Chapter 1: Seventeen

SIX MONTHS LATER...

So, what exactly did I do to deserve this? It all started five hundred and seventy-five years ago. Well, that’s the earliest memory I can latch onto. It may have started earlier, but my monkey brain wasn’t capable of holding on to much.

Oh, before I forget, my name is Drake Steele. I’m sixteen years old. Technically. It’s complicated. And tomorrow, I’m going to vanish from the face of the earth. I’ll cease to exist—nothing more than the memory of someone who once was. I will… Ah, that’s enough exposition.

I was born in 1451, in a tiny village called Heaven’s River in what is now Kōka, Shiga Prefecture. Back then, it was Ōmi Province. Don’t try to find it on a map. It’s not there anymore. I was trained to be a shinobi. Back then, everyone called me the Steel Dragon. As far as I knew, that was my only name. All day long I would hear:

“Steel Dragon, practice your sword technique!”

“Steel Dragon, why aren’t you practicing with your shuriken?”

“Steel Dragon, your aim with the fukiya is atrocious!”

“Steel Dragon, get away from the women’s bathhouse!”

Yeah, that last one started when I was about fourteen. Little did I know, I only had a couple of years left.

A fly buzzed past my ear and dragged me out of the memory. I didn’t have time to stand around reminiscing. If I survived the next few minutes, I might even offer the little pest a prayer of thanks.

 I was on the roof of Kyōto Seiryū High School. There I stood: Drake Steele, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and as American as they came. In one hand, I held a liuyedao—a curved Chinese war saber. In the other, a wakizashi. Strapped to my waist was an honest-to-goodness Colt Peacemaker in a genuine Old-West leather holster. I wore cowboy boots, a stylish black cowboy hat with a silver band, and a black bandit mask across my face. I was a strange sight to behold.

If anyone could behold me, that is. It was a bright, sunny day. Classes were in session inside the building beneath my feet. Students and faculty moved along the sidewalks.

And not one of them could see me. 

I had Dead Walked. 

Before I get into what a Dead Walk is, let me kill this soul-sucking asshole that’s been causing trouble around the school.

That’s kind of what the Gate Agents were brought together for.Now, where was he? There weren’t too many places to hide on the roof. Behind the large heating unit? Or maybe on top of…Shit.

That’s when he jumped.

Yeah, right from the top of the roof’s stairwell entrance. And it was not who I thought it was.

Kuroda-sensei, Kyōto Seiryū High School’s most popular teacher.

Well, that sure explained a lot. Of course, now he only vaguely resembled Kuroda-sensei. I think it was the sagging green skin, the goat-like irises, and the clawed hands that were doing the most to change his normal scholarly look. I could be wrong.

Oh, and the fangs and oversized machete he was carrying didn’t help either.

If I hadn’t heard him jump, I’d have a couple of feet of steel poking through my chest right now. He hit me shoulder-first, sending me sprawling. By the time he landed beyond me, I had rolled back to my feet and raised my weapons, all heroic-like.

“Kuroda-sensei, fancy meeting you here! I see you’re using a new moisturizer. I’d get my money back if I were you.”

His eyes narrowed. His voice crackled like fat in a hot pan. “Steele-kun. You’re the Gate Agent?”

“Yeah, I’m here to punch your ticket.”

He cocked his head. “They’re coming, you know. You’ve only got a few minutes.”

“Plenty of time.”

The teacher curled one clawed hand and threw an amethyst-colored fireball in my direction. The wakizashi was up in a flash. I was able to knock the spell away, but I could still feel its heat on my face. It seemed Kuroda-sensei had picked up a little magic somewhere.

Ah, there it was: a little onyx ring on his pinkie finger.

“Got a little magic there, do you? Did you get a talisman out of a cereal box?”

“Screw you, gaijin! I’m powerful. The master will make me part of his circle!”

His eyes darted wildly, but his hands were already moving. Another spell was coming. After the fireball, I had no idea what kind. 

He began a gesture with his hands while guttural words spewed from his lips. It was at the last instant that I recognized it to be a metal seeking spell. I leapt backward and hurled my wakizashi into the rooftop. 

Lightning split the sky and struck the wakizashi quivering in the rooftop. The flash lasted only an instant, but it left the blade blackened and ruined. Better it than me.

Well, shit. I loved that blade. This asshat was toast.

I looked up in time to see the onyx ring crumble into dust around his finger. “Aw, too bad. Looks like that garage sale ring only had two spells.

”I hefted my liuyedao and stepped forward.

I could hear the Pack now. They were close.

“Wait! You don’t want to know why I killed all those young girls?

”He licked his lips and smiled. A thick, viscous drool rolled down his face.

“Oh, I know why. You needed the blood to quench Orezo’s thirst. How else are you going to bring back your little god? I say that with a small ‘g’. Now, are we doing this or am I just going to block the gate and wait on the Pack to finish you?”

“Stupid, arrogant gaijin bastard!”

The creature rushed forward, bringing the machete down with both hands. I quickly sidestepped and brought the liuyedao down in a single stroke.

Kuroda-sensei’s head separated neatly from his torso.

The body went limp and fell to the ground.

The head kept yelling insults.

“You rotten son of a bitch! The master will kill you and all of your kind! I will be reborn and watch as he rips out your eyes and feeds them to the crows!”

“Man, you are just so negative. Here comes the Pack. Why don’t you talk it over with them?”

I kicked the head toward the amorphous mist spilling over the edge of the rooftop. Shadowy wolves shifted within it, their bodies forming and dissolving as they surged forward—a tangle of elongated limbs, snapping jaws, and pale, hungry eyes. They moved like a single living cloud, snarling and howling with a hundred throats. The head landed several feet in front of them. I could still hear Kuroda-sensei’s screams as if he were right beside me.

I decided it was time to open a gate to the Locker Room and end my Dead Walk before the Pack decided to have a conversation with me. Actually, you don’t have conversations with the Pack. You become a meal. Gate Agents, undead, monsters, demigods—everyone fears the Pack.

I traced a rectangle in the air with my index finger, leaving a golden afterimage behind. I pressed my palm against its center. The golden rectangle vanished, and pale light spread outward, forming the outline of a door where none had been.

I heard Kuroda-sensei scream a final time and stepped through the door, closing it firmly behind me.

The Locker Room was empty. No other Gate Agents or staff were around. Even the massive weapons vault was unmanned. Not unheard of, but a little unusual. Slow day, maybe?

The Locker Room is kind of like a blister that sits right outside of reality. That makes it sound bad. You can pop a blister. You can’t pop the Locker Room.

Shit. How do I explain this. The Locker Room is a secure pocket dimension created for Gate Agents. Think of it as a hidden room sealed behind the walls of reality.

People renovate old houses and occasionally discover rooms that have been closed off for centuries. The rooms were always there; nobody knew how to reach them.

That was the Locker Room.

Only Gate Agents and the PDC knew where to find the door. Unless some immensely powerful being decided to renovate reality, it would stay hidden.

Okay, maybe my metaphor needed work. I’ll explain the PDC later. Personally, I think they’re in on the divine joke.

What do you see in the Locker Room? A locker room. We’ve got an ugly, pale green tile floor, metal lockers, showers, laundry, and a very large weapons vault. Also, the buzz of the fluorescent lights bugs the shit out of me. I went to my locker and stowed away my gear. Walking around Japan with a pistol would get me in a metric shit ton of trouble. I could requisition a replacement wakizashi later. I could safely return to the real world. Now, about all those questions I’ve been dodging.

Let’s start with a Dead Walk. Simply put, a Dead Walk is stepping from one state of the world to another. I know that sounds like New Age garbage. Unfortunately, it’s accurate.

Okay, longer explanation, but maybe it will make more sense. Gate Agents know the universe exists in two overlapping states. One is the everyday world—the living world. The other belongs to the undead and monsters, called the Shadow State. When I Dead Walk, I open a door. That doorway is called a gate. Opening one and crossing through it is a Dead Walk. Hence, Gate Agent. Creative, I know.

Why would I do this? That’s a whole other boring ass story that we’ll eventually get around to but is irrelevant to the information dump I’m currently giving you.

Just as Gate Agents can Dead Walk into their state, undead and monsters can cross into ours. Live Walk, maybe? Whatever. The important part is that they can do it.

They came here because their state sucks – and they want to feed.

On people, blood, souls - whatever they can get their hands on, it all tastes good to them.

The late Kuroda-sensei was a Carcass Gorger. They eat their kills, but they collect the blood for their master. This is where it gets completely gross, so hold on to your lunch. They drink the blood, every last drop. Then, they vomit it back up onto the altar of their master. Hope none of you were having tomato soup.

Accumulate enough blood and devotion, and eventually their master is born, resurrected, or summoned—whatever nightmare applies. Evil god, ancient demon, supreme dimwit. Same basic problem.

The great teacher slash Carcass Gorger was killing virgins. He was doing this because their blood would bring about the resurrection of the great and powerful Orezo. Actually, he’s not that powerful. Annoying as hell, though.

Anyway, our job is to keep that from happening. On the whole, we’re good at it. But here’s the problem: Gate Agents only exist until we reach the age of seventeen. Why? That goes back to the divine joke. Yeah, real fucking funny.

See, Gate Agents don’t die. We cease to be. We dissolve from history like we were never there. Then, three decades or so later, we’re reborn in another country to a new set of parents. We learn new skills and a new language. We make friends. We fall in love.

Then we watch it all get ripped away.

And through it all, we retain the memories of every previous life.

This is my twelfth time through the loop, and tomorrow it ends the same way. Twelve damn times!

And tomorrow… Well, tomorrow I turn seventeen.