• St. Martin's Press
Claws of the Cat - Susan SpannSee larger image
See Hi-Res Jpeg image
See Hi-Res Tif image

email/print EmailPrint

Claws of the Cat

Book Buy
Ebook Ebook 
Share this book with friends through your favorite social networking site. Share:           Bookmark and Share
Add this title to your virtual bookshelves at any of these book community sites. Shelve:             
sign up to get updates about this author
add this book's widget
to your site or blog

About The Author

Susan SpannSusan Spann

Susan Spann is a transactional attorney and former law school professor whose practice focuses on publishing law and business. She has a deep interest in Asian culture and has studied Mandarin and Japanese. Her hobbies include Asian cooking, fencing, knife and shuriken... More

photo: © David Llewellyn

Blade of the Samurai
July 17 - September 3, 2014
Meet Susan Spann as she reads from her new novel Blade of the Samurai, from the Shinobi Mysteries.

Stay In Touch

Sign up to recieve information about new releases, author appearances, special offers, all related to you favorite authors and books.

Other Books You Might Like

cover Pre-Order

More formats
Blade of the Samurai
A Shinobi Mystery

Minotaur/Thomas Dunne Books
June, 1565: Master ninja Hiro Hattori receives a pre-dawn visit from Kazu, a fellow shinobi working undercover at the shogunate. Hours before, the shogun’'s...
cover Buy

More formats
Search the Dark

St. Martin's Paperbacks
The introspective hero of wings of Fire and A Test of Wills (Edgar Award nominee) return in a provocative new mystery. Inspector Ian Rutledge, haunted by...
cover Buy
Scandal on Rincon Hill
A Sarah Woolson Mystery

Minotaur Books
“Bringing Victorian San Francisco to colorful life, Tallman offers an entertaining mystery…will appeal to fans of Anne Perry and Rhys Bowen.” —Library Journal...
cover Buy

More formats
The Seven Wonders
A Novel of the Ancient World

Minotaur Books
The year is 92 B.C. Gordianus has just turned eighteen and is about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime: a far-flung journey to see the Seven Wonders of...
cover Buy
Valley of the Shadow
A Celtic Mystery

Minotaur Books
In Ireland of A.D. 666, Sister Fidelma is sent by her brother, Colgu of Cashel, the king of Muman, to the remote valley of Gleann Geis, whose inhabitants still...
cover Buy

More formats
City of Dragons

Minotaur/Thomas Dunne Books
February, 1940. In San Francisco's Chinatown, fireworks explode as the city celebrates Chinese New Year with a Rice Bowl Party, a three day-and-night carnival...
cover Buy

More formats
Last Seen in Massilia
A Novel of Ancient Rome

Minotaur Books
In the city of Massilia (modern-day Marseille), on the coast of Southern Gaul, Gordianus the Finder's beloved son Meto has disappeared--branded as a traitor to...
cover Buy

More formats
A Parliament of Spies
A Mystery

Minotaur Books
All the danger and intrigue of 14th-century England spring to life in this "compelling" (Publishers Weekly) series about the brave, incorruptible Abbess of...
cover Buy

More formats
Audio eBook
Earth Awakens

Tor Books
The story of The First Formic War continues in Earth Awakens.   Nearly 100 years before the events of Orson Scott Card’s bestselling novel Ender’s Game,...
cover Buy

More formats

Square Fish
A seventh grade boy must choose between being a witness to bullying—or becoming a victim.
cover Buy

More formats
Monument 14: Sky on Fire

Square Fish
Trapped in a superstore by a series of escalating disasters, including a monster hailstorm and terrifying chemical weapons spill, brothers Dean and Alex...


Chapter 1
Father Mateo strolled through the narrow yard, hands folded and face cast down in meditation. His shoulders bent against the predawn chill. The first two weeks of May had been warm in Kyoto, but this morning the switch to his summer kimono seemed just a bit premature.
At the other end of the garden a shadow snaked over the wall and into a cherry tree with no more sound than a spring wind rustling leaves.
The priest walked on, unaware.
He passed the koi pond without a glance. It was still too dark to watch the fish. At the back wall of the garden the Jesuit crossed himself and knelt before a statue of a man nailed to a cross. The priest’s knees sank into the dampened ground as he bowed his head in earnest prayer.
The shadow moved farther up the tree. Rain-slicked leaves and slippery bark made climbing treacherous, but the shinobi did not falter. His hands and feet found purchase where none existed for other men.
A branch grew over the path between the koi pond and the house. The assassin stretched his body along the limb. He moved out over the path without dislodging a single leaf.
And there he waited.
Minutes passed. The eastern sky purpled with dawn’s approach. A fish jumped in the pond, and a delicate splash resonated through the yard.
The priest’s lips moved without a sound.
The shinobi’s black eyes glittered in the depths of his hood.
As the sky turned pale Father Mateo concluded his morning prayers. He stood up and brushed stray leaves from his brown kimono, then frowned at the damp patches over his knees. When the moisture did not rub away he shrugged to himself, nodded to the statue, and turned back toward the wooden house that served as his home and church.
The shinobi’s breathing slowed until even his dark blue tunic ceased to move.
Father Mateo passed the pond without stopping. As he stepped beneath the tree, the assassin dropped to the path with no more sound than a breaking twig and laid a slender hand on the Jesuit’s shoulder.
Father Mateo spun with a startled cry. The shinobi’s hands flew up in defense as the priest’s face tensed and then relaxed in recognition.
“Hiro!” Father Mateo exclaimed. “How many times must I tell you not to do that?”
Dark eyes sparkled within the shinobi’s cowl. “I will stop on the day that I fail to surprise you.”
The Jesuit frowned. “Have you been out all night again?”
Hiro pulled down the cloth that covered his mouth and pushed his hood back onto his shoulders. “I don’t answer that sort of question, remember?”
He reached into the pouch that hung at his side. “I brought you something.”
“Other than heart failure?” Father Mateo asked.
Hiro raised an eyebrow in amusement and pulled out a small, dark object. It squirmed.
An presenta,” he said in Portuguese.
Um presente,” Father Mateo corrected. Hiro’s Portuguese was startlingly good, considering that the shinobi had studied the language for barely eighteen months. The priest’s Japanese had far more flaws, despite two years of study before his arrival and eighteen months of living in Kyoto.
“Presente,” Hiro repeated.
The present struggled and mewed.
Father Mateo stepped back. “That’s a cat!”
“A small one,” Hiro agreed. He switched to Japanese. “Since you talk to the fish, I thought you would like it.”
The priest switched languages, following Hiro’s lead. “Where did you find a cat?”
“Abandoned by the canal. It’s not a lucky color, but you claim you don’t believe in luck.”
“God controls my fortune,” Father Mateo confirmed, “but lucky or no, I can’t keep a kitten. Cats make me sneeze.”
Hiro considered the squirming ball of fur. “What should I do? I don’t want it to die.”
“Have you become a Buddhist overnight?” Father Mateo grinned at his own joke.
“You know better than that.” Hiro frowned at the kitten. “It needs a home.”
“I can’t touch it, but it can stay. It’s your cat now, if you want it.”
The kitten spun in Hiro’s grip and clawed at his arm. He clutched it to his chest to stop its struggling.
The kitten gave a muffled mew.
“You’re squeezing it,” Father Mateo said.
“It’s stabbing me,” Hiro retorted. “I’d say we’re even.”
The kitten began to purr. It retracted its claws and relaxed in Hiro’s hands. He looked down at the tiny bundle of marbled black and orange fur. A white patch gleamed at the kitten’s throat, and the tiny cat squinted at him through greenish yellow eyes.
Loud banging echoed through the air. It came from the front of the house.
“Open up!” a male voice yelled. “I need the foreign priest!”
“Who did you insult this time?” Hiro arched an eyebrow at the priest.
Father Mateo started for the house. “No one I remember, not intentionally anyway.”
Only a handful of foreigners had the shogun’s permission to live and work in the Japanese capital. Many samurai found even that limited presence offensive.
“At least they’re not Shogun Ashikaga’s men, or the emperor’s.” Hiro followed the priest to the wooden veranda that circled the perimeter of the house.
The men slipped out of their sandals and stepped up onto the smooth, unpainted wood.
“How do you know that?” Father Mateo asked.
Hiro followed the priest inside. “The emperor and the shogun do not knock.”
The room that served as Father Mateo’s bedroom and study had a built-in writing alcove instead of a desk and no Western furniture at all. Only the crucifix mounted in the tokonoma, the decorative alcove that normally showcased pieces of Japanese art, hinted at the room’s foreign occupant. Although the Jesuit mission had purchased the house from a Japanese family two years before, in the spring of 1563, Father Mateo lived as a Japanese and had permitted little change.
Father Mateo crossed the floor, slid open the door, and stepped into the central room beyond. The open room at the center of the house had a sunken hearth and tatami mats on the floor, and it served every purpose from parlor to family room and even church. Father Mateo turned right, toward the small entry chamber at the front of the house, and ran a hand through his dark brown hair.
He turned to look for Hiro.
The shinobi had disappeared into his own room, which shared a wall with the priest’s. Hiro couldn’t let anyone see him in assassin’s clothing. Moreover, a messenger would think it strange to find the household alert and about so early.
Father Mateo started to run his hand through his hair again, but caught himself and stopped. He faced the swinging door at the front of the house and called, “Who’s there?”
His Portuguese accent often made people pause, but this time a male voice answered at once. “Mateo Ávila de Santos? You are wanted at the Sakura Teahouse.”
Father Mateo opened the door. “So early?”
The visitor wore a simple kimono belted at the waist with a wide obi. A dagger hung at his hip but he carried no sword. His close-cropped hair was thinning on top, a situation made even more obvious by the fact that his head barely reached the Jesuit’s chest.
The messenger startled at the sight of the foreign priest but recovered more quickly than most. “There has been a murder. A man is dead.”
“Was the victim one of my students?” Father Mateo avoided the term “converts” in the company of strangers.
“No. The murderer asked for you.”
“The murderer?”
The messenger nodded. “Sayuri, an entertainer.”
Father Mateo stepped backward and shook his head. “That’s impossible. Sayuri would never kill anyone.”
“She did, and a samurai at that. You’d better come quickly if you want to see her.”
“Is she going to commit suicide?” Father Mateo asked.
“You’d better come quickly,” the messenger repeated. “She hasn’t got much time.”
Hiro emerged from his room wearing a smoke-colored silk kimono and a pair of swords. The short wakizashi hung down from his obi, while the longer katana stuck upward through the sash with its black-lacquered bamboo scabbard jutting several feet behind his back. Somehow, the shinobi had also found time to retie his long hair in a samurai’s oiled topknot. Not a strand was out of place.
The messenger’s eyes went wide at the sight of a samurai. He dropped to the ground and laid his forehead in the dirt.
“Get up,” Hiro said as he reached the doorway. “Where is the Sakura Teahouse?”
The messenger stood and bowed from the waist. “Honorable sir, it lies on this side of the Kamo River, on Shijo Road, east of Pontocho. It’s the third house east of the bridge. You will know it by the stone dogs in the yard.”
Hiro scowled. “I will bring the priest. You may go.”
The messenger bowed twice more and hurried away.
“We could have gone with him,” Father Mateo protested as Hiro shut the swinging door.
“Samurai do not follow commoners.” Hiro looked the priest up and down. “More importantly, that’s your old kimono and you need to put on your swords.”
“You know I don’t like to wear them, and we need to hurry.”
“Why did I train you to use them if you won’t wear them?” Hiro shook his head at the priest’s stubbornness. “Nevermind. As you say, we should hurry. Change and get your swords.”
“Why are the swords so important?”
“Two years in Japan, and you still have to ask?”
The priest crossed his arms over his chest.
Hiro pointed at the swinging door. “You saw the way he reacted when I appeared. Only samurai have the right to wear two swords and to order men to obey. The shogun’s edict granted you the rank of a samurai, and today you must use it. If this woman is in trouble, you will need your swords to save her.”
“We have yours,” the priest pointed out.
“Mine are paid to protect you,” Hiro said. “My clan and I owe nothing to a girl we do not know.”
And have every reason to let her die if doing so saves your life, he thought.
But he didn’t say that part aloud.

Copyright © 2013 by Susan Spann

You May Also Be Interested In

cover Buy

More formats
Audio eBook
The Good House
A Novel

Hildy Good is a townie. A lifelong resident of a small community on the rocky coast of Boston’s North Shore, she knows pretty much everything about everyone....
cover Buy

More formats

St. Martin's Griffin
In Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, Cath is a Simon Snow fan. Okay, the whole world is a Simon Snow fan, but for Cath, being a fan is her life—and she’s really good...
cover Buy

More formats
Audio eBook
The Beautiful Mystery
A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel

Minotaur Books
The brilliant new novel in the New York Times bestselling series by Louise Penny, one of the most acclaimed crime writers of our time    No outsiders are...