“We need to convince him to give it to us,” she replied promptly.
“How?”
“I already tried convincing him he needs to give it to you and Yumei.” She looked helplessly at Katsuo. “He won’t tell me, that’s for sure. Any ideas?”
“Torturing him won’t work,” Katsuo said. “Guji Ishida would die under torture or take his own life before giving up anything. Threatening him won’t work.”
“Pretending to threaten my life won’t work either,” she mused, “because he knows Shiro and Yumei need my help. Ishida would call that bluff right away.”
“Hmm,” Shiro murmured. “So he’s protective of you, but what about the other humans at this shrine?”
“He’s protective of everyone,” she replied, suppressing the painful memory of his reaction to Hana’s death. “He takes the safety of the shrine servants very seriously and—”
Shiro abruptly sat up. “Someone is coming. Footsteps down the hall.”
“A change in guard?” Emi whispered, tensing.
“No, it’s—”
A loud rapping on her door interrupted him.
“—a woman,” he finished.
“My lady,” a feminine voice called through the door. “May I come in?”
“M-miko Tamaki,” Emi stuttered. “I—I’m already in bed.”
“My apologies, my lady. Sohei Jiro told me a few minutes ago that you were reading. Since you didn’t eat much dinner, I brought you a late snack.”
“I’m not hungry,” Emi called.
“I’ll just leave it for you on the table then, my lady.”
The door clacked as the miko started to slide it open. Emi’s panicked gaze flashed over to Katsuo standing beside her and then to Shiro sitting on her bed.
“Wait!” Emi cried. “I’m—I’m just changing. Give me a minute!”
“Oh …” Tamaki mumbled in confusion. The door clacked again as she closed it.
Emi sprang off the bed. The closet was the best hiding spot, but it was all the way across the room and if Tamaki opened the door too soon, Emi’s illicit visitors would be in plain view of the miko and all the sohei in the hallway. Shiro could hide as a fox but it would take too long to get Katsuo back out the window.
Whirling, she grabbed Shiro by the arm and hauled him off the bed. She shoved him into the corner behind the partition wall that marked the transition from living space to bedroom. Snatching Katsuo by the sleeve, she pushed him backward until he collided with Shiro. When he tried to step away from the kitsune, she pressed him back again.
“Stay there, both of you!” she hissed.
Darting out of the bedroom, she rushed toward the door just as Tamaki called out, “Can I come in now, my lady? The food is getting cold.”
“Yes!” Emi exclaimed, sliding the door open a foot. Shiro and Katsuo were hidden from view as long as Tamaki stayed near the door but if she walked into the room, she would see them on the other side of the narrow wall.
The middle-aged woman stood in the threshold, holding a tray laden with covered dishes and plates of food. An assortment of bored sohei filled the corridor, trying to look alert. A few cast longing looks toward the tray.
“Ah, my lady,” Tamaki said, giving Emi’s night robe a critical look. “I’ll just put this on your table for you—”
“I can take it,” Emi said, quickly reaching for the tray and trying not to sound too desperate.
The miko stepped back with an almost affronted look on her face. “Oh, no, no, let me.”
“It’s fine.” Emi took hold of the tray and pulled it toward her. “I can carry a tray. It’s no trouble, really.”
“My lady—”
Emi forcefully claimed the tray, managing a terse smile. “Thank you, Miko Tamaki. Have a good night.”
Tamaki’s offended expression intensified. After a long, disapproving pause, she bowed. “Have a good night.”
Backing into the room, Emi used her elbow to slide the door shut. Gripping the heavy tray tightly, she waited, listening. On the other side of the door, Tamaki murmured quietly as she bid the sohei goodnight. Emi didn’t move as she slowly counted to ten in her head, hearing only silence from beyond her door.
Heaving a relieved exhalation, she hurried to the table and set the tray down, then turned around. Katsuo, his mouth twisted in a scowl, stood stiffly with Shiro in the corner. In contrast, Shiro looked perfectly at ease despite the forced closeness with a human.
“I think it’s safe now,” she whispered.
Katsuo vaulted out from the corner and Shiro sauntered out after him, smirking at the sohei’s discomfort. At the sight of the two of them together like that, a thought popped into her head: she had kissed them both, hadn’t she? She quashed the realization, but it was too late. An instant blush burned in her cheeks. Then, of course, the memory of Shiro pinning her to the floor followed, intensifying her blush.
Shiro glided past her, seeing too much of her hidden thoughts, and dropped down in front of the table. He lifted the cover off the bowl of soup, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the aroma. Raising the bowl, he took a long swallow.
“Ah,” he sighed. “I haven’t tasted food this fine in a hundred years.”
She struggled to pull herself together, banishing all inappropriate memories. She glanced at Katsuo, who was giving her a strange look, and cringed. Quickly turning away, she strode over to Shiro and knelt across the table.
“Who said you could eat my food?” Her whisper was more forceful than necessary. How could he affect her like this? Even days later, with far more important things to worry about, the mere memory of his closeness made her heart race. “That’s supposed to—wait. Did you say a hundred years?”
“Figure of speech,” he murmured, taking another gulp. His gaze flicked thoughtfully toward the ceiling. “Maybe.”
She frowned and absently picked up the chopsticks. “So it’s not a memory?”
“Nope. It has been a long time. Since before the onenju, at least, but I don’t know how long.”
“Hmm.” She poked at a piece of tempura, then picked it up with the chopsticks. A hundred years. Logically, she knew Shiro was probably at least that old; otherwise, how would he know anything about the disappearance of Inari, who had been missing for a century? And then there was that ancient something slumbering in his eyes … She knew he was old, yet hearing him say it was so strange. How could someone with that annoying, teasing smirk of his be a hundred years old?
Nibbling on the edge of the battered carrot, she watched him finish the soup and thought about that ancient, cunning presence she’d accidentally awoken within him. What did it mean? Who was he? What was he?
Katsuo dropped down to sit at the table, startling her. She jerked her attention away from Shiro, realizing with a renewed flush that she’d forgotten Katsuo was there.
“Are we going to come up with a plan or not?” Katsuo demanded, his voice low but aggressive. “We don’t have all night.”
Shiro bit into a slice of pear. “You’ll live longer if you relax a bit, sohei.”
“What?” Katsuo spluttered furiously.
“You’re awfully uptight.”
“Shiro,” Emi scolded quietly. “Knock it off. He’s right. We need a plan.”
“Done.”
“What? What do you mean?”
He ate another pear slice. “I have a plan. I think it will play out quite nicely, in fact. Yumei will like it. Probably.”
“You—when did you come up with a plan? What is it?”
“All I need you to do is get the Guji relatively alone. How about the shrine hall? Can you get him there in, say, an hour?”
“An hour? But what—”
“Yumei and I will handle the rest.” He shoved a handful of fruit into his mouth and stood. “Speaking of certain temperamental ravens, I need to intercept him before he reaches the shrine.”
“You’re leaving now?” She jumped up, Katsuo following suit. “But Shiro, tell us what—
”
“It’ll be lots of fun, don’t worry.”
“Fun?” she squeaked in alarm. As he headed for the window, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
To her surprise, he didn’t resist and she unintentionally yanked him into her. His hands caught her upper arms before she fell backward and when he pulled her upright, she found herself pressed against his chest, her wide eyes locked on his. He leaned down until their lips were only a breath apart.
“So distressed to see me leave, little miko?” he purred, their faces so close, only a whisper of space between them. Heat swooped through her middle.
His hands vanished from her arms and he sprang away, easily avoiding Katsuo’s aggressive attempt to grab him. The red ties around his arms swept outward like ribbons as he spun toward the window, grinning crookedly. Katsuo planted himself in front of her, arms spread protectively wide.
Ignoring the sohei, Shiro put one hand on the windowsill.
“Fear not, I won’t be far.” His smile faded, a sudden somberness overtaking his expression, and those ruby eyes captured her one more time. “I’ll see you soon … Emi.”
Her heart thudded as his purring voice caressed her name. In a flash of fire, the small white fox took his place, his bushy tail already vanishing through the window. And then he was gone.
Chapter 7
She stared at the empty window. Emi. The way he’d said her name … He didn’t use her name often, and he’d never said it quite like that before.
Katsuo lowered his arms, exhaling harshly. He turned, his eyes seeking her face. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. A cold breeze rushed in through the window, chilling her skin through her robe and forcing a shiver out of her.
Finally moving, Katsuo picked up the window panel and set it back on the sill, blocking the worst of the breeze.
“Are you … okay?” he asked haltingly.
“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging off her daze. “Shiro can be … difficult sometimes.”
“He’s an animal,” Katsuo growled. “Getting so close to you, touching you, saying—” He bit off the rest of his sentence. “He’s dangerous.”
She almost disagreed but realized she would only sound foolish. Of course Shiro was dangerous. He was already powerful, even with half his ki still bound by the onenju. And he was unpredictable. She never knew what he would do next, and not knowing what plan he had in mind frightened her more than she wanted to admit. In what possible way was it better that she not know what he planned to do once she got Ishida to the shrine hall—assuming she could manage that much?
“He should have told us,” she muttered. “How are we supposed to prepare?”
“I think the idea is that we don’t.” Katsuo glanced at the door. “I should—”
“Don’t go!”
He blinked in surprise and she blushed. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out; she didn’t even know if that’s what he’d been about to say.
“I just—I don’t want to wait by myself, worrying about what will happen,” she finished in a mumble.
A small smile softened his face and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Thank you.”
Hesitating, she returned to the table and knelt again. Katsuo joined her, watching as she picked at a few more pieces of tempura. The battered vegetables were delicious and it would have been a shame to waste them. She wasn’t surprised the food had impressed Shiro; even with her diet restrictions, the cooks at Shion never failed to produce high-quality meals with the finest ingredients and elegant seasonings.
As she nibbled at the food, they discussed options for luring Ishida to the hall of worship. In the end, they decided to keep it simple: if she headed for the shrine hall this late at night, one of her guards would immediately fetch Ishida to stop her.
“I wonder what he found out about Izanami,” she mused to distract herself from what was coming. “If it doesn’t lead us to one of the Kunitsukami, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
Katsuo fiddled with a cup of cold tea on the tray, turning it this way and that. “What will you do once you have the information?”
“Search for the Kunitsukami, of course. Hopefully we won’t have to go far, and—”
“We?” he interrupted quietly. “You mean the kitsune and the Tengu?”
She nodded.
“You’re going to go off with them alone again?” He pulled his hand back from the teacup as his fingers balled into a tight fist. “That’s too dangerous, Emi. Not even counting the Tengu, it’s too dangerous for you to be alone with that kitsune. The way he looks at you …”
She set the chopsticks down, frowning at Katsuo. “How does he look at me?”
“Like he wants to devour you.” A blush tinted Katsuo’s cheeks. “I know he was taunting me on purpose, getting me angry just because he could. I saw what he was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself from reacting, not when he kept looking at you like you belonged to him.”
“I don’t belong to him,” she said softly, sympathetic to his distress. “Shiro likes to toy with people for entertainment. He even taunts the Tengu.”
“It’s more than that,” he disagreed. “He’s playing games with you too, Emi. And I don’t think it’s a meaningless amusement for him either.”
She absently organized the empty dishes on the tray. Shiro did play games with her emotions, and sometimes it felt like she was a marionette and he held all her strings. But she’d seen the opposite side of the confident trickster fox too. She’d seen him lost and confused, vulnerable and even afraid. He’d reached out to her for help and let her ground him.
Whatever games he might play, she didn’t believe he intended her any harm. Did that make her naïve? Had she fallen into the trap of trusting him?
“Emi,” Katsuo said, drawing her attention back to him. “Take me with you.”
“What?”
“When you go with the yokai, take me with you. You shouldn’t be alone with them. Let me protect you.”
You can’t. She couldn’t say the words, couldn’t hurt him like that, but the truth was as clear as a mountain stream. Katsuo was human. She, too, was human, but kami power grew inside her with every passing day. Shiro and Yumei would protect her because they needed her. They would not protect Katsuo. In Katsuo’s first encounter with the Tengu, Yumei had struck him down with a mere glance. Katsuo would never survive, and unlike her, he had his entire life ahead of him.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, the lie coming too easily to her tongue. No matter how much it hurt her, she would bind Katsuo a hundred times to keep him safe.
Rising from the table, she moved toward her bedroom. “I need to change. Wait here.”
Collecting her kimono and hakama from the edge of the bed and checking that Katsuo’s back was still to her, she quickly slid out of her robe and into her kimono. After donning her hakama, she took a minute to straighten out her bed and fluff the pillows.
Calling Katsuo over, she gestured to the bed. “I want to turn the lights out before the sohei in the hall wonder why I’m still awake. Instead of sitting in the dark, we can at least be comfortable.”
His gaze darted from her to the bed and back again. She smiled at his hesitation and went into the main room to hit the light switch. Darkness plunged over them, but the dim glow from the window offered enough light for her to return to the bedroom. She slid onto the bed on top of the comforter, leaned back against the pillows, and looked at him expectantly.
He pulled his katana off his hip and propped it against the wall, then climbed onto the bed and leaned back beside her. A soft silence filled the room and she let her eyes close, wondering if Shiro had intercepted Yumei yet.
“Emi?”
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and fought back a yawn.
Katsuo’s face was a darker shadow in the night-swathed room. “You’re going to go through with it, aren’t you? When you ran away that night at Shirayuri, I thought you’d rea
lized your life was worth more than this, but now … you don’t seem to be fighting anymore.”
She pressed her hands together in her lap, too aware of the hidden mark on her chest. “I’m fighting for something far more important than my life. I was deceived, but that doesn’t change anything. Everything happening with the Kunitsukami only proves Amaterasu is needed on Earth. She needs a vessel. How many lives depend on her descending?”
She raised her eyes to his shadowed face. “Aside from that, even if I could somehow stop being the kamigakari, I wouldn’t. Without me, Amaterasu would have to choose another girl. How could I live with myself if I purposely let someone else die for me? Once Amaterasu descends, my body will be her vessel for as long as she needs it, and no other girl will need to die.”
Katsuo watched her mutely, unmoving except for the faint shift of his shoulders with each breath. She wondered if he could tell that her pulse raced in her ears at the thought of her coming end or that sick fear twisted in her when she remembered Amaterasu’s power tearing apart her mind. Though she had accepted her fate, her duty, it wasn’t easy. Acceptance didn’t make it any less terrifying.
“You care so much even for the fate of strangers. It’s too noble, Emi.” He sighed. “Hana would be proud of you.”
She blinked quickly as tears instantly formed. With their return to Shion, he must have found Hana lingering in his thoughts just as much as she had.
She swallowed. “Do you think … do you think she would forgive me?”
“I don’t think there was ever anything to forgive.”
“I led her out there. I ran ahead of her. If I’d been beside her, I could have kept her from falling.” Her voice cracked and warbled. The memory bloomed in her mind like a poisonous cloud. “And I think … I think I …”
His warm fingers touched her hands where she clenched them together. “You what?”
The never-ending nightmare rose from deep in her subconscious where it waited, always waited, to submerge her in the suffering all over again. The rushing creek, Hana’s terrified screams, the claws of the yokai in Emi’s ankle, her desperate grip on her best friend’s hand.
Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2) Page 8