"Where were you?" Ren asks, as we find them at a table. "You're over an hour and a half late. Okami is spitting fire that we got ourselves invited to the Mafia hotspot of the century."

             I pause. "How did we get ourselves invited to the European trade deal?"

             "I slept with the Queen of England," Maiko says.

              Ren rakes back his silken hair. "They needed a board of health professionals. They're going to test the drug out here, later tonight. They want qualified doctors to see if it's a worthy investment. And besides . . . Kaya, your name―and Veah's―was on the guest list. Okami, for some reason, wants you here."

             I don't have to think of what that means if Okami invited us here herself. Because it hits me, then. What Ren said.

             They're going to test the drug out here, later tonight.

              I feel it as the blood drains from my face.

              I remember the way Pierce's bones snapped, one by one.

              The way she dragged that knife across her own throat.

              Maiko and Ren . . . they haven't seen Magic with their own eyes. They don't know what this means. But I remember what Bastian told me.

               Four elements. Four possible outcomes.

               His voice was warm against my neck as he whispered, Death.

               Hallucination.

               Adrenaline.

               And what happened to Pierce. The most dangerous of them all. Susceptibility. 

               If Okami makes a deal with the Europeans later tonight, they'll manufacture Magic all over the continent. A mass production. War―it will only be a matter of time before they realize they can use something like this in war.

               And if they're going to put Magic on display . . . here? Tonight?

               Another innocent life will be lost. Bones, splintering, one by one. And that terrible uncertainty, breath held―which element will it be? 

               Veah has a plan, I remind myself.

               The devil over my left shoulder whispers, You're an idiot to think poisoning Okami is going to work. 

               The angel over my right shoulder says, Veah knows what she's doing.

               Devil: Oh, yeah? Please tell me how you think poisoning the Big Bad Wolf is going to go. Please. No, I'm not kidding. Enlighten me.

               Angel: Everything will work out just fine.

              Devil: Right after Okami decides to slaughter you and all your friends. She's going to see it from a mile away. 

               Angel: What do you suggest we do instead?

               Devil: Kill Okami. Putting her in an unconscious state for the next week isn't solving any problems. It will only delay the deal. If you kill her, poof. Problems solved. 

               Angel: Murder is wrong. And it's not necessary. Things will go perfectly. Justice will prevail. Good always defeats evil. 

                I think I need to calm down.

                Thanks, I think to the little angel. 

                Positive―I need to be more positive.

                I focus on Ren and Maiko. Veah, on the other side of the banquet hall, is greeting Okami and her table full of viper-like businessmen.

                 You hear that, God?

                 Good always defeats evil.

                 Please make sure this plan works.

                 If God had listened to that prayer, I'm pretty sure I'd still be alive.

                Mai's voice snaps me out of my haze. "So why, exactly, were you nearly two hours late?"

                "Technical difficulties," I lie.

                Ren tilts his head. "Like getting the strap on?"

                Mai punches him. "That's rude," she scolds. To me, she asks, "Like preparing the handcuffs?"

            I try to say, "No, like minding my own business."

             Neither of them seem to hear it.

            "Like trying out student-teacher roleplay?" Ren offers.

             "Like getting really hot and steamy on every surface of the apartment?" Mai proposes.

             "Like making a collection of sex tapes?"

             "Like acting out a kinky BDSM fantasy?"

             "Like going doggy-style on the kitchen counter?"

             "Like trying to beat that record―what was it? Twenty-three times?"

             "You guys," I hiss. Across the hall, Veah kisses Okami on the cheek and stands up, beginning to make her way towards us. "Shut up."

            Okami hasn't killed her. Or maimed her. Yet. She must still trust Veah―she has to think that we're still loyal to her.

            She doesn't know who burned down her precious church. Yet.

            The plan is working so far.

             As Veah begins to cross the room, her steps are lined in predatory, feline power. She walks like she knows that if this entire crowd were to challenge her in a fight, she would come out on top.

            Focus, Kaya. 

           Think of something―anything―but how hot your girlfriend is and how much you want her to push you against the wall, Mafia be damned, and―

             For the first time, I take in my surroundings.

             The banquet hall is elegant with gilded black walls and crimson ribbon, laced throughout the satin tablecloths and the chandeliered ceilings. I swear even breathing the air here feels like I should be paying for it. There are intricate designs of dragons all around the room, and the art is so beautiful I almost forget about the danger around us. 

              It seems that almost the entirety of the Kogu-Ryu gang is here tonight.

              And that isn't counting the Europeans. 

              Who, I have realized, are actually the Italian Mafia. 

             My eyes flick up towards the bar. Where a certain warm, friendly boy I know is sitting. The one who I met only earlier today―and told me about Bastian's type for curvy gingers. 

             For a moment, it doesn't hit me.

            But he was in the club. The club that burned down. And if he saw who did it―if he saw us―he knows who betrayed Okami. 

            What was his name?

           Elliot. 

          "Problem," I say under my breath, once all four of us are seated at the table. "Over at two o'clock. Sitting at the bar. Looks kind of French. Maybe German."

          "You mean Elliot Samsara?" Mai says.

          "Yes," I whisper. "He was down in Okami's temple today, which means―"

          "Somehow, he escaped," Ren finishes grimly.

          I tilt my head. From a distance, there is something about Elliot. Something familiar, almost. I know I only met him earlier today, but―

          "You're looking at Kogu-Ryu's second boss," Veah tells me.

          "There's more than one?"

          "It's a hierarchy," she explains quietly. "Okami is the leader, the highest power. As the boss, I take care of the gang. I have the authority when it comes to the rest of the members. But after me, there's Elliot. The next in line."

            "He knows," I say hurriedly. "He knows. That means he has the most to gain if you lose Okami's favour."

            "I'll take care of this," Mai announces. Rising from her seat.

            With her backless sapphire dress, she glides her way over to the bar. Ren leans over the table, watching her with a dreamy look on his face. "She's so beautiful, isn't she?" he murmurs. "I just . . . I wish she felt the same way about me."

             I decide to ignore that one.

             To Veah, I say, "Why does Elliot look so familiar? I swear I know him from somewhere, and not just from the club earlier."

             "That's Bastian's brother," she says casually.

             I might be choking right now. "What?" 

             "Okami adopted both of them from Czechia when they were eight. They're twins. They grew up in her care―but while Bastian became sort of a mad scientist, Elliot got power-hungry."

              I think of Elliot's warmth. The way he made me feel at ease around him.

              Power-hungry?

              "So . . . that's the brother of the guy we stuffed into our trunk," I say. "The guy that we, you know, currently have chained up in the bathtub."

              "That's the one," Veah replies with a wink.

              I set down my glass so hard the table rattles. From the table next to us, an Italian mobster raises a pierced eyebrow.

              "How are you just so calm about this?" I whisper through clenched teeth. "How is it that during extremely dangerous and life-threatening situations, you somehow manage to look all free and easy? For God's sake, you were just shot in the leg today!"

               Ren stands up suddenly. "That's my cue to leave."

               Now, the table with the Italian Mafia are definitely giving us looks.

               Veah gives me a half-grin. I don't know what I want more―to slap her . . . or to rip off that suit and fuck her right here on the table. 

               "I'm not all free and easy," Veah whispers, leaning in so that her lips brush my jaw. "I'm terrified. I'm terrified that this plan isn't going to work. I'm terrified that Okami is going to realize we're traitors. But most of all . . . I'm terrified I'm going to lose you."

               "Why?" I tease. "Because you'll end up a widow?"

               She grabs my face, turning my head so my lips meet hers. "No," she says. "Because I love you."

               Are those fireworks? Is there a tsunami? The ocean is crashing in my ears, but if the world were to fall apart around me right now, I don't think I'd notice. 

               I open my mouth, but Maiko and Ren are already back.

               Mai brushes her hands together. "Done."

               "Done?" I clear my throat, confused. "Already? How?"

               Where Elliot was sitting at the bar only five minutes earlier . . . he's gone. 

               I narrow my eyes at her. Mai groans. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're thinking. But I did wave a pretty little bag of meth in front of his face, so he practically salivated himself right where I led him."

               I remember the way Okami told me she ensured her gang's loyalty. By keeping them addicted.

               I ask, "Where did you lead him?"

               "I just knocked him unconscious. Should buy us some time. His body is now in an out-of-order stall."

                Veah flashes her a grin. "Learned that trick from Jude, did you?"

                "What can I say?" Mai purrs. "I like my men all trussed up."

                Ren swallows visibly. I roll my eyes.

                Now that Elliot is out of the way . . . we're free to start the next phase of the plan.

                Poisoning Okami.

                "So let me get this straight," I begin.

                Straight?  Ren mouths to Mai.

                I glare at them and continue, "Once Okami is unconscious, we're going to blame it on an allergic reaction. She'll be unconscious for at least a week. Tonight, the power to make the deal with the Yakuza and the Europeans will land on Veah, because she's next in line as the boss. She's going to shut it down. Then . . . then what?"

                "We hand over Okami to the police," Veah finishes. "I have a week to stop everything. The production of the Wyvern. The manufacturing of the drug."

                 I frown. "Then what's the point of the blackmail?"

                 This time, it is Mai who answers. "Okami is a very, very paranoid woman. She won't be half as easy to deceive as you think. If she even senses so much as a bad thought out of you, she'll put an ax in your gut herself."

                "So blackmailing her is going to do . . . what?"

                "Make her more paranoid," Veah finishes.

                "Oh, good idea," I say. "Really excellent plan."

                Veah sighs in exasperation. "What's the easiest way to steal from a person?"

                "Stabbing them?" Mai offers sweetly. "Repeatedly?"

                "No," Veah says. Underneath the table, her fingers lace through mine. "You point in the other direction and say, 'Look, a thief!'"  Her thumb traces circular patterns over my knuckles. I can't breathe. "You make sure your target is looking the other way. You point them in the wrong direction, so they don't even see you coming."

                 "Well, that sounds great and all . . . but who, exactly, is going to be the one telling Okami to look the other way?"

                 "It has to be someone she trusts," Veah says. "I will. I'll threaten her. The blackmail should ring true, because she has to already have found out about the breach."

                 "You're going to have about sixty seconds, at most," Maiko tells her, "before she slaughters you on the spot."

                  I feel dizzy. "So while you're distracting her with blackmail, one of us is going to poison her?"

                 "Not one of us," Mai says. "That's me."

                 Veah shakes her head once. "No. Too dangerous. Just your presence here tonight is enough to incite Okami's wrath. The moment she sees you, she'll know."

                 It's a long story, Mai told me.

                 Now, I can't help wondering who she is.

                 "Then me," Ren says fiercely. "I can do it. You know I can."

                 "She won't even spare you a second look," Mai says reluctantly. "She hates doctors. You're not even worth the time of day to her."

                 Who is Mai, that she even knows this about the Wolf?

                 I am really tempted to make an apple a day joke, but the way they are looking at me right now . . . I swallow nervously instead.

                 Veah squeezes my hand beneath the table. 

                 I think I know what's about to come next.

                "No," Veah says viciously, before anyone can speak. "We already put Kaya in danger today by sending her beneath the church. Not again."

                  "This plan will fail without her," Mai hisses back. "I know Okami better than anyone. The second she sees Ren, he's dead. It can't be anyone else. And me . . . you're right, and I hate it. It has to be her, or this plan goes to hell."

                  "Then damn this plan to hell," Veah growls.

                  "No!" I say. Too loud―the Italian Mafia once again look at me with confusion. I lower my voice. "I can do it," I press. "Seriously. Okami once told me she had a special plan for me."

                  I hesitate. Although, the next day, she did send Japanese samurais to murder us in our sleep. 

                  Veah seems to sense that pause. Her grip on me tightens. "No, Kaya. I won't risk losing you. If this blows up, I . . ."

                 "I want her in prison," I say. "I want her behind bars for what she's done. And I'm going to poison her, even if it means dying myself."

                 Mildly, Ren says, "Speak a little louder, Kaya. I'm not sure the entire world has heard you yet."

                 My face is probably flushed right now. "It's settled. Not even you can stop me, Veah. So when do we do it?"

                 Maiko smiles grimly. "Right before dessert."

                I'll give it to the Mafia. They really know how to eat.

                There is Italian food combined with Japanese food, and it is absolutely heavenly. Chicken alfredo, sushi wrapped in a thin, crisp layer of seaweed, lasagna, and something Veah tells me is called yakitori. 

                 A fitting last meal, if this doesn't end well.

                 As one of the gruff, heavily-tattooed members of the Italian Mafia passes by our table, he winks at me and says, "Adoro quando le ragazze sanno come mangiare." 

                When he's gone, I swallow a bite of grilled chicken. "Um, what did that mean?"

                Ren laughs. "He said he would really like to bend you over and fuck you."

                Veah stands up so suddenly the glasses clink, lightning rage in her grey eyes, the tattoos on her knuckles paled from her fists. 

                Mai's eyes roll skyward. "Sit your murderous ass down, Veah. He said: 'I love it when girls know how to eat.'" 

                Once the seven courses of dinner are served, and I am so full I might spontaneously combust, the waiters shut off the lights to the entire banquet hall.

                "Did I go blind or are the lights gone?" Ren asks.

                In the dark, I hear Mai say, "You're a moron."

                "How did that answer my question?"

                 "If you don't shut up, I'm going to stick a hot poker in your eye sockets and then you'll really be blind."

                  Ren says, "Why? You like the idea of being my nursemaid? I've always wanted to act out a hospital fantasy. You know, where you spend your days pining by my bedside wishing for me to get better."

                  "You're disturbed."

                  "That's no way to talk to your blind, sick, wounded patient."

                  "If you were ever my patient, I'd cut off your life support."

                  "Well, if you were ever my nursemaid, I'd sue you for malpractice."

                  "You can't sue me for malpractice if you're dead."

                  "I can if you kill me."

                  "You say I killed you―haunt me, then."

                   From beside me, Veah's laugh rasps out in the dark. "Wuthering Heights. Good one, Mai."

                    Mai's voice is pleased. "Thank you."

                    I can't believe I'm surrounded by Mafia who know classical literature.

                    Even though I can't see anything, I feel it as Veah's hand skims my thigh. She whispers, "Don't worry. This is part of the show. They're setting up the display now."

                    The display. 

                    They're going to force someone to take Magic.

                    Pierce Nakamura's face flashes in front of my mind.

                    "We can't let this happen," I say hurriedly. "Earlier today, Veah―I saw―I saw―"

                    Veah squeezes my knee. "I know, Kaya. But we need this to happen. While the rest of the Mafia are distracted by the display, this is the time we use to pull off our plan with Okami."

                    "We're just going to let some random person die?" 

                    "They volunteered," Veah tells me. "No, it's not okay, but―we have no choice."

                    "Volunteered?" I hiss. This indistinguishable black is starting to scare me now. Veah's hand on mine makes me feel safe. "More like the Yakuza paid them off. They probably have no idea what they signed up for―"

                     "We can't do anything about it." Veah's tone is resigned. "This plan―it's hanging by a thread as it is. One wrong thing, and it's over. They volunteered, Kaya."

                    In the dark, my voice is pleading. Soft. Barely a breath in her ear. 

                    "Please," I say. "Is there anything we can do? I don't know if I can watch that again, see someone else follow the same fate as Pierce. Can we at least try, to save whoever it is? When we're done?"

                   There is a heartbeat of silence. My breath is held.

                   But then there's light―lanterns, piercing the dark, floating in the air. Fire dances within them, gilding the elegant design of the room in mysterious shadow. 

                  Right in the center of the room, there is a person tied to a chair.

                  The show is beginning.

                  And dessert will be here soon.

                 It's time for the plan. 

                 "I'll try," Veah whispers into my ear.

                 "What?"

                 "I'll try to save them, when this is done," she tells me.

                 And I want to say it, to whisper it―I love you, too―but then Maiko slips something into my palm. A vial. 

                The poison.

                 "Good luck," she breathes.

                 Veah takes my hand, and she is nothing but a silhouette edged in the firelight as she leads me towards Okami's table. Weaving through the room, moving like silk and shadow between both the Yakuza and the Italian Mafia alike. 

                Okami's lips are bloodred, curving into a smile when she notices us.

                There are two empty seats on either side of her.

                One for Veah . . . and one for Elliot.

                Veah takes her place on one side of Okami, and I tentatively sit down on the other side. The vial of poison grows hot in my hand.

               What if she knows? 

               There are two axes crossing over her back, and the blade of one is so close to me that it would be easy for her to just . . . slice right through me. Behead me. Dismember me. Whatever her murderous, bloodthirsty, nonexistent heart desires.

              Calm down, Kaya. 

             I still have one trick left up my sleeve.

             Because once Veah starts threatening Okami, we have―as Maiko said―sixty seconds before Veah's head is on a platter.

             And Veah ensured that if that did happen . . . we would be prepared for it. Because the power cannot pass onto Elliot.

             The rest of the table don't seem to be paying attention to us right now. They are focused on the center of the room.

             Where there is the girl, blindfolded.

             A deep, melodious voice announces, "Watch now as the Magic is ingested. Previous research theorizes that it will take less than ninety seconds to work in full effect."

             A waiter with trembling hands holds up a glass of blue powder to the girl's lips.

            The girl drinks.

            The announcer's voice continues, "What will it be, ladies and gentlemen? Which element will we see now?"

            I notice that there is a slip of paper in front of me. In front of everybody.

           "Write down your guesses and the amount of money you would like to bet, and please hand the paper to your nearest server within the next minute."

            They're betting on death? On this girl's torture? 

            Veah clears her throat. I have to focus.

            Her eyes meet mine, and I nod. It's time. 

            Veah's voice is smooth. Her face is shadowed in the darkness, but her silver eyes are piercing. "This is how it's going to go, Okami-chan."

            Okami's smile curves with sinister delicacy.

            I notice she is wearing a sky-blue kimono.

            What will that look like covered in blood?  I wonder, and I hope I don't have the chance to find out.

             The vial is still tucked between my fingers, and as Veah begins to speak, I assess my options.

             A. I can put it in her wine glass.

             B. I can put it on her dessert. 

             C. I can shove it down her throat.

             Well, C is out. I definitely don't have the agility―or the lightning-fast reflexes―to shove it down her throat and actually survive. So I'm left with putting it in her wine glass . . . or putting it on her dessert.

              The dessert on her plate is round and soft and dusted in white powder.

              So she might notice if I spill the contents of this vial all over it.

              In this dark, she might not be able to tell the difference of the wine's colour. She might not notice until she takes a sip, but by then . . . hopefully, it will already be too late.

              Except the wine glass is in her hand.

              Okay, I can still do this.

              Beneath the table, I uncork the vial.

              Veah says, "I have the formula to the Wyvern."

              Okami's eyes flicker. The only sign that this is a surprise to her. "And what, chimei-tekina megumi, are you planning on doing with that information?"

             "Selling it," Veah says. "For the right price."

              I see it: the soft twist of anger in Okami's mouth. 

             "To the Cais," she says, tapping a sharp nail against her wine glass. "And why, my beloved, would you do that? You are like a daughter to me."

             "Am I supposed to hold that in high-esteem?" Veah says under her breath. "Because I've seen what you did to your actual daughter."

              Okami's lip curls. "You are what I always hoped my daughter would be, Heaven Tanaka. You are mine." 

              "You tried to kill me," Veah says, "and Kaya. That day in the bathhouse, when you told us we would be safe there."

              "Ah, the samurais." Okami sighs wistfully. "I was testing you, ai. I needed to make sure your skills were honed after all that time in the West."

              "Here's a riddle for you, Okami-chan, because I know you love them so. There was a breach in the firewall. Your church burned down. And I am willing to sell the formula of your precious drug to your rival gang. What do I want?"

              Okami's face is still the perfect, pristine image of calm.

             "You want to be free," Okami whispers, using one finger to tilt up Veah's chin.

             That's my cue. 

              It's now or never.

              My heart is pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. My hand shakes just slightly as I tip the contents of the vial into Okami's wineglass.

              There is the softest sound of a slosh.

              Did she hear that?  Sweat dampens my palms. She is still turned towards Veah, but she hasn't reached for an ax yet. No one has noticed us.

              In the center of the room, I realize the clock has finished ticking.

              Ninety seconds are up.

              The girl's bones begin to crack. Jutting out from her skin, sharp against her pale flesh. A riveting melody of rot and ruin. Her head snaps back. Her fingers grip the bottom of the chair. In fascinated silence, the crowd watches.

               Veah says, "I do want to be free. But there is something I want more."

              "What," Okami breathes, gently, tenderly, "is that?"

              From the corner of my eye, I notice as the girl's breathing begins to accelerate. As her eyes turn wild. The ropes that bind her splinter―and snap altogether.

              This isn't susceptibility.

              And it's not death.

              There are two possible outcomes now: Hallucination . . . or adrenaline. 

              Bastian told me that adrenaline would cause something like superpowers. Incredible strength, incredible speed.

              The girl looks at her raw, freed wrists.

              Adrenaline, I realize.

              The girls licks her lips. Smiles. And she rises to her feet, her face the portrait of cold, vicious rage.

              To Okami, Veah says, "I want to stop you from spreading Magic all over the world."

              But Okami only shakes her head, still amused.

              Take a sip, I think. Take a sip of your wine . . .

              "That is still not the whole truth, ai," Okami says delicately. "You must always be truthful with me. I will ask you again: What is it you want?" 

              Too fast, too sharp, Okami has pulled free one of her axes. 

              She's going to kill Veah, I think desperately. 

              If she doesn't drink the wine, then this is all over.

              I'll never get to tell the pretty girl that I love her.

              I'll never get to hold her in my arms again.

              I probably won't even survive two minutes afterwards.

              And Ren and Maiko . . . 

              It's not even just about us anymore. If Okami survives to make a deal with the Italian Mafia, Magic will spread all over the world.

              Drink the wine, I plead in my mind.

              "Tell me the truth," Okami whispers. 

              "I want you to suffer," Veah grits out in a low, raw voice. 

              And then I notice there is a dagger in her hand as well.

              That was not a part of the plan. 

              If she kills Okami now, there will be all-out war.

              Please, please drink the wine. 

              And as if my prayers are answered, as if God himself decides to finally listen, Okami drinks the wine.

               Veah's eyes lock with mine, and the relief between us is so sharp, so sudden I let out a breath. The plan worked. 

               Okami's ax clatters to the table.

               The cup in her hand shatters, wine and glass dripping through her fist.

               There is a sound like surprise―a sound like a cough. The long sleeves of her sky-blue kimono ripple like water over the table as she leans forward. 

               It worked. It―

               But then she turns to me. There is a dark, bittersweet smile on her painted lips.

               "There is a word you should know," Okami whispers. Her slender fingers curl over the handle of her ax. There is a trace of wine―or blood―on the corner of her lip. "Mithridatism." 

               And then she swings the ax.

>>>

Cheers.

So, I would like to know more about y'all. I'll go first. I'm 16, I'm a Taurus, and I would love to go to Tokyo city one day. How about you?

From the moon and back,
Sarai