood on her face seemed permanently set, like Mitsuru's markings.

"I gotta go back and help Mitsuru. You going to be all right down here alone?" Akira asked.

"Misoka's got one of the bats. I'll give a yell if anything happens," he assured him. "Don't take too long, though."

Akira grinned, far from his usual manic cheer, but no longer the devastated expression of before. "We cleared out her old room in twenty minutes. This is nothing."

Nozomu waited until Akira had gone back into the hotel before climbing into the van himself and closing the door. Mahiru didn't seem to have so much as blinked. She looked as pale as a snow-maiden.

"Mahiru-chan?"

At the sound of his voice, she blinked, but gave no other response. Moving with care so as not o startle her, he touched the back of her hand. To his relief, the skin felt warm.

"I know you can hear me. Mahiru-chan... I'm sorry. We failed you, I'm sorry." He took her limp hand in his. "But I swear to you, this will never happen again. They will never get near you again, not so long as we live and breathe. Mahiru?"

No response at all.

This is wrong, this is all wrong. Her injuries aren't serious enough to cause this. What in the Six Realms did that bastard do? He glanced out the windows, checking their surroundings. No sign of the others, yet. Have a little patience, he chided himself. Akira had just left. It took time to clear out the room, check out, pay up-and who knew if Misoka had finished with the humans, yet?

Still, the longer they delayed, the greater the chance of the Venusians picking up their trail. He hoped Misoka had recovered enough to remember to 'clean up' after bespelling the humans. All the Venusians needed was one name, one report of a group of people who came late and left early. Hell, all they needed was someone remembering seeing Akira, with his distinctive piercings, and recognizing him as the 'beast' they'd captured at the WPF.

Oh, they hadn't been careful enough. Nowhere near. And Mahiru had paid for it. Gently, he turned their clasped hands over. Her left wrist looked worse than the right, due in no small part to the old bruise left from when she'd fed him. Was it this? he wondered. Had it been this mark which betrayed her?

"If any harm comes to the Princess because of you... you will answer to me."

Well. If this wasn't harm...

"I'm sorry, Mahiru. If I have to spend the rest of my life making up for this, I will-"

Of course, if Mahiru stayed in this condition, his life wouldn't be very long. Fair trade, Nozomu thought. Whoever tied her had to have seen the bruise. He held no illusions that a member of Dawn's Venus wouldn't recognize a healing vampire bite. How could I have been so careless, so sloppy?

Because he'd been selfish.

No, because he'd been weak. He should have refused her offering. Instead, he'd allowed her nearness, her generosity, to overwhelm his common sense. He'd wanted her for himself, though he knew Mahiru could never be his alone. Accepting her offering allowed him to pretend, just for a short time, that he didn't have to share her with anyone else. Greedy, selfish, stupid-and incompetent.

He cupped the right side of her face. "Come back to us, Mahiru-chan," he tried again. "You're safe now. Wherever you've gone, come back."

He could feel the wash of Mahiru's power, but not the Princess herself. She sat beside him, a physical presence, but terrifyingly absent in spirit. What happened during the night to drive her so far even he couldn't sense her? Or was she lost, wandering in some shadowy place between dream and waking?

We need Katsura, he thought. As much as it galled him to admit someone else might be able to reach Mahiru, the dream-demon might be the only one who could find wherever the Princess had gone. Except Katsura was at the Moon Palace, attending on Master Oboro. Misoka would have to try and contact him once they had the Princess secure.

The longer they delayed, the greater the chance that Mahiru might slip away from them entirely. They were supposed to be Mahiru's protectors, yet they were helpless to aid her now. Without certain knowledge of what had been done to her, they couldn't formulate a plan to counteract the damage. And once again, Mahiru suffered for their ignorance.

He shook his head, disgusted at himself. We were chosen for this task because of all those living among our Race, we had the best knowledge of the human world. Our 'best' doesn't seem like anything at all. He studied Mahiru's face, searching for any glimmer of awareness. A gift-doll for Girls' Day might be more expressive. We kept ourselves apart, for pride, for fear, for any number of reasons. You can't reach your destination using only a half-drawn map. And what have we lost along the way?

The new hotel was starkly Western in design, catering to tourists and visiting businessmen. Nozomu understood why Misoka preferred this type of setting: thick, solid walls, heavy doors with strong locks. More privacy, better security, and a level of anonymity impossible at a more traditional inn.

They booked two rooms connected by a door that locked from either side. Nozomu carried Mahiru, refusing to let anyone else touch her. This physical body seemed his only remaining tie to Mahiru. He couldn't surrender it now if he tried. He could not let go, would not, until their Princess returned.

He settled himself at her bedside, paying no heed to the doings of the others. Mahiru slipped into a deep, heavy sleep, the last refuge of the sick and the wounded. In the months since discovering the Princess, Nozomu had seen her in a myriad of situations, observed her reactions to all manner of acts. Even reviving Mitsuru hadn't left her so drained.

Whatever Koudokui had done, it wreaked even more damage than drawing the newly dead back to life. Death-shock was supposed to be worst trauma for a person as sensitive as Mahiru. There really are things worse than death, he mused. And it was his fault she was facing them now, alone.

"Nozomu."

He raised his head, blinking, and looked around. To his surprise, the shadows had shifted and stretched across the room, the sunlight deepening into the richer golds and reds of early evening. Almost the entire day had passed, with no change.

Misoka stood in the doorway that connected the two rooms. "Katsura is en route, and should join us by nightfall."

He watched his hands, seemingly of their own volition, curl into loose fists. "You reached the Moon Palace, then? What... did Master say?"

"He bade us take care of the Princess."

Misoka's voice was so even, Nozomu had to look up at him to assure himself he wasn't being mocked. The fox-demon wore his most inscrutable mask. In his hands, he held the silk-wrapped Teardrop. He carried it into the room and set it on the small bedside table. The gem cast a tiny dazzle-burst of refractions against the wall.

"He suggested we leave this one with her, for now," Misoka explained, though Nozomu had not asked. "The Tears called to her once, they might do so again."

A slim hope. Why should Mahiru answer the call of a cold jewel when the entreaties of one who lo-. He stopped the thought in its tracks. Admit it now, even to myself, and it will be more than I can bear. To find her, then to lose her... Father, why wasn't this ever included in your warnings?

"She risked a great deal to bring this one back to us," Misoka continued. "It may be she has some deeper connection with this particular fragment-"

"So even Master Oboro is grasping at straws," Nozomu said, resting his head against his hands. "The Tears shine for Mahiru. They know her for their own. Why would one be more important than any other?"

"So many of the other things we believed to be true have proven false. The Princess, her powers, the Tears, they are all pieces of a living mystery. In that mystery is our last hope. So we put them together, and pray, because at this point, I truly do not see what else we can do."

They both fell silent, watching the Princess as she drifted in her world of shadows.

"It's my fault. My weakness that betrayed her," Nozomu said abruptly.

"Nozomu... You didn't... ?"

Hearing the unspoken question, Nozomu shook his head. "Just the two. No further. But the marks are still there. They had to have seen."

He waited, expecting to hear the fox-demon's promised retriubtion. Unlike Mitsuru, he had no illusions that he could stand against Misoka. He almost welcomed the thought of the flames. When Misoka remained silent, he risked a glance in the fox-demon's direction.

Misoka's gaze rested on their sleeping princess. It seemed he'd forgotten Nozomu's very existence.

"Kanrisha-san..."

Without looking at him, Misoka said, "I've found experience to be the best disciplinarian in situations like this. There is nothing I can do that could be worse that what you're doing to yourself. If I were to act, it might even give you an undeserved respite."

Nozomu winced. For all that the fox-demons loved their games and riddles, they could be blunt to the point of brutality when it suited them. And I deserve it for putting her at risk. All this, and more.

"What did he do?" Nozomu asked, low-voiced and urgent. "What could do this?"

Misoka sighed and made an unnecessary adjustment to his glasses.

"The powers the Koudokui cultivate, aside from foreign sorcery, disrupt and disturb," he said at last. "For us, this means interfering with our resonance with the natural world. Since she seemed unharmed by their acts at the WPF, I had believed the Princess immune to their workings. Obviously, I was mistaken."

"Being exposed to their hatred made her sick. Could that have done this?" He remembered how she'd reacted to sensing his own hunger. Had he made her more vulnerable?

"We can speculate until the sun turns cold. It doesn't matter."

Now Nozomu heard the anger he'd been braced for. In a strange way, he found it comforting, a normal reaction in an abnormal situation.

"What we have to deal with is that, using those foreign sorceries, Koudokui succeeded in driving the Princess's spirit into darkness," Misoka said, as brisk and no-nonsense as if discussing an upcoming job. "We need to find a light that can reach her, and bring her back to us."

"I can't reach her, I've tried," Nozomu admitted. "Katsura may be our only hope. And if that-"

Misoka squeezed his shoulder, urging him to silence. "Nozomu."

The fox-demon stared, his distant mask crumbling away. Nozomu looked back to Mahiru.

Her eyes were open.

-tbc-

AN:

Further notes: Nozomu's 'song' is actually a poem by Lady Mary Wroth, called "Song 28", using lines 5-6, 9-12, 15-18, and 23-24.