“You found him?” he asked hopefully and with a joy in his tone that she’d never heard before.

She inclined her head, grateful the news pleased her master for once. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then why isn’t he here?”

A chill raced down her spine at those growled angry words that took away his momentary happiness. “His powers are such that he’s not so easily taken.”

He scoffed. “Maybe not by you, witch.” Stepping back, he waved his hand at the wall beside him.

The dark shadows took form.

Haruki’s eyes widened as she saw them turn into komusō—traveling monks who wore baskets over their heads as a sign of modesty. Only in this case, she knew they wore them because they had no faces or heads to show.

Her master had already unleashed a similar group that had torn up the countryside.

She could only imagine why he was summoning more.

Ryukage gestured at them. “They’ll fetch my son to me.”

Thank the gods they’re not coming after me . . .

She forced herself not to scoff or laugh. Because she knew better. Such a show of disrespect would most likely end with her death. Still, she doubted these komusō would be any better than his current batch, which had razed more villages than even she and her army.

Mindless shadow imps, they had spared no one.

How he thought this new group would be any more successful was beyond her, but far be it from her to question him.

She watched as the false komusō left for the portal that would allow them to carry out their orders. An enchanted portal that kept Ryukage trapped in this realm.

But not if his son returned.

His son would have the power to free him, and then Ryukage would wreak havoc on the human world once again as he claimed his vengeance on the gods who’d trapped him here and served the dark gods who’d created him to spread chaos.

The gods who’d come between him and Haruka. All Ryukage wanted was revenge. Haruki had promised to help him attain it. So far, she had failed.

“Keep an eye on them, Haruki. And don’t return without my son.”

“I won’t fail you, my lord.” Not again.

An evil smile curled his lips. “See that you don’t.”

* * *

Lying in bed, Ryuichi lifted his right hand and watched as his shadow followed suit. Turning his head, he made sure that his gaze never left it.

How harmless that shadow seemed.

Now he knew such things weren’t what they appeared. “Are you planning my death?” he asked it.

“Always.”

He jumped at the sound of Masaru’s voice behind him. “Don’t do that!”

Masaru laughed. “Why not? I so love the sound of fear. Especially yours. It’s so high-pitched.”

Ryuichi would have commented, except he was distracted by all the bruises on Masaru’s face. “What happened to you?”