Senshi (A Katana Novel) Read online

  He glared at me and I fought the urge to smile. “Rileigh, you’re missing the point entirely. I know for a fact that Kim was not on assignment last night because it’s my job to keep track of him so I can better keep track of you.”

  I slammed my mug down on the counter, ignoring the burning liquid as it sloshed over the side and onto my hand. “Okay, first of all, stop stalking me because it’s not sexy when an old guy does it—it’s creepy and gross. Second, I think I know Kim better than you. The only thing that would keep him from me is a mission assigned by your dumb Network. I bet if I go get my cell phone, there’ll be a message from him telling me just that.”

  He folded his arms. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “I guess so.” Stupid Dr. Wendell. How could he think for even a second that he knew Kim better than I did? I left my half-empty mug on the counter and went to my room where my phone sat on my desk. I pulled it free from the charger, pressed the green button, and stared at the surprise waiting for me on the screen:

  Voice Message Inbox: 0

  Okaaaay. There had to be an explanation. Maybe he emailed? I clicked another button and connected to my email account. Two messages waited, one announcing a sale at my favorite skate shop and another telling me I’d won the Bazillion lottery and could collect my earnings as soon as I sent them my checking account number. Sure. Because I really needed to add identity theft to my growing list of problems.

  I sank onto the bed as knots of worry wove across my chest and bound my lungs in a too-tight embrace. Had something happened to him? I hit the first number on my speed dial. Kim’s voicemail clicked on without a ring.

  Why wasn’t his phone turned on? I sighed right as the automated message ended. “Kim, it’s me. You didn’t show up last night and you didn’t leave a message. Something happened to me when I got to the condo and … well, I’ll tell you about it when you call. I’m starting to get a little worried. Obviously, I have school, but could you just shoot me a text so I know you’re okay?” I hung up feeling like my stomach had fallen from my body through all twelve floors of the building, then proceeded to be run over by the cars below. Something was wrong. I felt it with every nerve in my body.

  “Rileigh?” Dr. Wendell stood outside my open door.

  I slumped deeper into the bed. “I don’t want to hear your I told you so speech right now. Okay?”

  “I wasn’t going to.” He took a tentative step inside my room. To my surprise, his usual I know everything expression was gone, replaced with a look of genuine concern. “I just wanted to make sure everything is all right.” When I didn’t answer, he prodded, “Is it?”

  “I … I don’t know.” This was a first for me. When it came to Kim I knew everything … or at least I thought I did. He wouldn’t just stand me up. I felt the wrongness of it creeping over my body. “He didn’t leave a message and his phone’s not turned on. Something doesn’t feel … right. I was attacked last night. Maybe he was too.”

  Dr. Wendell moved closer. “Are you having a danger premonition?”

  “No.” The tightening of my muscles and tingling inside my head that alerted me to danger weren’t there. This was something else, something sour that flowed through my blood like a spreading infection. “I don’t think he’s in danger … but … I have a bad feeling.”

  He nodded. “That’s good enough for me. Will you let me help?”

  Another surprise. I had to admit, as much as I detested the man, the fact that he trusted me without question earned him extra points. “Maybe you … could check on Kim for me?” If he wasn’t wearing pajama bottoms—reminding me of where he slept last night—I might have felt the teensiest bit bad for my behavior toward him.

  “Absolutely.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and, for once, I didn’t shrug it off. “Even though I know you don’t believe it, I’m here to help you, Rileigh. I’m on your side. If you’re worried about Kim I’ll check into it. Even if I have to drive to Waterloo to do it.”

  I stood there, staring at him. Maybe, just maybe, Dr. Wendell wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. “Thanks.”

  He smiled and released my shoulder. “Like I said, I’m on your side. Now, I don’t want you to worry about it anymore. Get to school and I’ll handle everything.”

  It sounded like a good plan, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in my gut. The certainty that something wasn’t right. “What if you find Kim and he’s in trouble? Will you call me?”

  “I promise.” He held his hand up like he was swearing in before a judge. “But you don’t need to worry. Kim is a skilled fighter. I can’t think of single situation that he can’t handle himself in.”

  I nodded. “You’re right.” Only he wasn’t. I could remember all too well one particular situation Kim hadn’t been able to fight his way out of—and his failure had cost him his life.

  16

  Japan, 1491

  The samurai wrenched Akiko’s arm behind her neck. While his grip hurt, it was nothing compared to the look Akiko’s mother had given her before the guards apprehended her for assault. The look told Akiko she no longer had a mother.

  I do not have anyone, she thought as she was pushed into the daimyo’s mansion and shoved to her knees. A hand at her neck kept her face against the floor. But at least, if I have to die for my actions, it is because I defended myself when no one else would.

  “Zeami?” A man’s voice crackled like a crumpled piece of parchment. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Akiko tried to lift her head, but the hand smashed her forehead back down to the bamboo floor.

  “Lord Toyotomi.” Zeami panted slightly. “I bring before you a prostitute charged with the crime of attacking a samurai. I would be honored to save you the trouble and behead her myself.”

  “This small girl?” Lord Toyotomi laughed softly. “She assaulted you?”

  “My Lord?” Zeami released his hold on Akiko’s neck. “You find this amusing?”

  Free from his grip, Akiko stole a glance of the daimyo. Even though he ruled their small village, she’d never seen the man and hadn’t expected him to look so … frail.

  Lord Toyotomi rose from his chair and walked toward them, his back hunched as if the weight of his robes were too much to carry. His beard ended at his waist and hid his clasped hands. Akiko wondered how he could possibly see out of the crescent slits that were his eyes. He beckoned her with shaking fingers, ignoring Zeami completely. “Come child. Tell me what happened.”

  Akiko reached out a hand and Zeami pushed it aside as he stepped in front of her. “I will tell you what happened! An enemy sent her to lure me to my death. She is a traitor to you, my Lord, and must die!”

  Akiko leapt to her feet. “That is not true!” The words burst out before she could stop them. Anger buzzed in her chest like a nest of hornets. Her eyes widened and she staggered back. Oh, no! Not now! Akiko turned her back to the men and tried to suppress the energy inside her with deep slow breaths. But it was too late. The pressure was too large, too sharp, like an animal clawing its way through her ribs. The power surged from her body, ripping a scream from her throat. She didn’t have long to worry about where it would hit. A teapot on a nearby table exploded, splattering the floor with steaming amber liquid.

  Akiko sank to her knees, saying a quick prayer of thanks to the ancestors that she hadn’t hit Lord Toyotomi. Regardless, her secret was out. They would surely put her to death now. She turned to Lord Toyotomi. “I am so sorry.” She closed her eyes to hold back the tears. “It is just that … I do not know how … I cannot … ”

  “Control it?” Lord Toyotomi asked.

  Akiko was surprised that his voice was gentle and not at all angry. She opened her eyes, daring a look, and found him smiling down at her.

  “My child.” He shook his head as he helped her up. “Ki manipulation is a very rare and powerful gift. I can t
each you how to use it.”

  Zeami jerked upright, as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning. “You cannot be serious! She is a traitor. You must understand—”

  But Lord Toyotomi cut him off with a look. “Zeami, you speak as if I have asked your opinion.”

  Zeami quieted but his glare was sharp enough to make Akiko’s skin itch. She ignored him and instead addressed Lord Toyotomi with the question that had plagued her since the energy first began to burn within her body. “My Lord, can you teach me to … make it not hurt.”

  Lord Toyotomi smiled. With a snap of his fingers, the three porcelain teacups surrounding the shattered remains of the teapot shattered. “Does that answer your question?”

  Akiko stared at the broken porcelain, frozen. Lord Toyotomi was cursed, like her, only he seemed to think it was a gift. She was afraid to speak. Afraid the words would wake her from the dream she found herself in, a dream where she no longer had to be a woman of pleasure and where the explosive pain that built inside of her could be cured.

  Zeami made a sound of disgust and marched from the room.

  Lord Toyotomi waved a dismissive hand. “Do not worry about Zeami, child. He will learn to accept you. When you become a samurai, you will be part of the family. You will see.”

  His words echoed through her head, but no matter how many times she turned them over, she couldn’t decipher their meaning. Surely the excitement of the day had affected her hearing. “I am sorry, my Lord, but I thought you said I was to become a samurai.” She laughed a little, hoping he would find her mistake as funny as she did.

  Lord Toyotomi laughed as well. “I did.”

  Akiko made a choking noise, her laughter dying on her tongue. “A samurai? Me? That is impossible. I am a girl! And I was not born to the samurai class.”

  He snorted. “I have always believed that nothing outside of you can dictate who you will become. Only in your heart does your destiny lie. You have the gift of ki manipulation. You have been chosen for this.” He raised a single bushy eyebrow. “Unless you prefer to return to the pleasure district? That can be arranged … ”

  “No!” Akiko yelled before smothering her mouth with her hands. She bowed her head. “Forgive me, my Lord. I forget myself.”

  He nodded, his long mustache lifting to hide the grin underneath. “Good. That is what I want you to do. A long path has been laid before you. If you walk it with the weight of your past, you will tire and fail. Do you understand me?”

  Akiko nodded. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the room in focus. How had she gone from Akiko, failed woman of pleasure, to Akiko, samurai? She dug her fingernails into her palm to prove to herself she wasn’t dreaming. One thing was clear; Lord Toyotomi had spared her life and given her a second chance. She lifted her chin and dared to stare him in the eyes. “I will not let you down.”

  17

  When I arrived at Quentin’s house, his mom greeted me at the door in a faded purple bathrobe and holding onto a spoon still dripping with pancake batter.

  “Rileigh, dear, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Farmer tilted her head, oblivious to the batter dripping on what was probably a very expensive rug. That was one of the things I liked best about Quentin’s family. Their house, a 3,000-square-foot mansion, was pristine on the outside, thanks to the landscapers that came by weekly. But, once you walked inside and took in the sink full of sippy cups and the always-sticky television remotes, you realized this family cared more about living their lives than making an impression.

  I took a step back as a glob of blueberry batter narrowly missed my sneakers. “It’s my day for carpool. Is he ready to go?”

  A toddler squealed upstairs, the youngest of Quentin’s five brothers and sisters, and Mrs. Farmer looked over her shoulder distractedly. “I’m sorry, honey, but Quentin rode with Carly today.” She cocked her head and gave me a sympathetic look. “Carly told me you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Are you sure you didn’t get your days confused?”

  Yeah, I’m sure that wasn’t all Carly told you. I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Thanks for your concern, Mrs. F. I’m sure that’s what happened.” But I knew it was so much more than that. Quentin would never willingly subject himself to riding with his twin. He was obviously avoiding me. I opened my mouth to excuse myself, but something crashed in the kitchen followed by the sound of a child crying. Mrs. F sighed and shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry, dear. I have to go.” She slammed the door, but not before I heard her yelling something about no Irish step-dancing on the table.

  Sometimes I was reminded that being an only child wasn’t a bad thing.

  I drove straight to school, skipping my morning stop at the Starbucks drive-thru. The last thing I needed was to add caffeine to my already-jumbled emotions. I marched straight to Q’s locker, where I found him wearing workout clothes and shuffling through a duffel bag.

  “Q!” I weaved around the kids who were starting to filter through the hallway.

  His shoulders straightened, but he didn’t look at me.

  I stopped in front of him so he’d have no choice but to acknowledge me when he stood. “Where were you this morning? Tuesdays are my day to drive.”

  He rose slowly, juggling a stick of deodorant between his hands. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I forgot to tell you that I needed to be at school early. Since Carly had pom practice, I caught a ride with her. And, figuring you stayed up late with Kim, I didn’t want you to get up any earlier than you had to. I thought I texted you.”

  “You didn’t.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And for your information, I wasn’t up late with Kim.” Because he never showed up, but that was beside the point. “And why did you have to be at school so early, anyway?”

  He shrugged and hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. “I wanted to work out in the school’s weight room.”

  “But why? We get plenty of exercise with martial arts. Why would you want to sit in a room that smells like mold and stinky feet and touch equipment that at least a hundred other guys have sweated all over?” I shuddered. “I hope you used sanitizer.”

  He pulled a bottle of Purell from his bag and held it up. “Of course I did. I don’t have a death wish.” He dropped the bottle back into the bag.

  I nodded. “Okay, but why the need to bulk up? And why not tell me about it?”

  He shrugged and made his way down the hall, forcing me to follow. “I didn’t realize I had to run everything I do by you.”

  His words hit me like an invisible wall and I jerked to a halt. “What?”

  He stopped walking and looked at me, only he wasn’t really looking at me. There was something about his eyes, a glazed-over quality, like he couldn’t quite focus on any one thing.

  What the hell was going on with him? The mood swings, the dazed expression … was he on drugs? My skin began to buzz with invisible electricity—a warning that I had to get my emotions under control and quick. I placed my hand on my hip and took a deep breath.

  Quentin blinked rapidly and shook his head. When he looked at me again his eyes were focused. “I’m sorry. It’s these damn stress migraines. I thought if I exercised a bit more, my brain would release enough serotonin to counteract the migraine-causing norepinephrine produced from stress.”

  That sounded a little more like the Q I knew and loved. When the prickling sensation receded, I looked at him. “But what stress is causing the nor-uh-whatever? Is it me? Because I can’t control my ki?”

  His eyes widened. “You think this has to do with your ki?”

  My hand fell from my hip. “Doesn’t it?”

  “No, Ri-Ri.” His face hardened. “It’s not always all about you, you know.”

  I flinched like I’d been hit. “Q … I didn’t mean … I didn’t—”

  “I have no idea why I said that.” His eyes widened and he looked horrified. He shook his h
ead and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear I didn’t mean it. This migraine is killer and I’ve had it for a couple of days now. It’s … I … I don’t know. It’s making me act crazy.” He dropped his hand from his head and took my hands within his. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. You forgive me, right?”

  I nodded dumbly. I could understand a migraine making someone cranky. Lord knew, I turned into a snarling she-beast every time I got PMS. But this felt more extreme than just a headache. “Of course I forgive you. We’re best friends, right?”

  He smiled and squeezed my hands once before releasing them. “Totally. And we’ll talk. I promise.” He glanced at the clock on the wall.

  “You have somewhere to be?” I guessed.

  “I’m sorry.” He gave me a pleading look. “But I only have forty minutes to shower and get dressed. You know I need at least twenty minutes to make my hair look like I didn’t do it.”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  He gave me a quick hug. “We’re going to talk. Soon. I promise.”

  “Ew. Go shower.” I pushed him away and ushered him toward the locker room door. “Before your man stink rubs off on me.”

  He gave me one last squeeze before hoisting the duffel bag over his shoulder and taking off down the hall.

  I folded my arms across my chest as I watched him walk away. Despite his assurances that he had a migraine, I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. It was like an itch on the wrong side of my skin. If there was something else going on with him, I had to get to the bottom of it.

  “Hey, Rileigh.”

  Startled, I spun around and almost planted my nose in the center of Carson Ashcroft’s chest.

  “Oops, sorry.” He laughed as he took a step back, exposing his straight, white teeth. He was tall and lean with jagged brown hair that fell to his cheeks. A dozen multi-colored bracelets adorned one wrist while a two-inch thick wrist cuff covered the other. I’d seen him around the park enough to know he was good skater. Almost as good as me.