“Ilyitch,” said the blond boy, exhaling smoke. He pointed to the big gaijin with the samurai trophies. “Danyk.” The woman. “Katya.”
Piotr snarled something in his own tongue. The big man roared, stepped forward and slapped the boy’s face, sending his smoke stick flying in a shower of sparks. The language was coarse to Yukiko’s ears, almost frightening. Her temples throbbed. The woman still stared, mute, head tilted, hips swaying as if she heard music.
“Why she here?” The dark-haired man poked her chest to regain her attention.
Yukiko jerked away from his touch, scowling. “I fell off my thunder tiger, if it’s any of your business.”
The man blinked.
“Thunder tiger.” She tried to make a flapping motion with her bound hands. “Arashitora.”
“Gryfon,” the woman said with a strange, hungry voice.
Piotr made a questioning noise, turned to look at her. The woman spoke again, pointing skyward. Danyk spoke, eyebrows rising to his hairline. The woman nodded and whispered a mouthful of guttural nonsense.
“She snake?” Piotr glared at Yukiko.
“A snake?” she scowled.
“She snake for the pleasing!”
“What the hells are you talking about?”
“Coming here.” Piotr pointed at the ground, growing angrier by the second. “Taking words away for the Shima, da? Snake.” He clicked his fingers. “Spy! She spy!”
“I’m not a godsdamned spy.” Yukiko rose up off the pillow, growling, the memory of his slap burning on her cheek. “I didn’t want to come here, you mad round-eye bastard. I flew here on an idiot with his penis where his brain used to be.”
Piotr looked utterly befuddled.
“Penis!” Yukiko pointed at the man’s crotch. “Your other head! The one you think with for most of your godsdamned lives!”
Piotr covered his groin with both hands, shuffled his stool a few feet away. Katya laughed, clapping her hands as if delighted, and Yukiko saw the woman had filed her teeth into sharp, gleaming points. Even the boy managed a grin, despite the handprint on his cheek. Piotr started yammering, shaking his head. The room devolved into general chaos until Danyk’s roar rose above the clamor.
Piotr turned back to her, brow creased in concentration as he searched for the words.
“Beast,” he finally managed. “Gryfon.”
He made a flapping motion, pointed to the sky.
“Arashitora,” Yukiko said.
Piotr nodded. “Where is? Where?”
Yukiko frowned. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Die?” Piotr closed his eyes, crossed his hands over his chest. “Is die?”
“I…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I don’t know.”
“Call?” Piotr put his fingers to his lips, gave a shrill whistle. “Calling him?”
“Izanagi’s balls, he’s not a dog.” She eyed the gaijin one by one, anger swelling her chest. “And believe me, the last thing you want is him coming here. He’d tear this little tin can of yours to pieces. He’d show you the color of your insides.”
Piotr shook his head and spoke with an apologetic tone to Danyk. The woman shrugged, addressing the men as if they were children, and with a sigh, the big man nodded. He held up the cylindrical object in his hand, unwrapped the oilskin, and Yukiko caught her breath as she saw her katana gleaming in the half-light.
“Yofun,” she whispered.
She’d thought it’d been lost in the ocean.
“That’s mine, bastard,” she hissed.
Piotr offered what she assumed was an abridged translation. Danyk drew the katana, soft music of folded steel ringing against the backdrop of the storm. He tilted the blade, watched the light rippling across the polished face. With a grunt of admiration, he looked down at Yukiko.
“Spy,” he said.
“No.” Yukiko grit her teeth. “I am not a spy.”
Danyk lowered the blade by inches, until it was level with Yukiko’s throat. She swallowed her rising fear, forced away the pain at the base of her skull, the pounding of the world just outside her head. She met the gaijin’s stare. Unblinking. Unafraid.
Danyk spoke to Piotr, a sharp mouthful tinged with command.
“What soul you pledge to?” Piotr said.
“Soul?” Yukiko shook her throbbing head, eyes still on Danyk. “What the
“Name.” The man slapped his right shoulder. “Name!”
“I told you, my name is Yukiko!”
Danyk growled deep in his chest, muttered a word. Piotr reached out and took hold of Yukiko’s collar, still damp with seawater.
“Sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Sorry you.”
“Wha—”
The gaijin jerked her uwagi back and down, exposing her shoulders and breasts. Yukiko’s words became a shriek of outrage, bucking on the bed, blood flooding her cheeks as she swore and spit and thrashed in impotent fury, that beautiful, wonderful rage returning with a vengeance. Veins standing out like cable in her neck, restraints cutting into her flesh as she cursed them for cowards, screaming, snarling, vowing if they came near her, she’d kick in their heads, gouge out their eyes, tear their throats apart with her teeth.
Katya caught her breath, mismatched eyes turning deathly cold as she stared at Yukiko’s tattoo. Without a sound, she turned and stalked from the room. The boy, Ilyitch, lowered his gaze to the floor, cheeks flushing at her nakedness. Piotr looked to his leader, but his eyes kept drifting back to Yukiko’s body.
Danyk lowered the katana until it touched Yukiko’s skin. She ceased her struggles, breath hissing through spit-slick teeth, eyes narrowed in defiance. Bringing the razored edge to rest against her throat, he ran it down her naked shoulder, over the beautiful clan tattoo curling around her right arm. The Nine-Tailed Fox she’d not had the heart to ask Daichi to burn away. All she had left of the family she’d lost. The person she’d been. Danyk spoke to Piotr and the man stood, limped from the room. With an apologetic glance, the blond boy followed.
The big gaijin spoke then, ice-blue glare fixed on her ink. Words mangled by his thick accent, cold and hard; an accusation so full of hatred that it fairly dripped upon the floor.
“Keetsoonay,” he growled. “Sahmoorayee.”
Yukiko found herself terrified, acutely aware of her naked skin, burning under the gaijin’s stare. They were the only two in the room now, her wrists and feet still bound, a thousand miles from home, no Buruu, no Kin, no one to help her at all …
She narrowed her stare, feeling the Kenning build up inside her, pain crackling across her skull. Remembering Yoritomo collapsing in the Market Square, blood spilling from his eyes. But would she be strong enough without her father helping her? Could she hurt this man before he—
Danyk scowled, muttered something indecipherable, sheathed her katana at his waist. And stalking to the door, he slammed it shut behind him, leaving her utterly alone.
Breathing deep, heart pounding, mouth dry as dust.
Yukiko closed her eyes, face upturned to the ceiling.
23
DELUGE
