“If they had been on the western side of the mountains, away from the Sea of Japan, it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad. But Harumi had settled on the eastern side to be closer to her work. The phone call I got from her—I’ll never forget it. It was the second worst call I ever received. She told me that Chikao’s bus had been stranded in the storm, and when they’d found it, it had been empty. Apparently, the driver had panicked and taken the children into the storm to seek shelter. She wanted me to come, to help her look for him, but I couldn’t. There was no way I was going to get a pass, and even if I did, the storm had shut down the roads into the area.”
“It must have been a helpless feeling,” McCoy said sympathetically.
“You have no idea. I remember crying, I was so frustrated. My family needed me, and I couldn’t be there for them. I kept waiting for another call from Harumi, telling me that she had found Chikao and that everything was fine. But that call never came.”
“I’m sorry, Basil.” It was all that John could think of to say.
Basil nodded, his eyes damp with tears. “The next day, we began hearing reports that a lot of the children had died. I started to get this sick feeling, because I hadn’t heard back from Harumi. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pulled most of my favors I’d collected over the years and had a guy on base contact someone in Takahama. The contact promised to get a list of names of the deceased and get back to us. The call came the next morning. That one was the worst.”
“You had everything taken from you all at once,” McCoy said quietly. “I can’t imagine the pain.”
“Yeah,” Basil said, wiping his eyes. “Well, I used the rest of my favors to get their ashes, and I brought them home with me several months later. And you’re right, of course. They’re over there on that shelf. I’ve kept them with me all these years. And I never did marry. I had the chance more than once, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d already let one family down. I figured I owed it to them not to do it again.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Basil,” John said. “It was an act of nature. And even if you had been there, chances are you would have died, too.”
“I wish I had. I’ve had over fifty years of grief and loneliness. Which would you choose?”
Neither McCoy nor John said anything.
“Now,” Basil said. “You’ve heard my story. What is it that you so desperately need my help with?”
John looked at McCoy. “You go ahead. I’m not touching this one.”
“Basil,” McCoy said. “You’ve been in the Springs for longer than I have. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about me.”
“I guess I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t. But I never put much stock in rumors and gossip.”
“Well, what if I told you that the rumors were true?” McCoy asked. “That I do hunt ghosts and demons, and everything else that goes bump in the night?”
“I’d say you were out to humor an old man, most likely.”
“I wish I were. But the fact is that such things exist. Things worse than ghosts, even some worse than demons. But it’s a ghost we’re concerned with right now. A special type of ghost, but still a ghost.”
Basil turned to look at John. “He’s pulling my leg, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid not, Basil. And it gets worse. Just listen.”
“When you were in Japan, did you ever hear of something called a Yuki-Onna?” McCoy asked.
“Wasn’t she married to John Lennon?”
“No, this is different. A Yuki-Onna is a type of Japanese ghost. Translated, it means ‘snow woman’.”
“I never heard of anything like that,” Basil said. “Is it like the boogey man?”
“Sort of. The Yuki-Onna appears during a heavy snow and preys upon unwary travelers. She kills them by freezing them with her icy breath.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Basil said. “Are you trying to say poor Jimmy Radcliffe was killed by a ghost?”
“Not only Jimmy, but Elmer Jenkins and Katie Daniels, as well,” John said. “And she damned near got Jessica Stillman. McCoy got there just in the nick of time.”
Basil gave both men long, serious stares. “You two believe this, don’t you?”
“We’ve both seen her with our own two eyes,” John said. “So have Frank Bacon and Stan Gravely.”
“Stan saw this ghost of yours?” Basil asked, surprised.
“Just last night,” McCoy said.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Basil said. “Not saying I believe you, but if Stan Gravely saw it…well, Stan’s one of the most down-to-earth guys I know. But why do you need my help? I’ve never even heard of this thing before. Just because I lived in Japan for a while—″
“That’s not it,” McCoy interrupted. “Basil, you need to understand why a mortal spirit becomes a Yuki-Onna.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
“The Yuki-Onna is the spirit of a woman who died in a snowstorm. More specifically, a woman who died while searching for a lost child in a snowstorm.”
Basil said nothing. He simply looked at McCoy, his expression growing hard.
“Now, Basil,” John said. “I know this sounds crazy to you right now, but I promise—″
“Get out,” Basil said. “The both of you. Get out of my house right now.”
“Basil, just—″ McCoy began.
“Just what? Just sit here and listen to you tell me that the ghost of my dead girlfriend is going around the town killing people? I misjudged you, Finn McCoy. You’re not the man I thought you were, and you sure as hell aren’t half the man your father was.”
“Now, Basil. That’s uncalled for. McCoy’s trying to help,” John said.
“He can help his ass right out the door. And you can follow him, Sheriff.”
“Damnit, Basil,” McCoy said. “I don’t care what you think about me, but I’m telling the truth. Harumi is the Yuki-Onna. She’s killed three people, and she’ll do it again unless we stop her.”
“Harumi Kimura was the kindest soul I’ve ever known,” Basil spat. “She couldn’t swat a fly without feeling guilty about it. You soil her memory. If I was twenty years younger, I’d beat you to within an inch of your life. Hell, ten years, even.”
“She doesn’t remember,” McCoy argued. “Not you, not even Chikao. The human part of her, the part you knew and loved, is asleep. It’s still there, but it’s buried so deep it can’t awaken. The Yuki-Onna exists only to destroy.”
“If that’s the case, what good would I do?” Basil asked harshly. “Assuming all of this is true, what do you think is going to happen? That she’ll take one look at me, wake up, and be Harumi again? She wouldn’t even recognize me. And if she did, she’d blame me for our son’s death. And her own. And I can’t say that I’d blame her.”
“I think I know how to stop her,” McCoy said. “And in the process of destroying the Yuki-Onna, Harumi’s spirit will be freed. She’ll no longer be trapped here. She’ll be free to cross over.”
“Trapped?” Basil asked, uncertain.
“Yes, Basil. She’s trapped here. She never crossed over. She’s been here for the past fifty years, consumed by her own guilt and sorrow. Just like you. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Harumi retreated into herself, and the Yuki-Onna was born.”
“If she’s been here all along, why did she never come to me? Why did I never sense her presence?”
“Some people just aren’t sensitive. And ghosts need an enormous amount of power just to manifest themselves to the living. Maybe she tried, but she just wasn’t strong enough.”
Basil sank back in his chair. If McCoy was telling the truth, then Basil had the power to help Harumi, after all. Though he had failed her in life, maybe it was possible he could save her spirit. He had longed for the day when he would be reunited with his family. If he didn’t do as McCoy asked, it was possible Harumi might not be waiting for him on the other side.
“Tell me what we need to do,” Basil said at length. “Either y
ou’re as crazy as a loon, or you’re telling the truth. Either way, maybe I can ease my conscience a little bit.”
“Okay,” McCoy said. “I’m going to lay out my plan. If you have a problem with any of it, I need to know right now. Because once we start it, we’re going to have to see it through.”
“All right,” Basil said. “Shoot.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“It’s almost dusk,” John said as he looked out of the trailer’s window. “How close are we to being ready?”
“Almost there,” McCoy answered. “We have everything we need. It’s just a matter of setting it up and starting the ritual.”
Earlier in the day, Amanda and Deidre had arrived with the items McCoy had requested. McCoy had then spent nearly an hour digging through his knapsack and extracting various vials and satchels, each containing a specific root, liquid, or powder. He’d also withdrawn two black candles and a pack of matches.
Using the wine that the women had brought, McCoy mixed a small amount with some powdered soot from one of his vials, forming a runny paste. He then had Basil write his son’s full name on a sheet of white paper, using the quill and the paste he’d made. After setting the paper aside to dry, he formed a large circle with red brick dust.
“We should be doing this outdoors,” he told the others as he worked. “But there’s just too much snow, and it would take too long to clear off a patch of ground large enough.”
“At least we’ll stay warm while we’re summoning the spirits of the dead,” Deidre said dryly.
“There’s that,” Amanda agreed.
Frank showed up minutes later, bringing the shells McCoy had ordered as well as two shotguns. Seeing the look on Basil’s face, McCoy attempted to ease the man’s fears.
“Just in case of an emergency,” he told the old man. “You do have renter’s insurance, right?”
“Are you going to use those on Harumi?” Basil asked.
“Not unless we have to. And the rock salt won’t really hurt her. It’ll just drain enough of her energy to give us time to escape, if it comes to that.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Basil said softly.
“Okay,” McCoy said. “Everyone, listen up. When we start this, everyone needs to be inside the circle. Do not, for any reason, step one foot out of the circle. Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times. Got it?”
The others nodded their understanding.
“All right, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”
McCoy took the two black candles and placed them on either side if a small copper bowl on the kitchen counter. Into the bowl, he placed a sprinkle of Chikao Kimura’s ashes, along with a small amount of herbs and the folded-up paper on which Basil had written the child’s name. McCoy first lit the candles and then the contents of the bowl. Hurriedly, he joined the others within the protective circle.
“How long will this take?” Frank asked.
McCoy shrugged. “It varies, depending on how far away the spirit is. I’ve seen it take less than a minute. I’ve also seen it take nearly half an hour.”
“So the plan is to use Chikao’s spirit to lure in Harumi?” asked John.
“Yes,” McCoy replied. “She’ll sense his presence, I’m certain of it. And if I’m right, her human spirit will awaken, freeing itself from the control of the Yuki-Onna.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Basil asked.
“Then it’s going to be a long, cramped night here in this circle.”
They fell silent and watched the small fires burning in the darkness. The ingredients of the copper bowl hissed and popped, sending tendrils of flaming ash into the air. The silence in the room became almost deafening, a physical presence which pressed against the boundaries of the protective circle.
The fire in the bowl burnt itself into a mass of glowing embers. In the flickering glow of the candlelight, nothing moved.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” John whispered.
“It’ll work,” McCoy assured him. “Just be patient. It might take a little while.”
“Whoa!” Deidre gasped.
McCoy spun around. “What is it?”
“I saw something.”
McCoy turned back to study the interior of the room. The candles were an unreliable source of light, but he still saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Not in here,” Deidre hissed. “Through the window. Outside.”
John gave McCoy a quizzical look. “Would the boy’s spirit appear out there?”
“No,” McCoy answered, a worried look on his face.
The front door burst open, allowing a blast of frozen air to sweep into the room.
The candles flickered and went out. The scent of lotus flowers drifted into the room.
“Shit,” McCoy said.
“I hate it when you say that,” John said. “It’s never good, whatever happens next.”
The Yuki-Onna floated through the doorway and into the now-dark trailer, her white kimono and pale skin emphasizing her supernatural presence. She glanced briefly at the smoldering candles and then drifted to the outskirts of the protective circle.
“Harumi?” Basil gasped, his mouth agape.
The spirits eyes flickered toward him, but showed no sign of recognition. Instead she swept her forlorn gaze across each individual in the group, her expression unreadable.
“Harumi!” Basil yelled, and began to walk toward the spirit of his lost love.
“Basil! No!” McCoy yelled. He stepped in front of the old man, but Basil had found the strength of his youth. He pushed the handler aside, nearly knocking him out of the circle. He took one more step, and then John’s oversized hands clamped down upon his shoulders.
“Wouldn’t be a good idea, old-timer,” the sheriff said.
“Let me go!” Basil wailed, but John’s grip was firm.
“That’s not Harumi,” McCoy said as he steadied himself. “Not yet. You leave the circle, you’re a dead man.”
“I don’t care!” Basil sobbed. “Let me go! I want to go to her!”
John lifted the old man off his feet and turned, putting Basil down between Frank and Deidre.
“Keep him still,” the sheriff ordered. “Sit on him if you have to. Just keep him in the circle.”
Deidre and Frank each grabbed a frail arm. Basil, upset but seemingly resigned, offered no resistance.
“The candles blew out,” McCoy said, irritated.
“I see that,” said John. “I take it that’s a bad thing.”
“The candles were beacons,” McCoy explained. “Like a lighthouse, or lights on a landing strip. They’re used to guide the summoned spirit. Chikao’s been summoned, but now he won’t be able to find his way here.”
“And if the boy’s spirit doesn’t show up, Harumi won’t remember,” Amanda said. “We’ve already seen that she doesn’t remember Basil.”
The Yuki-Onna flitted around the edges of the circle. If she cared about—or even understood—their conversation, she showed no sign.
“Okay,” McCoy said. “We need to relight those candles, and fast. John, you and Amanda blast her with the rock salt. Keep her busy reforming. I’ll go out and light them.”
“You’re better with the gun,” Amanda protested. “And I’m faster. Let me do it.”
“Ummmmm…no,” McCoy said, shaking his head. “You’re staying in the circle.”
“But Finn—″
“I think it’s a moot point,” John said.
McCoy gave him a pointed stare. “Why?”
“Because you left the matches on the kitchen table.”
With a comical look of surprise, McCoy patted his pockets. The matches were not there. He turned to Frank, Deidre, and Basil.
“Please tell me one of you smokes.”
They looked at him blankly. Then, slowly, all three shook their heads.
“Double shit,” McCoy spat. He gauged his chances. To get to the matches, he would have to cross the living room and into t
he kitchen. Once there, he would have to grope blindly until he found the matches, then re-cross the room and light the candles, all the while dodging flying rock salt.
He’d have a better chance drinking kerosene and pissing fire.
That mental image, as ludicrous as it was, gave him an idea. He reached over and pulled John close.
“I’m going to cover you,” he told the sheriff. “I want you to light those candles. Are you up to it?”
John looked doubtfully toward the dark kitchen.
“Forget the matches,” McCoy whispered. “Use the fire.”
John looked at McCoy, incredulous. “In front of everybody?” he hissed. “Are you nuts?”
From the circle’s edge, the Yuki-Onna unleashed her breath. Deidre screamed, grabbed at her arm, and retreated closer to the circle’s center.
“Deidre!” John yelled.
“I’m okay! I’m okay! It just grazed me.”
“She’s got all night,” McCoy said. “And we haven’t slept in over a day.” He turned back to John. “If we’re going to do this, it has to be now. If we wait any longer, Chikao’s spirit will be lost to us.”
“All right. Tell me when.”
“When I say go. Amanda, get that gun ready.”
Amanda pumped a round into the shotgun’s chamber and checked the safety.
McCoy turned back to John and put a hand on the big man’s forehead.
“Istha ottala itsha,” he said. “Go!”
John dove from the circle as Amanda sent a volley of rock salt into the Yuki-Onna’s body. The spirit shrieked in surprise and vanished, only to reappear several feet away. Before the ghost could fully materialize, McCoy sent a load into her. Once again, she disappeared. Seconds later, the spirit reformed near the kitchen.
Crouched low, John rushed to the candles. Stretching his arms, he put a hand over each candle’s wick. Immediately, purple fire engulfed his hands, reigniting the tapers. He turned back toward the circle and found himself staring into the dead eyes of the Yuki-Onna.
Cold Chills (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 3) Page 13
