The Devouring God Read Online Free

face—­whatever of his face she could actually see.
    Maybe she sees all of it. Maybe it’s worse than I think.
    â€œMy appearance is partly due to injuries in the line of duty,” he said. “I’m surprised you noticed in this dimly lit office. Most adults can’t see that well even in broad daylight.” He looked down at the empty tray in his hands, trying to seem as relaxed and unthreatening as possible. “With such unusually keen vision, I’m sure you often see things no one else can see. Perhaps it’s been that way all your life. It must be tiring.”
    She stepped backward, blinking. He handed her the tea tray. She almost ran for the small kitchen.
    Ota backed out into the main room, leading Ha­segawa. “Come for a moment and tell me what you think of the guard I brought you.”
    Hasegawa glanced up at Takuda and frowned back at Ota.
    Ota pushed forward, beaming. “Just look at the protection! I can have this man show up in uniform every evening at sundown. Now, you’ve really honored us by calling for our help. We’re very grateful. We’re so grateful that we’re just going to charge you the rate for one security guard.”
    He paused long enough to let that sink in, and then he announced to the room in a stage whisper, “When I bring in Security Guard Takuda, I usually charge for three men.”
    Nabeshima giggled politely from the kitchen door, and even the tired woman at the desk smirked at Ota’s presentation, if not the tired joke itself. Detective Kimura crossed his arms and assumed an indulgent smile.
    Ota moved to the center of the room, behind Kimura’s chair. “Well, then, there’s a great lunch spot right around the corner. Security Guard Takuda, if you’ll look the place over and take your station, over there, by the filing cabinet, that will be good for the moment.”
    Takuda felt all eyes on him as he eased past the manager. Nabeshima flattened herself against a filing cabinet to let him pass into the tiny hallway.
    The office was a converted “2LDK” apartment: a living room converted to a front office, two bedrooms converted to Nabeshima’s office and consultation room, a tiny bathroom, and a galley kitchen separated from the main room by an old-­fashioned hanging accordion screen. Takuda examined the kitchen door and opened it to check the narrow alley. He tested the latches on the windows in the kitchen and bathroom. In the bathroom, he glanced at his face.
    The left side of his face was crisscrossed with scars as if he had been laid on a griddle and turned once to make sure he was cooked through. The right side of his face bore several shorter scars and two healed burns, patches of shiny, pinkish skin on his cheek and forehead. Rising from beneath these obvious scars and healthy skin alike, faint lines of puckered, silvery flesh stood in ranks of discrete and unreadable characters, primitive cyphers that banded his head in cryptic ranks. His forehead bulged ominously at what he now thought of as “the corners” where the bone had thickened beneath the scalp, nascent horns ready to burst through the skin.
    He kept his face largely immobile in the mirror because the effect was seldom what he intended.
    Perhaps this is what the Nabeshima girl sees. Perhaps she sees even worse. Thank the Lord Buddha that my Yumi doesn’t see me this way.
    â€œHey, Security Guard Takuda, don’t get lost in that little bathroom. What are you doing, powdering your nose?”
    No one laughed at that one. When he went back into the front office, he asked the office manager to move away from her desk so he could check the window beside her. They all stood in silence as he inspected the latch and looked for signs of tampering.
    Finally, he turned to them.
    â€œThe apartment is solid. The front and back doors are steel, with operational standard locks. The bathroom and kitchen windows are too