Page 11 of Night of the Dragon

I glanced at the swarms of bodies shambling between us and the distant warehouse, and my skin crawled. There was no way through without having to pass an arm’s length from the crowds of dead. A cursory look was one thing, but would my illusions hold up if we got that close? Or if any of them actually touched us?

As we started walking, I reached into my obi and found one of the leaves I had hidden in the folds. I drew it out and released another tiny pulse of fox magic, then let the leaf flutter to the ground, just as the first group of corpses looked up and spotted us.

They didn’t react to our presence, not at first. But as we continued on, hugging the edge of the street, more and more heads started to turn. Flat, dead gazes followed me down the road, and as we drew closer to the warehouse, several corpses broke away from the main swarm and stumbled in our direction. I could feel the tension in the bodies behind me, hands dropping to sword hilts, the soft but menacing growls from Chu, as the dead shuffled toward us.

“Looks like the farce is up,” Okame muttered, and I saw him reach back for his bow. “So, now the question becomes, how quickly can we get to the warehouse before the entire town swarms us?”

“Wait, Okame-san,” I whispered, holding out a hand. “Everyone. Don’t do anything yet.”

The ronin’s eyes frowned at me behind the mask, but he dropped his hand from his weapon. “If you say so, Yumeko-chan,” he murmured, and his gaze flicked to the crowds of dead shambling toward us. “But, uh, those dead are still coming. What exactly are we waiting—?”

A scream echoed over the docks. Immediately, all the dead in the area straightened and turned toward the sound. A figure stood at the end of the street, gazing in horror at the living corpses, her eyes wide with fear. She had my face, my clothes and my body, and she shrieked in my voice as she stumbled away from the dead, tripped over her robes and fell to the ground.

With chilling cries and groans, the horde lurched after her, rushing forward like ants descending on a locust body. The fake Yumeko scrambled to her feet, nearly falling again and screaming all the while, then fled with the mob at her heels. As she turned a corner and vanished from sight, I gave a mental command for the illusion to keep running as long as it could and turned to the others, who were watching the dead stream away from us in bemusement.

“Come on, minna! While they’re distracted.”

Okame gave a snort of laughter, shaking his head, as we started for the warehouse again. “That settles it,” he muttered. “When this is over, you and I need to visit a gambling hall, Yumeko-chan. One night, and I’d earn more riches than the emperor.”

We approached the warehouse, which was a long stone-and-wood building that appeared to be locked tight. We drew close, and I shivered as the dark magic radiating from within made my skin crawl and my stomach writhe. The double doors stood closed and unguarded, but Reika put out an arm, halting us.

“Wait.” Drawing out an ofuda, she hurled it at the doors. When the strip of paper touched the wood, there was a pulse of magic that flared purple-black for a moment, and the ofuda sizzled to ashes. Reika gave a grim nod.

“There’s a barrier around the warehouse,” she told the rest of us. “Extremely strong blood magic that’s either keeping something out, or something in. Either way, we don’t want to touch it.”

“How do we get in, then?” Okame wanted to know.

“Give me a few minutes,” Reika said, pulling another ofuda and holding it between two fingers. “I might be able to dispel it...”

Tatsumi drew his sword. It screeched as it came into the light, causing the hairs on my arms to rise. Without a word, he walked to the warehouse doors and brought Kamigoroshi slicing down across the wood.

The second the glowing blade touched the barrier, there was a shriek, the sound of breaking porcelain and a pulse of energy exploding outward. I cringed, flattening my ears, as the sensation of being covered with writhing, wriggling things flowed over me before scattering to the winds. Reika blinked.

“Or, you could do that,” she remarked.

Tatsumi raised a foot and kicked the doors, and they flew open with a crash, wrenching from their tracks and clattering to the floor. Without hesitation, he strode forward, blade pulsing against the darkness, and disappeared through the frame.

“Right,” Okame sighed as the rest of us hurried after Tatsumi. “I guess the subtle approach is out.”

Reika snorted. “When have we ever tried the subtle approach?”

The interior of the warehouse was dark and warm, the air stale. And as soon as I stepped through the doors, the heavy, cloying stench of rot and blood and decay hit me like a hammer. The reason for this was obvious; bodies were everywhere, stacked along the wall and in corners, some piled higher than my head. Swarms of flies crawled over the bloody mounds, their droning buzz filling the air, and several furry things scampered away from where they were chewing the exposed flesh. I put both hands to my nose and mouth, my insides twisting with horror, and lost my hold on the illusions covering us. With small pops of white smoke, the images of masks and corpses disappeared, and we were ourselves again.

“This is...” Daisuke shook his head, his normally cool, unruffled expression pale with shock “...blasphemy,” he finally whispered. “Why would someone do such a thing?”

Tatsumi turned. His eyes glowed red in the dim light, and his horns and claws were fully exposed. Ominous tattoos had appeared on his arms and neck, flickering like they were made of fire. His mouth twisted in a chilling smile that was not in any way Kage Tatsumi. “This is blood magic,” he told us. “The more blood, death and suffering, the more powerful the spell. Which means Genno’s witches are very close.”

“Indeed, Hakaimono,” said a new voice overhead. I glanced up as a trio of figures appeared at the edge of the loft, gazing down at us. They were women, or perhaps they had been at one point. The one in front was tall and withered, with black claws curling from her fingers and a yellow glow to her eyes. The other two were more human-looking, though they both bore vivid red scars on their arms and legs, and one of them had a terrible gash down her face and a scarred hole where her eye used to be.

The head witch pointed a long talon at Tatsumi. “We knew you would come, First Oni,” she rasped. “You and your companions will not leave this place alive. We will not allow you to interfere with Lord Genno’s plans. He will summon the Dragon, and the empire will tremble with his return. But you will die here, as will everyone who stands against the Master of Demons.”

She flung out a hand, and a ripple of dark power went through the air. Around us, the piles of corpses started to move. They shifted, roiling together, and then rose, enormous masses of flesh, limbs and bodies, dozens of corpses fused into grotesque, terrible monsters. They lurched and slithered from the piles, numerous hands reaching for us, numerous voices moaning as one.

“Okay, that is disgusting,” Okame said, raising his bow. The mounds of corpses were converging on us, a slowly tightening circle. He fired an arrow into one monster’s head with athunk. The head slumped, the arrow sticking from its eye socket, but the rest of the groaning faces and reaching arms didn’t seem to notice. “We might be in trouble, here.”

“Yumeko, get back,” Tatsumi said as Daisuke drew his blade and Chu erupted into his real form with a snarl. Stepping forward, the shrine guardian formed the points of a triangle with Tatsumi and Daisuke, with me, Reika and Okame in the center. Heart pounding, I opened my hands, and foxfire flickered to life in my palms, illuminating the horrible faces of the dead looming over us. Tatsumi gave a grim smile and raised his sword. “This is going to get messy.”

The corpse mounds staggered forward with muffled groans. I yelped and threw up a wall of foxfire, causing a few of them to flinch back from the sudden light. As they lurched to a halt, Tatsumi and Daisuke lunged through the wall of kitsune-bi and into the midst of the dead.

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