The Devouring God Read Free Page A

half-­light. It pumped out of his forearm, through the slit in his sleeve. He had been cut.
    He swore at the top of his lungs, then gasped at sudden, blinding pain in his leg. He went down to one knee. The girls stopped their dance and turned inward toward him, grinning their horrible grins. He was at the center of the circle. They bore down on him, and he screamed as they stripped him of his flesh.

 
    CHAPTER 3
    Tuesday Morning
    â€œJ ust smile this time,” Ota shouted over his shoulder as he and Takuda weaved among shoppers and stalls in the crowded market street. “You scared the Mitsugi Carbon guys so badly that they don’t even return my calls.”
    Ota was a small, bandy-­legged man, and he scooted through the street market like a fox in underbrush. Takuda followed his employer patiently, even when he had to squeeze sideways between fishmongers’ carts and vegetable stands. It didn’t really matter if Ota got too far ahead. Takuda caught up quickly because the crowd parted before him. There was nothing obviously different about Takuda. Those who noticed him at all saw a larger-­than-­average Japanese man in a security guard’s jumpsuit. Yet shoppers stopped in their tracks to let him pass, sometimes fumbling for change, sometimes fussing over their children, sometimes just staring into space. This was how he knew he was being summoned: Answering the call to action was always the path of least resistance, as if the universe were smoothing the path ahead of him.
    It’s always very easy , he thought. Always easy till it gets very, very hard.
    Ota shouted over his shoulder again: “The section chief will be there. They’re all in a tizzy, what with all the stupid rumors about this starfish killer, and we’re there to make them feel safe. Now remember, it’s a tiny office with one old woman manager and a college girl answering the phones, got it? Street level converted apartment, main room plus two eight-­mat rooms, bathroom, and galley kitchen—­front door, kitchen door, and bathroom window. When the time comes, you walk around, act as if you’re checking it out, and then go back to your spot. Got it?”
    â€œYes, I’ve got it.”
    â€œGood. Just be quiet, okay? Stand there looking relaxed and ready, and let me do the talking. This is our first call from one of these little local governments, and we want to shine here. That’s why I’m bringing you.” Ota guffawed, looking back at Takuda. “With you, they wouldn’t even need a door. You could just stand aside to let ­people in or out.”
    They emerged from the market into the main street. A tall, thin priest stood on the corner with his brass begging bowl, so while Takuda and Ota waited for a break in traffic, Ota made the bowl ring with pocket change.
    â€œFor luck!” Ota was excited about the meeting.
    The priest blessed Ota, but then his eyes met Takuda’s. His smile wavered, only for a second. Takuda shook his head. He didn’t even look over his shoulder at the priest as he followed Ota to the work site.
    It was a simple apartment block, old but clean. The signboard affixed to the door read:
    Mental Health Ser­vices
    Fukuoka Prefecture
    Satellite Office 6
    The office seemed crowded when Takuda and Ota stepped in. A middle-­aged woman at a desk in the front room stood in response to Ota’s cheery greeting. This was, Takuda assumed, the “old woman manager” Ota had mentioned. A long-­haired man sitting in the guest’s chair at the manager’s desk didn’t acknowledge them at all. Takuda thought he might be a mental patient, but he was very expensively dressed to be seeking assistance at a satellite office in broad daylight. The “college girl” was busy at a desk in the room beyond the kitchen. She did not look up from her paperwork.
    Takuda looked for an unobtrusive place to park his oaken staff. It