Leaving the pathway, Annja crept through the trees until she had a clear view of the front of the shrine. Four steps led up to the entrance. Beside the steps was a pair of stone foxes, symbols of Inari, god of the harvest. The Dragon was nowhere to be seen.

Annja moved forward.

When she reached the side of the shrine, she stopped and listened. She could hear the Dragon’s voice from inside the structure, though she couldn’t make out what was being said.

It didn’t really matter though, she’d found what she was looking for.

Annja walked to the front of the building, calmly climbed the steps and entered through the front door.

The interior of the shrine was lit by an entire wall of candles. By their light Annja could see the Dragon speaking to two men dressed in the uniforms of the park maintenance crew.

As one, they turned to look at her.

“You can’t have the sword,” Annja said, looking directly at Shizu.

The Dragon laughed. “Do you think you can take it from me?”

Annja smiled, and by the way the two men stepped back upon seeing it, she knew she had conveyed her intent clearly enough. “Oh, I think so,” she said.

Reaching into the otherwhere, she summoned her weapon.

The Dragon’s eyes fell on the sword and then on the wrapped bundle she had set aside several minutes before. Annja could almost see her playing it back in her mind, wondering how Annja could have managed to regain possession of the sword when it had been in the Dragon’s custody since she’d left the pavilion.

Chew on that one a bit, Annja thought, and now it was her turn to laugh.

Fury seized Shizu in its iron grip. “Kill her!” she screamed, even as she drew her own sword with a lightning quick maneuver.

The men were already in motion, rushing toward Annja with their own weapons drawn.

She didn’t wait for them to reach her, but moved to intercept instead. She was done running; it was time to stand and fight.

She would avenge what they had done to Roux and most likely Henshaw, as well.

She met the first of the Dragon’s henchmen in the center of the room. She knew right away he was no match for her; he held his blade poorly and relied on his brute strength to get him through. He came forward with clumsy, overhand attacks that Annja had no problem avoiding. Annja gave back a little ground, forcing him to move closer to keep her in range, and when he followed she made her move.

Annja deflected the swing of his sword and continued to turn, spinning around to bring her left elbow smashing upward toward his face. When she hammered him on the temple, he stumbled backward, dropping his sword in the process. Annja moved in on him, kicking his sword away as she did so. When he turned to run, she slashed her blade across the backs of his knees, cutting his hamstrings and effectively taking him out of the fight.

A knife whistled by her head, taking her attention away from the downed man at her feet. The other man was standing where he’d been originally, but rather than facing her with sword in hand, he was pulling knife after knife from slots on his belt and hurling them at her.

She used her sword to knock them out of the air as she advanced. Just like swatting a fly, she thought. When she reached him, he drew his own sword and put up an inspired defense, but the end result was the same.

Annja shortly found herself standing over his dying form, the blade of her sword slick with the man’s blood.

Annja looked around. Where did the Dragon go?

The notion occurred to her just as the Dragon came running out of the shadows, sword in hand, and almost managed to cut her head off at the shoulders. Only the fact that Annja stumbled over something on the floor kept her from losing her head.

They moved around the interior of the shrine, trading blow after blow. Eventually the battle began to wear on Annja. Where Shizu was fresh, Annja was not. She’d fought to save Roux’s life, and the events in the pond and the effort to deliver CPR afterward had sapped her strength. Her timing was off; her attacks were a split second too slow and getting slower all the while.

Sensing this, the Dragon pressed her attack, driving Annja back. Step after step, blow after blow, Annja could do nothing but retreat. Her sword was heavier than her opponent’s, bulkier, and if this went on for much longer her ability to fight back would be severely hampered by fatigue. At that point, it would be all but over. The Dragon would be able to deliver the coup de grâce whenever she felt like it.

As Annja’s strength ebbed, her doubts began to creep in.

She couldn’t do it, a voice in the back of her head whispered. Who did she think she was, anyway? Joan had been a hero, a true warrior. But her? She was nothing more than a glorified trench digger looking for broken bits of pottery and other garbage. She didn’t deserve to carry Joan’s sword.

Her mind flashed to the first fight between them, the one at Roux’s estate. The Dragon had bested her then and was sure to do so now. What did she have that the Dragon did not?

The answer was at the heart of all she did.

Annja did have faith in her own destiny, in her right to bear the sword.

And that faith was enough to silence the voice of doubt in her head.

The Dragon chose that moment to smile at her, just as she had during their first encounter, as if to say, See? You can’t face me and expect to win.

That little grin, that slight quirk of the mouth, was enough to turn the tide of the battle.

Annja felt a newfound strength pour through her limbs as adrenaline flooded her system, and she used it to her advantage, her blade like a dervish whirling in the dim light.

This time it was the Dragon who was forced back. This time it was the Dragon who came out of the exchange bleeding as the tip of Annja’s sword slashed her skin when she failed to move fast enough.

This time it looked as if it would be the Dragon who lost the battle, and apparently the Dragon thought so, too. She maneuvered her way around the building until she stood in front of the stairs leading back down to ground level.

After delivering a powerful blow, she turned and ran down the stairs.

Annja gave chase.

30

By the time Annja managed to get outside, the Dragon had disappeared into the trees. Annja caught the barest glimpse of her just before she was lost from sight and without hesitation Annja raced to catch up.

There was no path, no easy route, and Annja was forced to push her way through. Branches tore at her, brambles cut her flesh, and when she came out on the other side she was certain she was bleeding from a dozen new wounds. She could imagine she looked quite the sight, covered with cuts and blood and gore-stained clothing.

Annja emerged on a grassy hill above a walkway and once she reached it she realized that it was the continuation of the left-hand path she’d encountered earlier. Since the path was well lit and would provide both her and the Dragon the fastest and most direct escape route, Annja chose to follow it.

Eventually she emerged from the trees and found herself standing near what could only be the Cherry Esplanade.

It was a wide-open area on which seventy-six individual cherry trees had been planted in four identical rows, leaving a wide carpet of green grass in the center. Large spotlights had been set up all around the edges of the esplanade, illuminating it even though the park was closed.