Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sublunary ❯ Sombre de la Luna ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: see part one.

Abject Groveling: My deepest apologies for the delay. Family matters surfaced that had to be dealt with at once, followed by fallout from Katrina. (Lots of family in New Orleans.) But I'm back now, and to reward your patience: BIG update!

Mood Music: Moonlight Sonata (Beethoven), Entrada (Final Fantasy OST)
A/N: Doubled space between paragraphs indicates a flashback.

He'd stopped checking his watch after Misoka glared him into stillness. Maybe another vampire, one who could only thrive and function at night, might have developed more patience over the years. Nozomu wasn't used to waiting. Better to take the time to do it right than to rush and make a mistake, he reminded himself. A rational thought. A logical conclusion. One oh, so easy for the kitsune to reach, since it wasn't his--

He snapped that thought off like a rotting thread. He couldn't put words to exactly what Mahiru was to him, personally. For Misoka, a kitsune who'd taken on the duty of guarding their Princess-- No, he wouldn't want a look inside Misoka's head right now for blood in ruby cups.

This has to work, Nozomu thought, watching the door. If Katsura failed, the chances of Mahiru recovering on her own looked bleak.

Katsura had relayed the message, her eyes downcast to show her shame at having to speak such words. Then, unbelievably, it had gotten worse. "The Emperor wishes the return of the recovered Teardrop," she'd said. "I am to return, with the Tear, in no more than two hours."

"Two hours? Can you help Mahiru and return with the Tear, in such a short time?" he'd asked.

"The Princess's welfare was not mentioned," Katsura said, keeping her eyes lowered. "By Lord Oboro's grace, I was given extra time."

Nozomu scowled. "She's been like this all damn day. We still don't know what he did- -what spell, curse, whatever! She needs more than two hours!"

"It's all I've been given, Nozomu. I dare not defy the Emporer. These are the orders given to me in his name, by way of the Lady Masumi."

Whoops.

Nozomu didn't quite turn his eyes away in time, saw Misoka's face go chalk- pale. His lips pressed into a thin line. Yet even as he watched, the fire of the kitsune's anger grayed into ash. Of all the Bandits, only Misoka could claim any real rank- -and his aunt, as the Emperor's handmaid, ranked higher than that. Misoka didn't even have a courtesy title. The rest of them were considered servants in Oboro's household. They wouldn't have even been allowed to raise their heads in the imperial presence--had they even been allowed to enter the room--much less speak or protest.

Still, they had to try. Katsura disappeared into Mahiru's room, barring them all from entering. The Princess's privacy had to be preserved, especially while Katsura attempted to do so much in so little time. And they rest of them sat outside and tried not to chew the furniture in frustration. The Palace is willing to sacrifice Mahiru for the Tear. Damn it, what are they thinking over there? Nozomu fumed, his thoughts skirting dangerously close to treason. If we lose Mahiru, we lose it all. Do they really believe that this Tear will reverse things when the other five haven't? We need the Princess's power--and so we need to heal Mahiru, too! Who the hell is advising milord Shirogane in this? This isn't something he'd come up with on his own!

He shook his head. Damned court intrigues. Small wonder so many of the Lunar Race were making their homes in the human world. Even with its pollution and corruption, it felt cleaner than the poisonous sweetness that passed as pleasant interaction at court.

The connecting door swung open and his thoughts scattered. He looked up hopefully. Katsura pulled the door closed behind her, then turned to face them. Instead of the silk-shrouded Tear she'd been sent to retrieve, she carried a wide-mouthed basin, half-filled with some sort of liquid. He could make out a damp pile of bandages just peaking over the rim. The sharp scent of iodine and isopropyl alcohol stung his nose and eyes.

"I took the liberty of examining and dressing the Princess's wounds," Katsura said. "Given how the Tears often resonate with Mahiru and how long this one gem has been in her keeping, I deemed it best to ascertain just how serious her injuries were--lest they have a diminishing effect on the Tear. If I have strayed too far from my mandate, I will answer for it."

It was a perfect court-tailored speech, a pretty bit of moonshine she could spin out to placate the nobles of the court. It didn't fool any of them.

"How fares the Princess?" Misoka asked.

Katsura took a moment to brush her hair back out her face before answering. She looked no happier with these circumstances than the rest of them. "Her wounds are not serious, so long as they're kept clean."

"That's great," Nozomu said, feeling his last strands of patience fraying, "but what else?"

"Did she say anything?" Akira chimed in. "About what happened?"

"I... I'm not sure she even knew I was there," Katsura admitted. "She responds when asked to move or hold still, nods or shakes her head if asked a yes-or-no question. She gave no indication that she knew where she was, or who was with her."

Well that wasn't anything they hadn't known before. He eyed the dream-demon. She's stalling, he realized. And that did not bode well.

"Did you try to reach her?" Nozomu demanded. "If she's in that condition, you have to be able to reach her. Misoka's hypnosis worked on her just fine- - and she was wide-awake and alert, then."

"Nozomu..." Misoka cautioned. His voice remained even, but Nozomu saw how his fists clenched behind his back.

"I- - Under most circumstances, I would be able to. However..." The dream-demon hesitated. "Well, perhaps it would be best if you saw for yourselves. Please come with me."

"What, is she growing horns, or something?" Mitsuru scoffed.

Katsura winced. Nozomu shook his head. Mitsuru had never met a member of the Silver Horn clan in their true form. He just paid her a compliment. Good thing he doesn't realize it. The thought gave him a moment's cheer.

"No, nothing like that. I just need you to verify something for me."

"She's a damn human, that's all the verification you'll get from me," Mitsuru announced. He straddled the desk chair, turned to face Mahiru's room. "The rest of you want to go in and gawk, go ahead."

Nozomu bristled, but before he could reply, Misoka stepped in. "Let him be. Katsura, will the three of us be enough?"

Katsura watched a determinedly oblivious Mitsuru for a moment, then sighed. "We'll see."

Katsura led them back into Mahiru's room. The dream-demon had cleaned away the last of the dried blood, combed back her hair, and dressed her in a loose gown. The blanket had been pulled up to her chin, her hands folded over her chest. White gauze bandages showed at her wrists, around her throat.

It reminded Nozomu of the night Mitsuru died. They'd laid him out much the same way. His hand twitched in a small warding gesture to turn back the ill-omen.

She's not dead, he reminded himself. Just sleeping.

She still looked much too pale.

One by one, they came to Mahiru's bedside, forming a ragged circle around her. Nozomu could see nothing that warranted Katsura's concern- -aside from the very condition that had led them to call for her in the first place.

"What is it, Katsura?"

Katsura stood near the head of the bed. "Come closer, all of you. Reach out to her, and tell me what you feel."

"Do we really have time for this?" Nozomu asked.

"Nozomu, please," the dream-demon murmured. "I can't trust my own senses in this matter. You all sense the Moon in a different way from my kind, so only you can confirm or deny this."

Nozomu blinked, then looked back down at Mahiru. That sounded ominous. Misoka responded first, stretching out a hand towards the Princess's arm. With only an inch between his fingertips and contact, he hesitated, then drew back. For the first time, Nozomu saw clear shock on the fox-demon's face.

"It can't be," Misoka murmured, his hand curling into a fist. "It..."

"What? She hasn't lost the blessing, has she?" Nozomu asked, looking from Misoka to Katsura.

Misoka shook his head, staring down at the sleeping Princess. "No, far from it," he breathed. "I understand your concern now, Katsura. I- -am not sure I believe it myself."

Misoka made a sharp gesture to the werewolf. "Akira, you try."

The werewolf cocked his head to the side, one ear folded down. "Try what? Just... touch her? What's that going to do? We already know what happens."

"Just do it, Akira."

Akira shrugged, and reached for Mahiru's hand. He didn't get anywhere near as close as Misoka did before he recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest as if burned.

"Wha- What is that?" Akira gasped. He leaned back, braced as if against a steep incline. He didn't look away from Mahiru.

"What is what?" Nozomu demanded, his patience thin as spider-silk and no-where near as strong.

Misoka turned unblinking eyes on the vampire. "You're the acid test, Nozomu. Reach for her."

He glared at the fox-demon, received an implacable, narrow-eyed stare in return. "We don't have time for this nonsense!" he growled. 'Acid test.' What was that supposed to mean?

Moving with deliberate slowness, Nozomu reached out. He brushed against the warm, smooth skin of her cheek. He sensed Mahiru's living presence, and beyond that, the Moon itself, a cool silvery sheen that wrapped around his heart. Everything felt the same as every other time he'd touched her. Resting his fingertips against the side of her face, he looked up.

"All right, now- -"

The world took an unexpected tilt, like the split-second realization of falling, with no way to stop. And it was a very long way down.

His sense of the Princess began to slip away. The strength of the Moon he felt at her lightest touch also began to drain away, as slowly and inexorably as the ebb tide. No... He looked down in horror, expecting to see the worst. He slid two fingers to the side of her throat, and nearly dropped to his knees in relief. Her pulse beat steady and strong under his fingertips.

"What's happening, something's wrong," he said. Nozomu didn't think of himself as the sort inclined to panic, but he could hear the brittle edge of it in his voice.

"Back away, Nozomu," the fox-demon ordered.

Back away? How could he let go of her now? She was fading from his senses like mist. He couldn't feel the Moon at all now, only the feverish heat of Mahiru's body. He couldn't look away, or withdraw. She appeared to be sleeping. Sleeping, but she felt empty, as if what lay before him now was just a pretty shell, abandoned by its owner. He remembered the flower-strewn waves in his dream and shuddered.

Misoka's hand closed around his wrist, pulling him away from Mahiru. In sheer reflex, he resisted. Misoka gave a sharp tug, forcing him to stumble back from Mahiru's bedside. At once, the near-silent background descant of the waning Moon returned. Not the full glory that came from Mahiru's blessing, but the dimmer, quieter sense he himself had of the Moon.

She shut out the Moon, he realized, staring in amazement.

"How," he breathed, "is that even possible?"

Misoka gestured him to silence, looking to see if they'd disturbed the Princess. "Outside," the fox-demon murmured.

They filed back out of the room, in something akin to shock. Mitsuru straightened up from his slouch, gripping the slats set in the back of the chair.

"What the hell happened?" the tengu demanded.

"Excellent question," Nozomu breathed, turning his attention to Katsura. "I think it's time you answered it."

It was Misoka who answered. Standing with his back to them, the fox-demon appeared to address the sleeping city outside the plate glass window. "It is believed to be mere legend, a scrap of fancy spun off from the tales of the lost Teardrops."

Nozomu waited. "O-kaaaay," he prodded, when no further information seemed forthcoming.

"It is recorded only once in all our history- -"

"Can we skip the history lesson and just get to the point already?" Mitsuru demanded.

"History is where the answer lies, Mitsuru." Misoka turned around. He looked weary beyond hope, wasted and haggard, as if he'd aged ten years in the past day.

"All things have their opposite," he continued. "Light is defined by shadow, shadow is held in check by light. We live this great cycle, attuned as we are to the phases of the Moon. The megumi no tsuki, which lives in the Princess, is the gift of our most precious light. It is, perhaps, no wonder, that she holds the darkness of the moon as well."

Akira sat up. "Wait a sec! Moondark doesn't feel like that!"

"Feel like what?" Mitsuru frowned, looking from one to the other.

"Huh? Oh, right, you weren't there!" Quickly, Akira caught the tengu up on the strange experience they'd all shared in Mahiru's room. The tengu's reaction was predictable.

"Wait, so she can she take our powers away, now?"

"What, Mitsuru, you nervous because you can't push her around without consequences anymore?" Nozomu retorted.

Mitsuru did a double-take at that, an expression that would've been comical under other circumstances. The fit of temper fizzled and died. Nozomu shook his head.

"Look, what difference does it make if she's got a power from legend? She's the Princess, after all. None of this gets her back to us."

"Hey, if she can put out the Moon, maybe we don't need her back. You heard those creeps from Dawn's Venus. They want to 'put out the light of the Moon.' Maybe this is something they did, something they planted on her!"

A chill ran down Nozomu's spine. That... fit better than he wanted to admit. The Venusians had hidden Mahiru from hi- -from them, he corrected himself hastily. What better way to do that than by blotting out their source of power?

"Could they really do that?"

Nozomu only realized he'd spoken aloud when everyone turned to look at him. Mitsuru wore his habitual scowl, but he could see the fear the tengu masked behind the anger. And that probably just makes him angrier. Nozomu edged a half-step to the side, putting more of himself between the tengu and the door to Mahiru's room. The angrier Mitsuru got, the faster his brain shut down. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before he tried something stupid. But he- -no-one else was getting near her. Not while he was still standing.

"The Koudokui draw their power from destruction, using sorcery from other lands. " Misoka had returned to staring out the window.

From his new angle, Nozomu could just make-out the fox-demon's shadowy reflection. He'd heard that kitsune always showed their true forms in reflection, but all the dark glass threw back was a smoked image of Misoka's human form. Maybe it only works like that with water, or with their women. It was a dumb thing to think about now, and he kicked the thought aside as soon as Misoka started speaking again.

"They can bestir darkness," Misoka continued, "but their workings are just exaggerated, grotesque mockeries of the natural order. The Princess is a mirror for the heavens, she reflects their power onto her people. The darkness is a part of the celestial order, and so part of her power."

"That's really friggin' poetic, Misoka," Mitsuru snarled. "What the hell does it mean?"

"It means the humans could not manufacture this power," Katsura said. She'd knelt down beside one of the other chairs. Traditional dress made sitting in chairs a bit awkward. "What we experienced is called the kurai no tsuki, the Lightless Moon. It is the face we never see, the part that is always in darkness."

"Wha-- ?" Akira shook his head. "But Mahiru makes things better. How is it good to be able to use the moon's shadow?"

The dream-demon gave a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The tsuki no kage is the other side of the blessing, the rest that follows the exertion of strength. Most of you are too young to remember, but once we welcomed the dark-of-moon as time of meditation and reflection. Especially for those of us change in keeping with the phases of the Moon, without regard to our own wills, it provided a short time of rest and stillness.""

Nozomu heard something behind Katsura's words, like the tune of a half-remembered lullaby from childhood. Her words described a state of being he had never known, yet his spirit recognized them as a long-lost truth.

"If that's the case, why don't we feel it now during the new moon?" he asked. "Why do we only feel weak?"

Katsura hesitated, glanced at Misoka, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. She turned back to face them.

"We are not what we once were, and not all of the powers of the Moon are granted to all of our people. The gift of the shadow was never a common ability. In all of our recorded history, it appeared only once in the hands of a blessing-bearer, and she died over five hundred years ago."

Akira shook his head so hard his ears flapped. "Wait, that makes no sense! The Tears were stolen a thousand years ago, right? So how could the powers still be there?"

Misoka did not answer. Katsura bowed her head, her hands clasped in her lap. Nozomu slowly straightened up. The pieces began to fall together in his mind, forming a nightmare mosaic. The Tears, lost for a thousand years, the full blessing of the moon, lost over five hundred years ago... the long, desperate search for a Descendant of the Princess...

"We took them," he breathed. "The other Descendants. We took them and used their power in place of the lost Tears."

It made a gruesome kind of sense. The first Princess had been a daughter of the Minister of the Left, the third most powerful position in the Heian era. Even in a time that almost never recorded the true names of noblewomen, how could they have truly lost track of the bloodline- -unless later generations took to hiding their daughters, to protect them from the Lunar Race?

Katsura let her silence serve as her answer. Misoka stood as still as a guardian- stone at an Inari shrine. Nozomu shook his head in disbelief. Mahiru's dreams, the accusations of the Venusians... They all held more truth than any of them had ever imagined.

"Wha--?" Mitsuru twisted his face up into an expression of sour puzzlement. "Why would we kidnap a bunch of stupid human girls?"

"Because," Akira said slowly, his eyes turning huge, "they weren't all human... were they?"

Katsura's hands fisted, crumpling the fine fabric of her kimono. "There is... some evidence that the first Princess bore a demon's child, and so all of her descendants have the blood of our people in them."

"We kidnapped--" Nozomu repeated. The thought kept circulating through his mind, an ugly loop he could not break. All those stories about demons stealing, devouring children... had a grain of truth.

"But it's different now," Akira protested. "Mahiru is helping us because she wants to. It's not like that anymore."

"It doesn't change what's been done," Misoka said, his voice low. "Given the level of animosity between our peoples, the fates of those girls could not have been gentle."

"Hey, it's war," Mitsuru reminded. "They stole from us, so shouldn't we take back what's rightfully ours? Those humans shouldn't have had that power anyway! They only had it because that back-stabbing bitch stole our treasure- -"

Nozomu could listen to no more. "That 'back-stabbing bitch,'" Nozomu said, cutting across the tengu's words with considerable satisfaction, "was our treasure."

Misoka shot him a warning look. They hadn't been given leave to speak of this with the others yet- -but Nozomu could not stand by and listen to Mitsuru's ranting. He made a low sound of disgust, pushing himself away from the wall he'd been propping up. The orders from the Moon Palace, attitudes like Mitsuru's... it was as if the Lunar Race was, as the humans put it, determined to shoot themselves in the foot and blame the humans for the mess and the pain.

Nozomu could see Mitsuru's image looming larger as the tengu drew closer. From the determined scowl on the other's face, Nozomu realized he was going to have to spell it out. Hell, maybe I'll need some crayons and paper, draw him a picture.

"Only the Descendants of the Princess possess the power to give the Moon's blessing- -and only the females. Makes a pretty strong argument that the first Princess had the power too, doesn't it? So why wouldn't a person like that be considered our treasure?"

"Especially by one who loved her," Misoka added in a low voice.

Mitsuru looked from one to the other, shaking his head. "No. It's- -no. The first one played the demons false, this one is no different. The Tears are our treasure, why else would the humans have stolen them? And any demon blood that line had is long gone by now."

"No," Nozomu said matter-of-factly, "it isn't."

The tengu turned on him. "Oh, and you know this how?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "I'm a vampire, Mitsuru. She fed me. Figure it out."

"And... she doesn't smell like most humans," Akira added thoughtfully. "I mean, she does smell human, but different."

"And it just so happens a pip-squeak like her," Mitsuru's reflection jerked his head in the direction of Mahiru's room, "can explain it, huh? I'm not buying it. It's another trap, just like this kurai thing. You say it wasn't planted on her- -what if she was in on it from the beginning? After all, I had two of the those bastards, dead to rights, and she interfered. She let them go!"

Nozomu felt his temper begin to slip. Why did every attempt at discussing anything with Mitsuru turn into a verbal brawl? Sometimes, he wondered if the idiot tengu even believed half of the stuff he said, or just took those views for the joy of being contrary.

Mitsuru began to pace, building up a full head of steam. "The first time I saw her, the cops were a split second behind her. Same thing with the cruise ship, and the museum! The WPF was a frickin' disaster. Then she 'disappears'--" his voice dripped scorn- - "right under our noses in Kyoto, where our good buddied from the Dawn's Venus just happen to be, with a Teardrop! How much plainer do you need it to get?"

"You know what really pisses me off about you, Suou?" Nozomu asked, turning away from the window. "You think you're the only one who's had it rough. You're so damn busy counting up your own miseries, you don't notice anything else."

He glowered at the tengu. "You think that just because Akira had other family, it hurt any less when his parents died? Or that it cost Misoka, Katsura, and Master nothing to give up the only world they ever knew to come live here? You want to compare notes on being different? Try looking mixed in Osaka--and having parents from different clans. Try being different from your own kind. Even Mahiru had it rough, long before she had you making it worse."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Mitsuru sneered. "If the humans suffer, they deserve it. They deserve it all. They're nothing but a bunch of liars and thieves! The first princess pretended to be in love, then she helped kill the guardian and stole the Teardrops! And they thought they'd get away with it. Don't expect me to feel bad because they're finally getting what's coming to them!"

"The humans stole our treasure," Misoka corrected. "That's how the story goes, in every variation I've ever studied."

"And the Tears are the treasure!" Mitsuru said. "They're what's valuable, not the damn humans!" He glared around the room. "All this yapping about how we 'need' her back. Well, we have the stupid girl, and I think it works better this way! So what if she's got some weird shadow power? We can get around it, and get the power we need. She's got no more way to refuse us than a power-charm. That power was stolen from us, so I say we take it back!"

Anger ripped through the last of Nozomu's restraint like dragon's claws through paper. He barely registered Katsura's cry of alarm. Something shattered, a lamp possibly, and the room dropped into murky shadow. No matter... he could see. He flexed his right hand, feeling the talons sprouting from his fingertips. The tengu glared back at him, his eyes as wild as a summer storm. A change like this would last only moments, but that would give him more than enough time to dig those talons into the tengu's stringy throat.

Doubting her...after she saved your life, twice! And now you threaten her? You think I'm letting you get away with that crap?

He didn't know if he'd spoken--roared--the words out loud. All he saw was the swirling, mocking spiral of the tengu's storm-eyes. A rising wind tore at his hair, his clothing. Objects tumbled and crashed to the floor. In the background, he could hear the others, crying out. It didn't matter. This one threatened his Princess. He'd failed her once- - but he'd bring her this one's blood in a bowl for his transgression!

"Nozomu! STOP!"

The words yanked him back, collapsing back into his human form. He'd never head such a tone in Misoka's voice before. The humans called the kitsune the 'servants of Inari', and at that moment, Nozomu could very well believe Misoka spoke in the name Inari-sama. His skin prickled. What came in the wake of such a voice? What could anyone do, except wait for its next command?

Akira had both arms wrapped around Mitsuru, pinning the snarling tengu to the floor. Akira looked afraid. Misoka drew in breath to speak- -and broke out into a fit of coughing.

"Misoka!" This time, Nozomu caught the fox-demon as he doubled-over, clutching at his throat. Nozomu could hear the gurgle- rasp that refused to clear, the wheezing of lungs slowly filling with fluid that forced out the precious air. He held the smaller man upright as the spasm tore through him, sure he'd feel Misoka tear apart in his grip.

Gradually, the spasm eased, and Misoka's breathing grew easier, though Nozomu could still hear the slight hitch whenever he breathed too deeply. He helped Misoka to a chair. The fox-demon's face was flushed pink, his eyes watering. He looked almost as frail as Mahiru. What terrified Nozomu were the tiny dark splotches staining Misoka's lips. Dark, dark red, the color of oxygen-poor blood.

"You're sick," Nozomu said, his voice numb.

Misoka just looked at him, his expression weary beyond words.

Nozomu looked at his own hands, thoughts of contamination of contagion flashing through his mind. Then he looked up at his friend. "How long?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Katsura brought Misoka a glass of water, which he accepted with soft thanks. He took a few small sips, then looked up.

"Early stages, yet," Misoka said. "It wasn't serious enough to prevent me from completing our task."

""Early--' Misoka, what we just saw what not 'early' anything!"

Misoka blotted the blood from his lips with his sleeve. "Stress makes attacks worse. Master knows. I can still perform my duties."

"Oh, cut the noble act," Mitsuru muttered, squirming out from Akira's hold.

Misoka's gaze remained calm and steady. "With that, you ask too much of me. I may die before this is done. Yet even a death from illness has honor if I spend my remaining time serving our people and our Princess."

"You are seriously messed up," Mitsuru announced. "You're not fit to make decisions like this anymore."

"Lord Oboro believes otherwise," Katsura said.

Nozomu bit back a groan. Damn the tengu and his rotten timing. They needed Mahiru back, needed her whole and well. Instead, they had to deal with Mitsuru's attempt at a coup d' etat. So typical... a princess needing rescue, and not a single one of them able to do anything about it.

Need.

Nozomu straightened so abruptly his spine popped in protest. He stared past his friends. In his mind, the misty outline of a solution began to weave together.

"Kanrisha-san," he said, interrupting Misoka's low-voiced discussion with Katsura. "It doesn't have to be my need that's answered."

Misoka turned his head, stared at him. Nozomu met his gaze, unflinching. Of them all, perhaps he was the only non-vampire who knew exactly what Nozomu was proposing.

"I cannot allow this, Nozomu," Misoka said at last. "She cannot give consent in her present condition. She was entrusted to us. To violate that trust is a stain on our honor that may not be washed away for generations."

"I don't believe this!" Mitsuru exploded, throwing his hands up in disgust. "You say our people are dying. That means the rules have changed- -in fact, that means there are no rules. I, for one, am not going to stare at the sky and write poetry and wait to die! If that girl has what we need to survive, I say we take it and to hell with your bushi crap!"

The fox-demon's preternatural calm shivered, threatening to crack. "I will not permit it!"

Akira instinctively flattened himself against the far wall, making himself as small as possible. Mitsuru paled, but managed something like his old sneer. "And how're you going to stop me, cough blood on me?"

The kitsune did not reach for his power-charm, did not so much as twitch, keeping his gaze locked on the tengu. "I am not what I was, wind-weaver. Yet one thing has not changed: I have knowledge you do not, and I will not hesitate to die for the Princess. You, who value strength above all things, cannot match me there. You cannot be stronger if you are dead, so you will always hold back that last bit to save yourself. And that is all I need."

"Stop it!" Akira had pushed himself away from the wall. "Both of you, just stop! Mahiru is hurt, sick, maybe even-" The young werewolf couldn't bring himself to say the word. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. "Everybody's counting on us, and we're throwing threats at each other?"

The werewolf's intercession gave all parties the out they needed. Mitsuru hmph'd and went to scowl out the window. Misoka sank down onto the chair, his head cradled in his hands. Nozomu had never seen him so weary, so... frail. He crouched down beside him.

"Kanrisha-san...let Master decide this. The longer we wait... Misoka, I've never done this. The farther away she goes, the greater the chance I won't be able to get her back."

Misoka remained silent for a long moment, then nodded in acquiescence. "I'll have to head back out to make contact with the Moon Palace, there's nothing here we can use- -"

"I have something," Katsura said. "I apologize for interrupting, Misoka. Lord Oboro sent me back with a consecrated mirror so I could inform him of the Princess's condition changed."

"That... will save a great deal of time," Misoka said.

"Then I'll make preparations," Katsura said, bowing her head.

Nozomu sat back on his heels. They had less than an hour and a half of Katsura's grace-period left. He hoped Master Oboro was someplace he could receive their message. He hoped he could actually pull off the solution he'd just offered- -if he even got permission to proceed. A lot rode on those hopes. It had been a long while since hope had come through for any of the Moon's people.

Maybe too long.

They snuck out into the hotel's pocket-sized garden. Choosing the remotest corner, Katsura filled a black marble basin with water she'd brought with her. From a cloth bundle she produced a small silver mirror. She slipped the mirror into the water with such care that the surface of the water barely rippled in response. Once it settled to the bottom, Katsura held her hand flat over the water and closed her eyes.

Time inched past. Dream-demons were especially good at using the mirrors to communicate. Of all the Lunar Race, they alone had the most experience with reaching distant minds and crafting image-messages.

The surface of the water glowed as if moon-touched, though no moonlight reached this part of the garden. Katsura drew her hand back, pressing it over her heart. Her eyes remained closed. The light rose like a morning mist, swirling in a phantom wind.

Gradually, it formed a slender pillar, the light collapsing in on itself, taking a familiar shape. The image before them was not of the middle-aged proprietor of the Moonshine, but the stern, distant figure of a lord of the Silver Horn Clan. That Master Oboro had dropped his seeming meant that he was as alone as it was possible to get at the court.

For the sake of keeping the peace- -and silencing the whispers that drove Lord Shirogane to such displays of temper- -Oboro usually wore his human face, a subtle yet constant reminder of his choice. There were those who whispered that, especially now, the Lunar Race needed a stronger hand than a woman-ruled child could provide.

"Katsura." The image inclined its head. The horns of his rank flashed dimly. "What is your report?"

The dream-demon made a deep obeisance. "Master, I beg forgiveness for bearing ill-tidings. The weavings of the nightmare ensnaring the Descendant of the Princess are complex, and beyond my current strength to untangle, at least not in the time granted to me. She drifts further and further away with every passing hour."

The image of Oboro drew back as if the words had the form of a water snake. "You are certain, Katsura?"

Katsura bowed her head even lower. "I have grown weak during my time here, but I can still read the currents of dreams. Yet even if I had more time, I might not be able to reach her." She paused, took a deep breath. "My lord, the gift of the shadow has returned. It watches over her even now. My power fades and my Sight dims if I draw too close. Forgive me for this failure."

Master Oboro sighed. "All that we had hoped for- -appearing in all the wrong ways. There is no fault to be cast on you."

"My lord, I fear this shadow is not one time alone can lift. Though its roots are in the natural darkness that follows the Moon, what set it over her heart and spirit is not. There is no cycle to measure against, no way to predict how long or how far into the shadow she has passed."

Misoka stepped forward and dropped to one knee. "My lord, there remains yet one last option. I am reluctant to present it, though it may indeed be our last hope of restoring the Princess- -and ourselves."

The image frowned briefly. "Continue."

Misoka kept his head bowed. "Nozomu has offered to complete the bonding between himself and the Princess. He says the Princess's need for deliverance fulfills the last requirement. Yet in her present state, the Princess canno give consent."

Misoka's dark hair shielded his expression from view. "Lord Oboro, you placed her in our care, and it is you who directs our efforts here. Command us in this matter, and your will shall be done, regardless of consequence to ourselves."

The regal figure did not move, but Nozomu felt Oboro's attention settle on him. At once, he went to one knee and bowed his head. Even as a magical projection, Master's stare carried the weight of ages. After a time, their lord spoke.

"Nozomu. I have heard and considered Misoka's request. I speak now as the Princess's guardian in our world. You will be allowed to weave the third skein with the Princess, but- -" he raised one phantom hand to forestall Nozomu's comment, "- -that is all. Until you make a formal Offering before the Throne of the Moon, the five-fold knot will remain incomplete.

"You must first complete the task set to us by the Great Empress. Should you succeed there, then and only then may you consider making your Offering. If you should fail, or if the Emperor- -or the Princess refuses you- -you must abide by these limits."

He'd half-expected that, but to hear it proclaimed aloud hit hard. Swallowing his dread, he pressed his head to the ground, acknowledging Oboro's right to set such conditions. Though he had refused the throne, Oboro was still of the Imperial line. And Mahiru... Mahiru was the Princess.

If they failed, either in recovering the Tears or in restoring Mahiru... He would be forced to watch as his people sickened, went mad, and died. And when his turn came, he could only look forward to wandering in the bitter darkness between the worlds, banned from the place of his ancestors. He would diminish into a hungry ghost, eternally yearning for the one denied him. Oboro set Nozomu's own soul as Mahiru's bride-price.

"You will be watched," Oboro continued. "Accidents such as that which sparked your bonding will not happen again. The threads you've already woven may be sustained, but you may go no further without Offering. Is this understood?"

Nozomu lifted his head a fraction so his words would be clear. "Yes, Master."

"Then go. Bring our Princess back to us. Complete the task given to you."

With a final rippling shimmer, the image of Oboro vanished. Nozomu eased himself up, not all surprised to find he was sweating. Master could be terrifying when he took on his Imperial mantle. He looked over at Misoka and Katsura, who had remained silent during the exchange.

"Can you really do this, Nozomu?" the fox-demon asked.

"Need is one of the strongest ties. If I can make it set, I can bring her back."

"If ?" Misoka's voice hardened again.

"It's not like I can practice this. I've never taken it this far, Misoka. I've never had Opportunity before, either." Nozomu sighed. "And... "

He hesitated. This subject just wasn't talked about with outsiders, with those who didn't know the mysteries of blood. Generations of expected silence pressed down on him.

"If she rejects my Need," he said, forcing the words out, "it won't take."

"Why didn't you mention any of this to Lord Oboro?" Misoka demanded.

Nozomu grimaced. "From what he said, I think he already knows."

Just for a moment, Misoka's innate kitsune curiosity surfaced. "What are those other threads?"

The vampire scowled. "They're private."

"What will you require to do this, Nozomu?" Katsura asked, firmly steering them back onto the topic at hand.

Nozomu glanced up. The window to Mahiru's room gave off a pale glow, as if someone had left a lamp burning. Only keen or knowing eyes would note that the light was paler and clearer than the others streaming out of the occupied roooms. The Teardrop, like a beacon set beside Mahiru, the light they'd hoped would guide her back to them. The light Katsura must soon take away.

"Privacy," Nozomu said.

"Not possible," Misoka said.

Nozomu blinked, not sure if he'd heard right then stared over his shoulder at the fox-demon. "Ex-cuse me?"

Misoka remained unperturbed. "As Master said, you will be watched. Since there are, by your own admission, two further stages- -"

"Stop right there, Misoka," he warned. "Even suggesting- -it's indecent. You don't know what you're saying, what you're accussing me of. Go further, and I won't be able to ignore it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he'd chosen poorly. A consummate flirt, blustering about propriety? The stuff comedies thrived on. He tried again.

"Outsiders- -I mean, other witnesses," he corrected hastily, "aren't permitted."

Misoka tilted his head to the side, a familiar glint in his eyes. "There is a law against it? A law that supersedes the will of Lord Oboro, second in line for the Imperial throne?"

"Misoka," Katsura said, glancing from Nozomu to the fox-demon, "I'm not certain this is what Lord Oboro intended."

"I am," Misoka said. "The Master put her in our care." He turned his narrow gaze on Nozomu. "Your track record in these matters is not to your credit. That I must permit this to happen at all treads the line of shame. You will have only what you have been granted, and no more."

"Nozomu," Katsura said, keeping her voice low, "if it is only a matter of personal comfort- -"

"It is not- -" Nozomu stopped himself, drew in a long, shaky breath.

Was it just his own pride? A decent vampire loathed being watched while feeding. It disrupted the sense of territory and communion. Some of his folk liked an audience, making it a taunting game to play among humans, but he'd been raised better than that.

"This is not how I wanted it," he said at last. "Not even close. You may think I'm taking advantage, but this is nothing like the way it should be."

"Just what is going to happen?"

Nozomu grimaced. Damned pointy-nosed voyeur. "I can't really say."

"Nozomu," Misoka warned.

He glared. "I'm not dodging the question! I just- - I can't say how it's going to work. You already know the mechanics because you know what I am. It takes a full bite. Yes, I have to be touching her when I do- -" He paused, then glared. "Not like that! Nothing like that is going to happen!"

"So what will?"

Damned relentless, fixated kitsune! He raised his hands, then dropped them to his sides, shaking his head. How could he describe something that had never needed words?

"I... I'll be... meeting her, I guess you could say. In the blood. If I can find her. And then- - Ah, damn it, Misoka! It doesn't fit into words! I don't think there's even a song to do it justice."

Misoka's eyes widened a fraction and he stepped back. "My apologies for intruding," he said, inclining his head.

"Yeah... " Nozomu ran a hand through his hair, glanced up at the window again.

"We'd best get back," Katsura said. She'd retrieved the mirror and emptied the basin, holding them now in her arms.

Misoka flicked a glance at him and he gave a wary nod. The events of the day were taking their toll. His body yearned for rest, to be fed, to do just about anything except what he was about to ask of it.

Let me find her, he thought, as they rode the elevator up to their floor. Let her accept me. Allow me to bring her back to us, whole and well.

Back at their rooms, they found Akira and Mitsuru making serious inroads in an enormous platter of food from room service. Akira saw them and perked up.

"Hey, how'd it go?" he asked, handing Nozomu a cup of tea.

"Master has approved of our plan. Nozomu will attempt to recover the Princess," Misoka announced. He looked with puzzlement at the array of food. "Were we really gone that long?"

Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Misoka. He took the offered cup in reflex, managing not to grimace at the sharp smell rising with the steam. He didn't always tolerate black tea well, but it was Akira's favorite.

"Uh, no... " Akira looked abashed. "I just got hungry, and I grabbed the menu, and- -"

"Ordered just about everything," Mitsuru finished, polishing off what looked like curry.

"I took some tea in to Mahiru," Akira defended.

"Did she drink it?" Misoka asked.

The werewolf's ears drooped. "Ah... no."

"It's not a surprise," Misoka sighed. He looked at Nozomu. "Now it's up to you. Prepare yourself."

"For what?" Akira asked.

Nozomu checked a sigh. Akira curiosity could be worse than a kitsune's, but he was so damn cheerful and bouncy about it, you couldn't be mad at him. For longer than a couple of seconds. Mitsuru swatted Akira between the ears.

"Weren't you listening? Fangs is going to do something that'll wake that girl up."

"Wow, really?" Akira's eyes went impossibly huge. "I didn't know vampires could do stuff like that!"

Nozomu sipped the bitter tea, remembered why it used to be considered medicine. "It's rare," he said, not looking around.

"Will you need anything, Nozomu?" Misoka asked. He still looked pale.

Nozomu heard the unspoken question: 'Can you do this?' He closed his eyes. The longer they delayed, the further Mahiru drifted away. We have no more time. Night was the province of the vampire. The Moon rode high overhead, waxing in light, giving its children strength. It was as good as it was going to get.

He set his all-but untouched tea cup down. "I just need to get cleaned up."

-tbc-

According to Japanese mythology, the fox-god Inari often used foxes or kitsune (usually women) to carry messages for him.