Surrender to Darkness Read online

  Kiyoko lowered her gaze to the white cotton bedclothes. Murdoch must have kissed many women in his lengthy existence. Women far more alluring than she. The moment in the courtyard likely would not make his list of top one hundred kisses.

  “Then you shouldn’t regret it,” she grumbled.

  “I said a good kiss, not a smart kiss,” he said, advancing to the bed. He dropped to the cot with a jingle of silver buckles. “I’ve done a number of things I’m not proud of and kissing you in the courtyard is one of them.”

  “Technically, I kissed you.”

  He pinned her gaze. “Technically, I almost killed you.”

  “Not with the kiss.”

  He snorted. “That’s a debatable point.”

  Kiyoko felt her first twinge of annoyance. The man behaved as if he was the center of the universe. “Why must you insist on taking all the blame? You know I taunted you, you know I kissed you, and you must know I had ample opportunity to skewer you had I wanted to.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She glared at him. “Because I didn’t want to. Truly, why would I stab you? I like you.”

  “For the same reason you stabbed Takeo. Because you had no choice. Because sometimes, hurting someone you like is the right thing to do.”

  Kiyoko smoothed the wrinkles in her sheets. “Had I run you through as you suggest, you wouldn’t have been at full strength when the demons attacked. We might all be dead.”

  “Or you and Sora, without your berserker-inflicted injuries, might have saved the day,” he responded.

  She sighed. “Why are we debating this? We cannot go back and change what happened. We survived a very difficult day with minimal losses. I find myself more grateful than upset.”

  “You’re right. We can’t change the past.” He raked a hand through his hair. The strands knotted, then separated under his assault. “But we can sure as hell change the future.”

  Kiyoko wanted to touch his hair again. The brief moment during the kiss when she’d buried her fingers in those springy waves had not been nearly long enough. “What do you mean?”

  He sliced her a rueful look. “Up until yesterday, I was planning to grab the Veil and run.”

  She frowned. “You don’t know where it is.”

  “That’s not exactly true. I know you keep it on your body. I also know it’s not in your locket or your bracelet.”

  She glanced at her bare wrist. “You took them?”

  “While you were sleeping,” he admitted

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What else did you do while I was sleeping?”

  “Nothing. The plan has changed anyway. You need the Veil to survive.”

  Her jaw dropped. “How do you know that?”

  “Sora-san told me.”

  “He had no right—”

  “Bollocks,” Murdoch interrupted. “He had every right. When I first arrived, he knew my goal was to take the Veil, and he had good reason for staying silent. But now? Whatever I did to you in the courtyard yesterday has stolen what little hope you have. Why in bloody hell wouldn’t he tell me?”

  “Because you are not responsible,” she answered quietly. “Not for the initial damage, not for your need to take the Veil, not even for what happened to me in the courtyard. Any mistakes were mine, not yours.”

  “Lass, did you crush yourself?”

  “No, but—”

  He held up a hand to silence her. “Then let’s agree to share the burden, shall we? You baited the bear, and I crushed the life out of you. We’ll call it even.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It never is,” he said with a sigh.

  He shifted, raising one knee onto the bed to face her squarely. He clearly had something to say, but Kiyoko wasn’t listening. The firm heat of his thigh seeped through the sheets to her leg, bringing to mind the numerous heated dreams she’d had about the man. None of which came close to matching the sweet shiver of the real kiss.

  Kiyoko sat up, her gaze locked on Murdoch’s face.

  An odd eagerness raced through her veins. Hot, tense, and full of promise. Another kiss would be exquisite. Risky, yes, but the press of his lips on hers had sent ripples clear to her toes and made every nerve in her body sing—to a tune only he could hear. She wanted another taste.

  Now.

  His eyes darkened as they continued to stare at each other. He was thinking the same thought, she’d bet her father’s katana on it.

  He leaned toward her. “Kiyoko …”

  “Needs rest, Mr. Murdoch,” Sora said firmly from the doorway.

  Murdoch abruptly sat back. “Aye, she does.”

  A pang of disappointment filled Kiyoko’s chest. But she also recognized that the pull between her and Murdoch wasn’t entirely of her own choosing. Something deep and undeniable drew them together, and it tended to override common sense.

  “How are you feeling, sensei?” she asked her mentor.

  “Fully recovered, thanks to the doctor. You, on the other hand, have not fared so well,” he responded. His gaze remained on Murdoch, his expression vaguely disapproving.

  Not so vague that Murdoch didn’t get the message, though. He rose from the bed with lanky grace and leaned against the small supply counter with his arms folded over his chest. “Which is why I’m here,” he said. “I’m taking her back to the United States. With me.”

  “Absolutely not,” Sora said sharply.

  “It’s not safe for her to remain.”

  “You are exaggerating the danger.”

  Kiyoko’s gaze bounced between the old man’s frowning face and Murdoch’s resolute expression. The polite air that had marked their previous conversations was gone. But why?

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  They ignored her.

  “You’re standing in the way of her health. Stefan Wahlberg is one of the most powerful mages in the world,” Murdoch said. “There’s an excellent chance he can heal Kiyoko. He knows of a cure for depleted energy.”

  “We’ve consulted with many gifted mystics. None had a solution. Asking Kiyoko-san to travel across the world on a whim is unacceptable.”

  “Staying here isn’t acceptable, either,” Murdoch responded.

  “What happened?” Kiyoko repeated, louder this time.

  Murdoch glanced at her. “While the house was being attacked, someone broke into the dojo and stole all his divination papers. Obviously, whatever barrier spell your friend here put on the compound was a shoddy excuse for magic.”

  Her gaze slipped to Sora. “Is this true?”

  He nodded.

  Kiyoko tossed the bedcovers aside and swung her feet to the floor. “I helped prepare that spell,” she said. “It allows only named individuals to pass through. One of the onmyōji is more than he seems.”

  “Or perhaps the culprit is one of our guests,” Sora said, looking pointedly at Murdoch.

  But Murdoch missed the slight. He was glaring at Kiyoko. “The doctor did not give you permission to get up.”

  She smiled and stood. “Report me.”

  Her ribs hurt, but not as badly as they had yesterday, and her energy level was on the rise. The bead of power in her core strengthened with every breath. The Veil might not be as effective as it once was, but it still worked.

  “Kiyoko … ,” he said, scowling.

  “Stop being such a mother hen. Were I a man, you’d applaud my eagerness to be up and about.” She snatched her folded clothing from a nearby chair and sidled toward the bathroom, holding the back of her hospital gown together. “I think better on my feet.”

  She tucked those feet into a pair of bathroom slippers, then slid the door shut. Which gave her privacy, but not peace. She grimaced at the men’s conversation as she dressed.

  “Why didn’t you tell her to stay in bed?” demanded Murdoch.

  “Her spiritual energy renews much faster once she’s conscious. I trust her to know her limits.”

  “She was awake when you walked in,
” Murdoch reminded Sora. “You said she needed rest.”

  “Perhaps I read too much into her pallor.”

  “Or perhaps your ability to assess her health is as dismal as your magic skill.”

  Kiyoko knotted the black belt around her dōgi with a sharp tug and slid the door open. “Enough, both of you. I’m not going back to bed, so let the conversation move on.” She glanced at Sora as she removed the slippers. “Was the entire oracle lost?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart sank. “It contained details of the ritual. That could be disastrous.”

  “The oracle can only be read by a master diviner. The risk is minimal.”

  “What ritual?” Murdoch asked.

  “A coming-of-age ritual,” she said, her thoughts already leaping ahead. “I turn twenty-five on January eleventh. Do you truly believe your mage can heal me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then I’ll go with you to California.”

  “Kiyoko-san,” admonished Sora, “that is a rash decision.”

  She nodded. “Precisely why it is also the best decision. If they expect us to turn left, we must turn right. The ritual will be no less effective done in the United States than here.”

  “You intend to fly all of the onmyōji to California?” he asked, brows raised.

  “No, just you and me.” She caught Sora’s disapproving frown. “We do not know who our traitor is, and I do not have time to ferret out the weasel.”

  “You are not at full strength. You need greater protection than I alone can provide.”

  She flicked a glance at Murdoch and smiled. “We are hardly going alone, sensei. Murdoch will be there. Did he not prove his worth in the battle against the demons?”

  “His concern is for the Veil,” her mentor said. “Not you.”

  “Sora-sensei.” Kiyoko flashed an apologetic look at Murdoch, expecting him to be livid at the accusation. But the Soul Gatherer was staring at the floor again, perfectly calm. “Murdoch is not so callous as you suggest.”

  Her mentor was not swayed. His mouth remained tight.

  Kiyoko sighed. “Fine. We’ll bring Yoshio-san along as well. Of all the onmyōji, I trust him the most.”

  The elder nodded. “He was your father’s favorite disciple.”

  “Good,” she said. “We leave for the United States in the morning.”

  12

  By the time they landed at Mineta San Jose International, Murdoch’s head was pounding. It had been the flight from hell. Seven hours of nonstop torture, courtesy of his very pleasant and affable seatmate—Ryuji Watanabe. He wasn’t sure how the man had inserted himself into their travel plans, or how he’d ended up in the seat next to him, and frankly, the reasons were irrelevant.

  The fellow was obnoxiously likable. He didn’t browbeat Murdoch with conversation. He didn’t insist on the aisle seat. He didn’t even snore in his bloody sleep. The man was as good a seatmate as you could get.

  No, better than good.

  He used his travel points to upgrade them all to first class, shared his newspaper, and explained the work he was doing on his laptop in simple and entertaining language. He was amusing and easy to talk to.

  Murdoch hated him.

  Because if he had had to choose a husband for Kiyoko—other than himself, of course—Watanabe would have topped the list. Hell, as he discovered during the flight, the man was not only a savvy businessman, he was an avid cyclist and a skydiver. Smart, fit, and courageous. Under other circumstances, Murdoch could have imagined them as friends.

  How bloody annoying was that?

  “I took the liberty of hiring us a limousine,” Watanabe said, as they both tugged their carry-ons out of the overhead bin. “Less stressful for Kiyoko-san.”

  “Great.”

  What else could he say? It was a good idea. Just not one that fit within Murdoch’s budget.

  “How long is the drive to your ranch?” Kiyoko asked, slipping a pale green trench coat over her floral dress. She stood in the aisle two rows behind him, her hand on Sora’s shoulder, and Murdoch found it impossible not to smile at her, despite his headache.

  Incredibly beautiful. Even in this sea of travel-weary humanity.

  “Once we clear customs it’ll take us about twenty-five minutes. We’ll get there just before dinner.” It wasn’t his ranch, but correcting her would only draw attention to his penury. “It’s in the hills above the city.”

  Clearing customs took an endless amount of time, but eventually they made it to the waiting limo. The limo company had gone out of its way to please Watanabe and the driver was Japanese. Murdoch had to endure a few minutes of bowing and polite greeting before the conversation returned to English.

  The driver grinned at him as he hefted Murdoch’s knapsack into the trunk. “The Sharks bit the Black-hawks’ asses last night, five-zip.”

  “Go, Sharks,” Murdoch said drily.

  Watching sports on television, instead of actively participating, had never held much appeal for him. But many of the Gatherers were enthusiastic supporters of the local hockey team, and he actually felt comforted by the familiar conversation. San Jose had become home.

  He clambered into the stretch limo and took a seat next to the robe-clad Sora. Unfortunately, that gave him an uninhibited view of Watanabe curled around Kiyoko as they both looked out a side window at the passing sights, pointing and smiling.

  He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tightness.

  Damn it. If he could survive a bomb blast courtesy of young Carlos Rodriguez, then he could surely survive this. He’d lost his beard in that big battle last spring, but not his life or his sanity. Jealousy was not going to take him down now.

  Why had Kiyoko invited the man to accompany her? It was true that she had yet to complete the review of the company financials. But why drag her company president to California to do what could have been done by phone or e-mail?

  The car pulled up at the wrought-iron gate that limited access to the estate. Murdoch rolled down his window and greeted the man on guard duty in a small booth.

  “Hill,” he said, “we should be expected.”

  The lanky blond Gatherer smiled. “Yeah, Stefan already took care of things. Go ahead.”

  “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

  “The house is still in one piece, we haven’t seen any weird purple clouds lately, and MacGregor is still whipping our butts. So, I guess that would be no.”

  Murdoch smiled as he sat back. The gate opened and the car surged up the long driveway toward the two-story ranch house surrounded by an oasis of green vegetation.

  “Who is this MacGregor?” Sora asked. “Is he truly more powerful than all of you?”

  “No,” said Murdoch, “not more powerful. More skilled with a sword and more cunning. The man fights as much with his head as he does with his blade. I’ve never met his equal.”

  Kiyoko met his gaze. “Isn’t he human?”

  “Aye.”

  “So, you admit that a human can beat back demons with equal success as an immortal.”

  Murdoch shook his head as the car came to stop in front of the two story house with its wraparound porch. “MacGregor no longer goes out on demon raids. He remains at the ranch to train other Soul Gatherers.”

  Kiyoko frowned. “He willingly chose that fate?”

  Murdoch grinned. “He’s married, with a baby on the way. The decision was made for him.”

  A young woman with long blond hair descended the front steps and reached the car door before the driver had a chance to get out. She tugged it open, then stood back to let Murdoch exit. “Yay, you’re back.”

  There was a time when Emily would have launched herself into his lap with a huge grin on her face. Now, all he got was a light smile. The original version was better. He crawled out. No car was made with the comfort of a six-foot-five man in mind, so it was a relief to unfold his length. He gathered Emily in his arms for a hug.

  “Aye, I’m back.” Then he t
urned. Sora, Kiyoko, and Watanabe had filed from the car. “And I’ve brought a few friends.”

  “Yeah, Mom’s been trying to figure where to put them all,” Emily said, extending her hand toward Sora. “Hi, I’m Emily.”

  He stared at her slim appendage for a moment, then shook it. “A pleasure to meet you, Emily-san. I am Sora Yamashita.” He bowed.

  The full round of introductions were made, and Emily adapted quickly, bowing instead of offering her hand to the others. Then she ushered them toward the front door. “Please, come inside.”

  As the four Japanese climbed the steps, Murdoch whispered to Emily, “Great job.”

  “Thanks.” As Murdoch made to follow Yoshio, Emily snagged his arm. “Uh, one thing, though.”

  He halted. With Emily, one thing could be big.

  “I’m getting a strange vibe from the old guy.” The young woman wrinkled her nose. “His core energy is gold.”

  Murdoch blinked. “Aren’t your mom and Lachlan gold, too?”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “But that’s what I mean by strange. His is gold, but a different gold. Paler and more sparkly.”

  “That’s not very helpful,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I see.”

  “Maybe it’s because he’s older?”

  “Don’t think so. Mrs. Carlyle, my history teacher, is old and her core is the regular gold.”

  Murdoch was about to suggest that her definition of old might be colored by her youth, but decided the point was moot. Emily was getting strange vibes from Sora. That was all he needed to know.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Female voices, angry and getting louder by the moment, erupted from the house. One was Kiyoko and the other was … Lena Sharpe. Damn. He leapt up the steps and burst through the door.

  “You know full well why I withdrew my support,” Kiyoko said, standing toe to toe with Brian Webster’s half-Egyptian girlfriend.

  “And you of all people should know how far someone is willing to go to save family,” Lena returned hotly. “You stepped over the line yourself.”

  Kiyoko’s lips tightened. “Do not dare compare my actions to yours.”

  “Why not?” Lena responded, using her extra height to lean over the other woman. “They were both acts of desperation, both done for love.”