The Gate of Sorrows

  That was the last thing Kotaro saw before the cloak fell on him and Shigenori, covering them neatly.

  “What the hell?” Shigenori said.

  “Don’t move, old man!”

  “Are you starting that again?”

  “Just do what I said, okay?”

  The Hounds of Tindalos came in a pack. Kotaro could hear their labored breathing and feel the pounding of their feet under the cover of Ash’s cloak. He sensed something leap over their heads. Its howling and snapping sounded from inches away, and it stank of the beast. Shigenori huddled close to Kotaro.

  “Sorry, kid. I’ve had just about enough for one day.”

  “Me too. Let’s hunker down and wait.”

  From the tremors and deafening noise, they could sense if not see that all was pandemonium. The air was rent with the shrieks of hounds being slashed and stabbed. The stench was enough to make them nauseous.

  Kotaro could hear U-ri chanting an incantation. The moment she stopped, there was a strangled, high-pitched yelp just outside the cloak. It sounded very much like a dog of this world.

  A pair of paws pressed against Kotaro’s back. His family had kept dogs and cats, and he knew what the footpads of these animals were like. This was different. The sensation was horrible; the paws seemed to be melting their way into his flesh. The claws would soon pierce his skin.

  He felt something graze the top of the cloak, followed by a thud. Again there was a high-pitched yelp. Ash—or was it Galla?—had taken out another attacker. He hunched over and closed his eyes. An eternity seemed to pass as the battle continued.

  “You can come out now!”

  The instant he heard U-ri’s voice, the cloak was swept away. When he looked up, Ash was already shrouded in it, with the hood over his head. He seemed to be going well out of his way to keep Kotaro and Shigenori from seeing his face.

  Shigenori gagged and retched. Kotaro held his breath and fought the urge to do the same. The hounds were nowhere to be seen, but the air was thick with a sour, bestial stench. Kotaro realized that the mounds of shredded fluff scattered over the roof were hanks of fur.

  “Give me a second, I’ll cleanse everything.” U-ri strode to the center of the roof, placed her palms together over her heart and bowed. In a clear, sweet voice, she began to chant an incantation in a strange tongue. Though the phrases repeated over and over, Kotaro couldn’t remember them or tell where one word stopped and the next began.

  “It is the language of an ancient people. They disappeared long ago.”

  Kotaro looked up to see Galla standing next to him.

  “Some among the wolves fight their battles with sorcery. This girl is gifted for one so young.”

  “Is it her specialty?”

  “Indeed. Sorcerer wolves guard their spells closely. Ordinary people might hear a scrap of an incantation and misuse it. To prevent this, wolves craft their spells with dead languages.”

  After each incantation, U-ri changed direction and began again. At first Kotaro assumed she was facing the points of the compass; then he noticed that she had faced five directions, not four.

  When she returned to her original position, she placed her palms on either side of her head and gave a short call. A pattern of white light, like the luminosity of a million fireflies, began to glow on the roof around her.

  A pentagram.

  U-ri stood in the center, moving her arms in graceful arcs as though conducting an orchestra. The pentagram responded to her movements by glowing brighter. One by one, its individual lines grew thicker. Finally it began to rise into the air, transforming slowly into a giant, three-dimensional flower with five petals of light.

  The flower was exquisite. Kotaro was awestruck. Shigenori seemed to have found his legs again; he stood next to Kotaro with a hand on his shoulder for support, watching with wonder as the spectacle unfolded.

  The flower of light opened and closed as it floated gently upward. Each time the petals opened, they released a flood of life energy. Kotaro could feel it flowing over him. With each pulse, the bestial, frightening stench of the hounds was slowly purified away.

  The flower began to rise faster, as if it were being drawn upward by space itself. Kotaro never took his eyes from it, even when he had to crane his neck as it faded from sight.

  “Do you always have to put on a show?” Ash snorted with disdain as he rejoined U-ri. “Does everything have to be so elaborate? It’s not a performance.”

  “It’s not?” U-ri laughed. Her ponytail was blowsy from the fighting. “We take these things for granted, but if you’re not a wolf, it’s pretty amazing. May as well make it pretty, don’t you think?”

  Galla strode to the edge of the roof, reached down and grasped something embedded in the wall. As she pulled it out, a few fragments of concrete fell.

  It was a shiny black dart, about six inches long, fired from her gauntlet. Kotaro was shocked, though he knew about the darts. They’re powerful enough to pierce concrete. Galla had once aimed them at him and Shigenori. He was truly grateful she hadn’t used them.

  “I guess even a guardian of the Tower misses her target now and then,” U-ri said with a mischievous smile.

  “I did not miss. The dart passed through the hound.”

  Ash gave U-ri a gentle poke in the temple. “You should’ve known that. And see? The dart pierced the beast, yet it remains undefiled. Only a guardian of the Tower wields such weapons. Best mind your manners.”

  “I understand, Ash. I’m sorry.”

  As U-ri stuck the tip of her tongue out in vexation, her eyes met Kotaro’s. He smiled, and she returned his smile with a hint of pride.

  Galla spun on her heel and advanced quickly on U-ri with the dart in her grip. For a moment, Kotaro sensed danger. He swallowed with fear. But Galla held the dart out to U-ri and said, “This is for showing me that beautiful flower. I am sure you will find a use for it.”

  U-ri straightened and bowed, and accepted the dart with both hands.

  “I thank you, Mistress Galla.” She put the dart between her teeth and raised both hands to undo her ponytail. She smoothed out her hair and bundled it again quickly behind her head, using the dart as a hairpin.

  “How do I look?” she asked Kotaro coquettishly. “More grown-up, don’t you think?”

  “Very.” Kotaro chuckled.

  Ash gave another snort of disgust. “Okay, I know,” U-ri said. “It’s time to go.”

  She gazed wistfully at Kotaro. She knew she had run out of words to make him change his mind. She turned and looked up once more at Galla, who towered beside her like a wall.

  “If Kotaro decides he’s had enough, please let him go.”

  Galla nodded. “Very well. I shall.”

  Maybe we can all be friends after all … ?

  “Now go, wolf.”

  Okay, guess not.

  Ash put a foot on the wall. U-ri did the same. She looked at Kotaro and smiled. Once again she was just an ordinary teenager named Yuriko Morisaki. For a moment, Kotaro was moved—by the past, the sins, and the sense of loss that this girl was carrying.

  “Please, Kotaro. Be careful.”

  The wolves launched themselves into space. Shigenori, who had been watching them nervously, called out “No! It’s crazy!” Then he muttered something to himself and fell silent.

  Ash and U-ri plunged into the night and disappeared.

  “Are you serious about this, kid?”

  For a long time Shigenori and Kotaro sat on the roof, exhausted. Finally, Shigenori broke the silence.

  “Do you really think you can catch the Serial Amputator?”

  Galla stood on the wall a short distance away with her back to them. The skyscrapers of Shinjuku rose beyond her, but somehow Kotaro doubted she was looking at them.

  “I caught Keiko Tashiro.”

 
“That doesn’t prove a thing. She was part of the victim’s personal circle. She was physically within striking distance, just as you were to her. The other murders, that’s a different story.”

  “Don’t you remember what you told me? You said it right here, when we were freezing our asses off waiting for the ‘giant bird’ to show up. Tomakomai, Akita, Mishima, Totsuka. All the victims were killed by someone close to them. From that angle, Keiko fits the pattern. We use the same approach, we find the amputator. At least it’s worth a try.”

  “That’s not the only thing I said. Think back. Each victim knew his or her killer, but how could all of them have been killed by the same person? It doesn’t make sense. The murders took place too far apart. It’s crazy, it’s weird, and it’s just not logical.”

  “Do you remember my answer? With the Internet, one person can make friends all over the place. It’s dead simple.”

  “They murmur in their thousands,” Galla muttered.

  “Huh?” Shigenori was brusque.

  “The thousands who have committed crimes, or who know someone who did. Their voices are everywhere.”

  Shigenori flushed with anger. “And how the hell do you know that?”

  Galla turned and pointed to Kotaro. “I was with him when he stood by the river. I read the words that flowed there.”

  She’s talking about the server room.

  “The words and stories I read are everywhere. To me they are as the air you breathe. I have no need to search them out. But that … server. That was a great river of words and stories, a river of all the words in this world.”

  “So you did read it,” Kotaro said. He turned to Shigenori. “But it won’t help us catch the amputator. There are too many voices. That’s what she said. The voice of the amputator is there, but so are the voices of many other criminals.”

  “That is so, but …” Galla looked at Shigenori. “It is not that I cannot read them. No; the voices speak both truth and lies, but I cannot tell one from the other. Truth and lies both belong to the realm of words.”

  “Ah … okay.” Shigenori rubbed the nape of his neck. He seemed suddenly tired again.

  “Look, I figured it would go this way,” Kotaro said. “We’ve got to hit the street and search for clues. It’s the only way.”

  “You’re asking me to help?”

  “Can’t I ask?”

  Shigenori didn’t reply. He just kept rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Remember, if we can just come up with the tiniest clue, this eye Galla gave me will do the rest. We won’t waste any time on false leads.”

  “I guess …” Shigenori sighed and let his hand fall. He looked up at Galla.

  “I was hoping you could do something more for us. I don’t know, something more impressive. Like remote viewing, maybe.”

  Galla said nothing. The blade of her scythe, curving above her right shoulder, shone dully.

  “Come on, detective. Clairvoyance?”

  “Look, kid—we can tell the difference between truth and lies. How come she can’t? Are we superior? I guarantee you, no one ever got the best of me in the interrogation room. No one.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is the point?”

  Galla stepped down from the wall. Like a cat, she made no sound as she moved. Her eyes were fixed on Shigenori.

  “Galla, wait. Just wait a minute,” Kotaro said anxiously. He stood up and put himself between the warrior and Shigenori.

  “Galla, listen. Let’s do this. Give Shigenori the same left eye you gave me. Or the right eye, either way. That will show him more than any explanation.”

  Galla didn’t seem to be listening. She closed the distance to Shigenori in a few great strides.

  Kotaro had had enough of quarrels between friends for one night. Friends? Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but he wished everyone would chill out.

  “Come on Galla, calm—” He reached out reflexively with both palms up. The warrior passed through him as if wasn’t there.

  She’s real, but she doesn’t exist …

  Kotaro felt his heart leap into his throat. Shigenori didn’t move a muscle. Galla stopped and looked down at him. To Kotaro’s relief, her tone was gentle.

  “Listen, old gatherer of sins. I understand very well what you wish to say. But this is not a question of mastery. We see the world in different ways.”

  “Different how?”

  “Human beings see truth and falsehood in the meanings of words. But for a guardian of the Tower, all words are truth, once spoken.”

  “But you just said the words on the web are a mix of truth and lies,” Kotaro said.

  “Yes—for you. For me, all words are truth. There is no other way to see them.”

  “Sorry, I don’t get it. Everything anybody says is the truth, to you?”

  “It is.”

  “Doesn’t matter what words they use? Even if it’s nonsense?”

  “Yes. Once words are uttered, they exist, and they are truth.”

  “Well that’s just great.” Shigenori cocked his head in puzzlement. “It sounds scary, Galla.”

  She smiled. “Yes. You would do well to fear words. And to respect them.”

  Kotaro was about to give up trying to understand, when something Ayuko told him in the restaurant echoed in his memory. No matter how carefully people choose their words, those words stay inside them. They don’t disappear, and in the end their weight will change the person who said them.

  “Ayuko told me one time that words never disappear, they just accumulate,” Kotaro said.

  “Indeed. The person who said that saw with clear eyes,” Galla said. “When I harvested her killer’s cravings, you saw me as I truly am. You must have thought me a monster.”

  “Ah … Well, I mean, you did look, you know …”

  “Yes. And in my eyes, human beings seem strange as well. But not only strange in appearance. Your world overflows with monsters that surpass me. You made them yourselves. Monsters of words. Your stored-up words of hatred, lust, and jealousy have birthed myriads of monsters. They await you wherever you turn. Monsters that do not exist but are real, like jealous ghosts and vengeful spirits.”

  “Will I be able to see them?” Kotaro asked.

  “You will. You have learned much about the eye. But take care not to seek them out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you may lose your faith in people completely.”

  Shigenori clapped his hands suddenly. “Let’s put this to bed—punk.”

  He rose slowly to his feet. He had the look of a man resigned to battle, buckling on his armor.

  “We’ve got work to do.”

  6

  Shigenori sat down at his laptop. For the first time since he began pursuing the gargoyle—the origin of everything—he threw himself into the search for clues with a vengeance.

  “You seem quite recovered,” Toshiko said. “What are you getting up to now?”

  “I think I’m going on a trip.” Shigenori almost said “assignment.”

  Toshiko had been married to a patrolman, then a detective, for too many years to be surprised. “Is there something you’ve got to find out that you can’t with that computer of yours?”

  “Um-hm.”

  She didn’t say more. The silence began to feel awkward. Shigenori looked up from his laptop.

  “It’s nothing important.”

  “Oh? Is that so?” Toshiko was wearing an apron and holding a strainer full of broad beans. Is it that season already? Shigenori thought.

  “Just don’t push yourself too hard. I don’t want you in the hospital again.” She disappeared through the half curtain that hung in the kitchen door. “I never dreamed you’d have a woman somewhere,” she called out.

  What!

  ??
?It’s not anything like that, is it?”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “Are you on a case?”

  “You could say that.”

  “You’re not a detective anymore.”

  “I’m an ex-detective, and I’ll be one till I die.”

  You’re right, Toshiko. I have recovered. I got my stolen mojo back. Detective Tsuzuki is on the case!

  He was surprised to hear a lighthearted laugh from the kitchen. “So? Where are you going?”

  “Tomakomai.”

  The first murder. Visit the crime scenes in chronological order. Standard police procedure.

  Shiro Nakanome was the first victim. He’d been discovered the year before, on June 1, stuffed into a discarded refrigerator, his left big toe severed. Nakanome ran a local izakaya named after himself—Naka-chan—in a building near Tomakomai Station. Since he was forty-one at the time of his death, he likely had a wife, maybe children.

  Shigenori’s point of departure would be the people and places closely connected to the victim. While scouring the net for information, he reserved a plane ticket and a room. Then he asked Toshiko to get out his Boston bag.

  Every day was Sunday for Shigenori, but university students don’t have that luxury. Kotaro would have to do some serious schedule juggling to free up time from school and work if he hoped to investigate the murder of victim number four, Saeko Komiya.

  You don’t have the time or the money to look into more than one murder. Take care of Totsuka and leave the rest to me.

  Kotaro had argued for an even split, but Shigenori hadn’t given him the choice. It burned him to admit it, but the old man was right.

  Cutting class was straightforward, but rejiggering his Kumar schedule had been a major pain. If Makoto had been helping out, that would’ve pretty much solved the problem. Unfortunately, once things settled down after Ayuko’s funeral, he’d been drafted over to Black Box Island. Kotaro and Kaname were buddies again, which was a major complication.