Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  Yumei turned to Shiro and they shared a brief, indecipherable glance. Ki abruptly charged the air, crackling all around them. Black and red light glowed across Yumei, then burst outward. Huge wings spread wide, and the great raven swept away into the darkness. The crows, their eyes glowing red, launched into the air after him, vanishing just as quickly.

  Ishida’s glare snapped to Shiro. “You have what you wanted, now leave this place. Kamigakari Kimura, come with me.”

  Shiro grabbed her kimono and pulled her backward until she bumped into him. “I told you what I want, Ishida, and it isn’t information.”

  She squinted in confusion, unsure what he was talking about.

  “You can’t have her,” Ishida snapped, his grip on his staff tightening.

  I want your kamigakari all to myself. Shiro hadn’t meant that, had he? It had been part of his act.

  “Can’t I?” Shiro crooned. “You intend to imprison her for her final weeks. Such a waste, don’t you think?”

  “Even if you didn’t kill her, yokai, you would foul her beyond salvation, ruining her as a kami vessel. That would be the true waste.”

  Locking stares with Ishida, Emi lifted her chin. “Amaterasu gave me the task of freeing the Kunitsukami, and I will see it to the very end, Guji Ishida. I will not fail my kami.”

  “You are throwing your life away.”

  “It’s not as though you were planning a long and happy life for her anyway.” Shiro leaned forward until his chin was almost resting on her shoulder. “If your best protections can’t stop a couple of yokai, how will they stop Izanami?”

  Ishida looked back to Emi. “Don’t throw away all your sacrifices now, Kimura. Don’t let it all be for nothing.”

  “That’s why I have to do this,” she said. “If I stay here and the Tengu and Shiro fail without me, then it will all have truly been for nothing.”

  His jaw tightened. “I will not let you leave.”

  Ignoring Ishida, Shiro hopped off the offering box and stretched lazily. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Um, I think so.” She looked around and raised her voice. “Katsuo?”

  A rustling sound from farther down the path answered her. Katsuo appeared from a shadowy nook behind a tree, and to Emi’s surprise, Nanako followed him, carrying a backpack in her arms. Katsuo held a bow and a quiver of arrows. Though he glanced worriedly at the fallen sohei, he walked right by Ishida without looking at him and joined Emi at the top of the shrine stairs.

  Nanako stopped several steps down, staring at Shiro with a mixture of fear and fascination.

  Katsuo gestured toward the bag. “We packed everything you should need for a few days. And I added a stack of the strongest ofuda I have.”

  Tearing her gaze away from Shiro’s vulpine ears, Nanako dared ascend another step. She passed the bag to Emi. “I made sure he didn’t forget anything. There’s a warm coat for you as well.”

  Once she’d put on the backpack, Katsuo passed her the bow and quiver. “You might need this too.”

  She cautiously accepted the weapon. It was a bit smaller than the ceremonial one she was used to, but the wood gleamed and the smooth string was taut as steel. Ishida watched the exchange mutely, his face hard and jaw clenched, but he seemed to realize he couldn’t stop her.

  She slung the bow and quiver over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Emi …” Katsuo shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You shouldn’t go alone. Let me come with you.”

  “You couldn’t keep up with me.” Shiro lightly tugged a lock of her hair that had escaped her ponytail. “And I’m not carrying you.”

  Focused on the kitsune’s hand by her face, Katsuo flexed his jaw. She swatted Shiro’s hand away.

  “Katsuo,” she murmured apologetically. “I can’t bring you.”

  Fear shadowed his eyes. “Be safe, Emi,” he said gruffly.

  Stepping away from Shiro, she wrapped her arms around Katsuo in a tight hug. After only a brief hesitation, his arms came around her, squeezing her just as tightly, his embrace as comforting as when he’d held her as she cried just an hour earlier. Reluctantly, she stepped back.

  She shared a brief farewell hug with Nanako as well, then hitched her gear higher on her shoulder. She gave Ishida a brief glance, but she didn’t know what to say to him. When he said nothing, she looked expectantly at Shiro. His ears flicked forward and back, his expression unreadable, then he scooped her into his arms with easy strength.

  Leaping off the statue onto the shrine roof, he bounded across the tiles with matchless agility. She glanced back to see Katsuo, Nanako, and Ishida watching her. Then Shiro dropped down onto the other side of the building and took off in his bounding run.

  Darkness closed in around them. For the second time, she was leaving Shion Shrine behind—and this time, she suspected she would never return.

  Chapter 9

  Standing at the edge of the valley, Emi stared at the sight before her.

  Crisp, unbroken snow swept down a rolling slope to what was probably a lush meadow in the summer. The early morning sun lit the snow, turning it blinding white. Dark trees draped in snow blanketed the sides of the mountains, which rose to white peaks. The vivid blue sky dazzled her eyes as she looked across the vista.

  To think only an hour before, she’d been hundreds of miles away in Shion. The cold mountain air had a painful bite, but the sun basked her face in warmth and she decided to wait a little longer to search her bag for the coat Nanako had promised.

  After she and Shiro had rejoined Yumei outside the shrine grounds, the Tengu wasted no time in transporting them to the Sumire region in a single, impressive leap of magic. Though she’d expected Yumei to teleport them with his unique ability, she hadn’t expected him to collapse afterward, still in raven form.

  It had taken Yumei half an hour to recover enough to take off again and glide over the mountains in search of the Izanami shrine. She wondered how long it would take him to find it among the sprawling summits and valleys. Though they were in the correct area, there were many mountains to search and she hadn’t thought to bring a map. Perhaps Yumei could ask the local yokai for directions.

  She pursed her lips. Considering the average human male’s resistance to asking for directions, she rather doubted a yokai as proud as the Tengu would lower himself to that.

  Snow crunched beneath approaching steps and she glanced over her shoulder as Shiro joined her.

  “Until Yumei finds this shrine, we’ll have to camp out,” he said. “But there’s no real shelter around here.”

  She blew on her hands to warm them, her breath frosting the air. “Too bad he didn’t bring any of his crows to help him.”

  “His karasu would have trouble travelling this far, but I’m sure he’ll soon bring a new flock under his sway. They won’t be as powerful, but they’ll be able to help us search.”

  She glanced back at the disturbed snow where Yumei had fallen. She’d never seen him weakened like that. “He’ll be okay, right?”

  “Worrying about the Tengu now, little miko?” He brushed some snow off his shoulder. “Don’t fret over him. It was a long distance to jump with two passengers, but he’ll recover quickly.”

  “How does he do it? Teleport like that?”

  “Among yokai, he has an extraordinarily strong connection with Tsuchi,” he explained, referring to the yokai spirit realm. “Tsuchi isn’t permanently tied to this world. Aside from some anchor points—like Yumei’s home—it shifts and moves like a flowing tide. When Yumei wants to travel quickly, Tsuchi bends for him, shifting him to a different location in the earthly realm.”

  She blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the concept. No wonder the accuracy was less than ideal.

  Shiro looked across the valley. “I’ll go search for better shelter. Do you want to wait here?”

  Nodding, she turned her face back to the sun. “It’s warm here.”

  “I won’t be far.”

  She watched him vanis
h into the dense woods behind her before facing the valley again. Slipping her bag off her shoulder, she set it in the snow before laying her bow and quiver on top of it. Her fingers brushed the smooth wood of the bow. It was a simple but elegant weapon. Did it belong to Katsuo, or had he taken it from the sohei supplies?

  Crouching to sit on her heels and rubbing her hands together for warmth, she gazed idly at the sparkling snow in the valley. She’d never been so far north before.

  Anxiety fluttered in her chest as she wondered what would happen when they found the shrine. Would they have to question the shrine servants? Would Yumei threaten to kill innocent people again? She didn’t want to allow such a thing, but she wasn’t sure they had much choice. They didn’t have time to politely convince people to divulge what they knew.

  As for what that information might be, she couldn’t even begin to guess. Izanami was sending people here to die—for blood magic, as Shiro suspected, or something else? She assumed it was to fuel a magic powerful enough to keep a Kunitsukami imprisoned, but if it was for some other purpose, then they were back to having no leads whatsoever on the whereabouts of the Kunitsukami.

  Time was running out. There were only thirty-two days left until the solstice. How would they find all four Kunitsukami and uncover whatever plot Izanami was devising in less than five weeks? She was already worried about how long this one task would take—finding the shrine, convincing the servants to tell her what they knew, tracking down where the vanishing humans had gone. Would they waste days or weeks here, getting nowhere?

  Her eyelids drooped, weariness dragging at her. She’d missed an entire night’s sleep, and she didn’t know when she would next get to rest. Shiro might be searching for a sheltered campsite, but she couldn’t see herself sleeping in the snow—not if she planned to wake up again. The weather was noticeably colder here than in Shion. Winter had not only arrived in these mountains but had well and truly settled over the land.

  As a hundred worries competed in her head, soft sounds intruded on her thoughts. Her head came up, but nothing moved in the valley before her. The air was still, the pleasant calm of dawn still holding sway over the wind.

  After a moment of quiet, she heard it again—a strange, high-pitched whispering. Then, clearly, a squeaky, childlike laugh.

  Her body went cold with trepidation. Yokai? But no, Shiro wouldn’t have left her alone if there were yokai nearby. Could it be a human? Perhaps these mountains weren’t as remote as they’d assumed. Cautiously, she rose and took a few hesitant steps along the tree line in the direction of the sounds.

  The whispering continued, a babble of high voices speaking in what sounded like excitement. Emi crept toward the sound, scouring the trees and snow for movement.

  “That’s not how you do it!”

  The words rang clearly from among the whispers. Emi froze again. The speakers had sounded so close, but only trees and a boulder barely two feet tall interrupted the blanket of untouched snow.

  “No, Mai, not like that. You’re doing it all wrong.”

  As the squeaky voice rose above the others for a second time, sounding so close, Emi realized there was no way a human was speaking—there was no one nearby—which meant she had to be hearing a yokai. She glanced back at her bow and arrows sitting uselessly on her pack twenty feet away.

  “I’ll show you,” the voice squawked.

  Before Emi could retreat, something jumped out from behind the boulder and landed on top of the rock. A second thing hopped up after it, snatching at the first one. The creatures were only a foot tall, with vaguely human-shaped bodies and wild mops of red hair on their overly large heads.

  The second one grabbed at the fat twig the first one held. Halfway through the motion, its large, bright green eyes swept to Emi. It went rigid. The one with the stick held its prize aloft in triumph before it, too, spotted her.

  Both yokai froze with obvious shock on their odd, round faces.

  “It’s a human,” one of them whispered.

  “What’s a human doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think it can see us.”

  “Humans can’t see us.”

  “But it’s looking right at us.”

  “What do we do?”

  The two yokai stared at her mutely, and she stared back, as much at a complete loss for what to do as they seemed to be.

  “Maybe if we don’t move,” the one with the twig whispered, “it will go away.”

  “But what if it doesn’t?”

  Did they realize she could hear them? She blinked repeatedly, gathering her wits as she studied the small creatures. Their bobble-like heads were too large for their bodies, and their unkempt hair only emphasized the disproportionate size. Leaves and twigs stuck out from their crimson locks and their pale bodies were clad in green leaves that shouldn’t have existed this late in the year.

  She cautiously bent into a bow. “My apologies for disturbing you.”

  “The human is talking to us.”

  “It bowed. That’s very polite.”

  “Should we answer?”

  “You should talk to it.”

  “No, you do it.”

  “Fine.” The one with the twig cleared its throat and exclaimed imperiously, “Human! You have trespassed in our territory!”

  She straightened in surprise.

  “Oh, that was well done,” the second one said.

  “Thanks.” It waved its twig. “Human! You are guilty of entering our land. What do you have to say in your defense?”

  “Um.” She looked between them. “I didn’t know this was your territory. I only just arrived.”

  “Ignorance is no excuse! You must be punished!”

  “Punished?” she echoed nervously. The yokai looked harmless, but that didn’t mean anything.

  “I think it’s scared,” the second one whispered. “Good job.”

  The twig-holder grinned triumphantly. “You must submit to your assigned penance, or we will make you pay.”

  Her gaze swept the valley for any sign of Shiro. “Uh, what penance?”

  The yokai blinked its oversized eyes and leaned toward its companion. “What’s the penance?”

  “I don’t know. It was your idea.”

  “But I don’t know either.”

  “Uh.” The creature pointed to the twig in its fellow’s hand. “It’s a human. Make it show us how.”

  “But I know how!”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I saw them doing it.”

  “Just tell the human to teach us!”

  The yokai grunted and pointed its twig at her. “Human! You will teach us a human thing in payment for your crime.”

  “A human … thing?”

  “Yes.” It slapped the twig against its tiny hand like a baseball bat. “We have seen the humans who slide down mountains on sticks, and we want to learn how.”

  The yokai’s words took a few moments to sink in. Humans sliding down mountains on sticks? “Do you mean … skiing?”

  “Oh. Um.” It glanced at its companion. “Yes! Skiing! Teach us!”

  Ishida had mentioned there were ski resorts in this area. Had these yokai seen humans skiing and decided they wanted to try it themselves? The surreality of the moment slowed her thoughts, and she wondered if she was dreaming.

  “Refuse and we will punish you, human!” the yokai threatened squeakily.

  She sighed, wishing Shiro would hurry up and return. He would know how to deal with these yokai. “You can’t slide down the mountain without skis.”

  “We have sticks.” It held up its twig.

  “Skis are flat sticks with smooth bottoms. It makes them slippery so they can slide over the snow.”

  “You are refusing to teach us! We will make you sorry!”

  Grimacing, she glanced at the valley slope and back to the small, angry yokai brandishing a twig. It seemed to be gaining confidence. Maybe she could frighten them away? Then again, if they had a
ny sort of magic, she could quickly end up in over her head.

  “I can’t teach you how to ski,” she said, “but I could teach you how to toboggan instead. It’s much more fun.”

  “Toe … bog … gan? What is that?”

  “It is also a human game of sliding down mountains,” she said solemnly.

  The two yokai bent their heads together, whispering. The twig-holder straightened. “We accept! Teach us this toe-bog-gan game.”

  “You will need a large, flat piece of wood first.” She held her hands out to show how big.

  “Hmm.” The yokai tapped its chin thoughtfully with its twig. “Ah, I know!”

  It hopped off the boulder and sprinted toward the nearest tree. Leaping, it went head first into the tree, vanishing.

  “Ah. Um.” The remaining yokai twisted its hands anxiously, eyeing her. As it waited, two more red-haired heads cautiously poked up from behind the boulder. Emi suppressed a wince. So there were four of them, not two. Lovely.

  In a flash of motion, the yokai burst out of the tree again. In its hands, it carried a giant piece of bark that dwarfed its tiny frame. It sprang onto the boulder and tossed the bark down into the snow in front of her.

  “Is this sufficient, human?”

  She picked up the piece, rather impressed that the tiny creature could carry a two-by-three-foot hunk of bark. It was stronger than it looked. “I think so.”

  Crouching in the snow, she started pulling the roughest bits of bark away. The yokai sidled closer, its three companions creeping after it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It needs to be smooth so it can slide,” she explained as she pulled off another piece of bark.

  “Smooth?” The yokai reached out and put its hand on the bark. The wood warmed under her hands and blurred in her vision. Before her eyes, it transformed into a sleek, smooth board. “Like this?”

  “Y-yes,” she stuttered. She ran her hand over it, amazed. Magic indeed. It was probably smart that she hadn’t antagonized the creatures. “Um, before we continue, can I ask how much of this land is your territory? So I don’t accidentally trespass again?”

  “Wherever trees root, the land belongs to us!” the yokai exclaimed. “Everyone knows that.”