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Calamity Rising (Deathwalker Book 1)
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Calamity Rising
Deathwalker Book 1
Z.V. Hunter
Cover art by Jay Aheer @ Simply Defined Art
Calamity Rising
Dead bodies don’t scare me. They can’t curse me, lunge at me or do anything but rot and stink. It’s their spirits that are the problem.
I’m Yukine Nox: necromancer, exorcist, dark mage, and the girl who’s gonna save your ass when spirits come knocking. I see between the veil that separates the world of the living from the Spirit World—a place full of ghosts and supernatural monsters called Calamities.
On the surface, Neo-Tokyo sparkles like an ultramodern jewel, but its roots run deep and dark, tangled in magic. When a powerful Calamity snatches young girls and leaves a trail of angry ghosts in its wake, I take the case. But the more I dig, the more dangers pop-up.
If I don't stop this creature soon, it’ll drape Neo-Tokyo in a veil of death.
For my friends who urged me to write this book. Especially Tony. You were right.
1
HALF PAST MIDNIGHT on a Friday, and instead of relaxing at an izakaya, that's a pub for everyone who doesn't live in Neo-Tokyo, I was climbing the stairs of a shitty old apartment building and minutes away from coming face-to-face with a pissed off ghost.
Welcome to my life.
Yukine Nox.
Exorcist. Detective. Dark Mage. Sometimes I'm even a Necromancer, if you pay me enough.
The building itself was only three stories tall, and a huge flock of crows perched on the roof squawking. That alone told me this place harbored something.
Like most old apartments in the city it didn't have an elevator. The stairs wound up the exterior, and they creaked with every step. Of course, the ghost had to be on the top floor. Not that I minded the climb. I was used to it, but rain fell in steady sheets, the stairs weren’t covered, and I left my umbrella at the last train station.
You guessed it—my luck sucked.
None of the lights from the other apartments were on. Either everyone went to bed early, or they decided to clear out before I came. Wise choice.
Rain didn't help with the deadly chill that permeated the whole structure. A smell of mold and disuse—lingering death—hung over everything.
In short, not the best neighborhood in Neo-Tokyo, though that's a misnomer. See, unlike normal cities, Neo-Tokyo isn't just one sprawling metropolis like it looks on the surface. It's a series of smaller cities, called wards, joined under the umbrella of Neo-Tokyo. This apartment was in Adachi-ku, a working-class neighborhood toward the edge of said umbrella.
The whole neighborhood looked ready to be torn down. All the apartments were postwar. Doubtless put up between the 1960s and the 1970s, which was considered ancient in this city. Especially when they weren't meant to last more than ten years.
The streets that ran between the apartments and houses were little more than glorified alleys which gave the entire area a cramped and neglected feeling.
The steady rainfall from the walk over soaked my hair. It dripped into my eyes and down the back of my neck. The black trench I wore over my violet tunic and gray leggings was similarly damp despite its claim to be waterproof. I'd have to have a certified Mage look into that. If I hadn't left my last job in such a hurry I could've called my old partner, Ken Miyamaya. But facing him after what happened?
Yeah.
Not easy.
To be honest, I wouldn't have been there if the landlady who called that morning didn't sound all kinds of desperate. She was a normal human, but she'd heard about me—about what I can do. Part of that had to do with the culture, all the Shrines and Temples, and another had to do with the power that churned under the ground. No one could ignore that, no matter how insensitive to magic they were.
The history of the land and people lingered here and merged with the power that surged under the earth. Calamities fed on that sort of thing. Ghosts are a different beast altogether, but I can handle both.
I'd been asleep when the phone rang and started awake in my office chair. Bad habit. I answered in Japanese and English. "Moshi moshi. Hello?"
A breath sucked in on the other end of the phone, then she cleared her throat and explained the situation: ghost in the upstairs apartment. Lots of upset tenants. Possibly dangerous too, according to the Buddhist Monk she'd had come by.
I couldn't let something like that go unanswered.
Plus, I needed the money.
It's not that my business was doing badly. Hell, I'd only been at it for a little under a year, and these things take time. Getting the word out about my particular services—exorcising ghosts and Calamities—which is just a category that includes everything from low ranking gods to demons, wasn't easy when I wanted to avoid the world—and the people—I'd grown up around. Even the ones I liked—the ones I missed.
I didn't have any desire to see that asshole Conjurer Kuro Abe again, but my old friends and my old home were too good. And I'd done something terrible the last time I was there. Something that left an innocent girl—a friend—dead. Asking them for help now wasn't possible.
I could do this on my own.
That brings us back to Friday night.
If I didn't take the job, I might not have a place to live next month.
I crept to the top floor and brushed the water from my face and hair. The haunted room loomed at the end of the hall.
Apartment 13.
That's not a great omen. Although thirteen doesn't have the same connotations in Japan that it does in America, I knew enough about Eastern numerology to get why that place harbored a ghost. See, one plus three is four.
And four is the number of death—shi.
Like Shinigami, the God of Death.
I took a deep breath and patted down my pockets for a few weapons. Fighting ghosts doesn't work in real life the way it does in the movies. There are no proton packs or any of that shit. A ghost won't explode into bits of ectoplasmic goo if you shoot it with a special science gun.
Instead, I had a trusty old wrought-iron short sword—a samurai style katana—I kept tucked under my trench coat. The blade wasn't sharp because it wasn't to hurt humans, though it could knock someone out with a swift bash to the back of the head.
I knew that from experience.
However, it was meant to fight beings from the Spirit World—where ghosts and Calamities reside—since they hate iron, and wrought iron is nearly a hundred percent pure. But this one had seen a few battles recently and the iron rusted. Side effect of encountering creatures from the Spirit World no matter how it repelled them.
"That's not gonna last the night, and you know it," a voice said. It emanated from the faintly glowing Spirit Stone around my neck. Not even the wards I wore kept the damn thing quiet. No one else I'd ever met could hear it but me—another part of my terrible luck.
"I'll make it work," I grumbled and straightened my shoulders. Shook off the rain that matted my hair to my head.
"You know how to make it stronger. Or are you afraid the same thing that happened last time will happen again?"
I gritted my teeth. "I could use you if you're so eager for me to strengthen it."
The Calamity trapped in the stone made a sound like a yawn. It didn't have a name, not one it ever shared, but with the pale white glow it gave off I called it Lux. I found it a long time ago when lost in the Spirit World, and it's been attached to me ever since—as in the necklace won't come off no matter what.
"Empty threat. We both know you won't do that because I'd welcome it. Oh, the chance to walk again and fight alongside a great Kami. Well, you're not a god. Not even close, but a boy can dream."
I ignored that.
For something stronger, I'd need a Spirit Jar or other Vessel that had been blessed by a Shinto Priestess or Priest.
How did I know this ghost was weak?
For one, the miasma it gave off barely leaked out of the door, though it did seep through the walls and beams of the whole structure. You see, a building with a malevolent haunting is like a body with a disease—it spreads—and how quickly it spreads, or how easily it's snuffed out, depends on the strength of the ghost. A stronger ghost could've infected the entire building by now.
This one hadn't.
"You're going in like that? Good luck. When the ghost curses you, make sure you chuck me over the wall so I don't end up burnt to a crisp with your body."
"If I go down, you're coming with me," I said.
Lux shut up, though I heard the faint rustle of his annoyance in the back of my mind.
The doorknob turned smoothly under my hand, and the icy metal stung through my black leather gloves. The landlady said she'd left it unlocked. It opened easily. No long black hair wrapped around the doorknob. Good. That's never welcome.
For a moment, I stood in the doorway and listened, sucked in a shallow breath of foul air and studied the entrance. These kinds of apartments were common in every ward. Old and cheap and infested with rats and roaches. They went up like a pile of dry kindling in a fire. The only people who lived in them had to. They didn't have the money to move anywhere else.
The landlady hadn't done much to improve the place. The door needed a paint job—the green chipped in several places. The linoleum floor inside the kitchen didn't reach the walls. It curled at the edges, age-stained and brittle. The stench of mildew mingled with the miasma.
Most people think of glitz and glamour—the shining metropolis, jewel of the East—when they think about Neo-Tokyo. But the city has a dark side. Shadows infest its underbelly, and that's where I do my best work.
I stretched my senses into the darkness. A glass door opened to a balcony in the living and sleeping space, but the sliding doors on the other side of the kitchen blocked it from view. The layouts in most apartments like this are all the same. One long room with sliding doors to separate them—typical of the Shōwa period.
The kitchen seemed normal enough. An apartment-sized fridge sat tucked in the corner next to an empty pantry. The sink and stove were below the kitchen window, and beyond that was a door that opened to the bathroom. I didn't bother checking it since the ghost's presence loomed beyond the other closed door.
While a lot of humans, both magical and not, are what I'd call 'sensitive,' that means they can sense the presence of a ghost or another creature from the Spirit World. They can't see it. That's a special skill only a few people are cursed with.
I'm one of them.
It's not something you can learn like witchcraft. Or something you're born with like strong Spiritual Power.
No—it's much worse.
I took a moment and let my eyes adjust to the shadows.
Unfortunately, all ghosts don't glow, and I wasn't expecting a light show from this one. But a shadow hovered behind the sliding door. I saw it through the thin opaque paper.
"At least it's not hiding in the closet like that last one. You screamed like a dying puppy."
"I didn't," I said and tried to tune Lux out.
The thickness of the miasma clogged my throat and nose, like the scent of a dead body left to decay. Not pleasant, unless you're a crow. Or a Bakeneko—a demon cat.
I hadn't gotten much from the landlady that morning. She said no one would rent Apartment 13 for more than a week, and that the other occupants in the building complained of a foul odor.
They weren't kidding.
But she didn't tell me why a ghost haunted this apartment, beyond the obvious numerical association with death. That's not strong enough to draw out a ghost.
I cleared my throat, dry despite the ever-present damp in the air.
"Oh no. Are you gonna try to talk to this one? She's right there! Looking to rip your face off, Yuki. You can't be serious."
The presence in front of me shifted; its focus moving toward the closed door. I felt the heat of that glare—sorrowful hatred clogged the air.
"Shut it," I said under my breath before addressing the ghost. "Hey. What are you doing here?" I repeated that in Japanese in case it wasn't multilingual.
I found it best not to sneak up on ghosts. They aren't bound by the same laws of physics that humans are, and a surprised ghost is worse than an attentive one.
I waited.
Counted the seconds in my head.
No answer.
But the shadow behind the door shifted.
Stretched.
The legs and body elongated until it reached the ceiling, at least that's what it looked like through the door. To be sure, I had to open it.
Who said my job isn't fun?
The floor creaked under each footstep, and the closer I got the heavier the miasma grew. It surrounded me in a cloak and threatened to drag me down with it. To yank me into whatever grievous end this ghost met.
Not happening.
I'm no amateur. I've been fighting spirit creatures since I was ten.
My fingers brushed the edge of the sliding door, and the ghost mumbled beyond it. At first, the words were indecipherable gibberish. Something muttered under its breath, repeated in an endless loop. It wasn't conscious of what it did. The ghost relived its death repeatedly, stuck in this moment for all eternity. Or until someone like me came along.
I stood still—listened.
Slowly, the words made sense.
"Took her . . . from me. Have to . . . find her. Have to . . . find her . . . there."
As much sense as they can make.
The ghost lost something—a person—and it needed them back. Maybe some guy whose girlfriend left him for someone else. Not the most original thing in the world, but not every haunting was interesting.
"Find her . . . there."
The door scraped as I shoved it open, and the ghost's words faded into a sudden silence.
A shadow in the center of the room blocked the dim orange light that shone through the glass door on the opposite side of the empty living area. It creaked. Swayed back and forth in a nonexistent breeze.
I held my short sword, a wakizashi, in one hand and a Paper Seal in the other.
While I've seen a lot of crazy shit in my time, nothing prepares me for my first run in with a new ghost.
Especially one like this.
One I didn't expect.
The ghost's feet hung at least a foot above the laminate floor. The body was solid and clothed in a dirty off-white gown with great streaks of darkness on it. Possibly blood. The shoulders disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling, and the thing that should've been the head twisted at an unnatural angle.
Ice crusted on the walls, and my breath came out as a puff of mist and hung in the still air.
But that wasn't the worst part
It was a tossup between the hands with impossibly long and sharp nails, which twitched at the shadow's side, or the way the head moved closer to my face. The neck elongated like a snake looking for its dinner.
And that dinner was me.
2
FIRST OFF, LET me get something straight. I'm not a ghost hunter. They go into haunted places, take temperature readings, pretend to talk to dead things, then freak out when something moves on its own.
I, for one, know what ghosts are—spirits of the dead—and that all the supernatural phenomenon associated with them might actually be attributed to something else. Usually a Calamity of some kind.
Like I said, a Calamity is a cat
ch all phrase for spirits that usually aren't dead humans, like those of rocks or animals or anything that's gained power over the years. It also refers to obscure gods, demons, and things like that. Basically, anything that calls the Spirit World home. Or, more accurately, anything that can slip between the human world and the Spirit World.
Anything but me.
I'm still human, regardless of what I can do.
In America, a haunting might be anything from Raven playing tricks to a Wendigo. The Native American influence is stronger than most people give it credit for.
In Europe, it's a mixed bag of Old Gods and a huge number of ghosts. I imagine it's the same anywhere they have the power to draw from.
In Japan, I've heard any number of theories. The most prevalent is the power comes from the movement of the tectonic plates. But those kinds of theories only make sense for normal sorts of magic—the kind generated by humans. Not the kind of magic I use.
See, over here we have three main kinds of power: Ame which is 'pure' power from Takama-ga-hara, the Realm of the Gods. Yomi, which is the power of death and it comes from Yomi-no-kuni—the Land of the Dead. And finally, there is Makai which is the shadow-like power of Calamities and ghosts that have yet to cross over into Yomi-no-kuni.
The three forms of power are like a triangle. Or, in simpler terms, like a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Yomi beats Ame, Ame beats Makai and Makai beats Yomi.
I'm a private detective who specializes in the supernatural and exorcism. I'm also a Dark Mage and a Necromancer since I can use both Makai and Yomi power, but not Ame. But it's not something I do, if I can help it, because those types of power cause bad things to happen. For one, I could turn into a Calamity myself.
Or worse—a Jikininki—a creature forced to spend eternity eating human corpses.
Big problem.
So how do I fight ghosts and Calamities when I don't use Ame? Well, I don't need to defeat them to seal them.
Ghosts are dangerous, and in most cases, a ghost is the easiest part of the Spirit World for normal non-magical humans to understand. Even the magic ones don't have a complete grasp on the world outside of their narrow vision. Besides Conjurors, but they're a whole other breed of asshole.
Calamity Rising (Deathwalker Book 1)