Page 336 of Mercy Written in Blood

"No."

The answer came with amused certainty.

"You cannot take him," Renji said.

"We are returning what survived your family's failure."

The boy began shaking. Renji felt his pulse. Fast. Takahara resonance beneath it, untrained and painful. The awakening had likely begun when the Archive opened. Blood responding across generations. Calling the factions towards him.

"His name?" Renji asked the mother.

She looked at him. Fear. Recognition. Hope she did not trust.

"Riku."

"Riku," Renji said.

The boy lifted his head. His eyes met Renji's. Brown. Human. Nothing visibly vampiric. Yet Renji felt the blood between them. Diluted across centuries. Still present. A surviving branch. One of seven.

The Shibata leader watched the recognition pass.

"There," he said. "The key knows the lock."

The mother pulled Riku closer. Renji's calm sharpened.

"He is not a key."

"No. He is an inheritance."

"He is a child."

"So were the seven your family sent away."

The words struck. Masato. Seven children. The sealed Archive. Centuries of descendants living without knowing why their blood carried strange dreams, illnesses or instincts. Perhaps hunted quietly whenever a lineage surfaced.

Renji looked at Riku.

"You do not have to go with anyone."

The Shibata leader laughed.

"You offer choice while two armies point weapons at him."

"No."

Renji stepped farther into the garage.

"I remove the armies."

The Shibata vampires spread out. Five. Bloodlines powerful enough to survive centuries of internal war. Each carried anticoagulants, silver and tools designed specifically for Hemomancy. They had prepared for a Takahara. The Unveiled raised their weapons too. Not at Renji. At the Shibata group. The garage held its breath.

Renji lowered his hands. He did not require gesture.

"The child leaves with his mother," he said.

"And the Archive?" the student asked.

"Not tonight."