The Monster’s Caress

Prologue-2

Yachats, Oregon:

Twenty-six years Ago

Seven-year-old Asahi Tanaka curiously peeked out from where he was crouched behind the long sofa and winced when his father slammed the front door behind him as he left. Asahi had hidden to listen to the conversation between his father and the man who had introduced himself as Aiko, his grandfather.

They had all just returned from Baba’s funeral, so today was already difficult without his father’s anger boiling over, but the moment Hinata Tanaka had entered the house, he began shouting at Aiko. Their conversation had quickly become heated—mostly because of his father’s refusal to listen to Aiko’s explanation of where he had been and what had happened to him.

Asahi tilted his head when he heard the tires of his father’s sports car burning rubber. Once again, his father had forgotten about him. Baba, Asahi’s grandmother, would have been upset if she were still alive. She always complained that his father drove too fast on the narrow winding roads around here.

Tears burned his eyes at the thought of his grandmother. When one escaped from the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek, he lifted his hand and wiped it away. Baba would have scolded him for crying over her.

“Asahi, I know you are there. Please come out,” the man sitting in the chair instructed.

Asahi slowly crawled out from behind the sofa and stood up. He stared at the man who looked almost the same age as his father. They looked so alike that Aiko and his father could have been mistaken as twins.

“Come, sit down so we can talk,” Aiko Tanaka gently requested.

Asahi stiffened his thin shoulders and lifted his head. He silently walked over and sat in his grandmother’s favorite chair. The pristine white doilies she had crocheted were draped over each arm of the green floral-patterned upholstery. He swallowed and remained still as his grandfather studied him.

Aiko sighed and looked down at the picture he was holding. Asahi looked at the photo too. It was an old picture of Baba, his father as a child, and Aiko—and Aiko looked the same as he did now.

“How… can you be the same person?” he asked in a faltering voice.

Aiko smiled at him. “It is a long story, one that I wish I could have shared with your Baba—and one I will share with your father in greater detail if he allows it. I want to share my story with you if you would like to hear it,” he said.

Asahi eagerly nodded. “Yes. I love stories. Baba shared lots of stories with me,” he shyly answered.

Aiko chuckled. “Your grandmother was a gifted storyteller. She would have loved this one. My story begins on a foggy morning forty years ago…,” he began, leaning back in his chair.

Asahi listened with wonder as his grandfather spoke of his unbelievable journey to another world, a world filled with magic, dragons, giants, witches, pirates—and monsters. The marvels of the Seven Kingdoms sparked Asahi’s imagination.

Darkness fell while they were finishing dinner. His grandfather paused and stared at him in silence, then twisted in his chair, opened a bag hanging from it, and pulled out an ornate dagger. At the top of the hilt was a small winged lion made of gold. Aiko held it lovingly in his hands.

Asahi stared in fascination at the strange symbols embossed on the thick leather sheath. His grandfather placed the dagger on the table in front of him and nodded toward it. Asahi’s attention remained fixed on the richly detailed lion at the top.

“This dagger was a gift from a dear friend. For years, I dreamed of giving it to your father, but I was unsure if I would ever return to Yachats,” Aiko softly explained.

Asahi tilted his head. “Baba said that father does not always appreciate the things he receives the way he should. She missed you. I liked when she told me stories about you,” he confessed.

Aiko smiled and pushed the dagger toward him. “Then I will give this magic dagger to you,” he said.

A knock at the front door forestalled what Asahi was going to say. He waited until Aiko was in the living room before he ran his fingers over the hilt of the dagger. Surprise washed through him when he saw the red-jeweled handle glow. He yanked his hand away.

The sound of his grandfather’s hoarse cry of denial drew him to his feet. Asahi walked over to the opening between the kitchen and the living room. He peered around the corner to see who was at the door. His heart hammered in his chest when he saw that a police officer was talking to Aiko.

“Where did it happen?” his grandfather asked in an unsteady voice.

“Along Highway 101. It appears he lost control coming around the curve and hit the guardrail. His car flipped over the edge of the embankment and went off the cliff. Someone reported that they saw it below. He died on impact. I’m sorry,” the police officer explained.

“No,” Asahi whispered. The tears dripping down his face mirrored his grandfather’s. Anger flooded his body.

“Asahi—” his grandfather began.

“It’s all their fault,” Asahi whispered.

The police officer looked at him and frowned. “Whose fault, son?” he asked.

Asahi looked back at his grandfather. “The monsters. If they had not taken you, then you would have been here for Baba and Father. They should not have taken you. They are the reason Baba and Father are dead,” he replied in a low, fierce tone.

He didn’t wait for the police officer or his grandfather to respond. There was nothing they could say that would bring back his grandmother or his father. He hurried back into the kitchen, grabbed the dagger off the table and a dish towel from the counter, and exited through the back door.

The tears on his face mixed with the damp mist as he hurried along the uneven path into the forest behind their house. When he was about a hundred yards away, he stopped and took several shuddering breaths of the chilled air. He wiped his face with the back of his shirt sleeve.

There was an outcropping of rocks next to the path where he had often enjoyed playing. He walked over to it, dropped to the ground, and placed his grandfather’s dagger and the dish towel on the ground beside him.

It took him a few minutes to clear the dirt he had piled up near one side of the boulders. He felt along the ground until he found the large, loose rock that covered his secret hiding space. He wiggled the rock free, put it aside, and reached into the small crevice. Inside were the treasures he had collected over the past year. He scooped out the rocks, shells, and an assortment of toys he had hidden in the hollow space and tossed them aside.

Asahi carefully wrapped the dish towel around the dagger before he slid it inside the hole. He replaced the rock over the hollow area and concealed it by piling more rocks and dirt on top.

Once he was confident no one would ever find the dagger, he returned to the path. The heavy mist changed to a light rain that soaked through the dress shirt and pants he was still wearing from the funeral. There were dark patches of dirt marring his clothing, but he was beyond caring.

Asahi slowly walked back to the house, shivering from the cold and shock. His grandfather was standing in the doorway waiting for him. He stopped, and they stared at each other in silence for a minute before Aiko stepped out of the house, walked through the rain, and stood before him.

He trembled when Aiko placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “We will start over, Asahi. Yachats has too many memories for both of us,” his grandfather quietly announced.

“I took your magic knife and hid it,” Asahi confessed.

Aiko nodded in understanding. “Then you will know where it is when you are ready,” he replied.

Asahi stepped into Aiko’s open arms and hugged his grandfather’s waist. Silent sobs shook his frame. He couldn’t help wondering if the rain was Baba’s tears as she cried with him.