by Zoe Marriott
“Where is the wakizashi now?”
Nothing. He didn’t even twitch.
“You can’t tell us?” My father leaned forward.
“What? Can’t you even give us a hint?” Jack put in.
Rachel propped her hands on her hips. “This is weird. You offered the sword to Mio before, but now you can’t even talk about it? What’s changed?”
Ebisu’s twisted, arthritic fingers were clenched on the handle of his cane, twitching. The lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened, his shoulders rounding as if he wanted to curl back up into a ball. This was actually hurting him.
We were hurting him.
“Stop,” I said hastily. “Just … give him a minute.”
We all waited in silence until Ebisu let out a little sigh and slumped slightly in his chair.
“Thank you. I’d managed to work … things … a little looser, over the years. Now it’s all tighter than ever before.”
Hikaru slapped himself on the forehead. “The binding physically stops you from saying things Izanagi doesn’t want you to talk about.”
“My old lungs aren’t as strong as they used to be,” Mr Leech said, nodding, which I figured was as close as he could get to confirming. “The ticker gives me some trouble too, if I’m not careful.”
“Wow, that’s horrible. It must be like walking about with a boa constrictor wrapped around you,” Jack said sympathetically.
“His body is the boa constrictor,” Rachel said, and for a moment her eyes went somewhere far away. She must know, better than any of us, what it was to feel that your body was a monster, working against you.
“We’ll have to try to work around the bindings. In a non-hurty way,” I said firmly. “Maybe we can guess, and you can just … blink twice for yes, or something.”
Ebisu nodded, a hint of relief in his expression. “Let’s go downstairs, shall we?”
“Do you think you can walk?” my dad asked.
“Why don’t you let me carry him?” Rachel suggested. “It’ll be safer and probably more comfortable. What do you think, Mr – Ebisu?”
“When a beautiful young lady offers to get close, only a fool would decline,” he said, twinkling at her. She rolled her eyes at him, and bent to scoop him into her arms.
Hikaru rushed to hold open the door of the flat for them, and they proceeded down the stairs ahead of us. It was a strangely stately procession, even with the stairs making their worrying groaning noises. When we reached the shop, Mr Leech asked Rachel to set him down by one of the large double-sided bookcases that divided the shop space into three wide aisles.
“Just give me a moment. I think that this will help make things a little clearer for you.” Leaning heavily on his stick, Mr Leech tottered over to the end of the middle bookcase. For a minute or two he stared at – or through – the books, his eyes going unfocused. Then he nodded, apparently satisfied, and lifted his cane to give one of the shelves just above his head a sharp tap.
I had been expecting him to offer us some kind of a clue, maybe direct me to a book that could tell us more about the wakizashi, or where to find it. I was not expecting what happened next.
The books began to shake, and the bookcases rattled in place. A deep groaning noise echoed through the shop, coming from somewhere beneath the floor. Mr Leech stepped back hurriedly – Rachel steadied him – as the front half of the seemingly solid bookcase split in two, each part swinging out to the side like a pair of automatic doors.
Behind them, where logic and a basic knowledge of the laws of nature told me the other side of the bookcase should be, there was a doorway.
It was a looming arch, at least eight feet tall and framed with white marble. On each side, a little higher than my head, a statue of a woman’s upper body emerged organically from the stone, as if in the process of melting into it, or maybe trying to escape. Long hair streamed back from their faces and swirled around their shoulders. The one on the left had both hands clasped together at her breast, her expression set in stern sadness; the hands of the one on the right were raised in supplication, her eyes wide and pleading. Tears shone on their carved cheeks. Both statues had a cloudy moonstone the size of my thumb in the centre of their forehead. I realized with a churn of uneasiness in my stomach that the carvings bore more than a passing resemblance to my vision of Izanami – or at least, to what she must have looked like before half her face rotted away.
The opening between the carved pillars had no door, only a shimmering curtain of silvery light.
I couldn’t help myself. Apparently neither could Jack, or my father. As one, we all scrambled around to the other side of the bookcase to stare disbelievingly at … nothing. It was just a bookcase, shelves and all. We scrambled back. A doorway. Jack poked her hand into the silvery light and then brought it back out. She wiggled her fingers.
“No books,” she confirmed.
“What is this, the Three Stooges?” Rachel asked. “Haven’t you all been through portals before?”
My dad raised his hand. “I haven’t.”
Jack snorted.
Hikaru tried to hide his laughter with a cough, then leaned in to sniff at the doorway. “It smells … wet. Not damp. Wet.”
Mr Leech – Ebisu – reclaimed our attention. “This doorway leads to London Under London, the city that this city is built on. There are miles of sunken buildings, abandoned Underground stations, sewerage and maintenance lines down there. Most of them are flooded. I draw strength from water, and I needed strength to make this opening and the portals beyond it.”
“Did you hide the—?” my father began.
“Shh!” Hikaru hissed, cutting him off.
Dad pulled a face. “Right, bindings, sorry.”
“Can you tell us what this doorway leads to, other than the sunken city?” Rachel asked carefully.
Ebisu smiled. “It leads to the one place that no god, not even I, may enter. Gods do not sleep. Gods cannot dream. This place is forbidden to us.”
“What – you mean – the realm of dreams?” Hikaru looked like a toddler who had been presented with an ice-cream van and a spoon and told to go nuts. “Even my grandmother’s never been there. I can feel something beyond this doorway, but it’s like no portal I’ve ever come across before. It’s like … soap bubbles. Flickering and popping and floating. One minute it’s there, the next it’s gone.”
“That is the nature of dreams, isn’t it?” Ebisu said. “I am not an expert, but from what I have read, people do not fall into them headlong, all at once. They drift, slowly, deeper and deeper, never truly realizing when reality ends and the dream begins.”
“The realm of dreams would be the perfect place to hide … something … that the gods want.” I carefully didn’t look directly at Ebisu as I spoke, not wanting to accidentally trigger the bindings again.
“Yes,” he agreed gravely. “But even so, invoking the gateway underground, in a flooded location where I may draw upon my greatest strength to shield it, seemed prudent.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any kind of a map?” my father asked, sounding resigned.
“Sadly, no,” Ebisu said, partly apologetic and partly amused. “I believe that the dream realm changes constantly – each person who visits it finds something different. What you encounter on the other side of the portal will be formed by the unique dreamscapes that you each bring with you. I can tell you that the world of dreams has a powerful guardian who may choose to help or hinder you, and who may place obstacles, trials or tests in your path as you travel. These too will be shaped from the stuff of your own dreams and nightmares. But if you keep the thing you seek paramount in your thoughts, and keep moving forward, eventually you should be guided to it.”
“Kind of like a Choose Your Own Adventure book,” Jack said. “So if this place is made up of dreams, doesn’t that mean nothing that happens there is really real? Dreams can’t hurt you, right?”
The twinkle in Ebisu’s eyes dimmed and he shook his head, compl
etely serious. “In this world dreams cannot hurt you. But just as when your mind is inhabiting a dream it is impossible for you to tell the dream from reality, so a body present in the dream realm will be unable to distinguish any injuries suffered there from the real thing. Once you are on the other side of the portal, your dreams will have the power to wound you. Your nightmares may have the power to kill.”
On that bombshell, the familiar notes of “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred began to play.
“Sorry! Sorry,” my dad mumbled, mortified, as we all stared at him wrestling his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. When he saw the display, his expression went from embarrassment to dread.
“It’s your mother,” he said to me. “I’d better take it.”
He moved away, putting the phone to his ear as he finally silenced the stupid ringtone.
“Hi. What? Wait – what? Where are you calling from? … I can’t believe this… I told you not to… No, I can’t – Mio needs me. Look, just please, please stay put when you get there. I will send someone. Just don’t go anywhere by yourself. This is important, Aiko! I mean it. Be careful, OK? … Well, I suppose I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
I felt a creeping tide of horror sweep over me as I stared at the back of his head. Please, no.
The look on his face when he turned round told me exactly what I didn’t want to know.
“This cannot be happening. This is a nightmare.” My voice came out as a moan. I put both hands on my knees and bent over at the waist, taking deep, slow breaths. Don’t hyperventilate. Don’t freak out…
“What? I don’t get it.” Hikaru’s eyes darted from me to my dad. “What’s happened?”
“Mio’s mum is coming back,” Jack said hollowly. “Mr Yamato, I thought you said you took her train tickets and everything?”
“She went to the embassy for help and managed to get on a flight out of Paris. They’re about to take off. She’ll be at London City Airport in less than two hours.” My dad shoved his phone back into his pocket so hard I was surprised it didn’t rip straight out through the bottom.
“You have to go and get her,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“The city is at war. Anything could be out there; anything could come at her! She wouldn’t even see a monster until it was already too late. You have to go.”
My dad took a step closer to me, his face grim with determination. “Listen up, young lady. You are about to walk through a wormhole into a completely unknown realm where your own dreams can kill you. There is no way I am letting you go down there without me. The sword may be yours now, but I am still your father, and you are my responsibility. I’m not going to abandon you again.”
I gaped at him. “Dad. Dad that isn’t… Look, it’s OK. I’m—”
“Do not tell me that you are ‘fine’,” he said quietly. “I’m not stupid, Mio. You may not choose to confide in me, but please don’t lie. You are light years away from fine.”
There was a silence that buzzed with unspoken words as we stared at each other. Then Mr Leech cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt, but we don’t have an infinite amount of time to make this decision. What do you want to do?”
“Dad, please—”
“You’re not going anywhere without me. Either we both go and collect your mother, or we both go after the wakizashi. There’s no third option.”
I opened my mouth, not even sure what I was going to say.
“I’ll go,” Rachel said suddenly.
“Huh?” I blurted out.
“I can drive. I passed my test ages ago. I’ll take your dad’s car, fetch your mother from the airport and bring her back to our house, where she’ll be safe. Mrs Yamato’s known me since I was a kid – she won’t mind me picking her up. Plus, I can probably bend steel bars into pretzels with my bare hands now, which, you know, is … useful. You’re OK without me, right, Jack?”
For a second Jack looked stricken. Then she squared her shoulders and nodded. “Sure. That’s a great idea. I don’t think your mum can do any better than Catwoman as a bodyguard. If our mother was coming home right now, I know who I’d send to get her, Mimi.”
“Are you sure?” my dad asked Rachel, cautious but hopeful. “We don’t know how dangerous things are out there. Wouldn’t you rather stay with your sister?”
“Yes,” Rachel admitted, giving Jack a little shove on the shoulder. “But I know there’s no way to talk her out of going with Mio, and no matter what happens she’ll have all of you looking out for her.” Rachel pushed her trendy hipster glasses further up her nose and looked directly at me. “You saved me. Then you saved Jack. Then you saved me again. I owe you. Let me do this.”
I hesitated, a part of me resisting because I didn’t want to delegate this way. Splitting up, just when I’d decided we ought to stick together, felt wrong. But I knew Rachel was more than capable of protecting anyone who needed it, especially my mild-mannered, sweet-tempered mother. And someone did have to go. So I nodded jerkily.
My dad let out a relieved sigh and pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Look after my baby,” he said, straight-faced. “And make sure my wife’s all right while you’re at it.”
Rachel took the keys with a smirk and then quickly grabbed Jack for a hug. “Don’t let Mio blow up anything important while I’m gone.”
“On it. Don’t let London fall into the sea while I’m busy.”
“On it.”
They held onto each other silently for another minute.
“Right. Well … good luck.” Rachel cast us one last look that glittered with determination – or maybe unshed tears – pointed a stern I’ll Be Watching You finger at Hikaru, then walked away. The door slammed shut with a jaunty jangle from the shop bell, and we all stared after her, caught up in our own thoughts.
“Hey,” Hikaru said suddenly, breaking into the quiet. “How did the door get back on its hinges?”
“Self-repairing wards,” Ebisu said. “And it’s time for you to go now, I think.”
“Wait a moment. Is there anything else we need to know about this place before we leave?” my father asked Ebisu. “Or about … the thing that we’re looking for?”
Ebisu frowned, and then nodded. “The realm you are about to visit has no fixed physical form. While the sword that Mio carries seems more … restrained now than it was the last time I encountered it, it still has a great deal of destructive power. That power may warp the dream landscape in unpredictable and dangerous ways. I would advise you to keep the blade sheathed at all times. The thing that you seek has similar qualities. The same caution applies. And finally, although my powers are weak to non-existent in that realm, if you are in desperate danger and can see no other way to escape, as a last resort, try to find your way to water and call my name. I might be able to pull you out. But bear in mind that there is no guarantee I will succeed, and that even if I do, such an abrupt exit would not be without risk. Nor will I have the strength to send anyone back again. You have one chance only.”
“Game over,” Jack said grimly. “Gotcha.”
I shrugged my shoulders to loosen them up and looked around. “OK. Everyone ready?”
Subdued nods all around. We were going to be risking our lives to regain possession of an ancient, battered old wakizashi that we didn’t even know the true significance of. It was crazy and reckless – and we didn’t have a choice.
I marched through the glowing curtain of light into the realm of dreams.
CHAPTER 7
ONWARDS AND DOWNWARDS
P assing through Ebisu’s doorway wasn’t like stepping into one of the Kitsune’s ruptures. There was no darkness. No muffling, claustrophobic Between. I felt an intense tingling, almost a fizzing sensation as the light enveloped me − like walking into a lukewarm shower, the water needling at my skin through my clothes. As I went to take my next step, the floor fell away, but instead of dropping I found myself floating – adrift in a sea of shining, shifting light. There was an ec
ho of laughter, all around me and yet far away, and a strong feeling of unseen, curious eyes peering at me.
“Interesting. We shall see, then…” a voice whispered. “We shall see.”
My foot hit the ground and I stumbled a little as the light and feeling of weightlessness disappeared abruptly. I was on the other side of the doorway now, at the top of a narrow, spiralling staircase made from massive blocks of sandy-coloured stone. Wrought-iron brackets held torches that gave off a flickering orange light and a faintly sickly, fatty smell. I needed to get out of the way or the next person through might push me right down the stairs. I started downwards cautiously, footfalls ringing strangely off the stone steps.
Almost immediately I heard another set of footsteps – quick and light, probably Jack’s – start after me, followed by a slightly heavier, more cautious tread. That would be my dad. Finally Hikaru, almost soundless, only betrayed by the tiny scraping of his boot soles on the rough stone.
“You guys all get through all right?” I called.
Three answers came back to me, all variations on “yes”. None of them sounded too traumatized, but the steps were too narrow and winding for me to see any of them. If I stopped, I’d probably cause a pile-up. So I kept going. And going.
A couple of minutes later Jack’s slightly breathless voice asked, “Any sign of an end to these stairs yet, Mimi?”
“Not yet,” I called back.
“The smell of water’s getting stronger,” Hikaru chimed in from the back.
“I hope that’s not all that’s down there,” said my dad. “Shockingly, I forgot to bring my water wings.”
As he spoke I caught a faint sound from below: the distinctive noise of water moving, lapping against something solid. My feet sped up without my volition, and in a minute I was at the last step.
The stairs culminated in a narrow stone dock. The rocky platform stuck out about six feet into water the deep green of mint jelly. I walked along it, staring at the ornately carved stone columns rising from the water to support a vaulted roof dappled with reflections of the shifting pool below.
