Aragami: A Tale of the Previous Universe (Divine Protector Book 5) Read online

  “But who would want to kill me?”

  “Right now, we have no idea.”

  Martin sighed again. “All right. Well, thanks for sharing this with me. I’ll try to think of anyone else who might want to kill me—that’s a profoundly scary thing for anyone to say, by the way.”

  “I know it’s tough. But you’ll get through it,” Stephens said. “To be honest, I had another reason for coming to see you today. I wanted to know how you’ve been doing since…” He stopped.

  “That night?” Martin said.

  “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to broach the subject.”

  “It’s fine,” Martin said. “If I had to describe my life since that night, I’d call it a treadmill. I keep walking, but I never get anywhere.

  “Sometimes hope is hard to find. But you owe it to yourself to find it,” Stephens said.

  “Easier said than done. You didn’t understand then, and you don’t understand now. What it’s like, I mean.”

  “Maybe not. But hope is out there. Find it.”

  Martin nodded reluctantly and they shook hands. Stephens left and Martin headed back to work, his hangover—having briefly been forgotten during the meeting—back in full force. He thought about taking time off from work until this whole thing was resolved, but quickly dismissed the idea. This building was pretty secure and a lunatic like Robert Simons would have a hell of a hard time getting in. Martin figured he was safer here.

  * * *

  Serika sat in her office plotting the perfect follow-up to yesterday’s attack. This time needed to be different, that much was certain. No more psychos—they clearly couldn’t be trusted. She briefly wondered if she could drop a giant boulder on Martin. But, no, that was just crazy. Where would she even get such a thing from?

  There was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she sang.

  The door slid aside and Mary entered. “Good morning.” Blonde with ample assets Serika was glad were usually hidden beneath her kimono, this Level 4 Shinigami had authority around here. Serika was only Level 2.

  “Good morning, Mary-sama,” she said, flashing a fake smile. She hated showing deference to this white Shintoist. She acted like such a bigshot here just because she worked hard at her job and sucked up to Lord First. It didn’t help that she was a bigshot.

  “Oh,” Mary said. “It looks like you haven’t heard.”

  Serika cocked her head inquisitively. “Heard what?”

  Mary frowned. “I don’t know how to tell you this. Last night… someone tried to murder Martin McDonnell.”

  “What?” She leapt to her feet, proud of her dramatic response. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Serika vehemently shook her head. “No, no, no. Who would do such a thing?”

  “We’re currently looking into it,” Mary said.

  In truth, Serika had expected this. She knew they would tell her. “Tell me everything that happened.” Mary did so. Serika listened intently even though she already knew every detail. She had to be convincing. When Mary was finished, Serika said, “So this Robert Simons acted alone.”

  “I don’t think he did. He claims God told him to do it. That’s another reason I’m here. Do you know anyone who would have a grudge against Martin McDonnell?”

  “No, no one. He has no enemies. Everybody loves him.”

  “Perhaps, but things might have changed since then.”

  “Maybe,” Serika said. “I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I’m stalking him from up here.” This elicited a raised eyebrow from Mary, so she backtracked. “Anyway, I really want to know who’s behind this, so please keep me informed. I deserve to know. My name hasn’t changed, after all.”

  Mary nodded. “I will.” An awkward silence ensued. “I’ll let you get back to work, then.”

  She left and Serika sat back down. She had made a mistake; that raised eyebrow told her as much. Still, there was no way Mary could prove anything. Not yet, at least. And the week had just gotten started. She had plenty of time to carry out her personal mission.

  She looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon on Earth. She needed to get started with today’s assassination attempt.

  But first she headed over to the wall behind her and pressed a button, opening a small alcove. There she removed the object she valued most in the entire world. “Hello, my treasure. I hope you’re doing well today.” It was a glowing yellow-orange orb about the size of a coconut. It pulsated in her hands as she stroked it. “I know what you want. It’s what I want as well. Soon it will be ours. I just want you to know that.”

  With no more time to spare, she returned the orb to its proper place and got started with the business at hand.

  * * *

  Mary entered the Golden Chamber. It was exactly what it sounded like—a large room adorned in gold. This was the official office and living space of Amenominakanushi, the ruler of Yomi and the first kami. He was more commonly known as Lord First. Religious scholars maintained there was no single god in control when it came to Shinto, but that simply wasn’t true. Lord First had the first and last say in all things in Yomi. The error could be attributed to the fact there were no sacred documents for Shintoists like the Bible, Torah or Q’uran. Lord First didn’t believe in such things; as far as he was concerned, just getting the basics of Shinto was good enough.

  The room was divided in half by a translucent silk curtain. Mary knelt before it. The silhouette of Lord First knelt on the opposite side. “Report,” he said. Mary placed her hands reverently on her knees and bowed her head. She relayed to him everything she had learned so far about the investigation. “Hmmmm,” he said. “And you believe Robert Simons acted on behalf of another god?”

  She kept her head bowed. “I’m not certain. His mental state is… compromised, for lack of a better term. But from what I can gather, Martin McDonnell doesn’t have any enemies. No mortal ones, anyway.”

  “But what god would want him dead?”

  “The only one who might know that is Serika, but she claims ignorance.”

  Behind the curtain, he kept absolutely still. “I would propose a theory.”

  “What is it?”

  “Remember their relationship. I don’t believe she would have reason to kill him. Perhaps Serika is the one with enemies, and they’re targeting McDonnell to hurt her.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “If I may speak freely, there is something suspicious about her. She acts kindly, but I see a darkness in her eyes.”

  But he countered, “We did a thorough background check on her when she arrived here. She was a caring, compassionate individual in life.”

  “Yes, but…” She hesitated, not wanting to challenge him further.

  “Speak your mind. Tell me your thoughts.”

  Mary sighed, hoping he couldn’t pick up on that. “The way she died…”

  “You think it changed her.” Lord First said. Still keeping her head bowed, she nodded slightly. “Serika has been an excellent Shinigami. I see no reason to take her away from her duties. If you’re suggesting she had anything to do with the attempt on Martin McDonnell’s life, I would ask for proof. For now, continue your investigation. That will be all.”

  Mary bowed again and left the room. As she made her way back to her office, she contemplated Lord First’s words. Proof would be hard to come by if Serika was as conniving as Mary suspected.

  However, Mary was fairly certain a follow-up attack would happen again soon. She needed to ascertain whether a god was involved. If that was the case, then the Shinigami would have to intervene to save Martin McDonnell per regulations. But if this was the work of humans, their hands were tied; interfering with mortal affairs was prohibited.

  The simple answer was to keep a close eye on Martin McDonnell. The guilty party was sure to strike again, sooner or later, and she was determined to catch them in the act.

  5

  Mary astral-projected to Business Scanning Systems where Martin McDonnell
worked in order to watch him. If any gods attacked, she could send down her real body to protect him.

  Normally, the Shinigami wouldn’t have put so much effort into safeguarding one mortal. However, Martin McDonnell was a special case, one which intrigued Mary. She was very curious to find out who was trying to kill him and why. She had a suspect, of course, but not a motive any sane person could understand.

  For now, she sat across from Martin and his afro-bearing co-worker as the latter droned on and on while they ate lunch.

  “I’m telling you, the LAPD knows who killed 3-Pac, but they’ve been covering it up for two decades.”

  Martin nodded lethargically. “Mmm-hmmm.”

  “Five-O could have even done it themselves, for all we know. They sure enough didn’t seem too concerned about catching the killer.”

  Martin muttered something incoherent. He wasn’t invested at all in this conversation. “What’s with you, man? I know someone tried to kill you last night, but you should be happy. You’re still alive. A lot of brothers can’t say that. I mean, you’re not a brother, but still. 3-Pac. Biggs. Sleazy-E. They’re all gone, man. You’re still here. Thank God for that.”

  It was then that Martin finally spoke up. “Actually, I’m a Shintoist, remember?” Mary already knew this, of course. It was part of the reason the Shinigami paid so much attention to him.

  “Right, right,” he said. “Been meaning to ask you all these years—what exactly does a Shintoist believe in?”

  “Shinto is the main religion of Japan. The term means ‘way of the gods.’”

  The African-American focused his attention. His interest had been captured. “Answer the question, fool. What do you believe in?”

  Martin stood silent for a moment, evidently trying to find the right words to describe it. Mary had experienced the same thing when she was alive. “Everything has a kind of energy—I guess you could call it a soul—called kami. These can include living things as well as places. Some places are more sacred than others. But kami also refers to gods.”

  “Oh yeah? What else?”

  “Let’s see… if you die without anyone showing gratitude for the sacrifice you just made, you become an evil kami called an aragami.”

  Something clicked inside Mary. Had anyone bothered to thank Serika for her sacrifice?

  “An evil god,” the man laughed. “That’s gangsta.”

  This continued throughout the half-hour they ate lunch. Martin explained about impurity and water purification (misogi), and about Yomi. Mary chuckled to herself as he described the Hell-like myth of their afterlife. Thankfully, Yomi was anything but. She loved the place and was proud to work there. She had a sense of belonging and purpose in Yomi she hadn’t had in life. She thought back to the many souls she had escorted to the afterlife, the smiles on their faces when they realized they weren’t going to Hell. She would be content to do that for all eternity.

  Eventually, Martin went back to work. Mary sat across from him at his table and kept a close eye out for anything suspicious. Unfortunately, this task was made difficult by the fact she really didn’t know these people. Any of them could be an assassin and she would never know. She decided to pop back to Yomi to get a dossier on Martin’s co-workers. It was a risky move leaving him, but she knew it would greatly improve her chances of protecting him.

  * * *

  Serika could hardly believe her luck when Mary took a break from watching Martin to return to Yomi. Serika promptly astral-projected down to the BSS parking lot and got to work. There was a heavy sense of urgency; she had no idea when Mary would return. Fortunately, this particular job could be taken care of in a flash.

  She phased through Martin’s SmartCar, inserting her spirit into the circuitry. She then quickly did the deed she had come here for with little difficulty; even in astral form, she was capable of at least this much.

  Her job accomplished, she spirited back to Yomi, confident in her chances of success. Come to me, Martin, she thought to herself.

  Itsu made mo.

  * * *

  When his shift finally ended, Martin’s hangover was thankfully gone. With a weary head, he got into his car and sped out of the parking lot.

  He was soon heading west on Memorial. A few miles up ahead on the right was Quail Springs Mall, the site of last night’s attempt on his life. The images of that experience clawed at his nerves and he wondered how long it would be until he found peace. You don’t deserve peace, he found himself thinking. It was true, of course, but that did little to comfort him.

  He quickly approached the busy intersection of Memorial and Western. Just beyond that was the Kilpatrick Turnpike exit, on either side of which were large shopping centers. Martin put his foot on the brakes, and then a jolt of panic rushed through him.

  The car didn’t slow down. The dashboard’s display gave him a terrifying message:

  Cruise Control: 120 MPH. Software Failure. Unable to Brake. Unable to communicate with OnStaar.

  He kept hitting the brakes to no avail before realizing the terrifying truth: someone had sabotaged his car. These SmartCars were capable of driving themselves, and that’s exactly what his was doing, whether he liked it or not.

  His brain demanded he act; in a moment, he would ram into the line of cars backed up at the red light. And at the speed he was going, someone was going to seriously injured or worse.

  He frantically searched the intersection for a spot he could squeeze through. Cars were busily coming and going north and south on Western, giving him little opening. Not that he had much choice; he had to get through one way or another.

  With shaking hands, he gripped the wheel as hard as he could. He swerved left to avoid the cars sitting at the light, bringing him into the turn lane which was thankfully empty. His heart threatened to break free from his body as he darted into oncoming traffic. Vehicles honked furiously while braking hard to avoid a collision. Squeals erupted from their taxed brake pads and burning rubber.

  He managed to get through it unscathed, but his nightmare was only just beginning. There were numerous other intersections up ahead on Memorial. He decided to get onto the Turnpike where red lights didn’t exist.

  To his horror, however, he discovered a bunch of other people had the same idea; the Turnpike was packed with cars. He desperately swerved left and right to avoid them, but they just kept coming (or rather, he did). Like the previous commuters, they honked angrily at him, unaware of the danger they were all in.

  He managed to avoid them, one after the other, but his sanity was slipping away. It briefly occurred to him to just accept his fate and crash into something or someone. But his survival instincts were just a little bit stronger and he kept going.

  So hysterical was he that he found himself almost giddy to see a cop behind him, flashing its lights. His hope plummeted, though, when he realized the cop would have to use serious force to stop him, which could do serious damage.

  The squad car pulled up alongside him, the officer in the passenger side strongly motioning for him to pull over. Martin rolled down his window.

  They did the same. “Pull over!”

  At the moment, there was nothing in the world he wanted more. But… “I can’t! My car’s been reprogrammed!”

  The cop’s anger was replaced by sympathy. “Shit. Okay. Just… try to keep it steady!”

  The patrol car soon got in front of him and applied its brakes. Martin’s car bumped into them and began to slow. Relief began to flow back into Martin as he realized what was happening. The cops gradually increased the pressure on their brake pads, slowing down both cars.

  Martin was going to be all right.

  But just as he began celebrating his second victory over death, the patrol car suddenly swerved out of control and hit the concrete wall of the turnpike. With nothing holding it back, Martin’s car resumed its unstoppable course.

  He tried to rationalize the situation. It’s all right. They’ll send another car to stop me. I’ll be all righ
t.

  However, he soon spotted a site which froze his blood cold.

  Just ahead, some sort of pile-up had all lanes blocked off right before the Macarthur exit. It was a wall of cars stretching all across the turnpike. There was absolutely no way to avoid it.

  This is it, he thought. I’m going to ram into one of those cars and die.

  * * *

  Martin’s car wasn’t the only one Serika had sabotaged. The sea of vehicles about to pulverize him, along with the cop car that tried to help, was her doing as well. It wasn’t easy causing a moving vehicle to go out of control, but a god was perfectly capable of that feat.

  Having accomplished her goal, she retreated back to her office in Yomi to watch from a safe distance. Her glee intensified the closer Martin got to his ultimate demise.

  This is it for you, she thought. Your end is my new beginning. She fought the urge to laugh maniacally, not wanting anyone to hear her.

  * * *

  Time seemed to slow as Martin’s car sped towards the sea of metal which stretched out before him. Images from his past invaded his mind. The good times with her, as well as the bad times—pretty much everything after.

  Oddly enough, as the bad times piled up in his mind, a kind of peace overtook him. He realized what a miserable existence he had been leading the past few years, and death almost seemed preferable to him.

  Having accepted his fate, he closed his eyes and waited. The wall of cars in front of him was only a hundred feet away at this point.

  But, just then, the car jerked forward and began to slow. The smell of burnt rubber and the shriek of something shredding accosted his senses. To his amazement, the car came to a complete stop mere inches from the pile-up.

  For a moment, Martin forgot to breathe. By and by, his lungs began working again. Uncertainty flooding his mind, he got out of the vehicle before promptly collapsing onto the ground. He hadn’t realized his adrenalin had been working overtime, and now it was gone.

  So, he lay there beside his car, emitting a sound that was half laugh, half whimper.