by Joanne Pence
“I have an idea what is trying to harm my son. Our family goes back centuries, and many strange stories are told about us. One legend said that demons were brought here by early emissaries from China, and that they were the reason our family’s most powerful daimyo went mad.”
Michael regarded the woman carefully. She appeared serious. “Why tell me this?”
“A friend of my family was in China last year. He heard a strange tale of an archeologist who found the perfectly preserved body of a Chinese woman in a two-thousand year old tomb in Mongolia. It was an intriguing tale involving alchemy. Later, this same archeologist was accused of leaving China with a pearl that once belonged to the Mongol emperor, Kublai Khan. They say the pearl is really a philosopher’s stone with the power to control demons.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear,” Michael told her.
She smiled. “Nor can you believe all denials. I know you are that archeologist.”
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy. And then, even after we found you, we knew it would be impossible to convince you to come to Japan unless something here was of interest, so we decided to offer you the chance to go through our family's collection of treasures. We believe some date back to the ninth or tenth centuries.” She smiled. “I suspect that’s why you’re here.”
“Actually, it had more to do with an interest in Lafcadio Hearn.”
“Of course it did.” Her words made his nerves stand on end. But then she smiled. “A fortuitous coincidence, perhaps. My hope, now, is that we aren’t too late to help my son.”
This scenario suddenly bothered Michael and reminded him of Jianjun’s skepticism of the “coincidences” that brought him here. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.” His words were firm. “I should leave.”
She placed a delicate hand on his forearm. “Don’t judge me too harshly until you meet Seiji and see what I’m dealing with.” She cocked her head slightly. “Please come with me.”
She led him down a long corridor and then slid open the door and said a few words to the people inside. She stepped aside for Michael to enter.
The same two men who had visited him the night before sat side-by-side near the far wall. Dominating the room was a young man surrounded by pillows. He leaned against the wall behind him.
“This is my son, Nakamura Seiji, heir to all the Nakamura holdings.”
Michael stepped closer to see a pale young man, so thin Michael could all but count the bones of his face. He looked like he might be, at most, in his early 20s. A greenish undertone colored his ivory skin, and his eyes held no luster. “It’s good to meet you,” Michael said with a bow of the head. “Thank you for asking me to your home.”
“The pleasure is mine, Doctor Rempart,” Seiji said. His voice was reedy and weak. “I have heard much about you. Please have a seat.”
Michael folded his long legs to sit on the floor pillow. “Most of what is said about me is not even half true. I hope you won’t be too disappointed.”
“I’m afraid I have suffered the same fate.” A brief smile touched the young man’s face. “People expect me to be as strong as daimyo were in the past. But that’s not me, I’m sorry to say. I’m glad I have no such power, and would not wish it. That troubles people.”
“It shouldn’t,” Michael said.
“Perhaps.” Seiji nodded. “Nevertheless you must understand that because of my position in this community, we must keep quiet about my illness and what I believe is behind it.”
“Yes,” Michael murmured.
“We will give you access to our family’s collection of artifacts,” he continued. “And all we have learned about alchemy.”
“I’ve never heard that alchemy was practiced in this country,” Michael admitted.
“There is much you, as a Westerner, will not have heard about. But if you help me, those secrets will be opened to you. That is my pledge.”
“And if I say ‘no’?”
“That is your prerogative. But I assure you, you will spend the rest of your life regretting it and wondering what you passed up.”
At this, Michael grinned. “You’ve done your homework. You’ve found out that one of my worst faults is an abundance, perhaps an overabundance, of curiosity.”
“And so, we agree?”
“We agree.”
“Sumimasen.” Mrs. Nakamura stepped forward. She faced Michael and bowed. “I am sure this conversation has tired my son. He slept poorly last night in anticipation of meeting you, wondering what you would be like, and if all our preparation will have come to nothing. He must rest. Also, the dinner we promised you is ready.”
Michael could see that the young man was exhausted. He stood.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Seiji asked.
“If you would like,” Michael said.
“How about noon? We can eat lunch and talk.”
Mrs. Nakamura said, “I’m sure my son will be much stronger tomorrow.”
Michael gave Seiji a slight bow. “I’ll see you then.”
After their goodbyes, Michael followed Mrs. Nakamura to a beautiful room with a tatami floor, a rich teak table, and an intricately painted scroll in an inset in the wall.
He sat at the low table, Mrs. Nakamura across from him. A young woman knelt between them and poured sake.
“I hope you like what we have prepared,” Mrs. Nakamura said.
“I’m most grateful for your hospitality.”
“We are happy to have you here. It is a comfort to have someone to share the burden of what is happening to Seiji. He is a sweet and gentle boy, but this thing inside him is quite different.” Her lips tightened, and she looked down as if she might have already said too much. “In any case, we will send you breakfast and dinner each day. For breakfast, is a Western one to your liking? Perhaps eggs, bacon, pancakes, corn flakes?”
Michael smiled. “Coffee and toast is all I usually eat in the morning. But you don’t have to do any of that. I’ll do fine between the shops and the restaurant.”
“First of all,” she said firmly, “our cook is much better than the one at the restaurant. And also, I remember reading how your relative, Lafcadio Hearn, thought he would ‘do fine’ when he first came to Japan. Between the harsh winter, and him not having any idea how to cook Japanese style or even to get around easily, he nearly died. It took a good woman to help him. Now, I’m not saying I will try to find you a wife, Doctor Rempart, but to avoid that necessity, you must allow me to do all I can to make your stay here an easy one.”
Again, Michael couldn’t help but smile. He found her a charming hostess. “Given those alternatives, I have little choice than to accept a light breakfast and dinner from you. But how do you know Lafcadio Hearn might be a relative? I only learned that over the past couple of weeks.”
It was her turn to smile. “As I mentioned, we did a most thorough study of you.” She then gave a nod to a woman standing in the doorway. “It is time, now, for dinner.”
Chapter 21
Because of the misadventure with the horses, it was dark by the time Jake, Rachel, and Ceinwen reached Jake’s truck. The road, or lack of road, was too treacherous to travel at night. Jake kept plenty of water and supplies in the truck, and Ceinwen had brought a goodly stash of chocolate and energy bars. They camped for the night. Jake made a fire, and they took turns keeping watch.
Idaho was far enough north that summer nights were short, and at first light, they started back.
They had spoken little the night before, too busy thinking about the strangeness they had witnessed, and what it meant. But that morning things were different.
“Whatever we saw back there,” Jake said as they began the long drive to Salmon, “it wasn’t anything like what we’ve seen in the past.”
“If you don’t mind an outsider’s opinion,” Ceinwen said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“Go ahead,” Jake said, his voice not exactly friendly.
“I think
someone is trying to frighten the people in this area,” she began. “In Salmon, where everyone is already nervous, that person or group of people have been going around mutilating animals in ways sure to freak out anyone who’s used to working with and raising livestock for a living.”
“That’s a possibility,” Jake frowned. “But why?”
“That, I can’t tell you,” Ceinwen said. “But I suspect that once they learned Rachel was in town, they could expect she would head for the spot we just left. They created something scary—the big hole—and then pumped a hallucinogen into the air when we got near it. There are hallucinogens that cause a person to think they see whatever is most scary to them. Obviously, this one tapped into your childhood fears.”
“You’re talking mind control.” Jake scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“No. Not mind control. Some type of drug. I’ve seen what they can do, although the drugs I saw were administered orally or intravenously. The only surprise here is the method of delivery—airborne.”
“But you didn’t see anything,” he reasoned.
“And you’ve both spoken about nightmares. What if these people, who must know your past, hacked your computers or smart phones and are using a variety of mind-control means—flashing sub rosa images onto the screen, for example—to fill your minds with the stuff of nightmares and these visions?”
“I know what I saw,” Rachel said. “And it was real.”
“If it wasn’t real,” Jake faced Ceinwen, “how about that deep hole?”
“We don’t know it was a deep hole,” Ceinwen said. “For all we know, it’s not in the least deep, and down there might be a mattress or something equally soft, so when you tossed the rock, it made no noise when it landed. Just look at the stuff movie sets can do. What they did out there is child’s play to anyone who understands that stuff. The question is why is anyone going to the expense and trouble of all this? What’s to be gained? It’s got to be financially rewarding. Do you know, Sheriff? Is there anything out here that someone does not want others to find?”
“Not that I know of. The Salmon used to have gold, but it was mined out in the last century. I don’t buy that this is all an elaborate trick.”
“Come on, Sheriff. You, of all people, can’t believe in witches and ogres.” Ceinwen looked at him as if he would be crazy not to buy her theory.
Rachel spoke out. “I wish, Ceinwen, you were right. If we never saw the other things we did, I’m sure we’d be thinking the same as you. But what we saw was real. It’s a different reality, a mysterious reality.” Rachel’s voice was intense, challenging Ceinwen to disagree. Ceinwen said nothing. Then, in a conciliatory tone, Rachel added, “You know, Jake, Charlotte is always looking for practical answers. What if you run Ceinwen’s theory past her? Do you think we should call her when we get back?”
Finally, Jake’s expression brightened. “If I know Charlotte, she’ll love tackling it.”
Ceinwen pursed her lips as she looked from one to the other. “Maybe if I knew what other things you two have seen, I’d be more accepting of your take on all this. But I don’t know. When you’re ready to tell me about it, about everything that happened two years ago, I’m all ears.”
Their silence was a loud and clear reply.
When they reached the Sheriff’s station, Jake gave Charlotte’s phone number to Rachel. When she called, Charlotte answered.
Rachel explained to Charlotte that she and a girlfriend were in Salmon with Jake, and she was putting the call on speaker. She then told Charlotte about the nightmares she had been having, talked about going to the spot where the pillars had once stood, and how something there had tried to attack them.
“What do you mean, something?” Charlotte asked.
“I can’t really say,” Rachel confessed. “I mean, if I said I saw something that looked like a group of flying witches, you’d think I’m crazy, right? But Jake also saw something—an army of ogres—but Ceinwen didn’t see a thing. Anyway, all I can say is that we were scared, they moved fast, and if we didn’t have horses, they would have caught up with us. Now, I should tell you that Ceinwen, who has spent most of her career as a journalist writing about and debunking supernatural phenomena, is as rock-solid a realist as you’ll ever want to meet.” Rachel gave Charlotte a quick explanation of Ceinwen’s theory of airborne hallucinogens.
“Hmm—that’s an interesting position,” Charlotte said. “But, a journalist?”
“She’s okay,” Rachel said. “I trust her. Also, Jake has had several strange animal deaths out here, and now he’s investigating the death of a poacher. I can’t help but think everything is related to what we saw today.”
“So, it wasn’t just me feeling that something odd is happening out there,” Charlotte said.
“Jake feels it, too,” Rachel said.
“He does? Why in the hell didn’t the big oaf tell me that?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel murmured. She couldn’t help but smile as Jake winced.
“Rachel, you said your nightmares brought you back to Salmon, correct?” Charlotte asked.
“Correct.”
“But if Ceinwen is right, why would these tricksters, whoever they are, want you back there?”
“We don’t know,” Rachel admitted.
“It’s bizarre.” Charlotte sounded skeptical.
Rachel asked if Charlotte knew how to contact Michael Rempart. Charlotte promised to text his number and also that of his assistant in case Michael was at some out-of-reach dig site.
“Thanks,” Rachel said. “And do you think you’ll be back in Salmon soon?”
There was a long pause. “I’m not sure,” Charlotte said.
They soon said their goodbyes, and Rachel hung up to find a dismayed Jake.
“I wish she seemed more willing to come home,” he lamented.
“I expect she will. Give her time.” Just then, she received Charlotte’s promised text.
Rachel read it. “I guess I should try to reach Michael.” Her call didn’t go through, and her text had no better luck.
“No reason to be surprised,” Ceinwen said. “As a journalist, I was often in a place without cell service or internet. And worse, were the many spots where we purposefully turned off our cell phones and Wi-Fi because we were afraid of being tracked and killed.”
“No wonder you left that job,” Rachel said with a shudder.
“I guess you should call Rempart’s assistant,” Ceinwen said.
Rachel hesitated and faced Jake. “Do you know this Li Jianjun?”
“Afraid not.” He seemed now to be sulking over Charlotte’s lack of response about returning to Salmon.
“Okay.” Rachel called the number. She expected a voice message when someone answered.
“Hello?”
“Li Jianjun?” she asked.
“Who’s this?” He sounded sleepy.
Rachel quickly explained who she was, and then asked for a way to contact Michael.
“I wish I knew!” Jianjun exclaimed, finally awake. “I should know better than to worry about the guy, but I haven’t been able to reach him either.”
“You haven’t?”
Jianjun explained about Michael’s trip to Japan, and that they last spoke as Michael was about to leave to see Lafcadio Hearn’s house in Kamigawa. “The town is so small I can’t even find it on a map. Then Michael asked me to look into a couple of names, but I’m not having any luck with them either.”
Rachel took down notes of all the names Jianjun spoke of. After hanging up the phone, she explained all she’d learned to Ceinwen and Jake.
“That’s a really strange story,” Ceinwen said, hands on hips. “Why would Michael Rempart be interested in Lafcadio Hearn? And why now?”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Rachel said.
“I love his work—weird stuff. Lots of Japanese ghost stories. In fact, I’d be very tempted to go to Japan to find out what Rempart is up to.” Ceinwen stopped then, as she suddenly reme
mbered one of Rachel’s dreams took place in Japan … and in the dream, a demon killed her.
“You would?” Rachel looked shocked.
“In a heartbeat.”
“If you went, I would, too.”
Ceinwen’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Even though the place gives you nightmares?” She tried to sound as if she were joking, but failed.
“Especially because of that,” Rachel said softly.
Ceinwen felt a sudden chill.
At that moment, the Jake’s phone rang and he answered.
Ceinwen noticed him growing increasingly agitated as he listened to the call, answering only with a guttural “yeah” or “okay” from time to time. Finally, he hung up and faced her and Rachel.
“It’s getting worse,” he said, then drew in his breath. “Mitch Ivansen's been found dead. Murdered, gutted like a deer.” His fists tightened. “Another rancher out in the backcountry, Wade Cox, is also missing. But who know? He might have done it. Or he could be dead, too."
It was as if the inexplicable was closing in, bringing nightmares, shattered relationships, and death to the area. The three said no more, but retreated into their own thoughts … and fears.
Chapter 22
Rachel Gooding trudged along a steep incline of the Kumano Kodo, an ancient pilgrimage trail that wound through the quiet mountains of Japan’s Kii Peninsula.
Crumbling stone deities beside the path displayed the Shinto origins of the route. Under Shinto, the Emperor of Japan was considered a god, a descendant of the goddess Amaterasu.
Moss-covered stones formed makeshift stairs on the mountainsides, while decades of use smoothed the wooden bridges. It was a place for contemplation and spiritual renewal.
Rachel didn’t know how she came to be here. She was alone except for a young woman up ahead standing at the edge of a fast-rushing stream. The woman wore a flowery Japanese kimono. As Rachel neared, she saw that the woman was weeping bitterly. No one dressed so beautifully should be that unhappy, Rachel thought.
She stopped and offered assistance. But the woman continued to cry and moved closer to the water’s edge. Rachel feared she might throw herself into the stream and drown. “Please listen,” Rachel said. “This is no place for you. Step away from the water and tell me how I might help you.”
