by Joanne Pence
She didn’t find any such duplicity in Michael. What she found was a man filled with echoes of sorrow, a lonely desperation, a man who was surprisingly vulnerable. Yet, she had learned in her research, he was often accused of having a recklessness that bordered on the suicidal. From the outside, he had everything, yet within him, she sensed more emptiness than most people could bear.
Chapter 29
Jianjun entered the Lafcadio Hearn museum in Matsue, Japan. “I’d like to speak to whoever is an expert in Hearn’s life,” he said to the ticket-taker.
“You can go to the museum supervisor, Mrs. Ishigawa.” She pointed out the office’s location.
Jianjun was greeted by an older woman with short, gray hair, curled to frame her face. “A colleague of mine was here a while back,” he said. “And I’m trying to follow-up on some information he was given. I’m looking into the daimyo family that lived in the area.”
“I’m sorry, but there were no longer daimyo when Lafcadio Hearn lived in Matsue,” she explained.
“Yes. I know. But I understand Hearn became friends with the family of the last daimyo, and that they lived somewhere other than in Matsue.”
“The last daimyo was from the Matsudaira clan, and they lived here, in Matsue Castle.”
“What about Kamigawa?”
Her brows wrinkled in thought. “I don’t know any Kamigawa.”
“But you must,” Jianjun insisted. “The daimyo from the Nakamura family let Lafcadio Hearn stay in a house in Kamigawa. Maybe it had a different name back then, but I’ve heard it called Kamigawa now.”
Her expression changed from confused to sad as she shook her head. “I don’t know where you are getting such information, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. I also don’t know of any Nakamura associated with the ruling class in this part of Japan, and there is, and was, no place called Kamigawa in this area.”
Jianjun looked at her as if she might be mad—and noticed that she was looking at him the same way. In fact, the way she was sizing him up, he decided the best thing would be to leave. Now.
Outside the museum, he headed for the house where Hearn once lived.
He couldn’t believe so many days had gone by with no word from Michael or Rachel. And after he read several articles by her roommate, Ceinwen, he became even more troubled. He was certain she wasn’t traveling with Rachel purely out of goodwill or to sightsee, but to write a major story about the cover-up of the Idaho disappearances.
He didn’t trust Ceinwen and wanted to let Michael know that. Michael had a reputation to protect. Any news story about him and weird supernatural phenomena could jeopardize his future studies and grants, not to mention, end Jianjun traveling with him to exotic places on digs.
When Jianjun reached the house, he strolled through it and its garden. He asked a couple of people if they had any idea where Kamigawa was. They didn’t.
He then headed to the Matsue Castle and spoke with the castle archivist and historian about the Nakamura clan. They had never heard of any Nakamura daimyo. When he asked about Kamigawa, he received the answer he had become accustomed to.
Finally, he mustered enough bravery to go to the Matsue central police station and explain that he was trying to find an American friend who told him he would be staying in Kamigawa. “Apparently, Kamigawa isn’t a town,” Jianjun said. “But I’m wondering if it’s a district, or a park—or anything that will give me a clue where my friend might have gone.”
“Did your friend say anything about how far from Matsue he was going?”
“Less than an hour’s drive.”
All the Matsue police could suggest was that Jianjun go back to the Izumo Airport police and ask them. They often dealt with foreigners and might have more ideas. They took down Jianjun’s name and phone number, as well as Michael’s, and said if they heard anything, they would call him. Jianjun then threw in Rachel Gooding’s and Ceinwen Davies’ names.
As soon as the police learned a man and two female companions went missing, they weren’t inclined to open a formal missing person’s report or do anything more at that time. As they put it, “Foreigners are always fine in Japan. It’s a very safe country. Your friends will show up when they’re ready to be around other people.” They all but smirked in Jianjun’s face.
Jianjun drove around some smaller towns, including going into the mountains. He hoped the people there knew more than the local police.
Chapter 30
The next morning, Michael received a message from the Nakamura house that two storage chests filled with artifacts from the eighth and ninth centuries had been delivered.
They held little interest for Rachel although she knew her colleagues were excited over their arrival. Michael was glad that, even if he couldn’t help Seiji, he might at least be able to provide assistance in cataloging the family treasures. And Ceinwen was curious about anything new and different.
When they arrived at the house, Lady Nakamura greeted them. The chests had been brought to a concrete, temperature-controlled outbuilding cooled by massive generators since the power continued to be off. The three went to visit Seiji, but it was obvious that Michael and Ceinwen were anxious to leave. Rachel said she preferred to stay with Seiji.
“Let us go outside,” Seiji said to Rachel when they were alone. “The day is too beautiful to remain indoors.”
“It is.”
He leaned on the arms of his two retainers who helped him to a pond with water lilies surrounded by ferns and other greenery. Rachel couldn’t get over the gorgeous landscaping.
“How do you feel today,” she asked. A blanket had been spread for them, along with a pot of tea and some rice crackers.
“When my time comes, Rachel, I hope I am in this very spot. I would like this to be my last vision of this world.”
“I saw the demon when I held your hand," Rachel said softly. "And then it backed off. I won’t let it take you. I’ll help you fight it.”
As he inhaled, his breath rattled. “It’s not possible. It's too strong for me. For you, as well, if you are not careful. It is an evil kami—a god—and a mere man cannot fight kami.”
“Don’t give up, please,” Rachel murmured.
“Will you hold my hand again? I feel stronger when you do.”
She moved to his side and did as he asked.
“Can you hear him?” he asked. “He is speaking of danger to you. Can you see him?”
Rachel watched a greenish-black aura build near Seiji. It swirled around him as if to capture and crush him. “I see it,” she whispered.
Seiji’s eyes changed from his black orbs to eyes that were serpentine and yellow—the eyes of a snake. Frightened by how quickly he changed, Rachel let go of his hand.
Seiji laughed at her and tried to grab her hand again.
She shoved him, but no sooner did she touch him than Seiji’s retainers grabbed her arms and dragged her off the blanket.
“Stop!” he ordered. “It wasn’t her fault. Leave her and go!”
Clearly unhappy, the retainers let her go. She stood up as they bowed to Seiji and hurried off.
Rachel warily watched him. His gaze was despondent. “You see, now, how strong he is,” he whispered. “He takes over my body, does things I would not. I fear that, someday, I won’t be able to come back. He will own me completely.”
Rachel didn't know if she dared stay there, or if she should run from this man. But at the same time her heart ached for someone who had to deal with a strange possession. She wondered if she seemed equally out of control when she was having a nightmare or was in a trance.
At that moment, she saw Lady Nakamura rushing toward them with two serving women.
“I heard you might not be feeling well, Seiji,” she said. “We’ve brought you some lunch—both of you. Come, Rachel. Sit and eat with him.”
The women spread a variety of sushi, shu mai, and spring rolls, with sweets made of gelatinous rice called mochi for dessert. Then Lady Nakamura and the others
left.
The two ate in silence, eying each other as if they had a shared secret. Neither had said a word about the demon Rachel saw in Seiji’s eyes.
By the time the meal was over, Seiji had a little more color in his usually pallid face. “I’m glad you agreed to stay with me today. I hope you aren’t missing too many exciting artifacts.”
“I’m happier being here, and I’m happy to see you looking so well,” she said with a shy smile.
“So, Rachel-san, tell me about yourself. You’re quiet when Michael is here.”
“That’s because I have little of interest to say.” She felt her cheeks reddened.
“Maybe … everything about you interests me.”
She drew in her breath at his sweet words before deciding he was simply being polite. She never spoke of her bizarre experience of two years ago, and didn’t with him. Instead, she told him about being raised LDS, her life on an Idaho farm, and how she had received an invitation to apply for a full scholarship to Oxford, and then, amazingly, had been awarded it.
She thought it was terribly boring, but he seemed interested. He had encountered LDS missionaries in Tokyo and didn’t know what to make of them attempting to convert Japanese people to such a very American religion. He had been raised Buddhist, with a heavy dose of Shintoism because of his family background.
He told her, “There is a popular saying in Japan, ‘Born Shinto, marry Christian, and die Buddhist.’ People here enjoy Shinto rites for children, they prefer Buddhist funerals, and love Christian marriage ceremonies.”
Rachel could scarcely believe what she was hearing.
He laughed at her shocked expression.
“I must say it’s quite different from the way I was raised, which is the need to follow the one true path to salvation, the path revealed in the Book of Mormon.”
“You see how difficult a task your missionaries to this country have.”
“Perhaps impossible,” she admitted.
Before long, Seiji ordered sake, which he called o-sake, or “honorable sake.” He sat even closer as he kept her cup filled.
After the sake, Seiji switched to beer. His cheeks grew fiery. She was sure hers were as well, but she had to admit she was enjoying his company. They talked about him attending Tokyo University where he was studying Japanese history until he grew too weak and had to come home. He was only 21 years old, while she was already 24.
“Ah, a woman of the world,” he joked.
She chuckled at the absurdity of that. “Right, that’s me.”
“I think you are,” he murmured, studying her.
She didn't find the thin, sickly young man at all handsome, but she saw a lot of kindness and gentleness in him. Still, his words made her uneasy, so she went back to an earlier topic. “Tell me about the possession you fear has overtaken you.”
His gaze searched her face. “I don’t know how to describe it. I try to fight this depression, or whatever it is, every minute of every day. I’m fighting him now.” He rubbed his temples. “He doesn’t want me to talk to you for some reason. Even sleep gives me no rest. I dream of him constantly. He’s a fearful, ugly monster. This constant battle has worn me down. Sometimes, Rachel, I wonder if I shouldn’t give up.”
“Don’t say that,” she cried. “Although, I understand the feeling. I have nightmares. Horrible ones. I’ve had fewer here in Japan, but they still occur.”
Seiji lightly stroked her arm. “Do you think demons plague you as well?”
“I do,” she admitted.
He seemed to ponder her words. “Would you try an exorcism? Or, maybe I should ask, do Mormons do exorcisms?”
She all but laughed aloud at the image that conveyed. “The most I’ve ever heard is a laying on of hands and giving a person a blessing, while praying that the Holy Spirit will drive away evil.”
He frowned. “So then, I must believe in a Holy Spirit to get rid of this demon?”
She nodded. “It would help.”
He took a deep breath and turned to stare out at the garden. “I don’t think this is the kind of possession the Christian religion thinks of. This possession doesn’t have demons shouting at me and wanting to pull me through the Gates of Hell. Instead, he whispers, convincing me I would enjoy doing evil, debauched things.” He faced her again, his expression odd, almost tortured. “He doesn’t seek to destroy me, but to corrupt. There is no right and wrong as with the demons in the West. My demon only seeks pleasure—pleasure in perversion, in pain, in anything that good humans deny themselves out of a sense of decency. My demon has no decency. It’s almost as if … as if he’s jealous that you’re here with me.”
Rachel shuddered. “I wish I knew how to help you,” she whispered.
“You are good and pure,” he said, taking her hand and sitting shoulder to shoulder. “I think you protect me by being near.”
Her pulse quickened. “I’m not as good and pure as you think. I try to be, but I often fail.”
“I can’t imagine.” He turned over her hand, palm up, and pressed his lips against it. She felt the delicate touch of his lips, his breath, down to her toes. He wrapped her hand in both of his. “If only Doctor Rempart would use his pearl, his power, to take away the demon persecuting us,” he whispered. “We would both be saved, Rachel. I know they persecute you as they do me.”
She stared at him. She remembered Sheriff Sullivan saying something about a pearl that could control demons. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“But you do. I see it in your eyes.” His hand skimmed the side of her face.
“No,” she whispered.
“Rachel.” The hand slid to the back of her neck as he drew her closer.
“Please. Don’t.” She placed her hand against his chest to stop him.
“You’ve heard something about the pearl,” he whispered. “You know it will help, and you need to ask him where it is. For me. For us both.”
She tried to break free of his hold. “It’s time for me to see how Michael and Ceinwen are doing.”
His arms tightened around her. “Don’t go.” A darkness spread over Seiji’s face, and it took on an expression she hadn’t seen before—almost as if he were a different person. Knowing eyes drifted over her body. “Stay with me and let us enjoy the moment. Enjoy each other.”
She couldn’t move. You know you want me. The voice reverberated through her body, but it wasn’t Seiji’s voice …
Stay with him. Love him. It’s what you want. Do it! Her own voice filled her even as a cold chill crept along her spine. Her own demons …
“You see,” he whispered in a forceful voice that was not his, “how strong I am. How strong we are.”
“No! You’re not him. Seiji, let me go!”
His arms loosened enough for her to twist free and scramble to her feet. She backed away to the door, but before leaving she faced him once more. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
“Yes, there is,” Seiji whispered. His voice, the way he was looking at her, had become dangerously seductive. He held out his hand. “Come back to me, Rachel.”
She hesitated only a moment, then turned and hurried into the house to look for Michael and Ceinwen. She didn’t know exactly what was happening, but she found the demonic Seiji far too attractive.
Rachel was shown to the area where Michael and Ceinwen worked. They were both over the moon about many of the extremely old and rare artifacts they were finding. Rachel waited outside as they said their goodbyes to Seiji and thanked Lady Nakamura for allowing them to view such important pieces.
At dinner, while Michael and Ceinwen talked at length about their finds, Rachel noticed a new awareness flowed between them, an electricity that caused their eyes to spend more time on each other than anywhere else.
When they asked Rachel about her day with Seiji, she said only that she found him to be a pleasant young man, but his demons scared her.
She realized how exhausting being with him had been, and finally, although i
t was relatively early, she said goodnight.
Chapter 31
In a village of Musashi, in the days of the Tokugawa Shogunate, there lived two woodcutters: Nakamura Taishi and an old man named Mosaku. Taishi was only eighteen years old. Every day the two went to a forest to do their jobs. To get there, they needed to cross a wide river by ferry.
One cold evening, a great snowstorm overtook them as they worked. By the time they reached the ferry, the boatman had gone, leaving the ferry on the other side of the river. The woodcutters took shelter in the ferryman's hut, glad to have found any kind of shelter, even though there was no brazier in the hut, and no place to build a fire. The two men fastened the door and lay down to rest with their straw raincoats over them. At first they did not feel terribly cold; and they believed the storm would soon be over.
The old man immediately fell asleep; but Taishi lay awake for hours listening to a fierce wind and the snow smacking hard against the door. The river roared while the hut swayed and creaked like a junk at sea. The temperature dropped in the little hut. Taishi shivered under his raincoat as, eventually, he also fell asleep.
A showering of snow on his face woke him. The storm had blown the door of the hut open, and the light of the moon on the snow brightened the hut. He saw a woman in the room—a woman all in white. She was bending above Mosaku, and blowing her breath, a bright white smoke, upon him. The next moment she eyed Taishi.
She floated toward him. He tried to cry out, but she was so beautiful he couldn't utter any sound, couldn't do anything but watch her. And want her.
