Blood Ninja by Nick Lake Page A

bare, hard ground before Shusaku. Hiro cleared his throat, then said, “So are you a demon?”
    Shusaku laughed. “Hardly. Some say that vampires are descended from the kami of night, and that is why we cannot go abroad in daylight. But you have already seen that one vampire can create another—the ability is passed by the sharing of bites, not by parenthood. So I wonder if that story can be true.”
    “And all ninjas are vampires? Is that really true?”
    “Yes. Though the reverse is not. There are vampires who arenot ninjas, such as yourself. But a person cannot become a ninja without being turned. Usually we train the young until we feel they have reached a sufficient … maturity, and control of their powers. Then we turn them. With you, it was somewhat different.”
    “You did it to save my life.”
    “Yes.”
    “And now what?”
    The ninja stiffened, and Taro could almost have believed that, for once, Shusaku was unsure of himself, worried, even.
    “I will take you to the home of my clan,” he said. “It’s the safest place for you.” He spoke these words as if to convince himself as much as the boys, and Taro frowned. Something was making the ninja uncomfortable. What was it? “And anyway, I have received no instructions beyond saving your life. I must go back to await further information.”
    Taro bit his lip, feeling impatient. “And how long will that take? I want to find my mother. You said when I was safe, we would look for her.”
    It was only in saying this that he realized, with a lurch in his heart, how much he already missed her. He wanted to curl up in her arms so she could make all of this go away, like a childhood nightmare.
    But then, unbidden, his final image of his father swam into his mind—the body, divested of its head, lying in a pool of blood.
    And this was no nightmare he could awaken from.
    Surrounding his grief, like the sharp edges welded to the shaft of a sword, was a murderous desire for revenge. Taro knew that, as much as he missed his mother, he also wanted to avenge his father. “And then we find the person who sent those ninjas. The person who killed my father.”
    Shusaku made a weary gesture. “As for your mother, she is even now seeking out a place to hide. You will not find her alone. We must wait for the pigeon I gave her.”
    “Good. Perhaps it will come soon.”
    The ninja snorted. “It is a clever bird but not that clever. Itcannot find me wherever I happen to be. It will fly to my home. So you must return with me there.”
    Taro twitched, impatiently. He wanted to find his mother now , but he could see that the ninja talked sense. “My father, then. We will find his killers. Take vengeance.”
    Shusaku sighed. “Yes, of course. But what would you do, a boy, on his own, with little idea of how to use his powers? Even one fully trained ninja would slaughter you like a pig. And whoever is after you, they are very serious about killing you. The services of ninjas do not come cheaply. I’ve never seen so many sent against one target. The cost would usually prohibit it. And anyway, for most missions one of us is sufficient.” He said this with an unmistakable measure of pride—as if the assassinations of unarmed men were an impressive thing, as if putting on a disguise and killing people before they even knew they were under attack were an act on par with a samurai’s bravery in battle.
    But there were some advantages to being a ninja.
    “I’m a vampire now,” said Taro. “I’m strong.”
    Shusaku pulled a short-sword from his cloak. He smiled at Taro. Then, with no warning at all, he lashed out at Hiro’s neck. Taro didn’t think. He snapped forward, hand flying out, closing the distance between himself and his friend in a fraction of a heartbeat. His fingers closed on the ninja’s wrist, stopping the blade just as it neared the skin—
    No. It was no longer a blade.
    Shusaku waved the thin sapling branch that he was holding next to Hiro’s throat.