The girl began shaking violently, wracked by opposing impulses, but she kept the sword aimed at Reiko. Her eyes blazed with blind compulsion; a growling sound issued through her bared teeth. Reiko saw Anraku’s smug smile; the other sect members waited, their gazes averted from her and Haru, expecting violence. Haru, wheezing furiously, moved the weapon sideways and stood poised to strike. And Reiko realized with helpless futility that she’d lost the contest. She was going to die. She’d failed to capture Haru and save herself and Midori; she would never see Sano or Masahiro again.
Reiko wanted to scream out her terror, to shut her eyes in anticipation of the blade slicing her throat. But a samurai woman must face death with courage and dignity. Trembling in Kumashiro’s grip, Reiko silently prayed that fortune would bless her husband and son and she would be reunited with them someday. She looked straight at Haru and steeled herself for the pain, the spill of her blood, the plunge into oblivion.
Suddenly Haru’s growl erupted into a loud roar. She whirled, swinging the sword around. The blade cut Dr. Miwa deeply across the stomach. Uttering a cry of dismay, he clutched the bleeding wound. Junketsu-in screamed. Reiko gaped in stunned disbelief. Shock and anger erased Anraku’s smile. He barked out, “Haru!”
Shrieking as if insane, the girl spun and lunged, slashing at random. The priests shouted, “Look out!” They scattered, bumping one another, trying to avoid Haru.
“Stop her,” Anraku ordered.
Kumashiro let go of Reiko, drew his short sword, and charged after Haru. Reiko hurriedly crouched beside Midori and shook her. “Midori-san, wake up. We’ve got to get out.”
“Reiko-san?” Midori mumbled sleepily. Opening bleary eyes, she frowned. “Where am I? What’s going on?”
“Never mind.” Reiko hauled Midori upright. “Come on.”
Supporting her friend’s limp, heavy body, she staggered toward the door. She heard Anraku call, “Catch them!” Kumashiro turned, saw them, and swiftly blocked their way.
“Put her down,” he said, pointing his sword at Reiko. “Stay where you are.”
Reiko floundered backward, dragging Midori with her. Around them, Haru continued her rampage. Dr. Miwa lay dead on the floor next to Junketsu-in, who stuck out her foot so that Haru tripped and went sprawling. The sword, knocked out of her hand, slid across the floor toward Reiko. Quickly, Reiko bent and snatched up the weapon.
“Get out of our way,” she commanded Kumashiro.
Then she heard shouts, metallic clashes, and a stampede of footsteps outside the room. Through the door burst six samurai battling as many sword-wielding priests. Reiko recognized Sano and his men. Her heart leapt with joy.
“Hirata-san!” Midori cried.
Hirata’s face lit up at the sight of Midori. He shouted her name, then continued striking at his opponents. As the room became a maelstrom of flashing blades and colliding combatants, Anraku stayed on his platform, watching with a peculiar euphoria. His eight priests fled out the door, while the abbess cowered in a corner. Kumashiro joined in the battle.
“Reiko-san,” Sano shouted, dodging Kumashiro’s strikes. “Protect Midori.”
Clutching her friend’s hand, Reiko wielded her sword against the priests, while Midori huddled behind her.
“Haru.” Anraku’s voice, eerily calm, rose above the noise.
The girl was scrambling for cover, but she paused and turned toward the high priest.
“Come here,” Anraku said.
She rose and walked to his platform. Her step was hesitant, but she seemed irresistibly drawn to Anraku.
Sano cut down one priest and Hirata another. Four remained; the battle raged on. Reiko, guarding Midori, risked a glance at Anraku. What was he doing?
“You have failed the test,” Anraku said to Haru, his silky tone replete with disapproval.
“Please, give me another chance,” Haru begged.
Anraku shook his head; his smile mocked her anxiety. “Your betrayals number too many for forgiveness. You must be punished.” Pointing at Haru and gazing deep into her eyes, he intoned, “I plant inside you the seed of the Black Lotus.”
Haru pressed a hand to her abdomen, looking disturbed, as if she really felt something enter her body.
Now Sano, Hirata, and the other samurai had slain all their opponents except Kumashiro, who fought ferociously. Junketsu-in dashed toward the door, but a soldier caught her.
“The seed sprouts roots that invade you.” Spreading his fingers in illustration, Anraku elicited pained yelps from Haru. “The seedling sends forth shoots, filling your veins, entwining your bones, and piercing your muscles.”
Haru began to tremble and moan; terror glazed her eyes as she clutched at herself, feeling for the alien growth.
With amazement, Reiko saw that Haru believed so strongly in Anraku’s powers that the spell could physically hurt her. Reiko hurried the dazed Midori to a corner and sat her down. “Stay here,” she said, then rushed toward the platform.
Anraku’s hypnotic voice continued, “The leaves unfurl, their knifelike edges tearing and penetrating, spilling blood. The stalk pierces your heart. A huge bud forms.”
Haru grabbed her chest, wheezing loudly. “It hurts. I can’t breathe!” she cried in panic.
“The bud grows larger and larger,” Anraku said. His eye glowed brighter; his smile reflected enjoyment of her suffering.
“It’s killing me.” Spasms jarred Haru, and her complexion turned livid. She dropped to her knees. “Please, take it out!”
“Stop,” Reiko shouted at Anraku. Raising her sword, she ordered, “Leave Haru alone.”
The high priest ignored Reiko. “Feel the lotus bud begin to flower,” he told Haru. “The petals are pure black and razor-sharp. As they spring open, they lacerate your heart.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Reiko saw Sano’s blade cut deeply into Kumashiro’s thigh. The priest stumbled and sank to his knees. With his face set in a scowl of desperation and the cut spurting blood, he lashed his blade at the samurai surrounding him, until Hirata wounded his arm. His sword went flying. Sano and Hirata wrestled him down.
Frantically gasping for air, Haru sobbed. “I’ll die!”
“That is the fate of enemies of the Black Lotus,” Anraku said, gloating. He extended his fists, knuckles facing Haru. “When the flower reaches full bloom, your life shall cease.”
Reiko grabbed Haru’s shoulder, urging,”Look away. Don’t listen. He’s a fraud. He can’t hurt you unless you let him.”
But Haru’s gaze seemed magnetically locked onto Anraku’s. Keening in agony, the girl clawed open her robe, trying to tear the flower out of her chest. Her fingernails left bloody scratches on her skin. Reiko leapt up on the platform.
“Stop, or I’ll kill you!” she told Anraku.
“Your time has come,” he said with a triumphant smile at Haru.
His fingers shot open. Haru screamed, as if pierced by invisible blades. Her back arched and her limbs splayed. Incensed, Reiko slashed Anraku down his chest. He lurched, then crumpled onto his side. His face was luminous with rapture, his eye focused on some faraway vista.
“Enlightenment at last,” he whispered.
A spasm contorted his features and body. His radiance dimmed, and death veiled his eye. Anraku had met the destiny he’d prophesied.
Reiko dropped the sword and leapt off the platform. “Haru-san.” Kneeling, she touched the girl’s cheek. “What’s happened to you?”
No answer came. Haru’s open eyes were sightless; blood trickled from her mouth. Gravity relaxed her features, and her terrified expression faded as Reiko watched. She was dead.
A terrible grief seized Reiko as she cradled Haru’s head in her lap. The girl had remained in the thrall of the Black Lotus and ultimately succumbed to Anraku. They had indeed shared a destiny; they would be together always, as she’d wished. But Haru had chosen friendship for Reiko over her devotion to the high priest. By saving Reiko’s life at the expense of her own, she’d atoned for her evils. And Reiko hadn’t even had a chance to thank Haru. Now it was too late.