Chapter Ten

It was a beautiful day over Gensokyo. In the distance, the Boundary reflected sunlight in a rainbow light show. Trees swayed in the breeze. Birds circled above the lake, skimming the water to catch their lunch. I watched them, just having just finished lunch myself. I sat in one of the Scarlet Mansion’s guest bedrooms, looking out the bay window, clutching a pillow to my chest, wondering if this was the last time I would admire the country I loved.

The crisis wasn’t over. It was further from over than when I started this stupid quest. This time, the problem didn’t have a solution. No act of bravery, no personal growth, no sacrifice could save the day. Gensokyo was doomed and we couldn’t do a thing about it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, beat my fist once on the bedpost. It hurt my hand, but I enjoyed the pain.

“Say something,” I said. “There’s no reason to stand there, staring at me.”

Remilia stood in the doorway, had been there for a while.

“You never turned around,” she said. “How did you know I was here?”

“Saw your reflection in the window.” I looked back at her. “Another thing the stories got wrong, huh?”

“For me, at least.” She stepped into the room, closed the door behind her.

“Why are you here?” I said. “We’re done talking. You told me everything I needed to know.”

“I told you everything I wanted my servants to hear,” she said. “There’s more I need to tell you, and only you... and I have a question.”

I looked back out the window. I didn’t want to talk. None of it mattered. We were all going to die, or at least be left in a ruined land. Remilia was the mistress of the house, and used to getting her way. If she wanted to speak with me, I couldn’t get away from it.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“If I correctly understand what a miko is,” she said, “you act as spiritual guides. Is that true?”

“Among other things, yes.”

Remilia crossed the room and climbed up onto the bed with me. She sat across from me, her legs folded under her. This girl couldn’t be five centuries old, even with the bat wings and red eyes. She didn’t look a day over eleven.

“Then I ask for your counsel,” she said. “What should I do?”

“Patchouli is your advisor.”

“For intellectual problems, not moral ones.”

“Vampires need moral advice?”

“This one does. Our conversation last night should have illustrated that clearly.”

“This isn’t even a moral problem,” I said. “It’s more of a a kiss your butt goodbye problem.”

“Is that how I came across? No, there is something we can do. I just don’t want to do it. I hate even considering it.”

Remilia pulled her blouse partway off her shoulder, showing me the skin over her heart. There was a small patch paler than the flesh surrounding it.

“Why show me that?” I said.

“Because you can’t give me advice if you hate me.” She pulled her shirt back up, covering herself. “Nor can I take advice if I hate you. I forgive you, Reimu. Will you forgive me? For tricking you. For feeding on you.”

I looked out the window. “I have no reason to.”

“Yes you do. Holding onto anger isn’t good for you. I think you know that.”

I closed my eyes. “Tell me what you have in mind to stop Flandre.”

“Very well,” she said. “Patchouli left out a bit of the research she’s done: the reason why the vampire you can only kill a vampire with a stake through the heart. A vampire’s heart is the organ that digests the blood sucked from humans. Destroy that, the vampire can’t eat, and it dies.”

“That can’t be the whole story,” I said. “Don’t vampires die instantly when staked through the heart? They don’t die slowly of malnutrition.”

“Fiction has a way of treating symbolism like literal fact. For instance, the death of a vampire. What happens when a vampire dies?”

She sat there, looking at me as if waiting for me to say something.

“Well?” she said. “What happens?”

“You’re asking me?” I said.

“Of course. You’re the one who witnessed it.”

I shook my head. “You’re not dead. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Maybe this will explain.”

Remilia moved. With that unreal vampire speed, she knocked me back on the bed and was on top of me. Holding down my arms, sitting on my chest, just like last night. I panicked. My voice caught in my throat.

“Relax,” she said. “This won’t hurt.”

She went for my neck, the same spot where she’d bit me last night. But she didn’t bite. She nuzzled her nose against my neck, inhaled deep.

“I can smell it,” she said. “The bandage is changed, the skin washed, but it’s still here. Your blood—” Then she gagged hard, her mouth opening as if she were going to puke. Nothing came out. She backed off me with one hand over her mouth, trying not to retch again. I climbed off the bed, putting some space between us.

“What are you doing?” I said. “Ask permission before you sniff my neck!”

Remilia swallowed repeatedly, tried to catch her breath. She had one hand on her belly and her face was white, like she’d gotten food poisoning and was trying not to chuck her last meal all over the bed.

“If I had asked permission,” she said between breaths, “would you have let me?”

“No!” I said. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Her eyes moist. “I don’t know. The smell of blood nauseates me. It’s like I went from craving it to being allergic.”

“Maybe you’re just allergic to me.”

“No.” She wiped her eyes dry. “I have no memory after you stabbed me. One second, you’re on top of me. The next, I’m lying in my own bed, and Sakuya’s sitting there, crying her eyes out. She begged me to take some of her blood, so I could draw strength and recover. I tried, but I couldn’t keep it down.”

“You haven’t been feeding off Sakuya all this time?” I said. “I thought that’s why humans lived with vampires.”

“I promised not to feed from her when we first met. She wouldn’t be any good as my maid if she suffered from chronic anemia - but don’t you see? I can’t drink blood anymore. That means I’m not a vampire anymore.”

“The death of a vampire,” I said.

“Yes.” Remilia stood up on the bed, putting herself above eye level with me. “This is my only hope for rescuing all involved, including Flandre. It’s painful irony. To save my sister, I must kill my sister.”

“You’re not sure if it’ll work,” I said.

“No, I’m not. Destroy her heart, and it might regenerate into an ordinary blood-pump like mine did... or it won’t. She might die. It might even trigger the mini-apocalypse we’re trying to avoid. That’s why I’m here, Reimu Hakurei. I need you to tell me if I should take the risk of murdering my sister.”

“You want me to make that decision?” I said. “How could you possibly think I’m qualified?”

“Because,” she said, “last night, you killed a part of me, but you did it with no malice. You tried only to protect yourself, not to hurt another. That’s why I hesitated. The emotions that make blood taste good weren’t in you.”

“No,” I said. “I can’t—”

“It gets better.” She hopped off the bed, sounding a light thud when her feet hit the floor. “I have to ask the help of two human women who I have a very tenuous truce with. I know we were mortal enemies yesterday, but will you help me solve a family dispute that’s threatening to destroy the country? I can’t imagine that going over well. Can you?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“That’s why I need the advice.” She walked past me, headed for the door. “If you need time to think it over, that’s fine. Come see me when you’re ready. I’ll give you as long as you need, and Flandre won’t.”

She left the room. I waited until her footsteps were out of hearing.

“You can come out now, Marisa,” I said.

---

The yellow-haired witch poked her head out from under the bed, a curtain of blankets hanging around her neck.

“She knew I was heres?” she said.

“If she did, she didn’t let on,” I said, sitting on the bed. “What are you doing down there?”

“Looking for stuffs to steals,” she said. “Finding nothings. Sakuya keeps places sparkly-spotless.”

“I’m sure her army of fairy maids has something to do with it.” I patted the blanket beside me. “Come up here.”

She climbed out from under the bed. She still wore the jacket and slacks. It was awful and hilarious to rummaging under furniture while wearing something so expensive. She sat on the bed’s edge next to me.

“What happens nows?” she said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s the same thing, isn’t it? The same dilemma that sent us out here.”

“Yeps. Do somethings and probably dies, or do nothings and die for sures. So we gonna helps Remis?”

“We should, but I don’t want to.”

“Why nots?”

“What she did hurt me, not just physically.” I lay back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “I know there are bad people in the world. I know there are people who lie and kill and rape and cheat, but that doesn’t make it sting less when it happens to me. I don’t want to help a person like that just for the asking.”

Marisa nodded, making a thoughtful hmmm sound. She took hold of my arm and slid the sleeve up, showing my skin.

“What are you—OW!”

She brought my forearm to her mouth and bit down on it hard. Her jaw muscles clenched. I yanked my arm away, used my other arm to knock her off the bed. She tumbled to the floor. I sat up and retreated to the other side of the bed, out of chomping distance.

“What was that!” I yelled at her. I looked down at my arm. She hadn’t broken the skin, but her teeth marks were deep. “Why does everyone bite me? Do I taste good?”

“Theres!” Stood up and held her arms out wide. “Hate me now toos?”

“I just said it wasn’t the physical assault that bothered me!” I said. “Remilia bit me because she wanted bad emotions to feed on. You bit me because you’re an idiot.”

Marisa tapped her chest. “Bad feelings here toos, super mads! Gonna let Gensokyo die because can’t get over yourselfs.”

“You can’t talk,” I said. “It didn’t happen to you.”

“Doesn’t matters! Both us bit you nows, and for bad reasons. Hate us boths, or don’ts.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I’ve known you for—”

“Blah blah blahs!” she yelled over me. “Do it right or not at alls!”

I wanted to keep arguing, but we both quieted when we heard a pounding coming down the hall. Stomp stomp stomp!

“Reimu Hakurei!”

Hong Meiling burst into the room, slamming the door open. Unlike me, a stab wound in the leg hadn’t slowed her down. She wasn’t wearing her beret, making her look ready for a fight. I had forgotten how imposing she was; not just her beauty, but her height and muscle. She could break me with her bare hands.

“You!” She jabbed a finger at me. “I have a score to settle!”

“No you don’t,” I said. I got off the bed and stood by Marisa.

“Under Remi’s protection nows,” she said. “Can’t hurt her, China-girls.”

“Don’t call me that!” Meiling held up both fists. “And don’t think me that much of a fool! I can’t attack you directly as long as you’re the mistress’s guest, but if my honor has been infringed, I can challenge you to a duel.”

“A duel?” I said. “What if I decline?”

Meiling laughed, as if she believed herself to be a clever trickster. Ha-ha! “That’s the beauty of it! Refuse me the satisfaction of a noble confrontation, and your honor is forfeit. You’re no longer worthy of the mistress’s esteem, and therefore open game. Either way, you’re mine!”

A loophole in youkai politics. No doubt Patchouli had fed this idea to Meiling, including some of those words, like infringed. The mansion’s librarian still had some ill feelings for me.

I wouldn’t humor either of them. I could say nothing, neither refuse nor accept the challenge, and lock Meiling to indecision. I could run to Remilia for help - but I was sick of playing youkai power games. I looked Meiling dead in the eye.

“I won’t fight you,” I said.

She laughed again, this time in triumph. She moved forward, grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me off the floor. Her grip squeezed my arms and shoulders together, compressing me in uncomfortable ways. Marisa grabbed her by the arm, trying to pull her off me.

“Noes!” she yelled. “Didn’t refuses! That’s not what she—”

Meiling made a quick kick and knocked Marisa’s ankles out from under her. Marisa toppled to the floor. Meiling still had me in her lift hold. She swung me around and threw me out the bedroom door. I sailed through it and slammed into the hallway wall. White lights exploded in my eyes. Most the air in my chest came out me in a cungh! noise. I collapsed to the floor, limp.

Meiling stomped out of the bedroom. She wrapped one iron hand around my neck, pinning me to the wall. She was going to lift me up and break my neck, or shake me around until all my bones snapped, or punch a hole clean through my gut. Whatever gruesome way she chose, I was going to die in the next few seconds.

Her grip tightened, cutting off my air.

“This is what you get!” Meiling yelled into my face.

---

This wasn’t fair.

My heart screamed childish, irrelevant complaints into into my head. My head usually took these demands in stride, but it couldn’t this time. My heart had to back down.

Meiling still had one hand around my neck, was pulling back the other flatten my skull with a punch... but she stopped. She noticed a tear coming from my eye, running down my cheek and over her hand.

“What?” she said. “Why are you crying?”

I brought my hand up and put it on hers. I didn’t try to pry her off me.

“I didn’t refuse you,” I said, my voice thin. “I just said I wouldn’t fight you.”

“What’s the difference?”

I looked up at her, blinking the wet out of my eyes. “Remilia asked for my aid in stopping Flandre. I’ve agreed to help her.”

Meiling’s face changed, her eyes and mouth opening in shock. Her grip on my neck loosened, and she let me go. I sat back against the wall, tried to catch my breath.

“A request for help from the mistress overrides a challenge from her servant.” Meiling stood up straight. “Very clever, but don’t think you’re safe. I’ll find a way.”

To emphasize that point, she punched the wall right above my head. I felt the vibration go down my back. Plaster cracked and crumbled under her fist, salting bits of it into my hair. She pulled her hand back and shook it out, then she turned and walked off. I watched her go, saw her disappear around the corner.

As soon as she was gone, Marisa bolted out of the bedroom. She peeled me off the wall and hugged me tight.

“Sorry, Reimus,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I said, returning her hug.

---

It wasn’t hard to find Remilia. Halfway across the mansion, we heard when she started playing the pipe organ.

On the ground floor was a big theater room. Rows of seats spread out in semicircles before a raised stage. On that stage was the biggest musical instrument I had ever seen. Dozens of brassy pipes of various length and size lined the back wall, stacked and beveled. Below them was a huge console of knobs, pedals and boards of piano keys.

Remilia sat at the organ, her back turned to us. She played a song melancholy one moment, manic the next. Her hands danced over the keys, reaching high to strike keys on the top board. Her feet stomped the pedals below, giving changes to pitch and tune.

Marisa and I came into the room. We walked past the rows of chairs, stopped at the base of the stage. We stood and listened to her play. She didn’t notice, kept running the organ like a master performer.

Her song could have gone on, but she let the notes fade away. She pulled her hands from the keys, lifted her feet from the pedals. She turned around on her seat, turning to face us.

“Hello,” she said.

“Wows,” said Marisa. “Remi’s got lots of talents.”

“No,” said Remilia. “That was procedure, not talent. You can become good at anything if you have centuries to practice.” She looked back, up at the organ. “That song was Septette for the Dead Princess. The composer’s name escapes me. My arrangement of it is weak, since I’m missing six performers.” She looked back at me. “Have you come to a decision, Reimu?”

“I’d better,” I said. “Helping you will keep Patchouli from using Meiling to kill me.”

Remilia tilted her head at me.

“My advice is this,” I said. “Go down to the vault immediately and stop Flandre, or die in the attempt.”

She smiled. “That’s fine advice. Thank you, Reimu.”

“You’re welcome, Remilia. In return, I ask a favor. I don’t know what help I can be, but take me with you.”

“You’ll be baggage,” said Sakuya, standing in the aisle behind us. “At best, you might be useful as a meat shield.”

Marisa jumped, but I didn’t. I was getting used to it. I turned to her.

“We all die sometime,” I said. “Might as well try to save Gensokyo when I do.”

Sakuya just nodded to me.

“Let’s go now.” Remilia hopped off her seat. “We’ve wasted enough time. Reimu, Marisa, you two come with me. Sakuya, get Patchouli and Meiling and meet us at the vault. Tell them it’s time to save my sister’s life.”

---

It was strange - accompanying a group of people all strong enough to kill me, most who had already tried to, into an unknown danger that I probably wouldn’t survive... but I wasn’t scared or sad. I felt no loss over the years of my future I would never see. I was doing the right thing for the right reason. I could stand tall, look fate in the eyes and do what needed to be done.

It felt good. I felt better, maybe, than I ever had.

Remilia led Marisa and me to the stairwell. Sakuya met us there, along with Meiling and Patchouli. Again, I expected a sneer or angry comment, but neither glanced at me spoke. They looked how I felt: happy to do what should have been done long ago.

Remilia and her servants moved slower than they could have, letting me keep up with Marisa helping me limp along. The six of us went below ground level, down into the dungeon, passing the cell Marisa and I had been kept in last night. At the end of the dungeon was another staircase that spiraled down into the earth.

“There’s no light from here on,” said Remilia. “Mages, light up.”

She held out her hand. Above her palm formed a small but bright flame, blue at its base and red at the tip. Patchouli held out her hand palm down. An ingot of crystalline ice hung from her fingertips by barely-visible threads, glowing blue light from its heart. Marisa set up her hatlight. She had no hat, but kept the little white ball lit above her scalp.

With half of us carrying light sources, we descended.

---

Down the stairs, around and around. The air was cool and damp. I didn’t know how deep underground we were, but we couldn’t go much farther. Soon we would hit the lake’s water table.

“This is simpler than I thought,” I said, dropping down one stair at a time. “I expected more security. You told me about a vault door, but I didn’t think we’d just walk down to it. Shouldn’t there be more locked doors? Magic traps? Big, muscled fairy guards or something?”

“No,” said Remilia. “If Flandre wanted to escape, none of that could stop her. The vault door is only meant to keep people out.”

That didn’t make sense to me. If someone had locked me in a hole in the ground, I’d do everything in my strength to break free.

The stairway ended in a long, rectangular room. Dark shapes and their shadows flickered and jumped under our magical lights. My eyes took a few seconds to know what I was looking at, but I understood the smell immediately. I put a hand over my mouth, hoping I wouldn’t throw up my lunch.

There were heavy wooden tables caked over with dried offal. Dark spatters were all over the floors and walls. Meat hooks hung from the ceiling, but nothing hung from them now. More hooks were on the walls, most holding carving knives and other cutlery. There were two wood stoves at the room’s center, both with smoke pipes leading into the ceiling. They were covered with empty pans, but neither was lit.

“It’s like a slaughter house,” I whispered in awe.

“It is one,” said Sakuya. “This is where I prepare Flandre’s food.”

Oh no. Oh please no.

I couldn’t handle that. Not now, or ever. I had to pretend it was cow’s blood on the table, maybe pig’s blood on the floor. She had cooked only beef and pork and poultry on the wood stoves.

I gagged, choked down my bile. I felt dizzy, the room going wobbly around me.

Something squeezed my arm.

“Reimus,” Marisa whispered. “Stay togethers.”

I took a deep breath in, and the world came back into focus. The scene was disgusting, but not enough to disable me. I could have fainting spells later.

“I’m fine,” I said. It felt good having Marisa here. She was warm, assuring.

On the far wall was the vault door, locked like it was guarding a bank’s gold or a government’s secrets. A huge handled wheel stuck out of the door’s center. On the wheel’s hub was a knob covered in numbers and tick marks, a combination dial. In the center of that knob was a keyhole.

“Stay back for now,” said Remilia. “Sakuya, come forward if I wave for you. Patchouli and Meiling, be ready.”

The five of us were silent. Remilia walked up to the door, past the tables and wood stoves. The magic flame in her hand cast shimmering orange over the vault door, making it seem like a living thing, shifting in her presence.

“Flandre!” she yelled at the door. “Come to the door, Flandre! We need to talk.”

No voice came from the other side. No sound at all.

“I know you can hear me, Flandre,” said Remilia. “If you don’t answer, I’ll have to come in there. I’m here with Sakuya, Meiling and Patchouli. The four of us can open the door, no matter how hard you try to keep us out.”

I wasn’t sure that was true, based off what Remilia and her servants had told me. She was using psychological tricks on a child: declaring dominance, demanding obedience. I didn’t like to think of such power wielded by an immature mind.

“Last chance!” said Remilia. “Answer me now! I won’t ask again.”

The response came in a whispered word.

“Why?”

---

Both Marisa and I held our breath. That voice was so sad and weak, like a little girl on her deathbed, asking her parents why she had to suffer. They didn’t love her enough to save her. No good God could have subjected her to this living hell.

Sakuya was shivering, arms wrapped around herself. Patchouli and Meiling were stone still, pained looks on their faces. Out of us all, only Remilia was unfazed.

“Why what, Flandre?” she said.

“Why did you bring strangers here?” said the voice. “Those two, the witch and the priestess.”

Flandre could see us? How did she know our jobs? We weren’t dressed like ourselves.

“They’re friends,” said Remilia. “They’re here to help me, and help you.”

“Why are they holding each other?”

Remilia looked back at us, uncertain.

“The priestess hurt her leg, so the witch is helping her stand.”

“No,” said Flandre. “Priestess burns witch. Witch curses priestess. They’re supposed to hate each other.”

“These two don’t,” said Remilia. “Listen, Flandre. We’re going to help you undo the spell, so that it doesn’t hurt you. We’re coming in. Stand away from the door.”

“No!” Flandre moaned. “Don’t come in. I’m not done yet.”

Remilia took out a key from somewhere in her dress. She pushed it into the keyhole on the combination knob, turned it once and left it there.

“Don’t come in!” Flandre her voice rising from a whisper to a yell. “I said DON’T COME IN!”

Remilia ignored her. She turned the combination knob right, left, right again. She took hold of the wheel and turned it.

“NO! NO! NO!” screamed Flandre. The door shuddered under heavy blows, as if a giant were beating it with both fists. Remilia kept turning the wheel, even though the door’s vibration jerked her arms back and forth. One final turn, and the wheel spun free.

“Sakuya! Meiling! Patchouli!” Remilia yelled over the noise. “Help me!”

The three servants all ran to Remilia. Sakuya and Meiling stood on either side of her, throwing their weight into the door. Patchouli stood a few feet back, getting ready to cast a spell.

Flandre must have felt herself losing ground, and she stopped pushing back. The door swung inwards. Sakuya and Meiling fell forward into the blackness of the vault. Remilia was buried under her two servants, collapsed on top of her. Patchouli stood still, one hand up to the ceiling. She was ready to cast, but wasn’t sure if she should.

“You will all STAY OUT!” Flandre screamed.

The air rippled for one second, then exploded. An enormous blast of energy came from the vault, throwing everything around like the winds of a severe storm. Even at the other side of the room, Marisa and I were both knocked to our backsides. The butcher’s tables toppled. The knives on the wall hooks flew free, raining spinning blades around us. One caught me on the hip, but only by the blunt side.

Remilia and her servants were knocked back under the magical gale. Patchouli fell flat on her back and tumbled towards the stairwell. Meiling sailed into the smoke pipes of the wind stoves, breaking them both in a deafening crash of sheet metal. Sakuya twisted away from the vault door, limbs flailing. Her head hit one of the overturned tables. Two throwing knives came out of a holder from under her skirt, more bladed projectiles firing back at Marisa and me. One of them clattered on the stone floor. The other stabbed Marisa in the arm.

Remilia got the least of the blast. She was already prone, and had been covered by Sakuya and Meiling until they were thrown back. She slid back on the stone floor, riding up her dress. Her left wing caught on a meat hook that had fallen from the ceiling.

The spell ended. The room was in scattered ruins. Remilia and her servants were all down. Flandre had beaten them in a single shot.

“And YOU TWO!” she yelled. “GET IN HERE!”

Marisa and I were pulled forward, as if the spell were running in reverse, and only for us. We lifted up off the floor and tumbled though the air, towards the vault. One of the meat hooks on the ceiling nearly stabbed through my head, but it only raked through my hair and ripped a lock out.

We both flew into the vault and dropped to the floor. Marisa cried out in pain, probably landing on her wounded arm. No sound came from me, except desperate wheezing as I fought to catch my breath. My scalp burned where the hook clawed out my hair.

“Now,” said Flandre, her voice close. “We need some privacy.”

I looked back at the vault door. I had to get up, had to get out. I saw Remilia standing, running for the door, even with a metal hook impaled through her wing.

The door slammed shut with a BANG!, and all was black. Remilia pounded and shouted from the other side, but she was too far away to help. We were in Flandre’s world now.

“There,” said the sister of Scarlet. “It’s been too long since I had raw human.”