Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  She was alone in the small but beautiful room, surrounded by painted rice paper walls and finely woven tatami mats on the floor. The cushion beneath her was covered in smooth, heavy silk. She’d never questioned the opulence while living here, but after spending so much time in shrines that could barely afford to keep their roofs from leaking, she wondered where the money for all this finery came from.

  Ishida and Fujimoto were meeting in a different room. She pressed her lips together as she poured the steaming liquid into her cup. Should she have insisted on being part of their meeting? Proper manners were so deeply ingrained in her that she hadn’t even protested when Ishida had sent her to wait. She should have said something, but obedience to him was an equally deep-seated habit.

  At least Fujimoto knew the whole story—the important parts; she had skipped over most of her and Shiro’s interactions. But he knew enough to convey her mission and its gravity to Ishida. Perhaps Ishida would give more weight to an experienced kannushi’s words than hers. Her mentor had never indulged in any real conversation with her in the past. Their interactions had always been limited to brief inquiries about her wellbeing.

  She sipped her tea, slowly emptying the cup as minutes ticked passed. How long would it take Shiro to catch up with her in Shion? Would he travel the entire distance on foot, or would he have Yumei transport him? What if he couldn’t find her? As her anxiety wound tighter, she forced her body to relax into a meditative state.

  She was just finishing her second cup of tea when the door slid open. Fujimoto and Ishida walked in, and as the Guji turned to close the door behind him, she glimpsed a third person standing in the hall. The door snapped shut, and Ishida swept around the table, his long robes billowing, and knelt across from her.

  Fujimoto sat as well, grimacing at the tabletop. With a prickle of nerves, she looked at Ishida.

  “Kamigakari Kimura,” he said, his raspy tones breaking the heavy silence. “I regret that your return to Shion after so long could not be more festive, but we are relieved you have returned to us safely.”

  She frowned. “Festive” hardly seemed appropriate, regardless of the circumstances of her return.

  “Was Kannushi Fujimoto able to tell you what happened while I was at the Shirayuri Shrine?” she asked. “And what Amaterasu told me to do?”

  “The last two weeks have been very difficult for you,” Ishida replied. “Your safety is assured now that you have returned to Shion, and we will do everything we can to help you.”

  “Help me … You mean help me find the Kunitsukami?”

  Ishida picked up the teapot. He filled a cup and set it in front of Fujimoto before pouring a second one for himself.

  “Your wellbeing is of the utmost priority,” he finally said. “With only five weeks until the solstice, we must ensure you are properly prepared in body and spirit to fulfill your duty to Amaterasu.”

  She closed her hands around her empty cup, resisting the urge to squeeze it. Fulfill your duty. He knew she was now aware of the scope of the lies he had perpetrated. She took a deep breath and released it, expelling the surge of pain and anger his words had triggered. Ishida’s priority above all else was to Amaterasu, and his kami needed a willing vessel. Emi’s life was insignificant in the face of that need. His predecessors had chosen deceit to achieve that goal, and his decision to continue the lies would not change, regardless of what she might say.

  Her opinions had never mattered to Ishida. She’d sought his approval since she was a little girl, always trying to win a word of praise. She’d never defied him, never argued, never so much as complained.

  “I could tell you,” she said slowly, “how despicable you and the other kannushi are to have deceived not only the kamigakari that preceded me, but every miko who has volunteered herself for this role.”

  The Guji slowly straightened. Though his expression didn’t change, his gaze swept down her and back up again as though seeing her anew. She’d never spoken to him so boldly before.

  “However, the lies—and the truth—don’t matter now. What matters is the task Amaterasu has given me. The task Kannushi Fujimoto explained to you,” she prompted, looking at the kannushi.

  Fujimoto cleared his throat quietly. “I told Guji Ishida everything you conveyed to me.”

  She looked expectantly at Ishida, but he merely leaned back and sipped his tea, watching her.

  Setting his cup down, he folded his hands on the table. “The Tengu is a mysterious and highly dangerous yokai. Many stories tell of his propensity for stealing humans, bringing them into his realm, and trapping them in fantasy worlds. Even victims who have escaped often struggle to fully return to reality. Though we must often rely on myths and age-old tales for information, sometimes the kami will confirm that the legends indeed mirror the truth.”

  “The Tengu is certainly dangerous, but I don’t see why he would ever …” She trailed off, frowning. Why was he talking about Yumei? “I don’t understand.”

  “I am thankful you were able to escape the clutches of such a treacherous creature.”

  “Escape? I didn’t—”

  “We will do everything we can to aid in your recovery. This will be a difficult time for you, Kamigakari Kimura, but I have faith in your strength of spirit.”

  An inexplicable dread kindled in her even as confusion befuddled her thoughts. Why was he so focused on Yumei? Why had he told her about the stories of the Tengu stealing people?

  She went rigid as she realized what Ishida hadn’t quite said.

  “You think I’ve been experiencing some kind of fantasy put in my head by the Tengu?” she demanded, her chest tight. “You think everything I told Kannushi Fujimoto was some kind of hallucination? What about the damage to the shrine? Izanami—”

  “Izanami battled a powerful yokai,” Ishida interrupted, his deep voice rolling over hers. “I knew before your arrival that Izanami fought the Tengu at Shirayuri. It is truly a tragedy that Izanami was unable to slay him at that time and that you had to endure four more days as his prisoner.”

  “Prisoner?” she exclaimed furiously. “I wasn’t a prisoner! Izanami wasn’t trying to save me. She was—”

  “Calm yourself, kamigakari.” Ishida rose to his feet, unfazed by her anger. “There is no shame in being taken in by such a yokai. We have already made arrangements for your healing and purification. Soon, you will be yourself again.”

  Emi shot to her feet, sending her teacup tumbling. It rolled off the table and broke on the tatami mats. She looked desperately from Ishida to Fujimoto.

  “Kannushi Fujimoto, tell him!” she cried. “You saw the circle in the shrine, the blood, the—the—” She faltered, struggling to think of what else could prove that Izanami was the traitor, not the protector battling a treacherous yokai. “You believed me when we were at the shrine!”

  Fujimoto’s face scrunched in distress. He cleared his throat again. “Guji Ishida, I must again express my concerns that the kamigakari’s claims warrant consideration, especially in light of—”

  “Wild fantasies of allying with yokai, of a human wielding Amatsukami power, and ludicrous quests to find Kunitsukami are not worth consideration,” Ishida said coldly, his unimpressed stare bowing Fujimoto’s head again. “The arrangements have already been made.”

  As he spoke, he walked to the door. “The kamigakari needs healing and care—and protection—that we cannot provide.”

  He opened the door and from the hallway, a man stepped into the threshold. His lined, elderly face spoke of wisdom and authority, as did his formal kannushi robes, but the sight of him sent ice cascading through Emi’s veins. His robes were not the violet color scheme of Amaterasu’s servants, but shades of brown and burgundy.

  Izanami’s colors.

  With a frightened gasp, she backpedaled away from the door.

  “Izanami and her servants have offered their care and protection,” Ishida told her calmly as the kannushi smiled benevolently. “Izanami herself will ensure your
purification and healing. An escort will arrive shortly to ensure your safe transport to Izanami’s shrine.”

  “N-no,” Emi stuttered. Ishida was giving her over to Izanami? He was handing her to the Amatsukami who’d attempted to kill her, who’d stabbed her and left her to die? “Izanami wants me dead! She’s been killing Amaterasu’s kamigakari and vassals for a hundred years—”

  “Izanami wants nothing more than to see you safe and whole,” the new kannushi interrupted gently. “Once you have been cleansed, you will see that the Tengu seeks only to sow discord among the followers of the Amatsukami.”

  “Izanami is a traitor! She tried to kill me!” She took another step back, her pleading stare flashing from Ishida’s impassive face to Fujimoto’s bent head.

  Fujimoto glanced sideways at her, worry and uncertainty tightening his expression. As though making a polite observation, he murmured quietly, “The servant of Izanami has been conferring with Guji Ishida since the Tengu’s attack on the shrine, warning him of your capture and enchantment, and informing him of Izanami’s valiant efforts to recover you safely.”

  Her hands clenched as she understood what Fujimoto was trying to communicate. If this kannushi had been here for days, whispering in Ishida’s ear, blaming the Tengu for everything, and seeding doubt about Emi’s mental state even before she arrived, she had no hope of convincing the Guji that Izanami was manipulating him. Judging by the conflict tightening Fujimoto’s face, even he was unsure which story to believe.

  “Recover me safely?” she repeated, unable to stop herself. “Why did she leave Shirayuri then, if she was trying to rescue me?”

  “Izanami is wise to the ways of yokai,” the kannushi answered. “Her presence near the Tengu’s lair would only encourage him to tighten his hold on you. Her strategy clearly worked well, as you are now free of him.”

  She spluttered wordlessly, not knowing how to argue against such ridiculous—yet somehow logical—lies.

  “You will be well again soon, Kamigakari Kimura.” Ishida glanced at the kannushi and Fujimoto. “I will leave you to sit with the kamigakari while I greet her escort.”

  As he disappeared through the doorway, Emi stood frozen. Would Ishida ever learn that he had willingly sent his precious kamigakari to her death, or would Izanami’s servants feed him more lies when she didn’t return?

  She pushed her shoulders back. No. She would not allow this. She wouldn’t be handed to her enemy like a powerless child. She was the kamigakari, Amaterasu’s vessel in more than name, and she would not fail.

  “Kannushi Fujimoto,” she said, extending her hand to him. “I require your ofuda.”

  Still kneeling at the low table, Fujimoto blinked foolishly, then put his hand in his sleeve and withdrew several ofuda, carried everywhere by all kannushi. She took them and fanned them out. Izanami’s kannushi watched with idle curiosity, unconcerned. After all, humans could not use ofuda against other humans. The magic simply didn’t work.

  Selecting the ofuda she wanted, she slipped the others into her sleeve pocket and swept around the table. The kannushi was still smiling like an indulgent parent when she slapped the paper talisman against his chest.

  “Sotei no shinketsu.”

  As her voice rang through the room and the ofuda lit with blue light, shock replaced the kannushi’s smile. Then the glow rushed over his body, encasing him entirely.

  Fujimoto scrambled to his feet, his jaw hanging open.

  She slashed a look toward him and ordered, “Don’t let him leave this room.”

  As he bowed in acceptance, she strode for the door. In the hall, two sohei stood watch. At the sight of her, one of them stepped into her path, his face familiar to her from three years ago—a sohei who had guarded her, though she couldn’t remember his name. Before he could speak, she shoved him hard in the shoulder, making him stagger, and rushed past. She didn’t have the leisure of gentleness or obedience anymore.

  The sohei shouted for her to come back, hurrying after her. She broke into a run, dashing down the long corridor. At the raised voices, heads poked out of doorways but she sped past them.

  The front doors of the building were open, revealing the bustling courtyard, consumed with midday activities. Halfway across the long space, Ishida strode toward the gate, his back to her.

  She flew out the doors and down the steps, briefly glimpsing Katsuo, Nanako, and Minoru waiting beside the hall.

  “Ishida!” she yelled.

  Everyone in the courtyard stopped dead. Ishida jerked to a halt and turned, his robes flaring outward.

  Emi slid to a stop inside the broad circle of trees, their sprawling branches intertwined high above. She met Ishida’s eyes across the distance between them, and fury boiled in her that he would trust a strange kannushi’s word over hers, that he would turn his back on his kami. Amaterasu had entrusted Emi with this task and she could not fail. But how was she supposed to convince him that her version of events was the truth?

  Fluttering heat whispered in her chest, almost like a question. She remembered Amaterasu’s fierceness as she’d faced Izanami through Emi. Emi could be fierce too. She was Amaterasu’s vessel, her voice on Earth. Though the descension had yet to occur, Emi was closer to being a kami now than any kamigakari had ever before. She was enacting Amaterasu’s will.

  “Guji Ishida.” Her voice filled the courtyard, the ring of command unfamiliar to her ears. “Your duty is to serve Amaterasu.”

  His mouth thinned. “I live to serve my kami,” he replied quietly.

  “I bring you Amaterasu’s command,” she declared. “Do you refuse to obey?”

  Anger, visible even halfway across the courtyard, tightened his face. “Until the solstice, I am afraid you cannot speak for the holy Amatsukami.”

  The breeze churned, sweeping the fallen leaves in a circle around her legs. The heat inside her pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

  “I do speak for Amaterasu. She has given me her words and her power.” She lifted her chin. “Whether you believe my story is irrelevant. Your opinion is not required. Amaterasu has commanded me, and through me, you. Will you obey the will of your kami?”

  As still as a statue, the Guji analyzed her. Her authoritative commands might have been obnoxiously arrogant under different circumstances, but kami did not ask their servants for cooperation. They did not convince, persuade, or cajole. They commanded. And if Emi was to be Amaterasu’s will in this world, she too would command.

  His gaze dropped to the leaves swirling in a lazy circle around her feet and doubt flickered across his features.

  Then another voice slid through the silence of the courtyard.

  “No mortal may speak for a kami, not even a kamigakari.”

  From behind a group of miko near the courtyard gate, a man swept into view, flanked by two armed sohei. His long robes, flowing behind him, were a cross between a kannushi’s uniform and the fine garments of a nobleman. His hair was cut in a short, modern style, at odds with his traditional clothing, and his young face seemed to glow from within.

  Emi’s knees weakened and she pressed her hands against her thighs to hide their trembling. The man could be none other than the escort from Izanami’s shrine, come to take her away.

  And he was a kami.

  Chapter 5

  The kami stopped as Ishida bent into a deep bow of respect. Immediately, everyone in the courtyard copied his genuflection, but she kept her spine stubbornly straight.

  The kami’s dark eyes gleamed with cold amusement at her defiance.

  “You are not welcome upon Amaterasu’s sacred ground,” she said into the silent courtyard, her words easily carrying to the kami. “Leave this shrine at once.”

  Disbelieving gasps echoed through the courtyard. She didn’t move, her stare locked with the kami’s. He wouldn’t attack her with so many witnesses, would he? How would she defend herself? Shiro hadn’t had enough time to reach the shrine, and even if he had, she wasn’t sure he could successfully fight a k
ami. Yumei had struggled to defeat Koyane, though Koyane had been exceptionally powerful.

  “I am here to escort you to Izanami,” the kami said, sickly sweet kindness dripping from his voice—an emotion he clearly wasn’t well practiced in portraying.

  “I will not accompany you anywhere. Leave now.”

  “I must take you to Izanami for your own good, child.” He started forward with gliding steps, his sohei following him. “I do hope you will not resist our aid.”

  If he got close enough to touch her, he would be able to incapacitate her almost instantly. She couldn’t let him reach her.

  “Stay away!” she said desperately, backing up a step.

  In a flash of movement, Katsuo appeared in front of her, one hand on the hilt of his katana. Minoru joined him, his bladed staff held defensively. The two sohei stood between her and the approaching kami.

  “The kamigakari asked you to leave the shrine,” Katsuo said.

  The kami stopped a few steps away from the two sohei, his own pair of guardians flanking him.

  “I must admit,” he murmured softly enough that his voice wouldn’t carry beyond her ears, “that I have no desire to play this game, Kimura Emi. Izanami did not specify whether your life should end by her hand or another’s.”

  “You would murder me in front of all these people?” she asked with a slight quaver.

  “I care not for the concerns of humans.” He tilted his head toward the sohei flanking him. “Kill her men.”

  The sohei drew their swords and lunged with shocking speed. Katsuo’s sword rang as he whipped it from its sheath. Steel met steel in an ear-shattering crash as weapons collided, and panicked screams followed from the watching shrine servants. The kami’s sohei drove Katsuo and Minoru back, pushing them away from her.

  The kami stepped forward, one hand reaching for her. If he touched her, it would be over. He could kill her or put her in an enchanted sleep in seconds. Heat pulsated in her chest. Not sure if she was obeying Amaterasu or instinct, Emi thrust her hand out. Power rushed down her arm.