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Who else would have gone to all the trouble to grab her? She couldn’t figure out why—supposedly the only reason they’d kept her alive was because she could lead them to the ancient shrine. Yet they already seemed to know where it was—she only hoped she hadn’t babbled something during some forgotten, drug-induced questioning. They had nothing to gain by kidnapping her, unless they thought she still had the urn.
But if they’d managed to track her down to Reno’s apartment, then their information was up-to-the-minute, and they’d know she didn’t have the urn; Taka did.
“I believe she’s awake, your holiness.”
Shit. She shouldn’t have moved. She was much better off huddled in the corner being ignored. The bag was pulled from her head, and she blinked at the unexpected brightness of the day. And then focused on her nemesis, sitting in meditative stillness on the seat opposite her, his white hair flowing, his bleached white skin the color of death, his eyes milky.
He turned in her direction. He was almost blind, she realized, wondering if that would do her even a spit of good.
“Remove the covering from her mouth, Brother Heinrich, so that I may hear her thoughts,” he said in that singsong voice.
Brother Heinrich ripped the duct tape from her mouth, and she almost screamed. She remembered him—he was one of the men in the alleyway, the one who had gotten away. He had flat, cold eyes of a bright, Germanic blue, thin lips and no hair whatsoever. And he scared the piss out of her.
“Do you want me to untie her as well, your holiness?” he asked, his German accent thick.
“I think not, my son. I doubt we need to worry, even if she becomes violent, but leaving her bound will aid her in the stillness she seeks.”
“I’m not seeking stillness and I only become violent when people kidnap me,” she said in a husky voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Brother Heinrich backhanded her across the face, and her head whipped back under the assault. “You will address his holiness with respect.”
“Fuck you. And him.”
Crack. His fist hit the other side of her face, and through the blinding pain she thought vaguely that at least the bruising would be symmetrical. But then, the Japanese preferred things asymmetrical, and the first and last man she was ever fool enough to love was half-Japanese. He wouldn’t like a symmetrical corpse.
“Don’t be too hard on the girl, Brother Heinrich,” the Shirosama said in his spooky voice. “She has been brainwashed by the man who abducted her, stole her from our care.”
“Stole me from your car, you mean. Why was I dumped in the trunk of your limo if you were so worried about my well-being?”
He nodded benevolently toward her. “My followers were perhaps a bit rash. They merely wanted to get you out of harm’s way. They knew the man was watching you, and they were trying to save your life.”
“Save my life?” she countered. “You’re the one who’s been trying to kill me.”
“Oh, no, child. We weren’t the ones who held you under the water at your house that night. If you think on it, I expect you’ll remember other times where you nearly died at O’Brien’s hands. Times when you thought he’d saved you. You needn’t be ashamed by your foolishness—he’s a dangerous, evil man, more than a match for an innocent girl like yourself.”
“Hardly a girl,” she snapped, ev
en though a cold knot had formed in the pit of her stomach. Taka had told her he wasn’t going to kill her, and she hadn’t thought any more about it. Had those been his hands holding her under the water in her tub until she passed out?
“You’re remembering, aren’t you?” the blind man said. “I thought you might. Life is never as simple as it appears to be, and those you think are your enemies can often be your best friends. And those you trust with your life can betray you.”
She wouldn’t, couldn’t, think about that. The Shirosama was trying to manipulate her—persuasion was a cult leader’s stock in trade, and she wasn’t going to let him affect her. “What do you want from me?”
“I just want to give you safe haven.”
“I’ll bet. Where are we headed?”
“You are a very wise young woman, Summer. Even your mother admits that much. You would be a great asset to our movement.”
“Where are you taking me?”
The Shirosama sighed. “I think you know. I have people everywhere—the moment you discover something, my people find it out as well. We’re heading to White Crane Mountain, you should have realized that much. You’re not as bright as your little sister, of course. We were hoping she would be open to my teachings, but you know how difficult youth can be. They never listen to the voice of wisdom.”
“I guess I’m younger than I thought. You’re the voice of bullshit.”
She was rewarded with another blow from Heinrich’s meaty hands. There, that would keep her face unbalanced.
“Stop hitting her, Brother Heinrich,” the Shirosama said in his soft little voice. He was beginning to remind her of a Japanese albino Truman Capote, she thought, suppressing the sudden urge to giggle. She must be getting hysterical, and this time Taka was not around to snap her out of it.
