“Shukusei no tama.”
Hot power surged through her chest and blasted down her arm. Light flashed beneath her palm, sweeping over the oni, and it released her with a howl. She dropped to the ground, landing painfully on her knees, and the beast staggered back, clutching its burned face and panting. Stumbling with weakness, it whirled around and fled into the darkness.
Once its crashing footsteps had faded, Emi climbed to her feet. A moment later, a racket of cawing shattered the night and a dozen crows whooshed toward her. They flapped around her head, squawking anxiously.
From the same dark trees where the crows had emerged, a huge raven glided out of the darkness, silver eyes gleaming. Almost on his tail, a slightly smaller bird with garnet eyes followed.
The raven pulled up short, wings flaring, and black magic rippled across him. When he touched the ground, Yumei had returned to his human form. Shifting as well, Zenki landed with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The circling crows settled and fell silent now that their master had arrived.
“Emi,” Yumei said sharply, striding toward her. “What are you doing? What happened?”
“I …” She stared around. “I don’t …”
He stopped in front of her, his gaze jumping to her bleeding wrist then back to her face. “What happened?”
“Yumei.” The numb dam within her shattered and a storm of emotions tore through her. As tears spilled over her cheeks, she staggered half a step closer to him. “Yumei, what am I?”
He stiffened. “What?”
She thrust her bleeding wrist toward him. “Taste my blood. Tell me what I am.”
He hesitated, then gently grasped her wrist. He lifted her hand to his lips and, ignoring the blood already streaking her skin, bit down on the fleshy side of her palm. He held her hand in his mouth, unmoving, eyes shifting out of focus.
He released her wrist and blood welled in the puncture from his canine.
“You taste of human,” he murmured, “and of kami.”
Her shoulders slumped forward and she wrapped her arms around herself, trembling violently. Yumei shrugged off his black haori and swung it around her shoulders. Only when the warm fabric settled around her did she realize how cold she was.
He scooped her into his arms, startling a gasp out of her. He glanced at Zenki. “Find the oni.”
“I’ll take care of it,” the daitengu replied, stalking up the trail in the direction the beast had fled.
Magic rippled across Yumei’s arms. He stepped forward and cold magic engulfed them, sucking the air from her lungs. Darkness swamped her, blinding and deafening.
He completed his step and the world snapped back into existence. In front of them, the oak tree towered in the middle of the clearing. He carried her to the tree and sprang into the branches. When he crossed through the gateway into Tsuchi, she finally understood why it was still so difficult for her to pass through. Her essence contained too much kami ki for the realm of yokai to welcome her.
Inside his home, he set her down beside the table, leaving his haori draped over her shoulders. She gazed listlessly at the glowing coals of the fire as he disappeared upstairs. A minute later, he returned with an ancient-looking iron kettle, a shallow basin, and a roll of cloth. He set the kettle on the coals to heat, then knelt beside her.
“Tell me what happened.”
She let out a shuddering breath and haltingly described her encounter with Tagiri. When she finished, she raised her head and frowned at him.
“Why don’t you look surprised?” she asked hollowly.
“Do I ever look surprised?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you just make a joke?”
He stared back at her, expressionless, and her lips twitched upward despite herself, but her humor quickly faded. “You aren’t surprised.”
“With each year your memories failed to fade, and with each year you struggled to find your place among humans …” He trailed off. “That is why I would not give my promise to the others to abandon you.”
She sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve as he poured steaming water into the basin and wet a scrap of cloth. He pulled her arm toward him and began cleaning the scrapes across her wrist from the oni’s claws. Her shirt, at least, had escaped the encounter unscathed.
She could have cleaned her wounds herself, but she didn’t suggest it. Once, he had sat silent and patient while she cleaned and bandaged his injuries. It seemed so long ago, a different lifetime.
“Tagiri said,” she whispered, “that I won’t age like a human.”
He glanced up, his hands pausing with a bandage wound partially around her wrist.
“She said … I probably won’t age at all.”
He resumed wrapping her wrist and tied off the bandage.
She pulled her arm close, resting it in her lap. “Why don’t you seem surprised about that either? You couldn’t possibly have suspected that too.”
“You have not aged a day since we met.” He waved a hand vaguely at her hair and clothes. “You have changed, but you have not aged.”
“Why … why didn’t you mention this before?”
“You are still young and I was not entirely sure.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched miserably. “What will I do, Yumei? Everyone I know will grow old and die while I … I can’t ever fit in now. What happens in another ten years? In another twenty? People will notice I’m not aging. What will I do? How will I …” Hysteria crept into her voice. “I don’t want to be alone forever.”
“You will not be alone.”
She looked up, tears blurring her vision. “You already told me I don’t belong in the yokai world.”
Tension threaded through his muscles. “I had planned to investigate more. I wanted to be absolutely certain before I told you.”
Her heart pounded and a strange pressure built within her. “Before you told me what?”
His gaze rose to hers. “Two weeks ago, a white kitsune was seen at Inari’s shrine.”
Chapter 31
Walking at a sedate pace was almost more than she could manage. With effort, Emi kept to a slow amble through the spring grass, but nothing she did could slow her frantic heart.
Fantastic color surrounded her—the bright green grass, the vibrant blue sky, and a riot of pink blossoms clustered upon the expansive branches of cherry trees. She wandered aimlessly, the sweet breeze warm against her skin and the morning sun sparkling.
In Amaterasu’s memory, she had walked through these same trees, the long grass bursting with vibrant red lilies. When Emi experienced that vision, she hadn’t realized she was seeing the grounds of Inari’s largest shrine, a sprawling valley far from any city and maintained by a single, dedicated family that lived in the nearby farming village.
And these grounds, this haven of the Kunitsukami’s power, were where Yumei’s searching crows had spotted a single white kitsune.
Last night, Yumei had battered her with warnings before agreeing to take her to the shrine in the morning. He had emphasized that the kitsune was probably just a kitsune, one of Inari’s long-lost vassals returned. He had warned her it was too early for him to have revived. He had repeated that she likely wouldn’t even see the elusory kitsune that had so skillfully evaded a second sighting by his crows.
Yet, despite his warnings, she couldn’t help the bud of hope growing inside her, waiting for the faintest breath of warmth to bloom in full.
She continued through the woods, the occasional pink petal twirling by on a spiraling journey to the earth. The grounds were huge. It would take days to search it all. Somewhere near the border, Yumei waited for her, and though she was surprised he hadn’t come with her, she was also grateful. He would not have approved of the tremble in her hands or the flush in her cheeks. She was caught in the tides of hope and couldn’t bring herself to resist it.
Even if there was a kitsune here, she reminded herself, and even if that kitsune was actually him, it didn’t mean anythi
ng would change. The onenju curse had damaged his memories, but this time, he would revive without interference. There was every chance he wouldn’t care for her as he once had.
Biting her lip, she stopped a few paces from a glistening pond. Brightly colored ducks idly paddled away, giving the unfamiliar visitor a wide berth. She gazed into the rippling water, lost in thought, caught in the roiling pull of too many emotions.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Her head jerked up as a sudden realization flashed through her. She whirled around and looked into the branches of the tree beside her where, a hundred years ago, he had lounged as he accused Amaterasu of only visiting him so she could stare pensively into his pond.
But the branches were empty, adorned only by pale blossoms.
She sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. She could wander the shrine grounds all day and only cover a portion of the valley. She would never find a single kitsune, especially if the fox didn’t want to be found.
If he had returned, he would want to see her, wouldn’t he?
She closed her eyes and focused on the sun’s heat on her face. She couldn’t think about it anymore. She couldn’t handle the battering emotions. Her chest ached, her heart wrung dry. Everything was too uncertain, too riddled with doubt—her life, her future, her place in the world. Now, hoping so desperately that her whole body throbbed with it, she couldn’t handle more uncertainty.
Leaning back into the grass, she tucked an arm under her head. She would rest here a moment, then continue her search. The sun was warm, the breeze tasted of summer, and the rustle of leaves was soothing. Weariness slipped through her, her exhausting day and restless night weighing her down as much as her endlessly churning anxiety and hope.
She didn’t realize she had drifted into a light sleep until awareness trickled through her drowsy thoughts. Her back ached from the hard ground, but the discomfort was easy to ignore with the warmth of the sun on her skin.
Then something more than the sun touched her face.
A light touch, whisper-soft, brushed across her forehead, stirring her bangs.
She opened her eyes.
He sat beside her, casually propped on one arm and his other hand hovering just above her face. His vulpine ears swiveled toward her and the breeze stirred his hair, tugging white locks across his ruby eyes.
She stared at him, her heart careening against her ribs. Impossible. It was impossible. This couldn’t be real.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Does it seem like you’re dreaming?”
His smooth voice, so familiar, so longed for, caused her physical pain. Two tears slipped down the sides of her face into her hair.
“Yes,” she rasped.
A pause. “Is it a good dream?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a near sob. His face was exactly as she remembered, every feature, every line. “It’s the best dream I’ve ever had.”
He leaned over her and looked right into her soul. “What if it isn’t a dream?”
“I might die of happiness.”
“Oh, well. It’s a dream then.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “But you don’t have to wake if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to.” She lifted her hand toward his face but her fingers stopped an inch from his cheek, trembling. More tears spilled over. “If I touch you, will you be real?”
His hand closed over hers and pressed her palm to his face. His skin was warm, solid, alive. His hand was warm, solid, strong. A shudder shook her from head to toe, and a sob erupted in her throat.
“You’re really here? You’re really alive?”
He closed his eyes, holding her hand to his face, his chest rising and falling with a long, slow breath. “Yes. And you’re here.” His eyes opened, shadows sliding through them. “You … remember me?”
“I remember you,” she said hoarsely. “I remember everything. I promised I would never forget you.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “You did.”
They moved at the same time. She started to sit up, already reaching for him, as he pulled her from the ground onto his lap. And then his arms were around her, crushing her against him, and her arms were around him, holding him just as tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder and wept, unable to hold the tears back any longer. Shock reverberated through her, so strong she could scarcely feel anything else.
He was alive. He was holding her. She was in his arms, and he was in hers. He was alive. He was alive.
“I thought you had forgotten me,” he whispered, his face buried in her hair. “I was so certain you wouldn’t know me.”
“I could never forget you.” She lifted her head, tears streaking her face. “I never stopped thinking about you, not once in seven years.”
“Seven years? Is that how long it’s been?”
“You—you didn’t know? How long have you been back?”
He squinted. “I remember snow, so … a few months?”
She traced her fingers along his jaw, needing to touch him, to hold him, afraid that somehow he would vanish if she let him go. “How did you come back so quickly? Yumei said it would take a century or more.”
“Yumei is a pessimist.” Humor flickered across his face, then faded. “I think I came back too early. My ki is …” He grimaced and flicked a hand. A tiny flame flashed above his fingers and died. “I’m weak as a kodama in a desert. I’m too powerless to leave the protection of this valley, but my strength is slowly returning.”
His gaze swept across her face, drinking her in as though he had been dying of thirst for years. “But I needed to return before it was too late, so I could see you again. Even though I didn’t think you would remember me, I needed to make sure you had survived.”
“I survived because you saved me,” she whispered. “And later, I’m going to yell at you for doing something so stupid and reckless.”
He raised his eyebrows innocently. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. She was still laughing when his mouth found hers, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss.
Her arms clamped around his neck again, fingers tangling in his hair. She kissed him with equal urgency, seven years of pent-up grief and longing spiraling out of control. She couldn’t tear her mouth away, couldn’t unlock her hands. Lost in utter bliss, she could have happily kissed him until the world ended.
His hands ran down her back and up again to the base of her neck. He slid his fingers through her hair from roots to ends, then murmured against her mouth, “Your hair is shorter.”
She leaned back and brushed her bangs to one side. He watched the motion and she flushed with self-consciousness.
“I like it.” He slid his hand back to the nape of her neck, his fingers closing in a fist around her hair. He pulled her head back and closed his mouth over hers again, his kiss deep and hungry. Eventually, he lifted his head, loosening his hold on her hair. “You’ve changed while I was gone.”
“I guess I have.” She searched his face. “You’re a bit different too, I think.”
His head tilted, ears swiveling. “Am I?”
She smiled at the movement. He’d been spending most of his time as a fox, she suspected, and the vulpine mannerisms were lingering. “Yes. I’m not sure how much, though. Either way, we have lots of time to …”
She trailed off, almost missing the dread that darted through his eyes. Lots of time, she had said. But to him, a human lifespan was no time at all.
“Shiro …” She paused, then brushed her fingers across the marking on his cheek. “Inari.”
The name felt odd on her tongue, but looking at him, she knew it was the right one. He wasn’t Shiro anymore. He wasn’t the charming trickster yokai who’d appeared in her bedroom in the white kitsune’s place. He was still that yokai, but he was no longer broken, no longer healing. He was Shiro, but he was more than Shiro. He was whole again.
She t
ook a deep breath. “When you said … that night, when you said you would have kept me forever … and loved me until the very end, did you mean it?”
His eyes darkened, burning her soul. “I meant every word.”
“And do you … do you still mean it now?”
“Every word.” He pulled her closer and pushed his nose into her hair. “Emi, I have never known fear as terrible as when I thought I would be too late to save you that night. I would destroy the very realms if it meant I would never have to be apart from you again.”
She bit hard on her lip, fighting the sobs building in her chest. What had she ever done to win his love so deeply? Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Inari, I … I’m not entirely human anymore.”
His head jerked up. “What?”
“When I was the kamigakari, Amaterasu’s ki … changed me.” She squirmed in his lap then forced the words out. “I’m a little bit kami now. Amaterasu’s vassal told me yesterday.”
His jaw hung open as he stared at her, his complete astonishment more obvious than she’d ever seen from him. Snapping out of his shock, he pulled her head to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he snatched her hand and bit the side of her palm in almost the exact spot Yumei had.
As he tasted her blood, his eyes widened all over again. He pulled her hand from his mouth. “I don’t believe it. I can taste the kami power. Are you sure you’re not still bound to Amaterasu?”
“Definitely sure.”
“And you’re …” Light grew in his eyes—bright, painful hope. “You’re not aging, are you?”
At her nod, amazement filled his gaze and his eyes widened all over again. “You—you’re not going to—? You mean you’ll live as long as—and you won’t grow old—?”
She giggled at his stuttering and he broke off with an embarrassed huff. Grabbing her, he fell over backward, pulling her with him. She barely had a chance to gasp before he rolled on top of her, pinning her to the ground. His eyes met hers, filled with wonder and delight, and she couldn’t see even a hint of the cold, bitter loneliness that had once chilled his ancient soul. Fire sparked in its place, a blaze of possessive hunger that stole the air from her lungs.
Immortal Fire (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 3) Page 33