Page 43 of Son of Shadows

“Of course. You have my word,” the tengu agreed.

“So, where are we?” Glancing over at the dilapidated homes and worn-down buildings in the near distance didn’t exactly fill Ryuichi with a whole lot of hope that they’d find anything here other than rodents and possibly an incurable disease of some kind.

“Kagemura,” Masaru and Hayasaka said in unison.

“It seems a little run-down,” Ryuichi said.

“And not the kind of place a demon-god would haunt,” Masaru added.

Hayasaka grew quiet.

Ryuichi could sense his deception. “You lied?”

Yumi shook her head. “Never trust a tengu. They always lie.”

“Who are you to chastise me, girl? Why is she even here? Is she friend or foe?”

Those were good questions. Ryuichi glanced at Masaru.

“She’s who she says. With her powers, she could obliterate us.” He glanced back at Ryuichi. “Maybe not you, oh great chosen one. But the rest of us . . .” He looked at Hayasaka and Katsu. “I’d be nice to the little girl, if I were you.”

Hayasaka paled at those words, then cleared his throat. “I didn’t lie, per se.”

Ryuichi scoffed. “Meaning?”

“The one who knows your father’s whereabouts is here, so I vicariously know where he is. All we have to do is find the one who knows, and then we know.”

“How do you know he knows?” Ryuichi asked.

“My spies told me so.”

Yumi scowled. “And these spies are reliable?”

Hayasaka returned to being the nervous wreck who threw teacups across the room. “Yes! The most reliable spies in the realm.”

Coming from him, that meant nothing at all. But they were here now. They might as well try to carry out their mission.

Why would anyone who served his father live in such a horrible town? Given Ryukage’s powers, he’d assumed his minions would demand a great hōjō, with servants and wealth.

Not filth and squalor.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Ryuichi asked.

Hayasaka took a deep breath, as if he savored the rancid smell. “Ah, that’s Kagemura, all right. No place quite like it. Breathe that rotting stench in.”

Ryuichi shook his head. “I’d rather not.” It smelled more like something he’d stepped in while mucking out a stall.

Hayasaka shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Frowning, Ryuichi watched him move slowly through the filthy street. How very strange. He’d taken Hayasaka for a much more refined type—a tengu who wouldn’t be caught bleeding or dying in such a place.

Yet for some reason, Hayasaka seemed to be at home in this wasteland.

No, he was delighted to be here. There was no mistaking the subtle smile on his lips. The cocky way he swaggered through the filthy streets.

Masaru smirked. “I take it Kagemura is one of your favorite places.”

“Not at all,” Lord Hayasaka said in contradiction to the smile on his face.