The Book of the Shadow Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Simon Pulse edition June 2003

  Text copyright © 2003 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy company

  Interior illustrations copyright © 2003 Renato Alarcao

  SIMON PULSE

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

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  Produced by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy company

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  New York, NY 10001

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  For information address 17th Street Productions, 151 West 26th Street, New York, NY 10001.

  Library of Congress Control Number TK

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-0372-9

  ISBN-10: 1-4165-0372-2

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  The Asahi

  Shimbun

  August 3, 2003

  page C-1

  Heaven Help Her

  Heaven Kogo, the adopted daughter of business mogul Konishi Kogo, was reported missing seven weeks ago after a violent incident during her wedding at Los Angeles’ Beverly Wilshire hotel. Details of the incident are still unclear, but it appears that some type of attack was made. Several witnesses at the scene report that a ninja dropped through the ballroom skylight, although the Beverly Wilshire management was unwilling to comment on any damages sustained to their property. The attacker’s identity and motive are still unknown, but the attack left Kogo’s son, Ohiko, dead and countless guests and family members with minor injuries. It appears that the Kogo daughter escaped of her own volition, perhaps fearing for her life.

  On Tuesday reports surfaced that Konishi Kogo has been attacked once more, this time in a Los Angeles restaurant, and has sustained serious injuries that have left him comatose. Mieko Kogo, Konishi’s wife and Heaven’s adoptive mother, refused to comment on her husband’s health or her daughter’s whereabouts, but several inside sources confirm both that Konishi remains comatose and that Heaven remains missing. Mieko Kogo is rumored to be returning with her husband to Japan this week. It is unclear whether Konishi’s serious condition may be enough to lure his runaway daughter out of hiding….

  1

  “Surprise,” a voice said. The voice was dark, sinister, even smoky. I tensed up, searching the smooth green lawns of Hollywood in surprise. I could feel my heart clench and then crack! Suddenly I felt a sharp blow to my head, and pain exploded through my senses. I closed my eyes as my vision was flooded with white. I groped around for a moment, struggling in vain to get myself into a ready, defensive position.

  Again. The word kept repeating in my brain—it was all I could think. They’ve found me again. It’s not over. It’s me they want. But there was no time for thinking now. Only for surviving.

  My vision probably returned within seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Before me stood a huge Asian man perhaps twice my size, with pulpy lips and an old beat-up black coat. He lunged at me again. The bright, sunny neighborhood that surrounded Hiro’s house suddenly seemed like a terrifying place. I guess everywhere seems terrifying when there’s somebody determined to kill you.

  “Heaven!” Hiro shouted, and I struggled to look at him. Someone else was there, too, beyond the guy who had just hit me. Somebody was also beating on Hiro. Don’t hurt him, I thought frantically. It was one thing for me to be hurt in an attack—I was the one they were after. But not Hiro. Oh God, I thought as I tried to get into a ready position, don’t let me be responsible for him getting hurt. Hiro and I were just returning from the airport, where we’d watched my comatose father get loaded onto a plane bound for Tokyo. I had thought—hoped, maybe—that it was my father these guys were after. Not me. How did they find me here? My mind was racing. What do they want from me? When will this end?

  When the thug was inches away, I managed to whip my hand up and strike his shoulder with the back of my palm. He jumped back in pain, yelping, extreme surprise gleaming in his eyes. That’s right, baka, I thought, relishing his high-pitched girlie yelp. This little Japanese heiress can fight.

  He charged again. This time I was crouched down, ready for him. He ran into me like a thousand-pound sack of rice—he was fighting me more like a boxer than a samurai. I flailed around for a moment. He was so much stronger than I was. But I was smarter.

  “Oof,” I grunted, managing to wrestle myself free. I glared at the thug’s pulpy face. Hideous. Whoever was after me, he or she had a knack for finding the ugliest thugs in the universe. Then I looked down. Oh, crap. He was holding a knife. On instinct, I quickly grabbed for his throat in the “to hold down a pillow” move Hiro had taught me just days ago. Thank God we had just started learning how to disarm your opponent. I had to move quickly before he had a chance to do any damage. I heard my breath go in and out, as if I were wearing a scuba mask. Time seemed to slow down. My heart pounded in my chest.

  I jumped forward, squeezing his throat and kicking his stomach. “Oof!” He recoiled in pain again, the knife flopping uselessly at his side. I began to feel dizzy, like I was going to fall over. My temples ached. I couldn’t see Hiro anywhere.

  Focus, Heaven, I screamed to myself. For crying out loud, don’t get all wimpy now.

  Suddenly I couldn’t see anything; I didn’t know where the guy had gone. I bent down to my knees, groping above to see if he was near. I struggled to remember Hiro’s lessons about awareness, about trying to harness all of your senses to anticipate what would come next in the battle. As I crouched, I regained some of my vision and watched as the thug still grasped at his throat, struggling to breathe.

  And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a miracle happen. Like divine intervention, a police car came slowly rolling around the corner. I don’t think the driver saw the guy I was fighting, but the guy definitely saw the car. He freaked out and started running. I swiveled my head to find Hiro and saw that he didn’t have any scratches. I guess I should have known he’d be all right, I thought. Hiro kicks way more ass than I do. The guy who’d jumped him had a bloody nose; when he saw the police, he bolted, too. Meanwhile the police, totally oblivious to what had just happened, turned onto another main street a few blocks down. Two pairs of shoes made empty echoes on the street, slowly dissolving into silence.

  I could still feel each breath tearing through me. In and out. In and out. I could feel my body returning to normal as the adrenaline ebbed away.

  Another attack. I’d survived another one.

  “Oh my God,” I murmured as I sat down on the curb, still gasping for breath.

  “Are you all right?” Hiro rushed over to my side. My faithful protector. “Where did he hit you?”

  “My head,” I said, dazed. “Oh, Hiro, I’m so sorry….” I put my hand up to feel the wound. When I brought it back to my side, it was covered in blood. Yuck. I’d seen way too much blood in the past few weeks.

  “Heaven, oh my—” Hiro started to say. He came closer and closer to me, looking at my head. Suddenly the whole world was spinning. It was like looking at kaleidoscope Hiro. The granola I’d had for breakfast that morning churned in my stomach.

  “Heaven, your head,” Hiro said, now right in front of me, his face next to mine.

  Yes, I thought stupidly. My head. All I could focus on was my head, actually, because the rest of the world was completely spinning away. “Ugh,” I whispered,
and closed my eyes to steady the world. But after that, everything disappeared, even the pain.

  I fell into a warm, comforting blackness.

  2

  I was back at the airport. Actually, this airport looked airy and much cleaner than LAX—more like Tokyo’s Narita Airport. I looked down and realized I was wearing my wedding outfit again. Why? It felt incredibly constricting. The first thought I had was, Oh my God, these last two months have been a dream. I’m actually going to marry Teddy. It seemed like the worst thing in the world. But then I realized something.

  My wedding kimono wasn’t as it had been on my wedding day. Instead I was covered from head to toe in dried blood. Even my fingernails, my elbows, and my ankles were caked in it. I looked like something out of a Stephen King novel, like Carrie—the girl who was totally covered in blood at her prom.

  For some reason, though, I didn’t feel upset. I felt totally calm, like some kind of Zen master. I was on a higher plane—no pun intended. Outside the windows, I could see one lonely plane on the runway. It had Japan’s red rising sun on its wing. Looking to the right, I spotted a massive procession walking toward the plane. People marched slowly, carrying huge signs that bore photos of my father. My heart surged at the sight of him. The photograph was amazing: he looked powerful and self-satisfied, yet humble and intelligent. And on top of it all, a little scary. Just like in real life. I knew I’d seen the photograph somewhere—then I remembered where. It had been on the back of the annual report for Kogo Industries.

  Behind them, a few large men slowly carried a coffin toward the plane. They were the kinds of guys my father would hold informal dinners with sometimes—big, greasy-looking men with expensive suits and weird, curly hair. I couldn’t tell you their names. They were all wearing the exact same suit. They carried the coffin steadily without breaking stride—like robots.

  I was watching my father’s funeral.

  I felt my stomach drop. My father had died? Why hadn’t anyone told me?

  Suddenly Hiro was standing next to me. He just sort of appeared, like a vapor. “Hello, Heaven,” he said, and his voice was weirdly monotone.

  “Hiro,” I cried. “Thank God you’re here! What’s happening? When did my father die?”

  “I’m sorry about your father’s death,” Hiro said, still in the same mechanical tone, staring straight ahead. “But it was a business decision. It could not have been helped.”

  “What do you mean?” I said, holding out my hands. There was something horribly familiar about that explanation. I looked down and realized that my hands were slathered in blood as well. Dried blood. It had caked and was a flaky brown.

  “Did I kill him?” I asked with horror. Suddenly I completely believed that I had. I couldn’t remember doing it, but I knew it was true—completely, horribly true. Tears sprang to my cheeks. Hiro grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard.

  “I know,” he said. “This must be terrible for you.”

  “It’s all so terrible! Everything!” Why did I kill him? I was unable to control my tears. They poured down my face, leaving clean, wet trails through the dried blood. I wiped my face with my hand. But then Hiro leaned down and looked me in the eyes. He looked so beautiful. I thought how perfect his face was. He had a perfect mouth. And his expression—a look that seemed filled with desire, longing, love, pity, kindness, all at once—made my heart start beating faster.

  And then something wonderful happened. Even in my dream, I could feel my whole body flood with happiness, like nothing I had ever felt before.

  Hiro bent over and kissed me.

  The kiss seemed to last forever. I leaned into him, running my hands through his hair. He grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. I could feel the strength and power of his body pressed up against mine. He felt so warm, like a blanket I wanted to curl up in. I didn’t know what to do with this kind of desire—where do you go next? It was like I couldn’t get close enough to him. I wanted to undress him and feel his whole body. I had never felt this way before; it was weird and wonderful all at the same time.

  After what seemed like an eternity, we pulled apart. I kept my eyes closed. I felt Hiro drop my hand. When I opened my eyes, Ohiko was standing at my side.

  “Ohiko!” I breathed. “I—I thought I’d never see you again!”

  My brother put his finger to my lips, pulled me close to him, and gave me a gigantic hug. He said nothing.

  Then I remembered what my father had said right before he was wounded. Ohiko was working for an enemy family. He was at the wedding as part of the attack, not to save you. I pulled back from Ohiko and stared long and hard. Ohiko looked so kind, so gentle and innocent. How could what my father said have been true? “Why did you do it?” I asked.

  “I didn’t,” Ohiko said. He shook his head over and over again. I knew that he was telling the truth. My father was the one who was wrong. I tried to speak but could not. It felt like my mouth was filled with gum. Then Ohiko began to call my name. “Heaven,” he said. It seemed that he was becoming translucent. The funeral behind him had vanished. I suddenly felt terrible; I had missed the plane’s takeoff.

  “Heaven,” he called softly. “Heaven.”

  I tried, but I couldn’t manage to answer him.

  “Heaven.” Ohiko’s calls were stronger now. Suddenly everything went white. I struggled to open my eyes but couldn’t. “Heaven,” boomed the voice again. Finally, with great effort, I managed to wrench my eyes open.

  A shadowy figure stood above me, staring down. I couldn’t quite focus on it. “Heaven,” it said again.

  “But you’re dead,” I said dreamily, not quite sure what was happening to me.

  “What?”

  I blinked. Now I could just make out Hiro standing above me, not my brother. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice warm with concern.

  “I just saw Ohiko,” I babbled. Then I started to cry. My brother wasn’t real. He had just been a dream. It was Hiro who was calling me, not my brother. I turned my head to the pillow and squeezed my eyes tightly together, trying not to completely lose it. I had heard that when those who have died appeared to you in a dream, it meant they were trying to speak to you. To tell you that everything was okay. But I didn’t know whether to believe that. And why was my father dead? And my body covered in blood? What did that mean? “It’s so terrible,” I cried.

  Hiro patted my shoulder. “I know, Heaven,” he said, but my body continued to heave. “You’ve had a terrible day. I know this must be hard for you, having to read about your father’s condition in the newspaper. Seeing your father in such a weakened state, to watch him fly off and not be able to do anything to help him…but you have to keep in mind, the paper said his condition is stable. He’ll be all right. Right now we have to concentrate on protecting you.”

  I sobbed deeply into the pillow. Hiro was right. I remembered how my father had looked on his stretcher earlier today. Millions of tubes had sprouted from his body. I could barely see his face, but I knew in my gut that it was my father. My heart had recognized him even if my eyes couldn’t. His silvery, efficient haircut, his tall, lean frame, the sharp shape of his nose. His face had looked pale and slack, and he’d been covered by a white blanket almost up to his chin. A terrible lump had rushed up in the back of my throat; I’d felt almost nauseous. I had never seen my father hurt before. I’d never even seen him with a cold. To me, Konishi was invincible: tall, strong, even a little scary when crossed. It was hard to believe that my father had become this pale, wan creature. But I knew it was real. I had been there when he was wounded.

  I had also seen my adoptive mother, Mieko. She’d worn a white jacket and hood, white pants, white shoes—white everything. My father loved it when she dressed all in white. It was just like Mieko to dress to please him, even when he was far too injured to care. I’d had a funny feeling as I watched her walk to the plane—I felt almost hurt that she’d never tried to contact me. Which was unfair, really. It had never occurred to me that Mieko was still in Lo
s Angeles—I’d thought only of Konishi. The sight of her had reminded me that I had an adoptive mother, too, at least legally. Mieko had never been much of a real mother to me. Even now—was she trying to look for me? If she never saw me again, would she care?

  I sniffled and rolled over. Hiro stared at me, but I couldn’t quite look him in the eye.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “How’s your head?”

  “It hurts,” I said. Those thugs. The knives. That sweaty body. It’s happening again. My head throbbed as I tried to sit up. “What—?” I started.

  Hiro shushed me. “Lie back down,” he said, gently pushing me back onto the pillow. “You took a bad blow to your forehead, but I don’t think you have a concussion. I think it was just a bad bump. I think you passed out more from shock.”

  “Those guys…,” I said hoarsely. They were definitely after me. It wasn’t over yet. Will it ever be over?

  “Shhh,” Hiro said. He spoke in a very soft, calm voice. “Basically, Heaven, whoever is after you is still after you. And they’ve tracked you down to this neighborhood. Thank God the police came when they did.”

  “I don’t want to think about it,” I muttered. Someone still wanted me. Some strange, phantom person—and they wanted me, not my father. I remembered the eyes of the ninja who’d attacked at my wedding—I had known even then that it was me he was after, even as I’d watched him slay my brother. A shiver ran down my spine. I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted to sleep forever.

  But then I realized something else. The thought made my stomach do flips, and I clutched the comforter to steady myself. The attackers had approached us just blocks from Hiro’s house. Whoever these people were, they’d tracked me down to this neighborhood. Which meant that their next stop would be Hiro’s house itself.

  Hiro was nothing to them. It was me they wanted. I thought of all the different movies I’d seen where criminals tried to get information out of an innocent man. I pictured Hiro tied to a chair in a dark basement, being beaten by thugs. I pictured him being burned with cigarettes or taunted with knives. They could kill him, beat him, torture him to get information on me. By staying with Hiro, I was endangering his life. And not in a “might happen someday” way—in a very real, very possible way. I didn’t know how I could live with myself if anything ever happened to Hiro. He had given me everything—and he could have everything taken away, just for being kind to me.