Free Surrender to Darkness by Annette McCleave Page A

Veil with his very last breath, if necessary. It was a testament to his overwhelming charisma and vivid personality that she almost agreed to his demands. But giving up the Veil was impossible. Even if she wanted to, which was still a very debatable point, Sora would never allow her to part with it. “It’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
    He reached for her hand, but abruptly halted just short of touching her. “Am I not explaining the risks well enough? Are you not convinced I’m capable of keeping it safe?”
    Kiyoko stared at his hand.
    Big and square. Tanned from hours in the outdoors. So close to her own flesh that she swore she could feel tiny electric shocks passing between them.
    “I understand that if Satan acquires the Veil, his hold over the darkest parts of mankind will increase.” It was an outcome so opposite to her principles it made her belly quiver. “And I believe you to be an unparalleled defender.”
    “Then why not entrust me with it?”
    “Because I draw on the Veil’s strength.”
    He frowned. “To do what? Fight demons?”
    “That … and other things.” Like keep my heart beating . Kiyoko surprised herself by omitting that detail. Her years of study at Sora’s knee had taught her to eschew feelings of pride and vanity, yet admitting that she was weak to Murdoch—arguably the most healthy and virile man she’d had opportunity to meet—bothered her.
    She wanted him to see her as she’d been before the attack on her father—strong, capable, wise. She wanted him to admire her. Was that so terribly wrong?
    “Whatever your reason is for holding on to the Veil,” Murdoch said, ducking down to peer in her eyes, “I can’t believe you would think it more important than keeping the relic safe. People are already dying by the thousands, losing their life savings in corporate scandals, and abandoning their hopes for a brighter future—all because two relics have fallen into Satan’s hands. Under no circumstances can I allow another to go the same route.”
    Kiyoko looked away.
    “The Veil is an undocumented relic. No one seeks it.”
    “Nothing remains hidden forever, lass. I came looking for it. That means its existence is known, whether you choose to believe it or not.”
    His words rang with quiet sincerity, and the queasy feeling returned to Kiyoko’s stomach. Risking the lives of others for personal gain did not sit well with her, not when she had pledged herself to serving the greater good. But handing the relic over to Murdoch would mean her death.
    “I need to go into the city,” she said, turning away.
    “I’ll come with you.”
    “No, I—”
    A muffled shout, followed by several loud cracks, broke the stillness of the morning air, coming from the direction of the training compound up the cliffs. Murdoch’s hand shot out, grabbed her sweater-buffered shoulder and shoved her to the ground. “Keep your head down.”
    “Why?”
    “Gunshots.” He didn’t elaborate or hang around to explain. He just dashed down the path toward the compound with superhuman speed, his weapon drawn as he ran.
    A sword. Against bullets.
    Guns were not part of the onmyōji training regimen. Her warriors trained in the old ways. They fought only with katanas and other traditional weapons, augmented by a few magic spells—because demons didn’t bother with guns either. So why had shots been fired?
    Kiyoko glanced down at her pencil-thin skirt, now smudged with dirt from the wooden bridge, and frowned. Why had she picked today of all days to dress like a woman? To impress Murdoch? How foolish. She kicked off her heeled pumps and peeled off her sweater coat, tossing it aside.
    Then she sprinted up the path in Murdoch’s footsteps.
     
    A lone gunman.
    Murdoch caught a glimpse of the fellow in the gap between two buildings as he hopped the ten-foot-tall perimeter fence. It was one of the young warriors from the dojo—standing in the courtyard, pivoting slowly, and shooting at anyone who