Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  “I was holding her hand, but I …” Her greatest fear, greatest guilt, swelled inside her. Never had she admitted her guilty suspicion to anyone. “I was trying to hold on to the bridge and the yokai were pulling us down and I think … I think I let her go t-to save m-myself.”

  A sob choked her on the final words. She pressed her hands over her face, too ashamed to look at him. Tears wet her fingers and she held back the cry of despair building in her throat. How could she have been so selfish? How had she failed the one person who’d still loved her?

  Katsuo touched her shoulder, then gently slid his arm behind her and pulled her to him. Her pain was too much to allow room for surprise and she slumped against him, fighting the tears.

  “It’s okay to cry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “Even a kamigakari is allowed to cry.”

  His kindness shattered the last of her self-control, and before she could stop herself, she was weeping uncontrollably against his shoulder. Pain she’d suppressed for years came flooding out. Three years of loneliness, three years of guilt and fear and never-ending nightmares about Hana’s death with no one to talk to, no one to grieve with. She had been alone for so long, had sealed away her heart for so long, focusing only on being the best kamigakari she could be so that her life would be worth some small thing to make up for the beautiful soul that had been lost because of her.

  When her tears finally subsided, Katsuo squeezed her gently.

  “I didn’t see what happened,” he murmured, “but I know you, Emi. I know you didn’t let her go on purpose. You would have held on to that girl down to the bottom of the ocean.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he cut in. “I know you. You would have given your life in an instant to save hers if you could have. You’ve always placed more value on others’ lives than your own.”

  She wiped tears from her eyes. His tone when he’d said she put more value on the lives of others suggested he considered it more of a fault than a virtue.

  “How do you know me so well?” she mumbled. “In so little time …”

  “Ah.” He shifted awkwardly—though he didn’t move his arms from around her. “I suppose it’s silly to pretend anymore. I’ve always watched you … for at least as long as you’ve watched me.”

  Heat rushed into her face. “I didn’t—I mean—”

  He laughed softly. “Don’t deny it. You weren’t incredibly subtle at fifteen.”

  Her face got even hotter.

  “I requested—no, I fought to be assigned as your sohei at the Shirayuri Shrine. I knew this solstice would be your last, and I needed to see you again. I couldn’t forget that day Hana died, or how broken you looked when they escorted you away from Shion to go to your new shrine, all alone. I wanted to see you again, to make sure you were okay. I didn’t—I didn’t realize how much seeing me would hurt you.”

  He let his head fall back against the headboard. “I used to watch you a lot at Shion, and that day … I knew you were in the woods. I knew you were following us even before we left the grounds.” He paused, tension hardening his muscles. “I was excited. I wanted you to come. I was hoping to impress you. I thought maybe we could even talk—have an actual conversation. When I realized you two had fallen behind, I backtracked to look for you. That’s why we were close enough to hear when Hana started screaming.”

  Emi wrapped her arms around herself, shaken by the shift in perception. She’d never thought to wonder why Katsuo and the other young sohei had arrived so quickly. Logically, they should have been far too deep into the park to hear the screams, let alone race back to help, but the trauma of the experience hadn’t allowed her to analyze the facts.

  “So,” he continued heavily, “if there is blame to be placed, it is just as much mine as it is yours. I knew you and Hana had followed us, and I led you deeper into the park anyway. I could have stopped and taken you back to safety at any point, but I didn’t. I selfishly wanted you to myself, just once.”

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I decided to follow you.”

  “And Hana decided to go with you, and I decided to let you.” He brushed his hand lightly over the back of her head, smoothing her hair. “You are only responsible for your own choices, Emi. You can’t carry the burden for us all.”

  Renewed tears trickled down her cheeks, and she leaned her head against his chest.

  “Seeing you at Shirayuri did hurt,” she murmured. “But only at first. I’m so glad you were here for all this, Katsuo. Thank you for staying with me.”

  His arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation of being held. Soft, warm contentment slipped through her, and the ache of loneliness she’d endured for three years went silent for the first time since Hana died.

  With a long, soundless sigh, she did her best to memorize the feeling, knowing she would probably never experience it again.

  Chapter 8

  Emi stood in front of her bedroom door. She’d already sent Katsuo back through the window and off into the night. He’d wanted to help her but she had another task for him; however the next hour went, she didn’t think she would be staying at Shion much longer.

  For now, she was on her own. Swallowing hard, she flung the bedroom door open.

  The drowsy sohei in the hallway snapped to attention, shocked that she was awake and fully dressed. As they were still spluttering in confusion, she brushed past them.

  “My lady! Kamigakari, please stop!”

  “I am going to the shrine,” she declared without slowing. “I must pray at the shrine.”

  They rushed after her but, forbidden from touching her, they couldn’t actually stop her.

  “My lady, the Guji has ordered us to—”

  “Then go fetch the Guji!” she said as she reached the main doors. “I must pray.”

  She pushed the doors open and hurried down the steps to the courtyard. A light snow drifted from the dark heavens, illuminated by the lights from the surrounding buildings. One of the sohei sprinted past her toward the hall of purification. She increased her pace, urgency competing with her relief that the plan was working. She had to reach the shrine before Ishida, but that shouldn’t be difficult. He would at least need to dress before chasing after her. The world could be burning down around him and the Guji still wouldn’t run outside in his sleepwear.

  She breezed through the courtyard and came to the entrance. The gates were closed each night, but Katsuo had gone ahead for more than one reason. One of the heavy panels was open just enough for her to slip through with barely a pause. As she vanished through the gap, one of the sohei swore quietly; they had probably been hoping the gate would stop her.

  Beyond the well-lit courtyard, the path was smothered in darkness. Her skin prickled as she rushed toward the faint lights ahead. Stone lanterns, each lit with a flickering candle, lined the wide path leading to the shrine. She rushed to the washing pavilion and quickly rinsed her hands and mouth. Though she was sure Amaterasu would forgive her for approaching the shrine without completing the purification ritual, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  The lights of the lanterns hanging from the eaves of the hall of worship called her onward. Ignoring the sohei’s continued protests, she strode toward the sprawling structure. The great hall was among the largest in the country, two thousand years old and utterly magnificent. Intricately carved wood embellishments decorated every beam, eave, and pillar. The entire massive structure was constructed without metal, held together by the master craftsmanship of ancient architects. It loomed from the darkness, lit by flickering orange light.

  She swept past the huge koma-inu statues, their bestial faces cast in dark shadows, and ascended the steps. A shimenawa rope as thick as a tree trunk and decorated with folded paper streamers hung from the beams above her. Stopping in front of the long offering box, she took one of the hanging ropes and pulled it. The bell above clanged gently.

  She bowed twice, clapped her hands, an
d bent her head. Below her at the bottom of the steps, the sohei stirred impatiently, muttering among themselves. She stood stiffly, waiting and listening. Where were Shiro and Yumei? What were they planning to do?

  The sohei’s tone changed to relief, and then Ishida’s gravelly voice broke the silence, his words lined with displeasure.

  “Kamigakari Kimura, what are you doing?”

  She waited. Shiro had said to bring Ishida to the shrine, and Ishida was here. What was supposed to happen now?

  “Kamigakari,” he repeated angrily.

  “I’m praying,” she answered without lowering her hands. Where was Shiro? She couldn’t stall Ishida for long.

  “At this hour? Was I not clear that—”

  “Caw.”

  Emi’s head snapped up. A dark shadow glided down to land on the eave above her. The crow cocked its head and looked at the gathering of humans. She too glanced down the steps to see Ishida standing stiffly in the formal robes of his station; he’d even brought his staff, topped with a large golden ring. Another half-dozen sohei had accompanied him, bringing the total to twelve. Were there too many now for Shiro’s plan, whatever it was, to work? Shiro had said “relatively” alone.

  With a flutter of wings, another crow landed beside the first. Then, from out of the darkness, an entire flock swept in on near-soundless wings to perch on the shrine roof and nearby trees. Glossy black feathers gleamed in the glow of the lanterns hanging from the eaves. They shifted restlessly, watching the humans with eerie quiet.

  Ishida’s gaze snapped across the gathering crows while the sohei gripped the hilts of their swords, tense and wary but waiting for the Guji’s instructions.

  An arm slipped around her waist, pulling her backward into a warm body.

  “Did you miss me?” Shiro purred in her ear.

  Her startled gasp drew the sohei’s attention.

  “A yokai!” one of the sohei yelled. In almost perfect unison, they drew their swords.

  Ishida’s face tightened with fury.

  Emi twisted in Shiro’s grip and found him grinning, his pointed canines on full display. He was sitting casually on top of the offering box, one knee propped up and his arm looped around her middle, red onenju gleaming on his wrist.

  The sohei surged toward the steps but came up short when Shiro nonchalantly tapped her cheek with one finger.

  “Now, now,” he crooned. “You don’t really want to come any closer, do you?”

  They shifted their weight, puzzling over how to save her when the yokai already had her.

  “Let her go!” one of them shouted.

  “Why would I do that?” Shiro’s hand drifted from her cheek to her hair and captured a lock. He slid it through his fingers as he leered at the sohei. “Lovely, isn’t she?”

  “Shiro!” she hissed, hardly making a sound.

  With his eyes still fixed on the sohei, he leaned in and nuzzled her cheek like a predator about to taste his prey. Tingles rushed down the back of her neck.

  “Try to look scared, little miko,” he breathed in her ear.

  Ishida took a step forward, the small hoops linked through the large ring on top of his staff jingling with the movement. A vein in his cheek throbbed. “What do you want, yokai?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Shiro’s face dipped close to hers again as he pulled her back into his chest, pressing their bodies together. “I want your kamigakari all to myself.”

  Ishida stood perfectly still, probably thinking fast. He knew Shiro wouldn’t hurt her, but neither did he seem to want to call Shiro’s bluff.

  “But don’t worry, Ishida,” Shiro continued. His omission of Ishida’s title was insulting on its own, but the sneer Shiro added to the name cut like a knife. “You don’t have to negotiate with me.”

  Ishida’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. A soft, shivering sensation slid over the ground and coiled in the air. As it seeped out of the trees, the sohei shifted closer to one another, hands on their weapons. The icy ki thickened the air, chilling Emi’s lungs.

  “A yokai aura,” one of her sohei whispered hoarsely. “So powerful …”

  The lanterns flickered and dimmed as the shadows drew closer, too dense and dark, almost alive. The silence shivered.

  With huge wings spread wide, the giant raven swept out of the darkness, and every crow erupted in a triumphant scream.

  The moment the raven’s feet touched the carved head of the koma-inu, his talons scraping the stone, a blue glow erupted around his legs, swirling and twisting angrily. The torii barrier was rejecting him, trying to drive him away, but he showed no reaction, by all appearances impervious to the magical attack.

  To their credit, the sohei didn’t retreat, but their swords wavered slightly in the air and they didn’t know whether to point their weapons at the giant raven or the white-haired, fox-eared yokai who already had his hands on their kamigakari. At least Yumei wasn’t using his most massive form, the terrifyingly enormous bird that had fought Koyane and Izanami.

  The great raven turned to the Guji. Though that was his only movement, the crows stirred all around. Their eyes glowed like hot coals, a hundred red spots in the darkness. The birds flared their wings as shadows rippled over their bodies until they were neither solid nor spectral but something in between.

  A dozen crows launched off the shrine and swooped toward the sohei. With alarmed cries, they slashed at the birds but their swords passed right through the yokai. The birds swept their wings around the sohei’s heads, engulfing them in shadows. Bands of rippling darkness spread from the crows and wound around the men, pinning their arms to their sides. Their frightened cries cut through Emi and she reflexively leaned back against Shiro.

  One by one, the sohei dropped to their knees and slumped to the ground. The great raven snapped his beak and the birds detached from their victims and swept back to land on the building, leaving the Guji standing alone among the dozen fallen sohei.

  Shiro gently squeezed her middle and she realized she was trembling.

  “They’re fine,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.

  The great raven unfurled his wings. He sprang off the statue, darkness and red light rippling over him as his form shrank, and when he landed, he had assumed his human shape. The fierce glow of his silver eyes belied his blank expression. His aura seethed in the air and blue light danced soundlessly around his legs as the sacred ground fought futilely to expel him. He had not entered the shrine devoid of ill intent.

  Ishida’s face was hard. Did he know he needed to tread cautiously?

  “Tengu,” Ishida spat, his words edged with cold fury. “Whatever ploy you are attempting, you will not—”

  Yumei’s soft tones slid right across the Guji, silencing him instantly. “You will tell me what I want to know. You will answer every question fully and without hesitation.”

  Ishida’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “If you think I will obey a yok—”

  “For every word of defiance you utter,” Yumei intoned without emotion, “a human in the shrine will die.”

  The blood drained from Emi’s head, leaving her dizzy. Yumei wouldn’t actually kill the innocent people in the shrine, would he? Looking at his cold face, devoid of emotion, she knew he would.

  Shiro dropped his arm and leaned back, propping himself up with one hand and looking thoroughly entertained.

  “You know why I am here.” Yumei’s voice whispered through the darkness like an icy poison. “Refuse me and I will slay every servant of the shrine. I will begin with the warriors here, whom I will not spare a second time.”

  Ishida glanced at the fallen sohei—experienced warriors who hadn’t even been able to defend themselves. He straightened his shoulders, his jaw flexing and his face pale. “To spare the lives I am sworn to protect, I will tell you what you want to know.”

  “What have you learned of the missing Kunitsukami?”

  Ishida’s glare shot to Emi before swiftly returning to Yumei. “I know nothin
g of the Kunitsukami. However”—he adjusted his grip on his staff, the metal rings jingling—“in the northeastern region of Sumire is a small shrine called Hinagiku. In four separate instances in the past year, an Izanami shrine servant was transferred to the Hinagiku Shrine and was then never heard from again.”

  Emi stiffened, her gaze flicking between Ishida and Yumei.

  “The Hinagiku Shrine is very remote,” Ishida continued. “There is no reason it would require four additional staff in a single year. None of them have returned from Sumire or can be contacted. Though we could only identify four, I suspect more people have gone missing from Hinagiku.”

  Emi hesitantly asked, “But why would they disappear? It’s suspicious, I agree, but what could disappearing shrine servants have to do with imprisoning Kunitsukami?”

  The nighttime hush vibrated with tension before Yumei answered, “Sacrifice.”

  “W-what?”

  “Izanami,” Shiro murmured, “is having her own shrine servants sent to this shrine to be sacrificed. I would assume it’s for blood magic.” He glanced at Yumei questioningly.

  “That seems likely, though there are other reasons one might require regular sacrifices.”

  She suppressed a shudder. Yumei had used blood magic on her in a spell to save Shiro’s life. The dangerous magic had seemed to have a life of its own, a sentience similar to that of Tsuchi, the yokai spirit realm. How powerful would a spell become if a life were fed to it? She bit her lip against a wave of grief for the innocent people who had died on Izanami’s command.

  “Where is this shrine?” Yumei asked.

  “Sumire is a mountainous region with a few towns and a handful of ski resorts.” Ishida listed several nearby mountains and landmarks until Yumei nodded in recognition.

  “Anything else, Guji?”

  “Nothing.”