Page 8 of Shadow of the Fox

Not enough.Hakaimono still raged through my mind, wanting more. More blood, more killing. Its rage wasn’t nearly satisfied, but it never was. Though only a small piece of my soul had been offered to the blade, the demon sank its claws in deep and struggled to maintain its grip. Taking a deep breath, I closed off my mind and my emotions, becoming a blank vessel with no weaknesses to latch on to. The demon fought me, loath to relinquish control, to return to the darkness, but I concentrated on feeling nothing, being nothing, and Hakaimono’s presence finally slipped away.

“What have you done?”

The horrified voice rang out behind me. I turned, gripping my sword hilt, to face a squat, middle-aged man standing in the doorway. His blue-and-gray kimono was very fine, and he had the soft, fleshy look of a man who ate well and sat on the softest cushions. His doughy face was pale as he gazed wildly around the room.

“You killed her,” he gasped, dark gaze falling on the twisted form of the dead jorogumo. “You killed her! Why? Do you realize what you’ve done?”

I didn’t answer. Of course I realized what I’d done—killed the yokai my clan sent me to destroy. The reasons didn’t matter. I was simply a weapon. A weapon did not question the intent of those who wielded it.

“How could you,” the man went on, moaning as he came forward. “That creature was the only thing that cared for me. The only living being that ever gave me love. My hateful wife only offered spite and condemnation. Even my men sneer and talk about me behind my back. This creature—” he gazed mournfully at the body on the floor “—freed me. She promised she could help me achieve my heart’s desire, my greatest wish.” His eyes hardened, jowly chins quivering as he set his jaw. “I would have gladly fed her appetites with a thousand men in gratitude for what she offered.”

Lord Hinotaka’s legs shook, and he sank to his knees, his gaze never leaving the corpse of the jorogumo behind me. “Whoever you are,” he said in a trembling voice, “depart my keep before I alert the guards. I assume you were sent to slaughter the monster of Usugurai castle, and you have done your duty. Now go, and may the curse of a thousand grudge spirits follow you for the rest of your days. You’ve killed your mark, now leave me to my misery.”

“Not yet,” I said softly, and raised Kamigoroshi once more. “There is one more monster I must kill, before my mission is complete.”

Hinotaka frowned, but then his eyes widened and he grabbed for the sword at his obi—too late. Kamigoroshi sliced through his neck in one smooth motion, and the man’s head toppled from his shoulders, bounced once and rolled to a stop beside the corpse of the jorogumo. The headless body hit the floor with a thump and soaked the carpet of webs in liquid crimson.

I flicked blood off Kamigoroshi and took a moment to watch the lord bleed out beside his monster. I took no pleasure in killing Hinotaka. The clan had demanded his death; I had simply been the instrument to carry it out. The lord of Usugurai castle had murdered his wife to placate the jorogumo and had sacrificed his men to her desires, but he was only a puppet. This jorogumo was a two-hundred-year-old yokai that had plagued Iwagoto for many years. She would claim a lonely part of a castle, seduce its lord with promises of love or power and then slowly consume all the men from the inside. When the time came, she would inevitably turn on the lord, paralyzing and hiding him away in her lair, before leaving the castle and vanishing into the dark. Her last victim would be found days later, hanging in the webs, his insides hollowed out and empty from the hundreds of baby spiders that had chewed their way free. For a time, the jorogumo would vanish, fading into rumor and legend, but about twenty years later she would reemerge, targeting another castle, and the cycle would begin anew.

No longer. The yokai was dead, and there would be no more humans sacrificed to her hunger. Hinotaka would be the last. How the Kage knew when and where she would emerge, and why I had been sent to kill her now, I did not know. It wasn’t my place to ask questions; all that mattered was completing the mission.

Gazing down at Hinotaka’s corpse, I felt a faint flicker of pity. He was just another casualty in the long line of the yokai’s victims, but what would drive a man to allow such a monster into his castle, much less his affections? I didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. He was dead, and his end had been much cleaner than if the jorogumo had finished what she came to do.

Sheathing my blade, I left the room, slipped out a window onto the roof of the keep and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Sheets of rain pounded the road as I approached the edge of town, about a half mile from Usugurai castle. I crept along the roof of a two-story building that served as the rendezvous point for the mission, then dropped onto an overhang and slipped through an open window.

Instinctively, I ducked and rolled away as a shuriken embedded itself in the sill, the four-pointed metal star sinking into the wood. Springing into a defensive crouch, I put a hand on my sword hilt, as a snicker echoed out of the darkness and a shadow disengaged from the corner.

“Oh, sorry, Tatsumi-kun.” The female voice was an amused murmur, as Ayame came into view, grinning at me. Like myself, she was sheathed in black, wearing bracers and tabi boots, her long hair tied behind her. The hilt of a short sword poked over her shoulder, and a kusarigama—a chain with a sickle attached at the end—hung from her waist. “I thought you were a big wet rat, climbing in the window.”

“Ayame.” I straightened cautiously, watching as the other shinobi sauntered to the window and pried the shuriken from the wood. We had been raised together since we were young, had gone through basic shinobi training together. It was hard to remember now, but she might have been my best friend. That was before the circle of majutsushi, the mages of the Shadow Clan, had chosen me to be the new bearer of Kamigoroshi, and I had been taken away for private instruction. I hadn’t seen Ayame again until years down the road, and we had both changed. Now I was the Kage demonslayer, and she was a skilled shinobi. It made sense that she would be here now, watching and protecting from the shadows. “Where is Master Ichiro?”

“Here.”

The door slid open and a man came into the room, making no sound as he stepped across the threshold. He could be described as unremarkable, a short, middle-aged man with features one could easily forget. All deliberately crafted on his part. He moved with a fluid grace that belied his humble appearance, and his sharp black eyes were as keen as a hawk’s.

Ayame backed away, melting into the shadows once more. I sank to my knees and bowed, keeping my gaze on the floor as the man approached, feeling his stare on the back of my neck.

“Is it done?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes, sensei,” I replied without looking up.

“Hinotaka as well?”

“All the targets have been eliminated, sensei.”

“Good.” I felt him nod. “The clan will be pleased. Were you injured?”

“The jorogumo spit venom in my eyes,” I answered, “but it’s cleared.”

He grunted. “You weren’t paying attention, then. I told you spiders will spit when they’re feeling cornered. Did you have to call on Hakaimono?”

“Yes.”

“Bakamono.”I felt a sharp, stinging blow upside my head, rocking me forward a bit. I had been expecting it and didn’t move as Ichiro made a sound of disgust. “That’s the second time in as many months, Tatsumi. You’re getting careless.”

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