Tokyo Demons Book 2: Chapter 3

Jo was tired. It was a deep, penetrating sort of exhaustion–every muscle in his body felt as limp as his brain. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of living.

He wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear from the world.

But he couldn’t, obviously. He was stuck where he was. The church was crowded and invasive; Daniel and Zayd kept coming to him with plans, Kiyoshi spent most of the day sleeping yet was somehow louder than when he was awake. Jo’s phone kept going off with text messages from Mitsuko. He checked them automatically, but didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.

He felt…separated from his life. Like he was on the outside looking in. The fifteen years he’d lived through suddenly felt wasteful. Juvenile. He’d built up such a persona for himself, careful to control who he let in and who he kept out–he’d always prided himself on knowing who he was and what he wanted. Jo Oda, the charming pickpocket. Jo Oda, who had a taste for the finer things but could slide comfortably into street life. He’d been trying to learn teamwork. He’d been trying to become a better person.

Because the concept had been so fucking foreign to him.

“A weirdly high percentage of Malum tend to…get in trouble.”

Great. Great. So not only had Jo somehow missed that he was part superhuman relic, it had possibly been the foundation for every moral decision in his life. He’d formed his identity off a core that he hadn’t understood at all.

But his past was just that–his past. All those years he’d spent carefully constructing his personality wouldn’t come back. He just had to build on them with his new truth. He had untangle himself, delve deep, and try to re-evaluate himself from the ground up.

While he was hiding out in a church for an underground drug war.

It was a cruel, daunting task, and Jo couldn’t spare the time. And with the pounding his self-esteem had already suffered through, he was too tired to even want to. So he gave up. He pushed all his worries, his fears, and his terrible questions deep inside. He couldn’t deal with it now. He couldn’t have an identity crisis when he could end up staring into the barrel of a Core gun at any moment.

New Jo would have to wait. Old Jo had shit to do.

So Jo was sitting in the kitchen, staring blankly at the table, when Daniel finally came. The priest nodded from the doorway.

“It’s time,” he called.

Jo rose stiffly to his feet. He winced as every joint in his body seemed to crack at once.

Daniel gestured for Jo to follow. The back door of the church, to Jo’s dismay, had been thrown wide open; Zayd stood in the doorway and scribbled on a clipboard. A strange man in a suit waited on the stone steps outside.

Daniel seemed to notice the look on Jo’s face. “Don’t worry,” he assured him. “That’s just the car salesman.”

Jo sighed. “You’re sure he’s not a spy?” he muttered.

“We only use the Church mobile phones to arrange things now. Shouri’s assured us that the encryption will protect us from being tapped.” Daniel shrugged. “So unless Core runs every car dealership in Tokyo, they have no idea we’re doing this.”

“What happened to the old car?”

“We got rid of it. Nick scraped it up so badly during Kiyoshi’s rescue that it became too distinguishable.”

Zayd finished scribbling on the clipboard and handed it to the man. The man checked over it, nodded, and bowed deeply. He dropped a pair of keys into Zayd’s hand.

“Thank you.” Zayd turned his head back to Jo. “Are you ready to go?”

Daniel thrust a folded piece of paper at Jo. “These are all the groceries and things we’ll need from the drug store. Can I leave this with you?”

Jo tentatively accepted the paper. “Are we shopping before Blue Light, or after?”

“After. And feel free to add anything you need, Jo-kun.”

Jo mumbled a non-committal answer and crammed the paper into his pocket. He looked out the door in time to see the car salesman drive away in a separate vehicle. Zayd’s new car, pristine and unassuming, sat quietly in the church’s empty parking lot.

Zayd stepped outside and beckoned for Jo. Jo followed the man to the car, holding his breath for the half-minute he was out in the open. As he lowered himself into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door shut behind him, he felt the muscles in his body unclench.

Goddammit, he hated being outside now. He felt like a walking target with a spotlight over his head.

Zayd buckled his seatbelt. “Ayase and the others should be here any minute,” he said. “Then we will go.”

Jo wrinkled his nose at the industrial smell of new car. “Good,” he murmured as he pulled down the sun visors.

“Do not be afraid, Jo. I can protect you.” Zayd glanced out the window. “And if we are slow to leave, it will be easier for my bodyguard to follow.”

Jo grimaced. “You still believe that guy exists?”

“I know he exists.” Zayd slid the key into the ignition. “I am now in contact with him.”

Jo blinked. As Zayd turned the key and set the car rumbling to life, Jo stared at him in disbelief.

Zayd let out a breath. “I am not sure how he monitors me,” he admitted, “but I suspect he is nearby. On the night you went to Motoi, I went up the fire escape of the church and put a note on the roof. I wrote a question about the car accident I had many months ago. The next morning, there was a reply written on the note…something he would only know if he rescued me from that accident.” He frowned. “I do not know why I am not allowed to see him. But now I can leave messages for him on the roof, at least. I tried to tell him I would be leaving the church today.”

Jo sat up in his chair. His ever-present paranoia spat out nightmare scenarios.

“If Core’s monitoring us,” he said quickly, “then anyone could climb up and get those notes. Don’t spell out our plans where anyone could get them!”

“I have thought of that. I am not writing detailed plans–I simply left him a time, so he will be on alert. I told him 5:30 pm.” Zayd checked his watch. “It is 5:45. I think he will follow us.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes. The church will be safe once Ayase is back. I want the bodyguard to come with me and familiarize himself with Byakko.”

Jo shrank down in his chair. Although he could understand deferring to a swarm of bees, he figured Zayd would be more protective of the church, considering they’d driven Shouri over directly from Motoi. And now his wife–or fiancée or whatever–was in the church, dealing with Shouri’s detox. Zayd was leaving a bunch of sick Core targets and his defenseless girlfriend when he and his bodyguard were supposed to be the church’s secret weapons.

We’re spread too thin. Jo buckled his seatbelt.

A police car rolled into the parking lot. Zayd clenched his fingers around the steering wheel.

“There they are.”

The back door of the car opened. Ayase stepped out, followed by a frazzled Sachi and a predictably pale Kado. There was no sign of Nick. Ayase glanced over and met eyes with Jo through the windshield.

She frowned and half-waved one hand. Jo tentatively raised a hand in response.

He’d almost forgotten how awkward she was when she wasn’t full of adrenaline. She was a different person on missions.

As Daniel ushered Ayase and the others inside, Zayd drove out onto the street. The police car, on the other hand, turned off its engine in the parking lot.

Jo’s concerns from thirty seconds earlier started to fade. “You’re…leaving a cop at the church,” he realized aloud.

“Yes.”

“Is that, uh, Nakajima?”

“No. It is her partner, Detective Ochi.” He flipped his blinker with a click. “He is very capable.”

Jo’s distaste for cops had been steadily declining for weeks. And now, objectively, they seemed like a good idea for the church. He could live with that.

Jo looked out the window. He checked the rear-view mirror in case they were being followed…but Zayd turned onto a busy street almost immediately. In the congestion of rush hour, it was hard to tell who was behind them.

Jo sighed. He was getting exhausted with this. And since he still hadn’t managed to smoke a single cigarette, a painful nicotine craving was punctuating his stress. He ran his hands over his face.

And then Zayd, fuck it all, decided to say the magic words.

“Jo.” Zayd’s voice had gone quiet. “Shouri told us that you are Malum.”

Jo clenched his jaw. He stared out the window.

“I’m sorry,” Zayd offered softly.

The apology sounded so genuine that it annoyed Jo. He didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t want attention. And he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it.

Zayd reached over from the wheel and touched Jo on the shoulder. Jo jerked back, surprised by the touch.

But then something warm rose in Jo–a sudden sense of safety, a warm, deep camaraderie that felt alien in his roiling heart. He sucked in a breath as the tumbling worries in his head fizzled away, replaced with a new, powerful affection.

He turned to Zayd. Green eyes met his own.

“I will help you through this,” Zayd whispered.

Jo opened his mouth, then immediately closed it. He didn’t know why, but…he suddenly believed Zayd. He suddenly felt connected. And it was such a foreign sensation that Jo didn’t know how to process it.

A car honked loudly from nearby, shattering the moment. Zayd snapped his head up as a pedestrian yelled at a halted car. He let out a breath as he drove around the vehicle.

Jo’s paranoia rushed back in, now with a sickening sense of violation. He blinked away the rapidly fading calm.

That hadn’t been natural.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped. “Did you do something to me?!”

Zayd kept his eyes on the road. “I was trying to help you.”

“That’s not helping!” Jo felt his hands start to shake, his anger punctuated by fear. “Do you seriously think I’m gonna trust you more if you force your power on me?! What did you even do?!”

“I just transmitted my feelings to you. I want you to know how I feel.”

“Bullshit,” Jo snarled. “You’re trying to control me!”

“That is not how my power works,” Zayd replied thinly. “I can amplify or reduce my feelings as they leave me, but everything you feel is in my heart. I will never project something onto you that I am not also experiencing.” He shook his head. “And I do not transmit thoughts or decisions. I only transmit feelings.”

Jo scowled. “I don’t care. You’re still…manipulating me. Keep your shit to yourself!”

Zayd murmured something under his breath; it sounded like Arabic. He shifted his hands on the wheel.

“I am not like Sachi,” he warned quietly. “I will use my power on you if I must, regardless of your feelings. Your safety is more important to me than your happiness.”

“However,” he added before Jo could retort, “I will respect your wishes when I can. I will try to control my power around you unless it is an emergency.”

Jo bristled. Zayd’s authoritative tone pissed him off.

He’s not even the head of the church, he thought darkly. Where the hell does he get off lecturing me? Zayd was acting like Nick, but with a holier-than-thou undertone that arguably made him worse.

Jo was suddenly glad they were going to Blue Light. He wanted to surround himself with Byakko. He was getting tired of the church and their…weird collection of penned supernaturals. Maybe their secret knowledge of crazy shit and Christian martyr complex appealed to Sachi and Ayase, but Jo couldn’t relate to them at all. And the only one he suddenly had something in common with–Shouri–had warned him about their tendency to judge.

“I probably should’ve used the word Malum…the church uses that word to hide what they really think of us. I wanna throw the translation back in their faces so they can see what bigots they are.”

And now these church assholes thought he was evil. Was that why Zayd was suddenly using his power on Jo when they were alone?

Jo irritably crossed his arms and turned back to the window. Fuck these guys. He had enough shit on his mind without them interfering–both figuratively and supernaturally.

“You’ll ‘try’ to control your power,” Jo muttered. “Thanks for nothing.”

“I do not always have control over it myself, Jo.”

Jo snorted.

“I am serious. I do not ‘turn it on.’ It is always present and I just control it as best I can.”

Jo clenched his teeth. “Like Sachi,” he offered. “And yet he somehow manages to not be an asshole about it.”

There was a long pause.

“Jo,” Zayd said quietly. “That is the first kind thing I have heard you say about Sachi.”

Jo didn’t reply. He was tired of talking. He was tired of everything.

He watched the sun set on the city he had seriously grown to hate.

***************

After two and a half days in the crumbling safe house, Ayase was exhausted. Her back hurt from sleeping on concrete and she felt weak from eating so little. The sweat and grime from the Motoi battle had clung to her skin for so long that it itched.

But she swore to stay awake until Zayd came back. The church needed her on alert. As she painfully lowered herself into a wooden chair, Daniel rushed around the kitchen.

“What can I get you, Ayase-kun? I’m afraid we’re low on groceries.”

Ayase sighed. “Anything,” she murmured.

Daniel put on a kettle and pulled out the peanut butter. He rustled through several empty bags of sliced bread.

“We’ve got a full house here,” he commented with a half-smile. “I wish I was better equipped to take care of so many people.”

There was a shade of something behind Daniel’s voice–he almost sounded pleased. Ayase found it a little weird. But then she wondered if, before everything with Core, he’d lived in the church alone.

Daniel looked over his shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly. “I know Wipe’s interrogation didn’t go well.”

Ayase swallowed.

“I’m sorry you were a part of that. We were hoping to turn Wipe to our side, since we could offer him Pitch…” Daniel sadly shook his head. “But whether it’s from loyalty, fear, or psychosis, that man is well beyond reason. Nick has to try another approach.”

Ayase looked up at that. “He didn’t tell us where he was bringing Wipe. He’s not sending him to jail, is he?”

“Of course not. Wipe knows key information about us now–including our stock of Pitch. That would instantly leak in prison.” Daniel spread peanut butter across the heel of a loaf of bread. “It was a difficult decision, but Nick decided to bring Wipe back to his apartment.”

Ayase blinked. Nick had mentioned another safe house through Nakajima, or even handing Wipe off to Byakko…he hadn’t said anything about taking the psychic home.

Ayase suddenly remembered something Nick had mentioned in passing. “Doesn’t he…have a girlfriend?” she asked. “And he lives with her, right?”

Daniel smiled sadly. “Yes. It’s her apartment.” He sighed. “But he discussed it with her and she agreed to help take care of Wipe. We’re desperate at this point.”

Ayase frowned. The few times Nick had mentioned his girlfriend, he’d been extremely vague. He kept saying that she helped in his lab, but he didn’t want her getting involved in the drug war. That she’d already restarted her life after some stuff in her past and he didn’t want her to have to start over again.

Ayase, for possibly the first time ever, felt a pang of sympathy for Nick.

The teakettle whistled. Daniel turned off the stove.

Sachi suddenly walked into the kitchen, yawning behind his hand. His hair was wet and a thin coat of steam clung to the lenses of his glasses. Emi followed, clutching a basket of med supplies.

“Hey,” Sachi said with a tired smile. He dropped into the chair beside Ayase. “Do you want the shower?”

Ayase shook her head. “Not until Zayd-san’s back,” she murmured. “Kadoyuki can have it.”

“He said he didn’t want it.” Sachi grimaced slightly. “I hope he takes one later…we all kinda reek.”

Emi rested the basket on the table and pulled out a blood pressure cuff. “May I take your blood pressure, Ayase-kun?”

Ayase dutifully rolled up her sleeve. As Daniel rested a mug of tea and half a sandwich in front of Ayase, Emi strapped on the cuff and clipped the stethoscope to her ears. Ayase rested her arm on the table.

“Sachi-kun says you were the one to bandage Kadoyuki-kun,” Emi commented. “I just re-cleaned it. But you did a good job–it seems to be healing fine.

Ayase looked up. “Then he’s really not sick?” she asked. His glassy, piercing eyes and his mumbled words still haunted her. “Even after last night?”

Emi shook her head. “I agree with Nick-san’s diagnosis. If Kadoyuki-kun was flush but didn’t have a fever, it probably wasn’t serious. Especially since it passed by morning.” She puffed up the cuff. “Kadoyuki-kun’s health is a bit of a mystery to me. But his vitals were fine a few minutes ago and he let me give him a vitamin shot, so I’m not worried. He’s sleeping at the moment.”

Sachi slumped in his chair. “I guess that’s something,” he murmured.

Emi stared at the meter as she slowly released the air from the cuff. After several long seconds, she nodded and let the air drain in one big whoosh.

“A little low,” she said as she unstrapped the cuff, “but you’re probably just dehydrated. Drink as much as you can.”

Ayase thanked her. “How’s Shouri-san doing?” she asked.

Emi sighed. “She suffered some serious injuries between the captivity and her escape. We’re afraid she’s not healthy enough to start weaning off Pitch.” Emi uncapped a thermometer. “Please lift your tongue.”

Ayase obeyed. She was starting to think of Emi as their roaming nurse’s office.

“She showed some withdrawal symptoms this morning. After some deliberation, we gave her a full dose of Pitch.” She pressed the little button on the thermometer. “We’ll start lowering her dosage and replacing it with Nick-san’s inhibitors later. Aisha-san wants to monitor Shouri’s heart on Pitch first.”

Sachi’s face fell. He exchanged glances with Ayase.

A mobile phone chime went off in Daniel’s pocket. He turned off the sink and fished his phone free.

He flipped the phone open. “Detective Ochi?” he asked.

Ayase looked up. The thermometer beeped in her mouth; Emi retrieved it.

Daniel frowned. “A certified letter?” he asked the phone. “No, I wasn’t expecting anything. You’re with the mail carrier outside?”

Ayase strained her ears. She heard Detective Ochi murmur on the other end of the phone; Daniel went pale.

Emi put down the thermometer. “Daniel-san?” she asked carefully.

Daniel turned to her, his eyes wide. “Th-there’s no name on the return address,” he breathed. “But it’s from…the Motoi building.”

Ayase’s mouth fell open. She jumped to her feet.

“What?!” Sachi cried.

Daniel waved a hand for silence and listened to the phone. He said a few more words before snapping it shut.

“Detective Ochi has some hazard equipment in his car,” Daniel relayed. “He said he can open it outside and make sure it’s not packaged with…” Daniel trailed off before swallowing hard. “I-I have to go sign for it.”

Sachi stood and clenched his fists against the table. “Crap,” he breathed. “You don’t think…”

Ayase dropped her gaze to the floor. As adrenaline kicked through her aching limbs, her vision blurred.

A certified letter. Those could be carefully timed. And arriving now, 20 minutes after Zayd and probably his bodyguard had left the church…

If it wasn’t a deadly coincidence, it was probably a trap.

Daniel grabbed a few pairs of latex gloves from Emi’s basket. “Ayase-kun?” he asked. “Can I take a few insects with me? I want you to stay hidden but I could use the back-up.”

Ayase instantly dissolved one hand into a small cloud of insects. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sachi twitch.

She flew a few bugs into the folds of Daniel’s shirt. “I’ll send the rest around the perimeter of the church. In case the letter is just supposed to distract us from something else.”

Emi gripped her mouth. “Good idea,” she murmured.

Ayase dropped back into her chair and closed her eyes. As Daniel rushed out of the kitchen, she switched her perception to a fragmented crowd of compound eyes.

Daniel tentatively peeked through the back door of the church. Detective Ochi was at the foot of the stone stairs, his bulky frame intimidating as he glared in the twilight. Beside him, cowering slightly, was a female mail carrier half his size.

Some of the tension loosened beneath Ayase’s insect legs. “She’s our regular,” Daniel whispered under his breath. He pushed the door open wider as Ayase quietly zipped a dozen insects outside.

The mail carrier looked relieved to see Daniel. “Ozimek-san,” she breathed. “You haven’t answered the door in days. Is everything all right?”

Daniel brightened and waved a hand. “Just renovating the church,” he said breezily. “And we had a break-in last week, so the police have been nice enough to give us some coverage during construction.”

Ayase was surprised at how convincing he sounded. As the mail carrier smiled and handed him a clipboard, she sent bugs around the church to spy for anything suspicious. It was hard to see in the rapidly approaching darkness, but Ayase didn’t notice anyone in the immediate vicinity of the church.

“Question,” she heard Daniel say from elsewhere. “If I hadn’t been home to receive this, where would it go? There’s no name to return it to.”

The mail carrier hummed. “Policy is to hold it for at least a week. But if it came from a business, we usually send it back to the front desk.”

“I see. What if the company, er…shut down before you returned the letter?”

“That would be a very sudden closing, sir! But if we can’t properly return a certified letter, we destroy it. For privacy reasons.”

Ayase buzzed two insects across the roof. Clear, she thought as she spread their flight paths. She snapped her attention back to Daniel.

“Interesting.” Daniel handed the clipboard back to the mail carrier. “I have some important mailings to do soon. Thank you for the information.”

The mail carrier smiled and bowed. “Thank you very much!” She turned to Ochi, bowed nervously, then hefted her mailbag and walked away. Daniel and Ochi watched her retreating back for a full minute.

“Ayase-kun,” Daniel murmured. “Are we clear? Right ear for yes.”

Ayase buzzed a bug under his right ear. Ochi headed for his police car.

“I’ll bring the kit,” he called behind him. “Stay clear of the door and put on those gloves.”

Ayase sent her bugs around the church again. She repeated her survey as Ochi put some sort of respiratory mask on himself and Daniel and ran a colored light over the letter. She repeated again as he tipped and swabbed and scraped. By the time he cleared the note and removed his mask, Ayase had obsessively checked the perimeter from every possible angle.

“Clear,” Ochi said, and Ayase reluctantly believed it.

She flew her bugs back to Daniel as he and Ochi read the letter. She couldn’t make out the writing, but she saw Daniel’s eyes widen while Ochi’s narrowed. Daniel murmured something as he stepped back into the church, Ayase’s bugs close behind. She flew ahead, back to the kitchen, and reformed with her human body.

Ayase opened her eyes. “He’s coming,” she announced as she got to her feet. “So far, it’s not a trap.”

Sachi chewed on his lower lip. “Good?” he offered.

As silence stretched across the room, Emi wrung her hands. Several long, painful seconds passed before Daniel walked in, a single sheet of paper in his gloved hands.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Detective Ochi swept it for substances. It’s not…” Daniel trailed off. His mouth pulled into a tight line.

“It’s from Touya.”

Ayase went rigid. Daniel cleared his throat.

“Ozimek-san,” he read. “We need to talk. I’ll be at the Nightlife Love Hotel, room 815, from 7 to 8 pm tonight. I’ll be alone and unarmed. I know you’re harboring Nick Marshall, so if anything happens to me, that information will spread. Please be considerate.”

Daniel took a breath. “Send Emi Honda,” he continued quietly. “I want her alone, carrying this letter, at 7 pm tonight.”

Emi stopped twisting her hands. She went white as a ghost.

“Me?” she breathed.

Cold fear raced through Ayase’s veins. She looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall.

It was quarter past six.

Sachi shook his head. “No,” he blurted. “Touya…he warned Motoi we were coming, right? That’s why they pulled the alarm before we attacked!”

“What the hell is he doing?” Ayase snapped. “He wants to talk?”

“And why does he want you, Emi-san?” Sachi ran his hands through his hair. “Wasn’t he after Jo? Because they’re both, um…what do you call it again?”

“Malum,” Daniel murmured. “So Nick told you that.”

The super DNA. Ayase was still digesting that.

She raced through her memories. “Touya might not know that Jo’s here,” she pointed out. “He’s technically part of Byakko.”

“But Touya mentioned the church to Jo, didn’t he?”

Emi’s mobile phone suddenly rang.

The woman jumped; she fumbled to get it out of her pocket and throw it on the kitchen table. It rattled its way across the wood as it rang again.

Sachi leaned in to read the caller ID. He grabbed the phone.

“It’s Detective Nakajima.” He unflipped the mobile and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

Nakajima barked something on the other end of the line. Sachi quickly turned on the speakerphone.

“Honda-san,” Nakajima ordered, her fuzzy voice cutting across the kitchen. “Ochi-san called me. You’re going to that hotel.”

The finality of her tone was disturbing. Daniel lowered the note.

“I-I can’t send her to a love hotel with Zero’s son in good conscience, detective.”

“She won’t be alone. Watanabe-kun and I will go.”

Ayase tensed. “He asked for her alone,” she said. “And I’m not supposed to leave the church right now.”

“We’ll take over another room on the floor. We’ll keep an insect on Honda-san so we can monitor the meeting with Touya; we’ll break down the door if we think she’s in danger.”

Ayase clenched her fists. “I’m supposed to be defending the church right now,” she repeated.

“Ochi-san is armed in your parking lot. Drag that bodyguard off your hacker and make him lead church security for two hours. We don’t have a choice.”

Dammit!

Ayase exchanged glances with Emi. Emi, her hands shaking, looked down at the phone.

“Y-you really think we need to do this?” she asked.

“Touya mentioned soldier-san. We can’t risk ignoring him.” Nakajima grunted. “I’ll be at the church in 15 minutes. I’ll brief you on how to handle Touya in the car.”

Emi closed her eyes. She took a long breath.

And practically sobbed it out. “D-do you think I should tell Kiyoshi?” she squeaked.

Ayase stared at Emi in disbelief. Sachi’s eyes went wide as Daniel threw up his hands.

“Of course you should!” Ayase blurted in near unison with the men.

Emi shrunk back.

“Look, just…okay.” Sachi reached out, clearly trying to soften that. “You have to tell him, Emi-san. What if something happens to you? You just came back into his life.”

“But…wh-what do I say?”

Ayase swallowed her frustration. Jo had made a few snide comments about Emi’s strained relationship with Kiyoshi before, but Ayase had thought he’d been exaggerating. Seeing the woman squirm like a nervous 10-year-old now was genuinely shocking.

“Just tell him the plan,” Ayase offered. “Tell him we’ll look after you, and, uh…”

Sachi spread a hand. “That you love him?” he offered awkwardly.

Nakajima muttered something. “We don’t have time for this,” she hissed. “Fifteen minutes.” Her voice clicked out.

The phone released a loud dial tone. Sachi snapped the phone shut.

Daniel sighed. “The children are right, Emi,” he said quietly. “If you want to rebuild your relationship with your brother, you need to be painfully honest now…to make up for the empty years. Even if that leads to him worrying about your safety.”

Emi’s face fell. She nodded, once.

“You said he’s gotten better since Motoi,” Ayase added. “Right? So he can handle this now?”

Emi was silent for a long moment. She opened and closed her hands by her sides.

She finally sighed. “He’s in the sleeping room,” she whispered. “I’ll wake him up.”

Sachi bit his lip. “Do you…want someone to come with you?”

“No. Please.” Emi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just…give us a few minutes alone.”

“Of course.”

Emi took one last breath and shuffled out the door, her hands clasped over her stomach. Ayase could practically see the cloud of doom weighing down her shoulders.

Daniel shook his head. “God help us,” he breathed as he crossed himself.

Ayase tried to quell the acids that roiled in her stomach.

She didn’t like this. It was too sudden. And considering Touya’s last move had screwed them over, she trusted him less than ever. Ayase wanted to believe he was working against Core…but considering he’d had the most contact with Jo, and he seemed to scare Jo senseless, Ayase wasn’t optimistic.

And now he’d called their harmless nurse, on a night they were vulnerable, to meet him alone at some seedy hotel.

Ayase was exhausted from Wipe. The adrenaline frayed her worn nerves, turning her focus into frustrated anger.

Fine, she thought darkly. He only has to talk to Emi. She clenched her teeth and formed another insect in her palm.

But we’re all gonna listen.

***************

“Password?”

Zayd frowned. He dug out his mobile phone and flipped it open.

“I’m not sure Takeshi sent me that,” he murmured as he beeped through his messages.

Jo sighed irritably. “Is it the regular password?” he asked the bouncer. “Uh…tiger army, never die?”

The bouncer shook his head. “No, man. That’s the old password.” He jerked his thumb at the giant PRIVATE PARTY sign on the window of the club. “Can’t let you in unless you’re new Byakko.”

Jo bristled slightly. “What the hell counts as new Byakko?”

“Wait.” Zayd showed Jo his phone. “I cannot read that kanji. Something ‘rise’…”

“Ghost tigers rise,” Jo read aloud.

The crease between the bouncer’s eyebrows vanished. “You got it.” He shoved open the heavy door, just wide enough to let them through. “Byakko forever.”

Zayd hesitated. “I am looking for Takeshi,” he told the bouncer. “Has he arrived yet?”

Jo slipped into the club ahead of Zayd, glad to be off the street. The faint throbbing of music bled into the dark front hallway; the lights were all off, so Jo had to feel his way to the second door. He pressed his shoulder into it and heaved.

The stink of alcohol and a cloud of cigarette smoke washed over him, overlaid with blaring rock music and scattered laughter. Jo coughed, regretfully waving smoke out of his face as his chest ached.

Fuck, he thought. This is gonna kill me.

He squinted in the strobe-lit darkness. Although he hated thinking about his first night in Blue Light, the club he remembered bore little resemblance to what lay in front of him. The dancing teenagers had been replaced with a sea of thugs, drinking and hollering as they loitered on the dance floor. Many of them were bruised and battered, probably from Motoi–Jo saw a girl in an arm-sling pass a joint to a guy with a bandaged head wound.

“Oda!”

Jo turned. Wei, a crutch under his arm and an open bottle of liquor in his hand, pushed unsteadily through the crowd. He gave a lopsided smile as he anchored his crutch in front of Jo.

“So you got out of Motoi in one piece,” he said with a slight slur. “I thought that vampire bitch got you.”

He reeked of alcohol. Jo waved the stench out of his face.

“She almost did,” he muttered. His eyes unconsciously ran down Wei’s crutch; to his surprise, he didn’t see the foot of Wei’s artificial leg poking out from his jeans.

“What happened to your leg?”

Wei waved the bottle of liquor. “I gambled it away. Don’t worry, I’ll beat it back from the fucker once I find him in this crowd.” He raised his eyebrows and held the bottle out at Jo. “You wanna drink, man? You look stressed as shit.”

Jo stared at the bottle. His rational side–the side that had rejected pot from Byakko and sleeping pills from Emi–was too paranoid about Core to touch anything that would dull his senses. But in the loud, dark club and its mob of violent gangbangers, Core felt farther away than usual. Jo’s paranoia was fading just enough for his anger from the car to rise up and smother it.

And goddammit, he wanted a cigarette. The tantalizing scent of tobacco made the blood pound in his skull. He coughed out the precious, painful poison and grabbed the offered bottle. He took a long swig and let the fire of the liquor burn through the tightness in his chest.

Jo’s eyes watered. He heard Wei laugh as he surfaced and coughed hard, sending flecks of burning fluid down his lips. Jo ran a hand over his mouth as he checked the label under his hand.

“What is this?” he wheezed. “Engine cleaner?”

Wei grabbed a beer bottle off someone who cried in protest. He tipped it at Jo.

“We lost, like, 20 guys at Motoi. And we weren’t chasing down a hostage. Miki was right about you–you’re tougher than you look.”

Jo shrugged irritably.

“So did you save her?”

Jo knew better than to answer that. Daniel had already warned everyone that if Core found out Shouri survived, she would move to the top of their wanted list. The same went for Kiyoshi.

Jo took another long swig to avoid the question. The foul concoction in that bottle sent the fire in his mouth tingling out through his ears. It burned down his throat and built into a fireball in his stomach.

“S-son of a bitch.” Jo coughed again and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t enough of a drinker for this.

“Hey, man.” Wei leaned in. “You said you’d come to Fujisawa’s funeral if you got outta Motoi.”

Jo lowered the bottle. “Seiya’s funeral,” he murmured. “I…forgot about that.”

“They might do a group service with the other guys that died. I dunno.” He took a gulp out of his stolen beer. “Miki could tell you.”

Somebody suddenly shouted for Wei. He pivoted back on his crutch and turned his head; he grunted loudly and cursed. He clomped off without another word.

“Jo.”

Jo turned. Zayd emerged from the crowd, stumbling as someone knocked into him. His eyes fell to Jo’s bottle and he furrowed his heavy eyebrows.

That judgmental look sent new anger roiling in Jo. He pulled the bottle behind his back.

“What?” he snapped. “I already got you in. Don’t you have shit to do?”

Zayd hesitated. “You are upset,” he murmured.

“No shit!” Jo growled. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

“You…should not drink alcohol. It is dangerous.”

“Mind your own fucking business!” Jo lowered his voice to a hiss. “If you and your bodyguard are so goddamned powerful, you can protect me if I get trashed.”

Zayd hesitated again. He looked to the floor, his mouth pulling into a tight line.

Goddammit! Jo was well past his tolerance for Zayd. He turned away from the man and took another drink.

Zayd gripped Jo’s arm and tried to push the bottle down.

Jo whipped Zayd off him with such ferocity that the edge of the bottle cracked against Zayd’s jaw. Zayd stumbled back.

As pain bloomed in Jo’s jaw.

Jo grabbed the sudden throbbing in his chin. Around him, he heard an eruption of cries as thugs grabbed their jaws and cursed.

What the hell?

Zayd quickly gripped his own bruising face. He closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath.

The pain subsided in Jo almost as quickly as it had come. As Byakko members quieted down around him, Zayd turned hard green eyes to Jo.

Jo’s blood ran cold. His burning stomach clenched inside him.

“Did you…” He swallowed. “Did you do that on purpose?”

Zayd shook his head. “But it is always present,” he mumbled as he tenderly tested his jaw. “I just control it as best I can.”

A deep, powerful fear drove Jo a few steps back. As his mind scrambled to process, the quiet foreigner stood in the middle of the rocking crowd. People shoved and laughed around Zayd. Someone’s elbow nearly swiped his head.

Jo flinched.

And then someone tackled him from behind. Jo cursed and fumbled with his bottle as he cringed down in a panic.

“Joooo!” Mitsuko grinned broadly at him, giggling as she hugged his crouching form. She puckered her lips. “It’s just me.”

Son of a bitch. Jo forced his heart to restart as he awkwardly rose from his squat. She draped her hands around his waist and pulled him toward her, kissing the edge of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re pale.”

He grunted in reply. Her cheeks were flush and he smelled alcohol between their mouths; he wasn’t sure who was breathing it out. But the sour scent, and the warmth of her hands on his back, enveloped him in a crass, earthy comfort.

Fuck it. As the tension in his body curled up into tight bitterness, he decided to ignore Zayd. He didn’t look behind him. And he kissed Mitsuko, too, sloppily enough to flash tongue to the public. Mitsuko matched him and threw a happy moan into his mouth.

Jo hoped it would make that asshole go away.

Mitsuko pulled back. Her mouth twisted into a smirk. “Are you okay?” she asked again as she licked her damp lips.

No.

Jo dragged his eyes over her in the dark. “You don’t have a scratch on you,” he said.

“Yeah, I was lucky.” She raised an eyebrow. “Would you still like me if I got my face bashed in?”

Jo felt that bitterness flood his mouth. “Depends if your body got bashed in.”

Mitsuko snorted and pushed his shoulders. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’ve always been an asshole.”

Mitsuko’s eyes dropped to the bottle in his hands. She hummed and pulled it free.

“Hey,” she cooed as she handed it to a random member of the crowd. “You didn’t answer my last texts.”

Jo squinted. “I’ve had…things on my mind.”

She draped her arms over his shoulders and fiddled with something behind his head. “I’ll bet,” she said as something beeped near his ear. “But it looks like you read them.”

Jo stopped. He patted his pockets and turned his head; she was scrolling through his church mobile.

“Mitsuko,” he sighed as he pried it from her fingers. “You’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“I’m trying to keep your skills sharp.”

“For what?” he asked sourly. “I’m the shitty street muscle for a bunch of religious weirdoes.” He crammed the phone back in his pocket. “I haven’t robbed anyone in weeks. And it’s not like I need the cash–I can’t leave the damn place.”

Mitsuko shrugged. “I’m sure they appreciate having someone with quick fingers.”

“They don’t know I have quick fingers!” Jo suddenly snapped. He felt his stomach churn. “And it’s gonna stay that way!”

Mitsuko lifted a hand in her defense. “Okay, Jo. Calm down.”

Jo swallowed down his frustration. Dammit, now he was thinking about everyone at the church finding out he was a pickpocket. Ayase and Sachi would probably flip, Kiyoshi would probably cry…and Daniel and Zayd would stare at him with judgment. With pity. With…

“Shouri told us that you are Malum. I’m sorry.”

Jo’s vision went blurry.

Mitsuko gently pushed the bangs back from his forehead. Her cool hands helped reduce the boiling flush. He closed his eyes as her fingers wove into his hair.

“The…cops are hanging around there now,” he muttered at last. “I have to keep a low profile.”

Mitsuko kept brushing her fingertips across his scalp. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Fair enough,” she said softly.

The blaring rock music in the club cut off abruptly. Over the comparatively quiet laughter of the milling thugs, somebody shouted from the direction of the main bar. Jo turned with Mitsuko.

Takeshi clambered onto the bar like a monkey, sending the Byakko bartender jerking back in surprise. He swooped down and grabbed the liquor bottle from the man’s hand.

“Hey!” Takeshi slammed the heels of his boots down onto the bar. “Up here, motherfuckers!”

The crowd started jeering loudly at him–a mix of encouragement and curses. As he made a series of creative rude gestures, the DJ shone an overhead light on him. He whistled loudly to cut through the noise.

“All right. Listen up!” He snapped his finger into the air. “You wouldn’t be here tonight if you didn’t wanna be. I saw most of you at Motoi, fucking up those shit-slurping cockheads that hammered Kiseki. Did you get your revenge?!”

The audience gave a scattered cheer. Takeshi lifted up his shirt, revealing a heavy, blood-dotted bandage hugging his side.

“Did you get cut up?!”

The audience cheered, louder this time. Mitsuko leaned closer to Jo’s ear.

“Takeshi got grazed by a bullet,” she whispered. “But he looks pretty good, right?”

Jo turned to her in disbelief. “That guy got shot?”

Takeshi dropped his shirt and slapped his stomach. “Did you get your loot?!”

The crowd erupted in triumphant cries. Some people thrust up office equipment that looked stolen–laptops, leather cases. Other people just raised their drinks. Somebody waved a prosthetic leg.

Jo’s eyes fell to that one, but within a few seconds a crutch whipped through the air and the leg suddenly dropped back into the crowd. The muffled sounds of fighting drifted from the area.

“We lost a lotta good guys in that brawl,” Takeshi continued, slightly somber. “Way more than we lost in Kiseki, but that’s how the brick sinks. And now those fuckers know we’re not scared of ’em, so they might come after us. We’re a threat.”

Jo’s stomach twisted again, churning the liquor and his despair. But he was starting to feel fuzzy, so the nausea barely registered. He swallowed down the rising bile; it tasted like alcohol.

“This is your out. If you don’t wanna get mixed up in this shitstorm, you can go home. No one’s gonna blame you for leaving after you got your dick crushed at Motoi.” He waved a hand. “But those of you who wanna play the long game, and wipe these fuckers off the map, you’re staying with us. We’re stronger in a group. And we’re gonna take old Byakko, new Byakko, and all the Riot Girls and turn you guys into a hell mob that’ll scare this city shitless.” He crushed his hands together. “Who’s in?!”

The crowd mulled, less energetic than it had been. Jo could see small groups muttering to each other.

“Hey!” someone called. “Who’re we fighting again?”

Takeshi paused. He looked down from the bar; Jo suddenly noticed Miki standing there, his arms crossed as he stared evenly at Takeshi. Takeshi raised an eyebrow.

Miki shrugged.

“Core,” Takeshi announced. “The drug lords. I know I told you guys about them, but this shit runs deeper than Kiseki and framing Seiryuu. These dickbags are trying to crush the underground so they can make Tokyo their bitch. They’ve got Yakuza and hired guns.”

“And a vampire!” someone shouted from the crowd.

Takeshi laughed. “That fucker wasn’t a vampire. Just juiced-up and kinky.”

“She bit Nido, man! He almost bled out!”

“I know. It’s fucked up.” Takeshi raised his voice to carry over the stirring crowd. “Their payroll is a psychotic bag of dicks that go for kill shots. It’s not gonna be easy and people are gonna die.”

The crowd got louder, more agitated. Takeshi raised his free hand.

“Fuckers, listen! You can go, all right? A lotta you joined Byakko for the looting and this isn’t your shit. It’s okay! Go!” He grinned darkly, his twitching eyebrow rings catching the light. “But from now on, Byakko’s got a mission. We stick it to the power, and Core’s sucking up whatever power they can find. We’re not gonna stop until Core is a pile of ashes we can piss on.”

A few people cheered, but Jo saw others pull back. Half a dozen punks stumbled for the back door.

“Now for the details. Mitsuko!” Takeshi gestured to Jo and Mitsuko. “She’s head Riot Girl again. If you’ve got a pussy and a fist, you work for her. Treat ’em gentle, baby.”

Jo wondered if he should release Mitsuko, but it didn’t seem to matter. She leaned out of his arms and kissed the air toward Takeshi.

Takeshi looked down. “Miki’s running point for Byakko like the old days. Dicks can go to him with dick problems. Right?”

Miki didn’t reply. He just stared at Takeshi, his one eye blazing, as his mouth tightened into a hard line.

Takeshi crouched down on the bar to be closer to Miki’s height. He wagged his forked tongue.

“Right, you beautiful little fuck?”

Miki muttered something under his breath. He flipped Takeshi the finger.

“I don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “Suck me.”

Takeshi brightened and jumped to his feet. “You heard him,” he crowed. “Everyone suck Miki so he’ll play nice!”

Mitsuko laughed at that; a high-pitched, excited giggle that sounded strange in Jo’s ears. It made Jo nervous. He still wasn’t sure if she was screwing Miki or not.

“How are we supposed to fight these guys?” shouted someone else. “Where the hell are they?”

“Dunno yet. Core’s shady as fuck.” Takeshi kicked at someone who tried to drunkenly climb on the bar. “But we’ve got some leads. We weren’t the only ones that got slammed; Core’s been picking fights with everyone.”

“Did you make some deal with the pigs?”

The crowd hushed abruptly, like a blanket had smothered the noise. Takeshi scratched the back of his neck.

“No,” he said evenly. “I made a deal with one pig.”

Jo tensed. As the thugs started to complain loudly, Takeshi shook his head.

“Things’ve changed, assholes. This isn’t just about us or the pigs or Seiryuu anymore.”

“Bullshit!” someone shouted. “We’re not working with cops!”

“You won’t,” Takeshi snapped. “That’s my job, ballmunch. You just stick to Byakko orders.”

“But if orders are coming from you, that’s coming from the cops!”

“Orders are coming from Miki!” Takeshi snarled, baring his teeth. “Do you think I’d sell you out to the pigs? Leave ’em to me and I’ll keep ’em outta our way! Miki’s your boss now!”

“Fuck Miki!”

“Fuck YOU!” Miki suddenly exploded, pushing away from the bar. “Who the fuck said that?! I’ll cut you open and fuck the goddamn wound!”

Scattered muttering rose in the crowd, but somebody laughed. Miki’s blazing eye snapped toward the sound.

“Did you fuckheads see how many guns were in Motoi? The PM could call in the goddamn Self-Defense Force to deal with this, and then what would happen to us? They’d beef up security so bad that we’d get thrown in jail for cigarettes. Tokyo would be crawling with military looking to crush the entire underground.” Miki growled. “Core would see them coming. They’d clear out and go to another city, and when things calmed down, they’d come right back in here and start their shit again. And at that point, nobody on the street would be strong enough to stop them.”

Takeshi clenched his free fist. “But we can tear up these motherfuckers now and end this once and for all. You gonna defend Tokyo, or you gonna let some drug lords and the feds shit on our empire?!”

The mood of the crowd started to change. A few people hollered encouragement from the back.

Jo swallowed. Mitsuko was watching everything calmly, her face a pleasant mask. He leaned up to her ear.

“Should you say something?” he whispered. If she was a leader, he felt weird holding her back.

She smiled. “That’s not how we do things,” she whispered. “I don’t do the confrontational stuff. I can’t be on anyone’s shit list.”

Jo furrowed his brow. He wasn’t sure how much of this rally had been planned, but he was too dizzy to think about it. The scattered shouts were starting to run together in his ears.

Miki threw out a hand. “Takeshi’s the sell-out,” he hissed. “Not me. I’d sooner drink my own piss than work with the pigs. But if he’s gonna bend over to keep them off our backs, then let him. We need to settle this hard and quiet.”

Takeshi grinned darkly. “And you babes can settle this. Clean up Tokyo’s shit.”

The crowd shouted their agreement. Takeshi lifted the liquor bottle over his head.

“Who owns this city?!” he roared.

“Byakko!” the room shouted back.

“Who owns this city?!”

“BYAKKO!”

As the crowd grew frenzied, Jo noticed something shift near the bar. A door marked Office creaked open; Zayd slipped out. He closed the door behind him.

Takeshi stopped yelling and snapped his head at Zayd. In the darkness of the club, under the roar of the crowd, Zayd silently nodded at Takeshi.

Takeshi lit up like a firecracker. He slammed one boot into the bar.

“All right, kitty cats. If you’re staying, you’re staying here.” His eyes shone crazily in the scattered light. “Byakko owns Blue Light now!”

Jo blinked. As the crowd erupted into wild cheers, Takeshi tipped back his head and laughed, his screeching bellow carrying over the heads of the mob.

“Welcome to headquarters, shit-eaters!” He flipped the liquor bottle and poured amber liquid onto the bar. “Let’s break in this bitch!”

The room went insane. Gang members started breaking bottles and whooping as girls screamed with excitement. The DJ snapped off the spotlight on Takeshi and started up loud punk music to blast through the club.

Jo stared at Zayd, shocked, before turning to Mitsuko. She giggled and whooped.

“What the hell?” Jo blurted. “He didn’t…”

Mitsuko raised her eyebrows at him. “Doesn’t the church have a millionaire?” she asked. “I thought he came with you, Jo.”

Jo flashed back to the plans of the last few days. Zayd had insisted he had to meet with Takeshi in person, but hadn’t explained why.

On the bar, Takeshi gave an exaggerated curtsy to Zayd. Then he spun on his heels and squatted to be behind Miki’s ear. He murmured something and grinned broadly.

Miki’s uncovered eye flicked up. He stared hard at Takeshi, but didn’t reply.

“Jo.” Mitsuko ran her fingers up his collar to turn his face back to hers. “Are you getting along with those church guys? You’re kinda weird about them.”

Jo shrugged uncomfortably. “I…mm.” He paused as she kissed him. “I don’t really fit in there.”

“Do you like them?”

When he didn’t reply, she kissed him again. The wet pull of her lips and the faint scent of alcohol started to dominate his thoughts. In the softening haze of his awareness, she was a beacon of escape. He felt some of the tightness in his stomach loosen as he kissed her again.

Mitsuko gripped his face and pulled him back, just enough for her to breathe. “You could stay with us,” she whispered. “You fit in here, Jo.”

Jo’s eyelids fluttered shut. As her mouth caught his and her fingers tickled his neck, he let the sounds of crashing street thugs ring in his ears.

“Miki was right about you–you’re tougher than you look.”

Jo furrowed his eyebrows and grunted as he kissed Mitsuko. The last thing he wanted to think about right then was Miki.

He briefly flashed to his days in Kiseki, when Byakko had taken him in. He hadn’t liked staying there, but the transition had been easy. Jo had lived in a lot of places in his life. Curling up on a couch and sucking up to Kenta was like half of his former foster homes. Hell, some of those Byakko kids reminded Jo of troubled foster siblings he’d lived with. They were easy to handle, and they always made a place for Jo.

It wasn’t like those long nights in the church…when Kiyoshi crying in his sleep would keep Jo awake. The echoes of someone sobbing or puking would drift from the hallway bathroom. Zayd would pray in the corner of the room, whispering into the air like a ghost.

Jo’s breath hitched as something cracked inside him.

Mitsuko suddenly pulled back. He blearily opened his eyes, but she was blurred in his vision.

“Jo?” she called from far away.

Jo swallowed down the torrent surging up his throat. The rational side of him pushed through the haze in his mind.

He remembered Kiyoshi pulling him into his arms. He remembered Shouri smiling below her freckles, her hand clasped tight with his own.

And Ayase, lit in scattered light through stained glass, bumping her fist against his in quiet kinship.

He took a shuddering breath. With painful resolution, his shook his head.

“I…I have to go back.” He pressed his forehead against Mitsuko’s. “I’m sorry.”

Mitsuko’s lips curled as she brushed hair behind her ear. “Don’t apologize,” she said quietly. “Just do what’s right by you.”

He let his eyes drop to the floor.

She makes it sound so easy.

Mitsuko pulled away from him and gripped his hand. She glanced back at the bar.

“I think your ride’s preoccupied. The foreign guy, right? Kinda chubby?”

Jo followed her gaze. Zayd still stood near the office door, turned away from the bar as he spoke into his mobile phone.

“Nngh.”

Mitsuko tugged at Jo’s hand. She pulled him through the raucous crowd, leading him to the hallways in the back.

Jo stopped. She looked at him over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh…bad memories.”

She sighed and tugged him harder. “Just c’mon.”

Jo hesitantly followed her past a few laughing girls who shared a joint. Mitsuko took two turns into the maze of hallways, just enough to cut off the worst of the club’s noise, and turned back to Jo.

She crushed up against him, knocking his back against the wall. When he opened his mouth, she stuck her tongue in and slid her hands up his chest.

“Let’s fuck around,” she breathed between wet kisses.

The tongue down his throat garbled up Jo’s train of thought. He only heard the word “fuck.”

He regretfully pulled his mouth free. “Here?” he grunted.

“Mm.” She grabbed his hands and slid them up to her breasts. “I’ve been horny as hell since Motoi. I wanna get off with you.”

Jo froze for a second. He hoped she meant horny since after Motoi.

“Are you up for this?” she murmured. She slid her hand down his stomach and he stiffened in response.

The blood pounded in Jo’s ears. When he tentatively slid a hand up her shirt, she arched toward him in encouragement. She nipped his chin with her teeth.

“Answer my text messages,” she drawled. “And I’ll send you something fun next time.”

A strangled groan broke out of Jo’s throat. His fingers gently dug into the warm swell of her breasts.

She kissed him. “Let go, Jo,” she whispered between their mouths. “Just for a few minutes.”

Suddenly, powerfully, the weight of Jo’s despair dropped off his shoulders. His legs shook beneath him as he slid a hand up her skirt.

As her tongue twisted with his, she unbuckled his belt.

Proceed to Chapter 3, page 5–>