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Authors: T. C. Rypel
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for this…woman. God forgive me, I…I can only take refuge in my stupidity and weakness when I think of that time. And I’ve paid—oh, how I’ve paid! But I should have known. Should have seen through that enmeshing feminine artifice. The things she spoke of! The secrets she promised to unfold! I should have seen through it all…”
His voice had dwindled to a small, frightened whisper. He saw Gonji’s look and smiled balefully.
“Non, monsieur le samurai —it is even worse than…whatever unnatural thing you imagine. I fell into her arms, you see, and in the morning, when I awoke, it was not she but— him who sat nearby, primping like a cat, grinning at me with Hell’s own damnable mirth.”
“By all the kami,” Gonji intoned, lips drawn back against bared teeth, “you can’t mean—”
“Oui —Grimmolech. The demon himself. He had seduced me in the guise of a woman cloaked in angelic beauty. Can you now understand why I’ve hunted him all these years? Why only his agony and death can help eradicate this hatred that eats at my very soul? Why I—I can never be certain of a woman’s love— mon Dieu! her very reality !—while these minions of Satan dog my steps? God, how they’ve twisted me…Is that specific enough for you?”
Gonji glowered to know the full truth of the man’s onerous karma. “Your own father…”
“No! Never say that!” Simon’s shout rang out, shattering the stillness, echoing down the narrow lane. “It was the father of the evil Beast that lives inside me. My father died by his foul hand!”
“So sorry, my friend. Truly, your own God must forgive you your distaste for the company of others.”
Simon emitted a harsh scoffing noise. “It is not even that simple, my…misanthropy. I cannot even trust my own distrust, to guide my actions. A few nights after the—the outrage, the woman returned to me—”
“What?”
“Oui —that same angelic creature, pleading in her eyes, fear of me. I—I asked no questions, required nothing of her, but…I killed her. Savagely. Slaughtered her with my own hands. My…barely human hands. There, in that very same village where now I’m whispered of in quaking prayers by night. Cursed in the deepest, darkest private moments of every villager who knew that lovely, innocent child— Yes ! This time she was the real woman whose semblance Grimmolech had stolen in his perverted wish to humble me, to drive me past the edge of sanity, so that I might take my life by my own hand and thereby free his evil son, the Beast, to run at his side.”
They stood speechless for a time, side by side, facing in opposite directions.
“Simon-san,” Gonji began slowly, “I grieve deeply for you. No man has known your pain. But if your god be the merciful god you claim, then there must be freedom for you, somehow, from this curse. They conspire against us at every turn, Simon. They fear our alliance—these mysterious enemies who conspire in the shadow worlds. We must pose a threat to them in some way we don’t even suspect. Have we not won great victories together against those dark powers?”
“Victories?” Simon repeated derisively.
“Hai —victories.”
“At what cost to those who fought with us?”
“Victory is always won at a terrible price when the enemy is superior in cunning and force.”
“How do I know that I can believe even in you anymore?” Simon slumped down onto his haunches, his back against the church’s foundation.
“That’s a stupid, self-pitying remark,” Gonji replied with disgust. “I offer you no fresh evidence that I am what your instincts tell you I am. Why don’t you destroy me and then see whether my corpse rises to mock you?”
The lycanthrope glanced up at him sharply. His gaze softened almost at once. And now Gonji could see that Simon had been crying. Half-dried tear streaks absorbed flaring rays of the waning moon.
“I trust you,” he said in a weary voice.
“Domo arigato. I think that wise
His voice had dwindled to a small, frightened whisper. He saw Gonji’s look and smiled balefully.
“Non, monsieur le samurai —it is even worse than…whatever unnatural thing you imagine. I fell into her arms, you see, and in the morning, when I awoke, it was not she but— him who sat nearby, primping like a cat, grinning at me with Hell’s own damnable mirth.”
“By all the kami,” Gonji intoned, lips drawn back against bared teeth, “you can’t mean—”
“Oui —Grimmolech. The demon himself. He had seduced me in the guise of a woman cloaked in angelic beauty. Can you now understand why I’ve hunted him all these years? Why only his agony and death can help eradicate this hatred that eats at my very soul? Why I—I can never be certain of a woman’s love— mon Dieu! her very reality !—while these minions of Satan dog my steps? God, how they’ve twisted me…Is that specific enough for you?”
Gonji glowered to know the full truth of the man’s onerous karma. “Your own father…”
“No! Never say that!” Simon’s shout rang out, shattering the stillness, echoing down the narrow lane. “It was the father of the evil Beast that lives inside me. My father died by his foul hand!”
“So sorry, my friend. Truly, your own God must forgive you your distaste for the company of others.”
Simon emitted a harsh scoffing noise. “It is not even that simple, my…misanthropy. I cannot even trust my own distrust, to guide my actions. A few nights after the—the outrage, the woman returned to me—”
“What?”
“Oui —that same angelic creature, pleading in her eyes, fear of me. I—I asked no questions, required nothing of her, but…I killed her. Savagely. Slaughtered her with my own hands. My…barely human hands. There, in that very same village where now I’m whispered of in quaking prayers by night. Cursed in the deepest, darkest private moments of every villager who knew that lovely, innocent child— Yes ! This time she was the real woman whose semblance Grimmolech had stolen in his perverted wish to humble me, to drive me past the edge of sanity, so that I might take my life by my own hand and thereby free his evil son, the Beast, to run at his side.”
They stood speechless for a time, side by side, facing in opposite directions.
“Simon-san,” Gonji began slowly, “I grieve deeply for you. No man has known your pain. But if your god be the merciful god you claim, then there must be freedom for you, somehow, from this curse. They conspire against us at every turn, Simon. They fear our alliance—these mysterious enemies who conspire in the shadow worlds. We must pose a threat to them in some way we don’t even suspect. Have we not won great victories together against those dark powers?”
“Victories?” Simon repeated derisively.
“Hai —victories.”
“At what cost to those who fought with us?”
“Victory is always won at a terrible price when the enemy is superior in cunning and force.”
“How do I know that I can believe even in you anymore?” Simon slumped down onto his haunches, his back against the church’s foundation.
“That’s a stupid, self-pitying remark,” Gonji replied with disgust. “I offer you no fresh evidence that I am what your instincts tell you I am. Why don’t you destroy me and then see whether my corpse rises to mock you?”
The lycanthrope glanced up at him sharply. His gaze softened almost at once. And now Gonji could see that Simon had been crying. Half-dried tear streaks absorbed flaring rays of the waning moon.
“I trust you,” he said in a weary voice.
“Domo arigato. I think that wise
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