Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  The yokai from behind the desk approached. Emi shuddered as his single eye lingered on her for too long before he led them out of the lobby. He took them to a room at the far end of a long hall, where he opened the door and bowed them through. Emi scurried past him into the room, almost stepping on Shiro’s heels. The innkeeper closed the door behind them.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many yokai start drooling simultaneously,” Shiro observed, grinning at her obvious discomfort. “I’ve told you before that your scent is mouthwatering.”

  “Stop it, Shiro.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the warmth. She moved to the center of the room and knelt at the low table. Beside it, a round brazier warmed the space. The simple room was empty except for the table and a few cushions, but there would be futons and bedding in the closet. “I’m not sure Yumei’s threat was enough for them to leave me alone.”

  “Just don’t go off by yourself,” Shiro said, drifting around the perimeter of the room.

  “Byakko is the only one with power to speak of,” Yumei said, “and he will not harm you.”

  Emi glanced up. “Are you sure?”

  “He has no interest in humans.” He turned back to the door. “I will see what he knows of this area. Stay here. The innkeeper will bring your dinner to the room.”

  As the door closed behind him, she shifted closer to the brazier. He didn’t have to tell her to stay in the room. She had no intention of setting foot outside it until they could leave this den of monsters.

  Chapter 14

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Emi whispered.

  Shiro stood beside the wide threshold filled with a red curtain, one eyebrow raised. She folded her arms stubbornly, still not entirely sure how she’d ended up in this hallway, far from the safety of their room. Hadn’t she decided to stay put until they were ready to leave?

  “You want to stay at an inn with hot springs and not use them?” he asked.

  “I just don’t think—”

  “You can’t tell me you don’t want to bathe. Don’t miko normally bathe every couple hours?”

  “Not that often,” she spluttered. She inched away from the curtained doorway. “The storm outside is—”

  “The pool is well sheltered and the water is hot.”

  “But what if there are yokai—”

  “There’s no one in there, and I’ll be nearby.” He leaned toward her. “Unless you’re saying you want me to go in with you, little miko?”

  “No!” The word came out in an embarrassed squeak and her face flushed.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bathe. If you get scared, just scream.”

  Leaving her standing in the hall, he walked to the blue-curtained doorway and disappeared inside. She blinked after him, then turned to the faded red curtain. She did desperately want to bathe. If he thought it was safe …

  She pulled the curtain aside and peered in. The changing room was indeed empty. She slipped inside and approached the wooden shelves lined with fraying baskets. Swallowing hard and keeping an apprehensive watch on the curtained doorway, she pulled off her clothing, folded the garments, and set them in a basket. The only thing she kept in place was the omamori around her neck.

  She took two simple white towels from the stack above the storage baskets, surprised to find the fabric soft and thick. With effort, she left the basket—and her hidden ofuda—and crept to the doorway that led to the next room where running water splashed loudly. The walls changed from wood to stone, and along one side, bamboo pipes poured steaming water into a track in the floor. Wooden stools and basins waited in the corner. Again, she was surprised—the room was scrupulously clean and well stocked. The inn might not have the finest finishes, but it wasn’t quite the drab, rundown establishment she’d assumed.

  After hanging her towels on a hook, Emi pulled a stool up to one of the pipes, perched on the edge of the seat, and used the basin to pour steaming water over herself, rinsing the dust and dirt and blood from her skin. She dumped a full basin over her head, gasping as the water ran down her face, then picked up the soap. After thoroughly washing, she twisted a towel around her hair and secured it on top of her head. Holding the second towel against her front, she peered through the final doorway. An icy breeze slid across her wet skin, making her shiver.

  Covered by a wooden overhang, the stone floor extended several more steps, then sank into the pool. Steam rose in eddies that drifted in the slight breeze, and tall, snow-dusted rocks enclosed the spring. The wall to her left, however, was wooden: the partition between the men’s and women’s baths.

  To her relief, the pool was empty. She quickly folded her spare towel and placed it near the rocky edge, then stretched one foot into the water, searching for the top step. Finding smooth stone with her toes, she descended into the steaming water. A breathy sigh slipped from her as the heat radiated through her skin and warmed her bones. It seemed like weeks had passed since she’d last been properly warm.

  Finding a bench-like ridge of rock under the water, she sat by the steps, close to her towel and escape back into the washing room if needed. Steam rose all around her, blurring the nearby stone walls but failing to obscure the majestic peak rising above the inn.

  Sinking a little lower, she leaned against the rocky edge of the pool. Somewhere on the other side of the wooden wall across from her, Shiro was soaking in the same water. Her cheeks burned at the thought. Shiro, on the other side of the wall … with no clothes on. She bit her lip, trying and failing to banish the thought. Instead, an image rose in her mind: Shiro leaning against the wall in her bedroom, his bare torso gleaming faintly after bathing, his hair mussed from the towel.

  She lifted her hands from the water and pressed them to her cheeks to cool her blush. Surely she could find something more productive—and appropriate—to occupy her thoughts. He was a yokai, after all. Just because he made suggestive quips … and had kissed her once … and had almost kissed her a second time … She let her hands fall back into the water. He couldn’t be more confusing if he tried.

  Closing her eyes, she sought the inner meditative calm she had so thoroughly neglected lately, but her mind stubbornly lingered where it shouldn’t. A sleepy lassitude slipped over her, and as she soaked, she indulged in forbidden thoughts she would never have entertained if she hadn’t been alone.

  She’d been listening to the quiet chatter of female voices for several minutes, vaguely enjoying the familiar, comforting sound, when it dawned on her that nearby conversation should not be comforting—exactly the opposite. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, her shoulders poking out of the water. The cold breeze battled with the hot steam.

  In a burst of sound and movement, a group of women poured out of the doorway, laughing together. Their nakedness didn’t surprise her—traditional communal baths were always enjoyed in the nude—but she hadn’t been expecting the less human additions. Each woman had a pair of cat ears poking out of her hair and a long furred tail swishing behind her.

  Still laughing, they splashed straight into the pool. Emi sank down until her chin touched the water and clamped her hands over her chest, covering her kamigakari mark. What should she do? Call out for Shiro’s help? But … but she was naked, and if he came to her rescue … he probably wouldn’t be any more clothed. She was fairly certain she would rather die at the hands of the cat women instead.

  “Kaori!” the woman with black hair and ears suddenly gasped. “Don’t pinch me!”

  A cat yokai with ash-brown hair tied in a bun on top of her head giggled. “I can’t help myself, Noriko.”

  “Ladies,” the one with striped orange ears and matching hair said in exasperation. “Behave yourselves. We aren’t alone.”

  All four yokai—bakeneko, she was guessing—turned bright eyes on Emi. She shrank back, nervously noting they all had vertical pupils in their yellow or green irises.

  “Ooh,” Kaori exclaimed, adjusting the tie in her hair. “It’s the huma
n from the lobby!”

  Four pairs of feline ears perked toward Emi.

  They glanced at one another, then Noriko stepped closer. “Hello.”

  After a brief, fearful hesitation, Emi whispered, “Hello.”

  “Aw, she’s shy,” Kaori observed.

  Noriko swatted her shoulder. “She’s not a dumb mute, Kaori. She can hear you.” She turned a pointy-toothed smile on Emi. “Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe with us.”

  “We only eat male humans,” Kaori added.

  The orange-haired one shot Kaori a rebuking glare. “I don’t think she needed to know that.”

  Emi opened her mouth, then closed it without saying anything. Her gaze darted toward the door.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to leave.” Noriko grabbed the arms of her fellow yokai. “We’ll go over there instead.”

  She started dragging them away, but Kaori pulled free and waded determinedly over to Emi. She planted her hands on her hips and stared down at Emi without the slightest inclination toward modesty. Not that she had any reason to be ashamed of her body.

  “Kaori,” Noriko chastised.

  “I just want to know,” Kaori said, leaning down to inspect Emi with bright gold eyes. “Whose okini are you? The kitsune’s or the other one’s?”

  “W-what?” Emi stuttered. Okini, as she knew the word, meant “favorite” or “pet” but she had no idea which meaning the yokai intended.

  “Which one? It’s a simple question.”

  Noriko grabbed Kaori by one feline ear and pulled her backward. “You’re so rude.”

  “Ow! I just want to know!”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “How are you not curious? Curiosity is our defining trait.”

  “So is caution, and I don’t want to upset that daitengu by bothering his human.”

  “What’s a daitengu?” Emi asked without thinking. Jorogumo had used the same word.

  They all looked at Emi in surprise.

  “The yokai in black you came in with,” Kaori said. “He’s a daitengu. He reeks of raven.”

  “The crow and raven yokai come in three types,” Noriko added. “The weak crows, the more powerful generals, and their leader.”

  “Oh,” Emi replied. “So the daitengu are the Tengu’s generals. I see.”

  “Why wouldn’t you know what a daitengu is?” Kaori asked. “That’s what your master is.”

  Emi shook her head. “No, he’s the Tengu.”

  Kaori snorted. “Maybe that’s what he told you, but there’s no way. The Tengu doesn’t leave his territory.”

  Emi didn’t respond. Maybe it was better she didn’t confirm Yumei’s identity.

  Kaori leaned closer again. “You didn’t answer my question. Whose okini are you?”

  Noriko rolled her eyes. “Why do you care so much?”

  “I don’t want to get on that daitengu’s bad side, but I’m not afraid of a kitsune.” Kaori scrutinized Emi. “Hachiro said the bounty was for a young human miko with long hair. She fits, so why not hand her over?”

  Emi sucked in a sharp breath. A bounty on miko with long hair? It had to be Izanami’s doing. Since Emi was travelling with two yokai, turning other yokai against her was the surest way to ensure she was captured or killed before she could cause Izanami any more problems.

  Noriko scowled. “I don’t want to get involved in that.”

  “Then butt out,” Kaori said. “I didn’t want to share the bounty anyway.”

  “And when that daitengu rips you apart, we won’t stop him.”

  “I don’t think she belongs to him. I think she’s the kitsune’s okini.”

  “And the kitsune belongs to the daitengu. If you kill the girl, that raven will skin you alive either way. Just leave it, Kaori.”

  “Ugh. Fine.” She turned her back on Emi. “You’re so boring, Noriko.”

  “I think ‘smart’ is the better word,” the orange-haired one said. Together, the four yokai waded to the far end of the pool without another glance at Emi.

  She didn’t waste any time. As soon as they were across the pool, she grabbed the edge of the spring and hauled herself out, water cascading off her. Snatching up her towel, she rushed through the doorway, across the washing room, and into the changing room. Drying as fast as she could, she pulled on her clothes and checked that her ofuda were still hidden in her inner sleeve pockets.

  Cautiously, she poked her head out of the curtain, looking back and forth down the empty hall. Where was Shiro? Had he not overheard the cat yokai talking about turning her over for a bounty? She considered her options, then decided to head back to their room. Maybe Yumei had returned.

  Pulling her damp hair over her shoulder so it didn’t soak the back of her kimono, she headed down the hall.

  “Little miko!”

  She turned around. Shiro stood at the other end of the hall. He must have finished at the springs too, because he was fully dressed as though he’d never gone in.

  “Shiro? What are you—”

  “This way,” he said, gesturing for her to come to him. “Hurry.”

  She hastened back down the hall. So he had heard what the cat yokai had said. Was it not safe to return to their room? “What’s—”

  Waving at her to follow, he pushed through another curtained doorway. She slipped through after him into a narrow, unlit hall—clearly not an area meant for the inn’s guests. He sped down the corridor and she rushed to keep up. Sick apprehension settled in her gut.

  “Shiro, where—”

  “Shh,” he hissed, not looking back. “Hurry, little miko.”

  Her steps hesitated, her skin prickling at the way he’d said “little miko.” And why did he sound terse and almost … nervous? Shiro rarely lost his cool. “Where are we—”

  He stopped and spun around. His eyes gleamed like gemstones in the shadows and he bared his teeth. “Do you want to die? Then be quiet and follow me.”

  Fear zinged through her and she stumbled to a stop. “Where’s Yumei?”

  “Waiting for us.”

  “Where?”

  “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

  Wariness sang along her nerves, warning her that something was wrong. She took a step back. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  With an angry hiss, he strode to her and grabbed her wrist, jerking her after him. Pain shot up her arm from the strength of his grip and she looked down at his hand in shock. He was hurting her. He never hurt her.

  She stared at his hand, at the black wrap that wound over the back of his hand, up his forearm, and over his elbow, held in place by red ties. Ice slid through her veins. His right hand. He was holding her with his right hand, but where were the glossy red beads that should have been wrapped twice around his wrist? The onenju was missing.

  Shiro couldn’t remove the onenju. No one could—except her.

  If he wasn’t wearing the onenju, then the yokai dragging her down the dark corridor couldn’t be Shiro.

  Chapter 15

  As he hauled her after him, his grip bruising her arm, she gathered her frayed wits. Somehow, despite looking and sounding just like Shiro, this yokai wasn’t him. She stuck her hand into her sleeve and pinched a thin rectangle of paper between her fingers.

  “Hey!” she yelled.

  His head snapped toward her, teeth bared with furious impatience. She flung her hand out and slapped the ofuda against his face.

  “Sotei no shinketsu!”

  Blue light lit the ofuda and rushed over his body. He froze in place, teeth still bared angrily. Jerking out of his grip, she stumbled back, hands shaking. For a moment, she panicked, afraid she’d just hit Shiro with an ofuda, but she looked again at his wrist and the missing onenju. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.

  She backed up another step, frantically wondering what she should do.

  A soft footstep sounded behind her and she whirled around. A short, thickset yokai that resembled a furry dwarf stalked down the hall toward
her, its hideous face contorted in a grimace. She snatched another ofuda.

  In a sudden surge of motion, the yokai grabbed her by the throat and threw her.

  Her back hit the wall, pain jarring her limbs. Before she could react, the yokai jabbed her in the chest with one finger. Magic speared her body like a bolt of lightning, and all the air in her lungs vanished.

  Her hands flew to her throat as her chest heaved, but no matter how much she tried to inhale, no air entered her lungs. Panic exploded through her and she slumped back against the wall, grabbing pointlessly at her neck. Dizziness swept over her as her lungs screamed for air.

  “You had one job,” the stocky yokai growled. “Get the miko out of the inn. You couldn’t even manage that.”

  He reached for the glowing ofuda on the other yokai’s face, but it flared brightly and he yanked his hand back. “How are you so incompetent that you let a human bind you? Now I have to wait for the spell to run its course. Idiot.”

  As sparks flashed in her vision, Emi pressed her hands to her chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her focus inward, where the warmth of her ki waited. Forming the words in her mind, she threw all her will into the incantation: Shukusei no tama!

  Her ki surged through her body, purifying the yokai magic. She sucked in a rasping gasp, the stale air of the hallway filling her lungs.

  The yokai spun around at the sound. He sneered when he saw her breathing again. “So you want to do this the painful way, then?”

  As he drew his foot back to kick her, Shiro’s voice drifted out of the shadows. “The painful way sounds about right.”

  He appeared out of the darkness, his prowling steps silent on the floor. Water dripped from his hair and droplets trickled down his bare torso. He wore only his black hakama and the red onenju around his wrist.

  The yokai snarled and raised a hand toward Shiro. In one smooth motion, Shiro grabbed the yokai by the front of his kosode and threw him into the wall. The wood creaked from the force of the impact. Shiro raised his other hand and fire sparked in his palm, forming a dancing orb of flame.