“The Tengu and Shiro won’t deal with you,” she said desperately. “Without them—”
“We can make do without yokai assistance.”
“No, you can’t. You don’t even know what to look for beyond—”
“It was not difficult to identify signs of Izanami’s duplicitous activities once we knew to look for it,” he cut in dismissively.
She stiffened. “You—you found something? Why didn’t you tell me? What did you find?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned with. We will deal with it.”
“This is my task!” Her voice rose despite her best efforts to control it. “You can’t just investigate it yourself; you’ll tip off Izanami that we’re—”
Ishida rose to his feet. “I am far more capable than you give me credit for, Kamigakari Kimura. Clearly sharing any information will only distress you. I recommend you relax for the afternoon and practice your meditation. The solstice ceremony is only a month away and you need to be of the purest mind and heart before then. Tomorrow afternoon, we will initiate your relocation.”
He removed a small silk bag from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. “I have prepared a new omamori for you. It is as strong as I can make it and you will need it in the weeks ahead. Put it on immediately.”
Before she could respond—or resume their argument—he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Picking up the flat silk bag, she squeezed it in her hand. How had she let this happen? Instead of working with her, Ishida had taken all power and responsibility from her, leaving her with nothing. He had the information she had come here for—and he wouldn’t tell her anything about it. Once again, she was just a body awaiting the kami’s descension, useless and inconsequential. And tomorrow, he would send her away to some remote location where, presumably, not even Shiro and Yumei could find her.
She had to take control back from him. She had to stop him from sending her away and taking the investigation too far on his own. If Izanami realized someone was searching out the imprisoned Kunitsukami, rescuing them would escalate from “extremely difficult” to “utterly impossible.” She had to stop him—but she had no power, not right now.
If she didn’t have power, then she needed someone who did.
Unease crept through her at the idea forming in her head. She needed help, and she had only one option left.
Chapter 6
In the east grounds of the Shion Shrine, a fenced pasture held twenty-four lean and show-ready horses. Opposite the pasture was what one might assume was a large riding arena, but the space wasn’t for equine training.
As a light snow fell gently around them, three dozen sohei holding wooden practice swords moved in perfect unison through a series of slow, precise stances. The synchronized movements were mesmerizing, and once upon a time, Emi had spent many afternoons pretending to pet the horses while watching the young sohei train—one sohei in particular.
Marching down the wide path, she had to fight the sickness squirming in her stomach. North of the training arena was a narrow trail that led out of the shrine grounds, across a small footbridge, and into the heavily wooded park beyond. It was the same trail she had followed with Hana so she could spy on teenaged Katsuo, and the same trail where Hana had died three years ago.
Ishida had increased the number of sohei standing guard in the courtyard after her last attempt to leave the complex. With patience and a dose of luck, she’d managed to slip in among a group of miko and walk by the sohei while they were watching an argument between two kannushi at the other end of the courtyard. Unfortunately, she had cut it too close to dinnertime and someone was bound to notice her absence within the next few minutes.
Katsuo watched her approach the arena but didn’t break form. He brought his sword around in a perfect arc as he slid his left foot backward. Leaning sideways to counterbalance, he and the other sohei extended their right legs in a slow-motion side kick. These exercises were more about conditioning the body and ingraining proper form than actually fighting. The slower the motion, the more strength and control it took to maintain perfect form—especially since these sessions typically ran several hours.
She stopped just before the gravel path turned to smooth, compacted sand that had been carefully cleared of snow. The gray-haired and wiry-framed sohei overseeing the exercise ring offered her a bow. Normally, Emi would have bowed deeper than him to show her respect for his age, experience, and skill, but this time, she barely dipped her head in response. A blush at her own boldness rose in her cheeks but she gritted her teeth and stood tall.
The old sohei’s eyebrows lifted at her choice of bow.
“Sensei,” she said. “My apologies for interrupting.”
“How may I assist you, my lady?”
“I need to speak with Katsuo.”
“Katsuo?” The old man glanced over his shoulder. The sohei continued their routine but Katsuo was clearly more focused on Emi than what he was doing—though his form remained as perfect as ever. “As you can see, we are busy. You may return in an hour when we’re finished.”
“I require his presence immediately,” she said coldly, hiding her impatience.
“I’m afraid that—”
She swept past the sensei onto the sand, leaving him with his mouth hanging open. She didn’t have time to argue.
The nearest sohei broke form, turning their weapons down so there was no chance they could strike her. Katsuo also turned his sword down as she strode up to him. Without a word, she grabbed his sleeve and dragged him back through the array of sohei, marching straight at them and forcing them to jump out of her way. Katsuo passed off his practice sword to one of his peers and rushed after her. As she rejoined the path, she extended her stride, pulling him with her.
“Emi,” he stuttered. “What—”
“Over here,” she said. “Quickly.”
She steered Katsuo toward the pasture fence so they would be out of earshot of the practice arena.
She bent her head toward him and said in a low voice, “I don’t know how long I have before someone comes to drag me back.”
Katsuo’s jaw clenched. “I wanted to see you but every time I tried, you were ‘unavailable.’”
“Ishida is afraid you’ll help me instead of obey him.”
“He’s right. Whatever you need, Emi, I’ll help you.”
“Thank you, Katsuo.” She blinked rapidly before her eyes could tear up too much. “Ishida has decided that following Amaterasu’s orders is too dangerous for me. Tomorrow he’s sending me away to a secret location.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Katsuo muttered. “What should we do?”
She grimaced. “I need you to go outside the shrine grounds and find some crows.”
“Crows,” he said flatly, no doubt making the connection immediately.
“Yes. Find some crows that seem to be paying attention to you. Tell them I sent you and that the Guji has the information we need but won’t share it and won’t let me leave. If Shiro finds you first, you can give him the same message.”
“Shiro,” he grunted in displeasure. “I’m supposed to tell the crows so the Tengu gets your message, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Emi, I know they helped you before, but they’re yokai.”
She shook her head. “You should be more worried about any kami that might be out there.”
He huffed. “Okay. What’s the rest of the message?”
“Just that I don’t know how to get the information from Ishida, and I need to get out of here so we can decide what to do next.” She tried to keep her body relaxed so the watchful sensei wouldn’t see her tension. Asking Shiro and Yumei to help her was a huge risk; she had no idea what they might do.
Drumming his fingers on the top rail of the fence, Katsuo frowned. “Will the crows, uh, say anything?”
“Probably not, but if you hang around, the Tengu might show up to talk to you.” She hesitated. �
�That would be a bad idea. Maybe don’t do that.”
“Yeah, don’t think I will.”
From beyond the trees, a group of sohei appeared, walking fast toward the arena and pasture.
“Will you be able to get away?” she asked quickly.
“Yes, I’ll sneak out tonight. It shouldn’t be difficult.”
“Be careful, okay, Katsuo? Shiro won’t hurt you but the Tengu doesn’t like humans.”
“I’ll be careful.” He smiled tersely. “I hope the kitsune shows up. I’ve been kind of meaning to have a talk with him about some things.”
Her eyes widened. “When I said he wouldn’t hurt you, I meant without provocation. Don’t—”
“I’ll be careful,” he repeated, not sounding nearly wary enough.
She sighed, knowing she couldn’t talk him out of whatever little plan he was cooking up. “Thank you, Katsuo. If anyone asks, I was bidding you farewell.”
“Got it.”
With a quick nod, she strode away from him, heading for the oncoming group. Behind her, Katsuo returned to the arena with hurried steps.
“My lady,” the lead sohei said as she joined them, “you aren’t supposed to leave the complex.”
She offered a quick bow of apology. “I was merely saying goodbye to Sohei Katsuo. We may return now.”
Ignoring the sohei’s suspicious looks, she sedately walked past them. They followed silently.
Sending Katsuo to face Shiro and Yumei alone made her chest tighten with nerves, but with any luck, he could deliver his message to the crows and be done with it. She was almost certain Shiro wouldn’t harm Katsuo, but she didn’t trust Yumei around any humans except her—and only because he needed her alive.
She wished there had been another way, but Ishida had left her no options. She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
As midnight neared, Emi stood in front of her window, staring out at the darkness lit only by the vestiges of light leaking from the courtyard at the other end of the building. Six sohei, camped in the hallway like misbehaving schoolchildren banished from the classroom by their teacher, guarded her door. Ishida was taking no chances.
She didn’t know what she was looking for outside; even in the daylight, the view was of a handsomely manicured but simple garden of shrubs and trees that hid the back wall of the complex, a mere dozen yards away.
She retreated from the window and knelt at the table. In preparation for sleep, she’d already bathed and brushed her hair out, letting it flow loose down her back, the ends resting on the floor where she sat. Though she’d donned her simple cotton night robe, her kimono and hakama lay across her bed, waiting to be put away. She wasn’t ready yet to settle down for the night, and putting away her clothes was the last task remaining before sleep.
The urge to spring up and pace again swept through her but she suppressed it. She’d paced most of the evening away already, worrying about Katsuo, wondering if he’d managed to sneak out. Wondering if he’d found some of Yumei’s crows, delivered her message, and returned safely. As the night wore on, she wanted more than anything for Katsuo to be safe.
Chewing on a fingernail before catching herself, she picked up her cup of cold tea and swirled it, watching the liquid spin. How would Shiro and Yumei act on her message? She had no doubt they would have an idea or two on how to get her away from the shrine and how to force information out of Ishida. It was what they might decide to do that worried her—and how much trouble they might cause in the process.
Realizing she had her fingernail between her teeth again, she set the teacup down and dropped her hands to her lap. Maybe she should go to bed and at least attempt to sleep. Rising to her feet, she meandered toward her bed, absently running her hands over a lock of hair.
A soft tapping sound broke the quiet in her room. She froze, every muscle tensing as the tapping repeated, coming from the far wall of the main room. Cautiously, she turned toward the sound.
The silhouette of a man filled her window.
She clapped her hands over her mouth to silence the scream that tried to leap from her throat. Tamping down her fear, she guardedly approached, squinting through her own reflection in the glass to make out the face on the other side.
“Katsuo!” She rushed the final steps to the window and slid it open. “Katsuo, what are—How are you—?”
Clinging awkwardly to the wall and window frame, he gave her a strained smile. The lack of guards around her window might have seemed like an oversight, except the window only opened horizontally about eight inches, meaning anyone going in or out would have to squeeze through sideways. And, like most traditional structures, the building was lifted several feet off the ground by hefty stilts. If Katsuo had been standing on the ground, his head would have been well below the level of the window.
“Hi,” he said a little breathlessly, hooking one arm over the sill to support himself. “Sorry to—”
In a flash of pale fur, a white fox landed on Katsuo, balancing his back paws on the sohei’s shoulders with his front paws planted on top of his head. He leaned inside, big ears swiveling.
“Shiro!” she gasped.
He opened his jaws and let his tongue loll out in a canine grin. Katsuo flinched as Shiro jumped off him and landed lightly on the floor of her room. Fire burst around him, blue and red flames surging outward. Shiro appeared in the flames and dispelled them with a wave of his hand. His gaze swept down her thin cotton sleeping robe and back up.
“Little miko,” he purred. “Such a pleasant change to see you so casual.”
She refused to blush and instead turned to Katsuo, who was still hanging off the window. Shiro brushed past her. He took hold of the sliding panel of the window and snapped it out of its track, opening several more inches. After leaning the panel against the wall, he grabbed Katsuo’s arm and hauled the sohei inside with easy strength, unceremoniously dumping him head first on the floor with a loud thump.
Emi’s head snapped toward the door of her room. A moment later, someone tapped on the door. Katsuo froze halfway up.
“My lady?” a muffled voice called. “We heard a noise.”
“It’s nothing,” she called back. “I dropped my book, that’s all.”
“Ah, sorry to disturb you.”
She glared at Shiro.
He raised his eyebrows, entirely unrepentant. “So many suitors calling at your door.”
Ignoring him, she moved to Katsuo’s side as he straightened his clothes and adjusted his sword at his hip. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Katsuo, what are you doing here? If you’re caught in my room …”
A blush tinged his cheeks and he didn’t quite look at her. “He insisted on talking to you.”
She glanced at Shiro, who had wandered into her bedroom and was examining her modern-style bed, poking at the thick, down-filled quilt.
“So I guess you managed to sneak out?” she asked Katsuo.
“I found some crows and gave them your message. He showed up while I was on my way back. He said he was going to talk to you, then turned into a fox and took off toward the shrine. I didn’t want him wandering around trying to find you, so I led him here.”
She glanced at her bed again. Shiro was now sprawled across it, arms tucked behind his head as he watched them. Katsuo followed her gaze and his eyes bulged.
“Yokai!” he hissed. “Get off her bed!”
Shiro’s crooked smile appeared. “It wouldn’t be the first time the little miko and I have shared her bed.”
Baring his teeth, Katsuo grabbed the hilt of his sword.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Emi murmured. “He’s just antagonizing you.”
“But to speak so disrespectfully of you and—”
She shook her head. “He’s always disrespectful. Come on.”
She led him into the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed opposite Shiro. The bedroom was farther from the door and would hopefully keep the sound of their whispered conversation from carrying into the ha
ll.
“What are you doing here, Shiro?” she demanded. “This is dangerous. Do you even have a plan?”
He’d closed his eyes, looking as relaxed as if he were lying in his own bed. “So accusatory, little miko. You should be thanking me.”
“Oh?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yumei is very displeased that your Guji has a lead and isn’t sharing it.” He cracked one eye open. “I’m here to make sure you have a good plan ready to go, because once the Tengu gets here, his plan will most likely involve razing the shrine to the ground.”
Fear swooped through her.
Katsuo scoffed. “Raze this shrine? It would take a Kunitsukami to destroy it.”
Shiro opened his other eye and fixed his stare on the sohei. “The Tengu has destroyed many shrines in his past, ones far more powerful than a faded denomination with a decades-absent kami and a weak Guji.”
“You dare—” Katsuo growled.
Emi lifted a hand, silencing him. “How do you know that, Shiro? Did Yumei tell you?”
The kitsune blinked, confusion flitting across his face. “I … just know?”
“You remembered it?” She twisted around on the bed, leaning toward him excitedly. “Do you remember anything else?”
“Not in particular.” He closed his eyes again. “But if the boy keeps saying idiotic things, I might remember something else.”
“Huh.” Disappointed that Shiro hadn’t regained more memories, she frowned. “So what’s the plan?”
“That’s what I’m here to ask you.”
“Me?”
“Unless you prefer Yumei’s inevitable strategy of ‘destroy shrine, torture Guji for information.’”
“That is not happening.”
“Then you’d better come up with a different plan.”
She pushed her hair off her shoulders. “You’re not going to help?”
He opened his eyes and sat up a bit. “I could carry you away right now, before any of these humans could stop me, but we need whatever information the Guji is hiding before we leave. So the question is, how do we get that information?”
Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2) Page 7
