O, the cellar! The things in the cellar that have haunted our walls! Stephen King, "Jerusalem's Lot," page 19 from _Night Shift_, Doubleday, 1976 There are some huge rats in the walls, by the sound. Stephen King, "Jerusalem's Lot," page 35 from _Night Shift_, Doubleday, 1976 _______________________________________________________________________ Kinmokusei Story Chapter Six: Hands, Touching. by Kotetsu _______________________________________________________________________ The first thing that Seiya noticed as she ventured down the palace hallways later that day was that everybody, EVERYBODY, seemed to want to shake her hand. "Lady Senshi!" a janitor exclaimed joyously as he suddenly grabbed her hand and began shaking it vigorously, "Thank you ever so much for protecting this palace from the youma threat!" "Uh, sure. No problem." Seiya was startled by his sudden gesture, but nevertheless, she felt just a touch of egotistical pride, and took a bit of vain pleasure in his words. "You're welcome. Just doing my job, that's all." Seiya grinned. "Did we get her?" Delilah peered anxiously over Reynard's shoulder. Reynard watched the Senshi pull her hand away from the janitor's, and wave at him cheerfully as she strode away. "No," Reynard said, furrowing his brow. "No infection. But the egg is gone." "What do you mean?" "It's just . . . gone." "How so?" "I think it dissolved itself." "Huh?" "Watch." Reynard pursed his lips, staring at his mirror. "Let's see what happens next." "Lady Kou!" Senator Braharns flagged Seiya down. "Come here, my Lady!" "Yes? What is it?" Seiya walked obediently toward him. He suddenly grasped her hand and shook it vigorously. "I just wanted to commend you for your performance the other day, saving the poor guards from that youma. Top job, old girl. You're doing splendidly." "Why, thank you, sir." Seiya's cheeks blushed. She was already feeling warmed and encouraged by the kindly old senator's words. Reynard sucked in his breath, sharply. "There it goes again!" "What goes again?" "The type B egg. It vanished, just a moment after their hands touched." "Impossible!" "It might be a fluke." Reynard was starting to feel grumpy. "Let's try it again." "I, too, would like to extend my congratulations," Representative Jorgenstein suddenly said as he appeared beside Braharn's shoulder. "May I shake your hand, Lady Kou?" "I don't see what's so special about shaking my hand," Seiya laughed cheerfully. "But sure, why not?" They shook hands. "Not again," Reynard groaned. "Mister Reynard . . ." Delilah paused, carefully thinking over her words. "Remember how the skin of a type A youma burns when it comes into contact with a Sailor Senshi?" "I know." Reynard scowled at the mirror, and at the cheerfully oblivious Senshi happily shaking hands with everyone around her. He suddenly knew where Delilah's train of thought was headed. And he didn't like it. "Maybe . . . Sailor Senshi have some sort of inherent anti-youma countercharge in their bodies, or something similar . . . " "Are you suggesting that the Sailor Senshi are immune to my youma eggs, my Queen?" "Perhaps just the type B eggs." "Let's try the other two Senshi," Reynard growled. "See if they'll be any different." "Surely," Taiki was saying calmly, sipping at a glass of juice that she had finally managed to pour into one of the few unbroken glasses that she had left, "You don't object to that sort of behavior, do you?" "No, it's just that . . . " Yaten sighed helplessly, slamming her fists down on the table in frustration. "It just seems so sudden! Are you SURE that you really love him?!" "Absolutely." "You're *kidding* me." "Is it so inconceivable to you, that I could actually fall in love with someone?" Taiki glared at her coldly. "You and Seiya weren't the only lonely ones, you know. I always wanted a love of my own, too. I may have been better at hiding it than Seiya was, but I dreamed and I fantasized about having somebody special to share my fears, my secrets, my hopes and my dreams with. And now I've finally found him. He's wonderful, more wonderful that anybody I could have ever hoped for. And he loves me, too." "Are you sure?" "I said, absolutely." "How do you know?" "He said he loved me." "When?" "Last night . . ." "Was this AFTER you were already in bed with him?!" "Oh, Yaten." Taiki rolled her eyes, exasperated. "You don't understand ANYTHING." "Uh-huh. And where is he now?" "Probably still cowering in the bathroom, afraid to come out as long as he can hear you hissing and clawing at the air like a rabid cat." "That's not a very nice thing to say," Yaten grumped. Then her shoulders suddenly slumped forward, and her face melted into an expression of genuine worry. Her voice became soft, subdued. "I'm just afraid for you, that's all," she whispered softly. "I don't want you to get hurt or anything, and I . . . I don't want you to feel like I rushed you into anything, not because of those cruel words that I said last night . . . " "Yaten . . . " Taiki's hand reached across the table, and she gently folded it around Yaten's balled fist. "I understand your concern. I would probably feel the same way, if our situations were reversed. But I want you to know that Hideaki would *never* hurt me. So please . . . Please accept him into our life, okay? Will you do that for me? He means a lot to me, more than I ever though anybody ever would . . . If you and Seiya would love him as well, if would also mean a lot to me." "Oh . . . " Yaten turned her watery eyes upward, meeting Taiki's. "All right. I'll be nice to him, but only because I love you." The exchanged wan, nervous smiles across the table. Yaten suddenly cocked her head. "Hey, you know what?" "What?" "It's already past noon. We missed breakfast with Kakyuu." "Oops." Taiki grimaced. And, opportunistically, her stomach rumbled loudly. "Um, shall we go get something to eat?" "What, and leave Hideaki here, cowering in the bathroom?" "I think he's still too afraid of you to come back out. He must be terribly embarrassed, too, if he realizes how he flashed both you and Seiya this morning." Taiki giggled at the memory. Then she quickly composed herself again. "Let me have a few words with him, and get dressed. Then we'll go out together, okay?" "We should go down to the kitchens, and get some ice cream," Yaten stated somberly. "Ice cream? For brunch?" Taiki grimaced again. "That's not very nutritious." "You're *supposed* to eat an ice cream sundae after you have sex," Yaten said as she rolled her eyes. "Everybody knows that." Taiki blushed. "Fine. Okay, whatever. Let me say goodbye to Hideaki." No less than ten minutes later, they left Taiki's home. "They're out," Delilah observed, watching the mirror. "All right." Reynard cracked his knuckles. "Let's try this again." "Look! There they are, mama!" The little girl pointed enthusiastically. Taiki elbowed Yaten. "Tourists," she whispered out of the side of her mouth. "Play nice, Yaten." "I will," Yaten whispered back, forcing a friendly grin as the civilian family shyly approached them. The little girl stopped and stared up at them with eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Are you *really* the Sailor Senshi?!" she asked breathlessly. "Well, yes, last time I checked," Taiki joked, bending down to be at the girl's eye level. She had to bend down pretty far. "And you would be . . .?" "My name's Minase!" the little girl blurted out, reaching out and unabashedly running her fingers over Taiki's cheeks. She touched Taiki's cheeks and ears, her hands, and her nose, as if not believing that they were really real. Her mother coughed, embarrassed. Her father blushed, mumbling apologetically to Yaten, "I'm sorry about this. She's just so terribly curious, and--" "Hey, it's no problem." Yaten waved aside his apology. "It's flattering, in all honesty. But you're not from around the palace, are you?" "No; we're visitors from up north." The father was beginning to relax now, to feel more at ease. "I'm Kyouji Matsumoto. This is my wife, Aika. Pleased to meet you." Surprised at his own audacity, he held out his hand to her. Even more surprisingly, Yaten shook the offered hand eagerly. "It's nice to see foreign visitors around here," she said. "DAMN IT ALL!" Reynard swore at the mirror. Delilah pursed her lips together, and said, "Hmmmm," thoughtfully. Reynard glowered at her. "What are you thinking?" "It's what we suspected. The type B eggs dissolve upon contact with Senshi flesh. They're just too weak to infect the Senshi." "The brilliance behind the type B eggs is that they're small and weak," Reynard retorted, defensively. "They're inherently too weak to ever be detected by the Sailor Senshi, either." "I know, Reynard." Delilah rolled her eyes. "Regardless, the Master's first plan has failed." "Then I'll just have to come up with a better plan," Reynard growled, dismissing his mirror with a nod of his head. "Let's see, now . . . " He thought. He thought hard. And then, slowly, he began to grin. Delilah eyed him suspiciously. "What are you thinking?" Reynard's eyes twinkled maliciously. "Well, my Queen . . . how do you feel today?" "What?" "How do you feel today?" "Frustrated," Delilah answered flatly. "Pity." Reynard licked his lips, hungrily. "Do you want to know how *I* feel?" "How do you feel today, Reynard?" "I feel IRONIC, my Lady." "Ironic?" "Yes. Ironic." He rubbed his hands together with glee. "My next plan will be very ironic." "Reynard, you must tell me just exactly what--" "Please don't order me to do so, my Queen," Reynard begged, hoping to make an appeal to her vain delusions. "I would like this to be a splendid surprise for you. Do not worry, my Queen. By tomorrow afternoon, I will deliver the first of the Senshi to you." "Well . . ." Delilah fluttered her eyelashes, blushing with the praise. "Very well, Reynard. I shall expect at least one of my rightful Senshi to return to me by tomorrow afternoon." "As you wish, my Queen." Reynard bowed low before her. Mentally, he was already planning his preparations for the night. "And not a youma yet today," Seiya observed happily as she dug into her ice cream sundae. "I never thought the day would go so well. I mean, I didn't even know that Representative Jorgenstein *liked* me." "It was probably just a publicity stunt," Yaten countered cynically, having finished with all two bites of her ice cream that she had intended to eat. "You know, like kissing babies, or something." "The next Assembly election isn't for two more years," Taiki pointed out, wagging her finger at Yaten. But then she paused, seeming to backtrack on her words a bit. "But it could still be shameless media manipulation. As long as the conservatives control both Assembly chambers, the Unionist party has to take any and all positive publicity that it can generate." "Right." Seiya nodded, even though she didn't exactly understand what Taiki was talking about. The three of them had managed to meet up on their way through the palace, and were now sitting in a quiet stairwell in the basement levels, enjoying the ice cream that they had stolen from right underneath the cooks' noses. It was as nutritious of a brunch as any. Seiya peered sideways at Yaten, sitting with the almost completely untouched bowl of ice cream in her lap. "Hey, Yaten, are you going to eat that?" "Of course not. I'll get fat." "Give it here, then." Seiya snatched the ice cream away from her. "I'm starving." Even as Seiya dug into her ice cream, she was already bracing herself for the obligatory comment about her greedy eating habits; but, strangely, it never came. Seiya peered at Yaten again. Yaten was sitting quietly, staring off into space, her eyes shimmering with worry. Seiya waved her hand in front of Yaten's face. "Yo, is something wrong?" "Eh?" Yaten blinked, startled. "What?" "She asked you if something were wrong," Taiki repeated, sternly, the tone of her voice almost ordering Yaten to give an answer. "Yes. No. I don't know." Yaten shook her head. "I've got a bad feeling about something." "A 'bad feeling?' Could you please be a bit more specific?" "Not really." Yaten sighed, pulling her knees into her chest. "It started when we left your apartment, Taiki. Just sort of this niggling feeling of uneasiness, in the back of my mind. I almost felt like someone, or something, was watching us . . . And it wasn't a very nice someone or something, if you know what I mean." "Well, I wouldn't be surprised if the Enemy really was watching us," Taiki stated calmly, matter-of-factly. "But I do worry about the means by which they can accomplish any sort of surveillance." Yaten closed her eyes. <> The feeling still hadn't left her. It settled into the base of her spine like a cold, nervous knot. They were being watched, and something bad was going to happen to them . . . "Let's be really careful, okay?" Yaten said nervously, opening her eyes again. "I think we should be really careful for the rest of the day. And, you know, watch our backs." "We do anyway," Seiya replied cheerfully around a mouthful of ice cream. "What are you so worried about, Yaten? Whatever the danger is, it can't be worse than anything else we've faced before." Yaten remembered Galaxia, and suddenly found that her current situation was indeed much brighter than it had been a moment before. "Yeah," she agreed, smiling wanly, "I guess you're right." "Let's just enjoy our day today, all right?" Seiya suggested as she polished off the last of her ice cream. "Right," Taiki echoed. "Right," Yaten repeated, more softly than the others. ******************** The day passed, uneventfully. As the sun slowly set and the fireflies began dancing around the palace gardens, Taiki returned to her home to find Hideaki sprawled across her bed, his head burrowed underneath a large pillow. Taiki sat down on the bed beside him. "Well. Aren't we feeling friendly tonight?" "I should spend the rest of my life with a paper bag over my head," Hideaki moaned. "I have never been so embarrassed in my life." "It's all right. Seiya won't remember much of it for long, and Yaten's too prudish to ever say anything about it." Taiki rested her hands on his back and began massaging his shoulder blades. "Where were you hiding yourself all day?" "I came out of the bathroom after you left," he answered, his voice still muffled by the pillow over his head. "I stayed here. It felt safer here." "Seiya and Yaten aren't all that bad," Taiki teased him gently as she massaged his back slowly. "Seiya likes you already. And Yaten . . . Well, it takes time for Yaten to warm up to people. And besides, I made her promise that she would be nice to you. She won't dare to ever break that promise." "Are you sure?" "I'm twice the size of her. I could beat her up with one hand tied behind my back." From beneath the pillow, Hideaki chuckled. "But I heard that she fights dirty." "Yeah. She *does* have those long fingernails of hers, and she isn't afraid to use them." "I guess that short, scrawny people have to use every advantage that they can in a physical fight." "Uh-oh. I wouldn't say things like that, if I were you. She'd kill you if she ever found out that you called her 'short' and 'scrawny.' " Taiki felt Hideaki freeze up beneath her. "Um, but she would never find out about something like that, right . . . ?" "Oh, I don't know." Taiki slowly laid down beside him on the bed, still using one hand to lazily rub the tension out of his shoulder. "A naughty little bird might tell her." "Now, there's a metaphor that makes no sense whatsoever." Hideaki finally lifted the pillow up and peered at her from underneath it. "I just can't imagine you as a 'little bird,' let alone a 'naughty little bird.' " "Forgive my lousy metaphors. I'm tired." She leaned forward and kissed him playfully on the tip of his nose. "But not . . . too tired." "Mmm." His eyes were already glazing over with lust. "I missed you. I thought of you all day." "If you don't come out from underneath that pillow right now, you're going to spend the rest of tonight missing me, too." "Right away, ma'am." Hideaki threw the pillow away from himself. "Better?" "Much better. I love to look at your face. It's very handsome. It would be a shame to spend the rest of your life hiding that handsome face underneath a brown paper bag." "I don't know. Maybe I'll rethink the paper bag idea," he said, somewhat noncommittally. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly, reverently, on the lips. Things progressed from there. ******************** "I don't know. I didn't get much of a chance to, uh, make a first impression of him," Seiya was saying to Yaten over the phone later that evening. "But from what I've heard around the palace, he seems nice enough." "His name is Hideaki, right?" Yaten still sounded suspicious. "Does he even *have* a family name?" "Who knows?" Seiya shrugged. She was pacing around her bedroom in a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts, pausing every now and then to stretch her heels or her hamstrings, balancing the phone between her left ear and shoulder as she stretched her arms over and around her head. It was her normal pre-bedtime routine, after all. "The important thing is that Taiki's crazy about him. Well, you know, 'crazy' in her understated Taiki-ish sort of way. But she has pretty high standards to begin with, so . . . " "So . . . " Yaten mocked Seiya's drawling end to her sentence. "Aren't you surprised by any of this?" "Oh, yes!" "And yet you--" "--choose not to worry about it," Seiya finished. "I wonder how much she's told him," Yaten mused from the other end of the line. "About what?" "You know, stuff." Yaten's voice grew quiet. "Like stuff that we didn't include in the Sol Report testimonies." "Oh, I can just imagine it now," Seiya chuckled, the phone almost slipping from its tenuous grip between her cheek and shoulder. "One day Taiki just decides to confess everything to him, and finally says, 'Excuse me, Hideaki-chan, but did I ever tell you that I once had a dick?' " Yaten burst into a peal of helpless giggles. "S-S-S-Seiya, y-you're t-t- terrible!!" Seiya was just relieved that she had finally gotten Yaten to laugh. It wasn't healthy for the poor girl to be brooding about their impending doom all the time. Funny, that was the way that Taiki used to act. "I would give *anything* to see the look on his face when--" Abruptly, on the other end of the line, Yaten stopped giggling. She sucked in her breath sharply. Seiya paused. "What is it?" "I think . . . " Yaten's voice was a low, breathy whisper into the mouthpiece of her telephone. "I think I hear something . . . " "Hear what?" "Like something scratching behind the walls . . . " There was a rustle of movement; Yaten was walking quietly across her carpet. "No, not the walls," she breathed quietly, "but I can hear it, behind the mirror . . . " "Yaten--" "Oh!" Yaten suddenly cried out, too loudly. "It's gone." "Yaten, are you all right?! Do you want me to come over there? Do you want to come over here? Do you--?" "I'm fine, Seiya. I'm just tired. I think I'm starting to hear things." She sighed into the receiver. "Look, I should probably get myself to bed now." "Well . . . " Seiya hesitated, freezing herself in the middle of one of her stretches. Suddenly, she didn't want Yaten to hang up the phone. She was afraid, but she couldn't begin to fathom why. But, who was she kidding?! Being overprotective of Yaten was just going to put the other girl in a temperamental, nasty mood; besides, Yaten was a big girl, she could take care of herself. And at the moment, Seiya could sense nothing in the palace that even remotely triggered her internal Senshi alarms, so that meant . . . that there was no real reason to be afraid. Was there? "All right," Seiya finally finished. "Go to bed." "Thanks. See you tomorrow." With a click, Yaten hung up the telephone. Seiya hung up her end of the line a moment later, still trying to quell the growing sense of fear in her heart. Oh, well. She needed a good night's sleep, that was what she needed. In the morning, she would feel all better. And besides, there was football practice with Belinda to look forward to tomorrow morning! With this cheerful thought in mind, Seiya finally retired to her bed. ******************** Ironic? Yes. Messy? Most definitely. Sick and twisted? Well, that was half the fun. Alone in a darkened corner of a darkened world, Reynard grinned gleefully and tossed his treasure back and forth between his hands. Malathos had ordered him to deliver three Sailor Crystals, intact within a living body and still attached to at least a leftover of a soul. Reynard could do that, with this new plan; he would just do it in a fun, roundabout way. The type B youma eggs hadn't worked, so . . . " . . . It's time to roll out the bigger guns," Reynard finished his thought aloud. Reynard finished his tossing game, and cupped his treasure lovingly in the palm of one hand, stroking it reverently with his fingers. It was a type A youma egg, small and white, round and smooth and perfect. Not even a Sailor Senshi would be able to resist infection by a type A youma egg. How fitting. How delightful. It was poetic irony in its top form. A Sailor Senshi turning into a youma. Utterly delicious. The outer shell of the youma would incapacitate the Sailor Crystal and the guardian soul within; once the youma's transformation was complete, Reynard would be able to summon it back through the dimensional gateway and to his Master's side within a matter of moments. Once delivered, Reynard was still not exactly sure what would become of the Senshi's soul or Sailor Crystal - he still had no idea what the Master was planning for the three lady Senshi. But regardless, the Sailor Crystal and the soul would be neatly confined and helpless before the Master's whims. If the Master wished (or needed) to do so, he could easily banish the youma's form and restore the Senshi's normal body. But Reynard couldn't possibly think of any reason why the Master would want to do that. Sure, the Sailor Senshi were pretty enough . . . But there was just something cosmically FUNNY about a hideously malformed youma carrying within it a Sailor Crystal to be summoned and controlled at his Master's disposal. Reynard certainly appreciated the sick, sadistic joke of the youma-body more than he did the superficial beauty of the Senshi-body. So, then. A type A egg infestation would do the trick quite nicely. Now, to find a carrier . . . Reynard waved his hand, and his mirror materialized in front of his face. It was the middle of the night in the royal palace, and all of the Knights and guards and palace personnel were asleep snug in their beds. Reynard watched their images flicker past his mirror, one after another after another after another, reject, reject, reject. This was a special egg. This was a special mission. He needed the perfect carrier. The images flickered across the mirror, one after another after another after another-- <> Reynard paused for a moment. He sensed . . . something . . . through the mirror . . . << . . . i hear something . . . >> Reynard stared at his mirror. He was suddenly watching the little silver- haired Sailor Senshi, sneaking quietly across the carpet of a darkened room, clutching a telephone receiver in one hand and holding it against the side of her head, whispering quietly and fearfully into the mouthpiece as she approached a mirror on the far side of the room. Reynard felt a moment of uncharacteristic apprehension. <> A painfully, evilly bright tendril of thought seemed to snake outward from Reynard's mirror and brush quickly against the edges of his mind. Was the *girl* the source of this invasive thought wave?! <> "Dammit," Reynard swore angrily, realizing his idiotic mistake. His mirror and her mirror were somehow connected; she had "heard" his own mirror surfing the across the dimensional channels that allowed him to peer into every nook and cranny of the royal palace. What rotten luck, to be attuned to a frequency that this girl's limited, mortal mind could detect! It wasn't just rotten luck, it was SLOPPY as well. Cursing himself for being a fool, Reynard shifted his mirror to a lower frequency on all of its possible levels - psychic, magical, dimensional, and metaphysical - and then quickly flipped past the image of the girl's bedroom, once again searching and seeking for a suitable carrier. Abruptly, the invading thought tendril vanished. Reynard smirked to himself, smugly. He'd eluded her. She'd lost him. "Take that, you annoying girl!" he laughed gleefully at the mirror. At this point, even a small victory felt good. But that didn't really matter in the long run, did it? Surely by tomorrow afternoon, she and her two friends would be his. The images flickered across the mirror, one after another after another after another. It seemed as if every person who lived within the palace was sound asleep. For several more minutes, Reynard stared at the images flashing across his mirror. Awww, weren't the sleeping people just too cute to look at? Why, there was another of the Sailor Senshi, sleeping peacefully and quietly in her bed, raven-dark locks tumbled around her face and shoulders, blissfully unaware of the gruesome fate that awaited her during the course of the next day. Sending his mirror zooming past her, Reynard re-focused on the bedroom of the third and final Senshi. Well, this one wasn't asleep yet. She was engaged in something terribly interesting with another man. Reynard watched the two of them groaning and tumbling across the bed, enjoying a mild power trip simply from being able to watch their private moment together undetected and unaccounted for; but after a minute or two, the thrill of power wore off, and the spectacle on the bed began to seem boring and petty compared to Reynard's vaster, grander, world- crushing concerns. So, with a faint sigh, Reynard once again sent another stream of images flashing across the surface of his mirror - sleeping politicians, sleeping military officers, sleeping kitchen cooks, sleeping servants and waiters, sleeping Knights . . . Wait-- There. Perfect. His perfect carrier, one that he knew would never fail. Or that had never failed before, at least. Sprawled comfortably across her bed, sleeping in an old t-shirt and pair of boxer shorts, hard, lithe leg and arm muscles gleaming in the darkness of her bedroom, dirty-blonde hair flowing in curves and waves around her face, shoulders, and pillow. So strong and pure-hearted, so kind and courageous. Reynard enjoyed working with this one. She was a real winner, she was. "Wake up," he whispered softly to the mirror. "Wake up, I command thee. Thy master awaits." Slowly, her eyes opened. They were glazed, half-lidded, dimly glowing with the inner light of the youma that normally stayed quiet and hidden within the back of her mind. She slid out of her bed and shuffled toward the mirror hanging on the wall of her bedroom, slowly, lethargically, like one moving through a dream. Her mouth hung slightly open, and she breathed in and out heavily and slowly, as if she were still in a deep sleep. She stopped before the mirror, staring at her own reflection, but staring beyond it, beyond the mirror and into another dimension, staring at Reynard. She spoke as though she were far away and enshrouded in a deep fog. "I am here, master." "Child, show me thy hand." She placed her hand against the surface of the mirror, pressing her palm against the smooth, cool glass. "I give you this seed to spread to my victim. Hear my instructions, and obey." Reynard gently gripped the youma egg between the tips of his fingers, then pushed it forward, through the liquid surface of his mirror, sinking it into the flesh of his victim's open palm. It buried itself under her skin, still dormant and not ready to hatch, not going to hatch until it had entered the body of its true target. "Now listen," Reynard began. He whispered his instructions to his carrier's ears, as she nodded slowly, unblinking, still breathing heavily through her mouth. And when Reynard had finished, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She turned away from the mirror and shuffled back toward her bed, collapsing back on top of it and resuming the deep, peaceful sleep from which she had never truly aroused in the first place. The demon egg pulsed in the palm of her hand, a faint presence, one which her waking self would be completely unaware of in the morning. Good. The trap was sprung. Reynard dissolved his mirror and then decided that he, too, would retire for the night. Meanwhile, within the royal palace, Belinda Undari slept peacefully in the comfort of her warm, soft bed, oblivious to the demon egg imbedded in the flesh of her own hand. - end part six -