Surrender to Darkness Read online

  At the mention of her father, Kiyoko’s stance softened. “What were you doing in the ranch house earlier?”

  He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to Kiyoko. A series of Kanji characters alongside what looked like telephone numbers.

  She accepted it, her gaze trailing over the information.

  “Contact information for the North American onmyōji . You stole this from my phone.”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Wait,” Murdoch interrupted,shaking his head.“There are onmyōji here in the United States?”

  Kiyoko glanced at him. “As Sora-sensei mentioned your first day at the dojo, there are onmyōji sects scattered around the globe. Our philosophy is an ancient one.”

  “And they all fight demons?”

  “In the beginning, we engaged in martial arts merely as a form of exercise and self-discipline. But when the balance between good and evil was disrupted, we felt obliged to use our skills to defend the innocent. Still, only a handful of onmyōji outside of Japan patrol the streets.” She held up the piece of paper. “And these are them.”

  “They live to serve you, Ashida-san,” Yoshio said. “I sought to give them purpose.”

  “Live to serve you?” Murdoch smiled at Kiyoko. “Really?”

  She shrugged. “I am a descendant of Abe no Seimei. I carry his sword.”

  “And, of course, your father’s divination says—” Yoshio halted, intercepting a glare from Kiyoko. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”

  “Oh, don’t stop there,” murmured Murdoch. “I’m all ears.”

  Kiyoko sheathed her sword. “He has nothing to add. He has never actually read my father’s divination. Yamashita-sensei was the keeper of the oracle. The rest of us have only been privy to bits and pieces.”

  Despite Sora’s warning, Murdoch couldn’t help but believe the information in the scrolls was vital to Kiyoko’s survival. Every conversation eventually pointed there. “Bits and pieces will do.”

  “Perhaps later,” she said. “Yoshio-san, I am greatly unsettled by today’s events. Whatever your reasons, stealing information and communicating with the other onmyōji without my permission was unforgivable. I’m sorely tempted to put you on the next available flight to Sapporo.”

  “But, I cannot leave you—”

  “The decision is mine to make,” she said firmly. “I delay only because my anger currently overwhelms my reason. Whatever I decide, consider your reaction well. A wise man would focus on regaining my respect.”

  Yoshio bowed his head.

  “In the meantime,” Murdoch said, not entirely convinced by the young man’s apparent contrition, “we can put him under house arrest.”

  Kiyoko glanced at him. “You mean lock him up?”

  “No. After we lost track of a visitor to the ranch last spring, we invested in some technology. Ankle bracelet and GPS. We tell the software where he’s allowed to go, and the instant he steps outside the designated safe area, the alarms go off.”

  The young warrior’s head popped up, his eyes a blaze of anger. “I am not a criminal.”

  “Good,” Murdoch said, snaring Yoshio’s sleeve. “Because I’ve got better things to do than chase you around the ranch. But if you do step out of line, be forewarned—my tolerance for deceit is very low and I’m a beast when I’m annoyed.” He tugged the young man around the desk. “Let’s go.”

  “He must make his apologies to Mr. MacGregor,” Kiyoko said as they left the bungalow and walked up the pea gravel path toward the main house.

  “No,” Murdoch disagreed. “Just this once, we’re going to skip the apology. The man and his wife will be bringing their day-old baby home in a few hours. Definitely not the best time to share the tale of Yoshio’s home invasion.”

  He pushed Yoshio through the kitchen door and down the hall to the small, hot room that served as the Gatherer network hub. Buried under coils of extension cords, teetering stacks of old motherboards, and a pile of empty Jolt Cola cans, Brendan Carter tapped at his keyboard.

  The redhead glanced up as Murdoch entered.

  “Wow. Did hell freeze over?”

  “Very funny.” Murdoch shook Yoshio. “I need you to put one of those ankle things on my little friend here.”

  Carter spun his chair around. “No, seriously. Did some cataclysmic event happen? Because I’m pretty sure you told me you’d never come in here, and never has a very specific meaning in the current universe.”

  “Stop being a wiseass and just do your job.”

  Carter stood up and extended his hand to Kiyoko. “Hi. Let’s ignore the crusty old Scot, shall we? I’m Brendan. We met your first night here, but didn’t get a chance to chat, because he hauled you off to play a game of chess.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Their hands entwined.

  And Murdoch’s berserker coughed up a hairball.

  Carter might wander about in his stocking feet all day and spout endless acronyms like VPN and BIOS, but he was not your average geek. He was a Gatherer. And that meant he was first and foremost a warrior. He stood well over six feet, was sturdy as a rock, and handled a sword with great finesse. Only the red hair worked against him.

  “We haven’t got all bloody day,” Murdoch said. “Are you able to fit this man with an ankle bracelet or not?”

  “Take a Valium, Murdoch. I know being around technology gives you hives, but a bit of polite socializing isn’t going to fry your day.”

  “I’m not averse to technology,” Murdoch disputed. “There are times, like this one, where it can be very useful. But a reliance on it can also encourage lazy, inattentive behavior.”

  Kiyoko released Carter’s hand, nodding. “I agree. We have eliminated all but essential technology from our compound. A warrior with excellent senses can never be let down by an imperfect machine.”

  And just like that, his berserker curled up with a contented sigh and went back to sleep.

  “The ankle bracelet,” Murdoch reminded Carter.

  “Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec.”

  They spent the next five minutes setting up the perimeter triggers on Yoshio’s ankle tracker. While Carter was bent to the device, tweaking the fit, Murdoch and Kiyoko retreated to the doorway to escape the heat of the five computers humming away on the rack next to Carter’s workspace.

  Murdoch closed his eyes and savored Kiyoko’s proximity. A scant three inches separated his skin from hers, and with his eyes shut he could almost pretend she lay in his arms. He had so few opportunities to quietly explore the keen awareness that gave him goose bumps whenever he was within ten feet of her.

  “Aren’t you going to ask about the divination?” she asked.

  He opened his eyes and studied the top of her head. The silky sheen of her hair whispered sweet nothings to his fingers. “Anytime you’re ready, start talking.”

  “Divination is one of the onmyōdō arts.”

  “I know that.”

  “It has been practiced for centuries, and the truly gifted onmyōji can predict almost anything, given enough time and effort.”

  Murdoch found that hard to believe. Even the renowned druid he’d sought counsel from in the thirteenth century hadn’t had that much control over the stars. “So, you’re saying Sora could have predicted I’d show up on his doorstep.”

  “He did.”

  “Really?” he said, smiling. “If he knew I was coming, why didn’t he avoid that untidy scene in the restaurant? He could have saved those two young warriors a world of hurt.”

  She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. A perfect pink shell of an ear. That begged to be kissed. “Completing a divination is a time-consuming task—depending on the complexity, it can take anywhere from six to fourteen hours—and the result is only as powerful as the question posed to generate it. Asking Will I succeed? yields a vastly different answer than What will my health be like if I succeed?”

  “There you have it,” Carter said, sit
ting back with a satisfied nod at his handiwork. “He’s all yours. The ranch house is off-limits, so you’ve got ten minutes to get him inside his approved wandering range before the alarms start ringing.”

  “Thank you.” Murdoch waved to Yoshio. “Let’s go, lad.”

  “Hey, Murdoch?”

  Murdoch glanced at Carter.

  “Anytime you need help, come see me.”

  Murdoch smiled. “Crow if you must, Carter. I’ll not stop you. You get so little opportunity for pride in the lists.”

  They dropped Yoshio off at the bunkhouse, which was as lively as the sold-out stands of a championship football game. The Gatherer trainees had been handed an unscheduled day of rest thanks to the arrival of MacGregor’s baby, and they were taking advantage. Pop and beer and potato chips abounded.

  Sloths.

  Murdoch was tempted to whip their asses into shape and send them on a five-mile run, but he had more important things to do. Like convince Kiyoko to show him the Veil. He waved at the cook behind the cafeteria counter, who ran over and handed him a knapsack.

  “Still interested in meditating?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, surprised.

  “I know the perfect spot.” He guided her outside with a hand at the small of her back. “If you’re up for a short hike.”

  “I’d enjoy seeing more of the ranch.”

  California would never replace Scotland in his heart, but it had its own unique beauty. During the winter months, the parched brown hills gave way to green grass, and the low rolls of the landscape softened to a verdant glory. His favorite spot lay on the east slope of the hill overlooking the ranch house. In the lee of the hill, not a single sign of civilization could be seen—no homes, no fences, no roads. As long as he didn’t look up and make note of the contrails left by passenger jets, he could almost believe he’d traveled back in time. In the winter a small pool of water filled the crevice between two rocks, drawing birds and other small creature. But despite the recent rainfall, the rocks were dry.

  “This is lovely,” Kiyoko said, glancing around.

  Murdoch unzipped the knapsack and removed a plaid blanket. Ugly red-and-green thing. MacGregor tartan. He should have been more specific in his instructions. Laying the blanket on the grass, he invited Kiyoko to take a seat. “Sorry. No room for cushions. But I do have hot tea.”

  She accepted the thermos and poured herself a cup. “Did you really bring me here to meditate?”

  “No.” He dropped to the ground beside her, reclining on his side with his head propped in one hand. The rough rural setting suited her somehow. She was like a creamy pearl cradled in a bed of burlap. “I have an ulterior motive.”

  “Which is?”

  “I want to see the Veil,” he said, meeting her gaze with honesty. “I knew you wouldn’t show it to me if there was a chance anyone else would see. But out here, there’s only me, you, and the coyotes.”

  She stared at him.

  “So, let’s see what you’ve got under that outfit,” he said with a slow smile. “I’m very curious.”

  Kiyoko put her tea down.

  The man’s smile was lethal.

  Combined with the blatant appreciation that never seemed to leave his eyes, the wry curve of those sensual lips almost did her in. The lazy display of his fabulous body didn’t help. Broad shoulders, lean hips, and long, powerful legs. He was a man’s man and a woman’s dream. Her skin responded with eager excitement, sending goose bumps rippling in several directions. It was all too easy to imagine leaping into his arms and losing herself in his easy charm and unwavering strength.

  Luckily, her conscience had a say.

  She smoothed her fingers over the soft wool of the blanket instead of the firm line of his jaw. Followed the structured pattern of the plaid rather than diving headlong into the wavy lengths of his hair.

  “What advantage will seeing it provide?” she asked.

  “Let’s call it an exercise in trust.”

  “Can I truly trust you not to steal it?”

  He lifted a brow. “You already trust me not to steal it. If you didn’t, you’d never have agreed to be alone with me. We both know I could take it from you right now, with little or no difficulty.”

  Taking the Veil from her would be harder than he anticipated, but essentially he was right. She did trust him not to steal it. “Then I’m still unclear what you hope to gain.”

  “Nothing.”

  She sighed. “Don’t be difficult.”

  “The gain wouldn’t be mine—it would be yours. If you show me the Veil, you’ll be sharing more than its location. You’ll be sharing the burden of protecting it.”

  “With a man who lives five thousand miles away. What good will that do?”

  He picked up a lock of her hair, rubbing the dark strands between his fingers, apparently fascinated. “I’m not five thousand miles away right now.”

  Her heartbeat accelerated.

  No, he definitely wasn’t five thousand miles away. More like five inches. A slight lean on her part and his hand would be pressed against her breast. Her very eager breast.

  “I’ll confess,” he said, the rumble of his brogue smokier than usual, “I’ve never been more eager to seek my bed as I have since I met you. My dreams are so bloody incredible that waking leaves an ache in my chest.”

  Kiyoko swallowed tightly.

  “In my sleep, I can touch you freely, kiss you just the way I want, pleasure you until you scream and beg for mercy, and there are no consequences. It’s enough to have me praying for a coma.”

  “None of it is real,” she said softly.

  His lifted his gaze to hers. Hot, dark, and full of smoldering promise. “I’m not so sure of that. My berserker thinks it’s real enough.”

  Disappointment surged through Kiyoko.

  He was back to blaming his berserker, rather than accepting the desire as his own. Proof, if she needed it, that entering into any kind of relationship with Murdoch would only end in heartbreak. She tugged her hair free of his hand, and then lifted the hem of her kendōgi jacket to reveal the black cloth belt wrapped around her waist.

  “This is the Veil.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, frowning. Then he glanced down. “Your black belt is the Veil? You wear it in plain sight much of the time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Rather brazen of you.”

  She shrugged. “People often overlook the obvious.”

  The creases on his brow deepened. “Are you angry with me?”

  “No. I simply expect too much.”

  “From me?” He stiffened. “And I disappoint?”

  “You are who you are, Murdoch. To expect more than that is not a failing with you. It is a failing with me.”

  He smiled grimly. “Ah, the old it’s not you, it’s me argument. Do tell. What part of who I am pissed you off?”

  “We should probably get back.”

  As she rose to her knees, he said, “No, we bloody well should not. Sit down.”

  The cool authority in his voice halted her. It was the sort of voice that could command an army of men into battle. There was no room for argument, no hope of retreat, and no question but that he would back up his demand with strength and competence. And surprisingly, it didn’t annoy her.

  She sat.

  “What expectation did I fail to meet?” he asked.

  “You still do not acknowledge that the berserker is you.”

  He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “You think that I attribute my interest in you to the berserker.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Murdoch, be honest. In your mind, you are the calm, rational warrior who prides himself on his self-control. It’s the berserker who is responsible for all the passionate, unruly things you do and feel and say.”

  “Not all.”

  “Most, then. It doesn’t matter. The point is if it weren’t for your berserker, your attention would have long since
moved on to some other woman.”

  “Not true.”

  “Forgive me if I disagree.”

  “Lass, you need to give me some credit.” A half smile softened the contours of his face. “First, as I lie here, a little dizzy from drinking in your perfume and daydreaming about trailing kisses down your belly, the berserker is nowhere in sight. There’s only me. Second, there is no berserker—nor for that matter any other woman—in my dreams. There’s only you.”

  She melted a little.

  Was it wrong to be so easily swayed by a few sultry words? And by his total lack of shame in admitting that her presence made him dizzy? Murdoch had a number of issues, but a lack of self-confidence wasn’t one of them.

  And she liked that.

  A lot.

  “Have no doubt,” he added. “I want you. In ways I can’t begin to describe. I’ve said it before, but it begs repeating—were it not for my damned berserker, I’d leap on you this very moment. I’d steal every breath from your lips, discover every intriguing inch of your body, and drive you as wild as I please, with absolutely no mercy. I’d make you see stars. Me. Not my bloody berserker. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she croaked. Her body was on fire. She had never wanted to crawl inside someone as much as she wanted to be part of Murdoch and his vivid imaginings right this minute. “Maybe we should nap.”

  He groaned.

  “Lord, if I hadn’t promised Emily I’d drive her into town, I’d take you up on that. I owe you one.”

  One. An orgasm. Kiyoko blushed. “I guess we should head back to the house.”

  His hand slid over her hip, stilling her attempt to rise. Warm, strong, reassuring. “Lass, I’m going to figure this out, I swear. The Veil, the berserker, the whole damned mess. I will find an answer.”

  Outdated though it was, his medieval chivalry stole her breath away. But even as her heart fluttered, her stomach roiled with guilt. He’d been nothing but open and honest, and now he was offering to do everything in his power to help her. Yet she had not shown him a similar courtesy.

  He deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know how she was planning to use him. Goddess of Death or no goddess of Death.