Free The Devouring God by James Kendley Page A

black curved jewel wants a cradle of bones, and that’s what’s behind the rumors about the starfish killer.”
    Mori frowned. “It seems to want pain.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, concentrating on Kaori Nabeshima’s situation.”
    I’ll bet you’ve been concentrating on her situation , Takuda thought.
    â€œBut the more I think about it, the worse it gets. An object that possesses crowds . . . There’s a practical limit, of course, on how many victims could be flayed at once, but is there a limit on how many could be possessed?”
    â€œWell, if this thing is real, it would be very easy to find the possessed,” Takuda said, folding the onionskin. “Covered with blood, jaws locked in a grin. Should be easy to find.”
    â€œYou told me Detective Kimura said the same thing about Thomas Fletcher.”
    â€œWell, I hope he was right,” Takuda said. “I’m going to track Fletcher down tomorrow.”
    They were silent for a moment. Mori finally said, “Finding the possessed might not be a problem. Not joining their number, well, that’s another question altogether.” He put his glasses back on. Takuda couldn’t see his eyes for the reflected lamplight. “As I said, there’s a limit on how many victims could be flayed at once, but is there a limit on how many could be possessed?”

 
    CHAPTER 10
    Thursday Afternoon
    T homas Fletcher lived in a farmhouse at the far end of a village south of Fukuoka, surrounded by low, rounded hills the locals referred to as “mountains.” The house was a heap of faded stucco and weathered cedar with a roof of reddish-­brown clay tiles. Foreigners would call it quaint. Japanese would call it squalid, and only the very poor would live in it. Takuda hated walking into such places. One day, I’ll meet my match in some dark, unclean place like that old house. I’ll die on a bed of broken plaster and rotten straw mats, watching some evil stalk me in the gloom.
    He slowed in the street.
    I should just turn around. I should get plastic surgery and become a stunt man. I should get a mask and become a professional wrestler. Anything.
    The villagers had noticed Takuda wasn’t from those parts. One boy stopped in his tracks to stare and almost got himself run down by a cyclist. A wall-­eyed, gap-­toothed man in pajamas approached him gibbering, bowed profoundly, and then pointed out the way to Thomas’s house. The whole village knew where Takuda was going. Even if it would have helped, he had missed the element of surprise.
    He turned around and went back to the station for a cheap lunch.
    Takuda picked at his fish. He was edgy and exhausted, but there was nothing else to do. Nabeshima and Yoshida had entrusted him with retrieving Nabeshima’s cell phone from the mad foreigner despite their fears.
    The women had discovered his identity at the worst possible time. If he had been able to befriend them as a security guard, not a monster hunter, life would have been easier, but there was nothing to be done. He had told them everything, and they were still trying to decide if he was a lunatic or a liar.
    It had been worth it. They had finally told him how Nabeshima and the foreigner had become involved in the first place, an old story with a new twist. Thomas was a young foreign teacher at the junior college, and Nabeshima was a bored, bright overachiever attending a fifth-­rate school. He was the only challenge in her life, so she pursued him.
    He apparently began to act erratic fairly quickly after they became involved. He grew distant and ­uncommunicative. He began to spend more time with his private students than with her, and his lack of sexual interest in her made her suspect that he was involved with others, perhaps with another foreigner with whom he worked. When she asked him