Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  But she had to leave him alone, and she wanted to tell him she was sorry.

  Maybe she should have told him and the others what she was planning to do, but she’d been afraid. She’d been afraid that if she had told Shiro she knew how to free him from the onenju, he wouldn’t have tried to stop her. He wouldn’t have cared enough to stop her. And she would rather leave this life cherishing her memories of him and knowing Amaterasu would save him than leave this life with a shattered heart.

  But oh, how she wished he could be with her now, holding her in his arms, wrapping her in his warmth and strength so he could be the last thing she knew before she died.

  The mirror flared with light, calling to her. Slowly lifting her hand, she pressed her fingers to the waiting glass.

  Chapter 20

  “Emi.”

  The smooth glass under her hand was cool, but what she saw wasn’t the shrine and shintai. The mirror had expanded until all she could see was the reflection of the room behind her—the dark walls and wooden floor, the open door and the courtyard beyond—and her reflection, pale and scared.

  “Emi,” her reflection said again. The soft voice was familiar, but it wasn’t hers. Amaterasu’s gentle tones echoed from the mirror and whispered inside her head at the same time.

  Emi stared at her hand touching her reflection’s hand. A tear slipped down her cheek but no tears touched her reflection’s face.

  “I cannot hold this connection for long, Emi,” her reflection said with Amaterasu’s voice. “Keep your hand on the mirror.”

  Emi pushed her hand harder against the cold but unseen glass. “Are you going to descend now?”

  Her reflection smiled sadly. “My sweet, brave child. You are ready to give your life, but I am not ready to take it. There is more for you to do in your world, and more that I must do in mine before the solstice.”

  “But the onenju …”

  “Inari can endure his curse for a little longer yet.”

  Emi wiped the single tear from her cheek with her free hand, vaguely surprised that her reflection didn’t copy her. “Why didn’t you tell me who he was when we saved him from Izanami?”

  “He was not ready to know, and neither were you. But now I must tell you all that I did not have time to tell you before.” A grave expression slid over her reflection’s face. “I do not know precisely when it began, but Izanami has spent decades, centuries, preparing for the transgression she will commit on the solstice, an act we must prevent at all costs.

  “All of Izanami’s crimes have been for the purpose of a single goal. On the solstice, she intends to open the Bridge to Heaven. Emi, do you know why kami do not have physical bodies in the earthly realm but instead must use kamigakari?”

  “Because kami can’t leave Takamahara,” she answered, referring to the heavenly realm where kami lived.

  “Correct. The Bridge to Heaven, however, is a direct passageway between Takamahara and your world—the only passageway. It was created at the beginning of time by the gods of old, and only rarely has it been opened by a kami. Never has a kami used it to step physically upon the mortal lands of Earth.” The face of Emi’s reflection tightened. “This is precisely what Izanami intends to do on the solstice.”

  “She’s … she’s going to open the Bridge,” Emi said slowly, “and come to Earth? Why?”

  “She claims she is bound by duty to do this, but understand, Emi.” Something dark and frightening flashed through her reflection’s eyes. “If Izanami sets foot upon your realm in the full glory of her kami form, life on Earth will be forever changed.

  “When kami send our spirits to a vessel in the earthly realm, we are limited by the mortal flesh we inhabit. But a kami’s true body has no such limitations. On Earth, Izanami will be all-powerful in a way you cannot comprehend. Her power will be limitless, her body indestructible, her will irresistible.

  “She will destroy the Kunitsukami—utterly and permanently destroy them. She will likely destroy all yokai and rip Tsuchi from its anchors in this world, forever separating the realms. She will be a god such as mortals have never known and her absolute power will dominate every facet of humanity’s existence.”

  Her reflection leaned in closer. “An Amatsukami on Earth, physically on Earth, will mean the end of free will for humankind. Izanami cannot open the Bridge. She cannot descend to Earth. This is what the Kunitsukami must prevent. They must stop her from opening the Bridge on the solstice.”

  Emi closed her hand around a fistful of her kimono’s skirt, keeping her other hand flat against the mirror. “Then you must descend, Amaterasu, so you can remove the onenju—”

  “Emi, I cannot—”

  Her reflection wavered, rippling like a stone thrown into calm water. Light flashed brightly and it steadied.

  “One of my vassals has collapsed,” Amaterasu said tersely, a little breathless. “We cannot hold the spell much longer. Emi, listen carefully. I cannot take this task from you. You must …” The reflection rippled again, Amaterasu’s words distorting beyond comprehension.

  “Amaterasu, I can’t hear you!”

  “… onenju’s magic responds to your will. You cannot …” Another violent ripple. “… if your commitment is not … will fail again.”

  “Amaterasu!” Emi cried. “I can’t hear you!”

  The reflection steadied again but pain and concentration tightened her face.

  “Even if you remove the onenju now,” Amaterasu said, speaking so fast her words were barely coherent, “Inari will not remember enough in time. I do not have the power to …” The reflection faded to silver before flashing back into sight. “… will leave you with a memory. It is all I can do now.”

  Her reflection reached out and touched her other hand to the glass. “I will not be able to reach you like this again, but I will help you however I can. Give me your other hand.”

  Light grew in a bright, pulsing spot in her reflection’s palm. Emi pressed her other hand against the cool glass. The light flashed, filling her vision until she could see nothing but light.

  As the light faded, Emi stared in confusion—and growing horror.

  The inner shrine was gone and she no longer knelt before the shintai. She stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down into a valley. Several hundred wooden houses were clustered around a winding river, and farmland occupied the vale between the forested mountains, swathed in rich green vegetation that showed no signs of autumn’s touch.

  But what should have been a peaceful, idyllic farming village was anything but.

  Smoke poured from the wreckage of the houses and wild flames tore through the debris and crawled across the fields. Great gouges had torn apart the earth and even from a distance, she could see many small, unmoving forms that looked too much like charred, mangled bodies. It appeared as though a great beast had trampled the village, destroying everything in its path and leaving an inferno in its wake.

  Without conscious thought or command, Emi turned. When she saw the woman standing beside her, she gasped in terror—or tried to. Her lungs didn’t react to her surge of fear, and she realized she had no connection to her body whatsoever.

  “I told you,” Izanami said quietly, her beautiful face drawn with unexpected concern. “I did not exaggerate.”

  “I see that you did not,” Emi—or rather, the body she had no control over—answered. “I apologize, cousin, but I did not want to believe …”

  “You can clearly sense the remnants of the power he unleashed upon this place, his unmistakable ki, can you not?” Izanami insisted. “Amaterasu, you cannot excuse this. I know you do not wish to acknowledge it, but we cannot overlook his actions any longer. Sarutahiko refuses to control him. We must step in.”

  Emi’s borrowed body faced the fiery destruction in the valley again. She struggled to get her bearings. This had to be a vision of Amaterasu’s past—a memory from at least a hundred years ago.

  “It is not our place to intervene,” Amaterasu said, sounding almost
hesitant.

  Izanami also turned toward the valley. “You would allow him to continue to slaughter powerless humans for his entertainment? Your attachment to him is clouding your judgment.”

  “I can speak to Sarutahiko—”

  “Who will do nothing. You know this. He has never attempted to contain the power of his fellow Kunitsukami and he will not begin now.”

  “Perhaps he does not realize—”

  “He is most aware, I am sure.” Izanami flung a hand out, the long sleeve of her burgundy kimono fluttering. “What excuse can you make for this, Amaterasu? One of your shrines was destroyed and your own servants were killed. Will you do nothing?”

  Emi felt Amaterasu press her lips together tightly.

  “You know the truth,” Izanami said when Amaterasu didn’t answer. “You know Inari is unstable.”

  “He is not.”

  “He is. You know he is. He has always been unpredictable, erratic even. Now his volatile nature has escalated into unchecked violence.”

  “This is but one instance—”

  “Is one instance of pointless carnage not enough for you, cousin?” Izanami demanded harshly. Her voice softened. “Amaterasu, you understand, do you not? An immortal life is not meant to be lived alone. Susano also shows signs of instability—his distaste for even casual interaction and his withdrawal from the other Kunitsukami. He, however, is not inflicting his power on the defenseless.”

  She laid a hand on Amaterasu’s shoulder. “Izanagi and I have always had each other, as have you and Tsukiyomi. Sarutahiko and Uzume found each other long, long ago, but for millennia and more, Inari has been alone. Not even the minds of Kunitsukami are immune to the strain of such endless solitude.”

  “He has not been entirely alone,” Amaterasu said softly.

  “Intermittent companionship is not the same,” Izanami murmured. “You know this.”

  Amaterasu sighed heavily. “What can we do?”

  “His power must be contained. You are the only one who can accomplish this unhappy task. You are the only Amatsukami he trusts.”

  “You want me to bind him?”

  “A full binding, Amaterasu. If it is not strong enough, he will break it and kill you.”

  “I could never …”

  “You must.”

  “No binding lasts forever, Izanami. It will wear down in a few centuries and he will break it. What then?”

  “It need not be permanent. With his power contained, perhaps you or Uzume can help him … heal what ails him.”

  “How can we heal an eternity of loneliness?”

  “I do not know. But we must act now, before he succumbs to another rage. Before he kills again.” She gestured to the valley. “It is our duty to protect the humans of this world.”

  As Amaterasu looked toward the smoldering remains of the village again, Emi’s vision blurred. Everything spun and she felt as though she were floating through nothing.

  With a flash of light, the memory reformed. She was now walking through a glade of trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Red spider lilies carpeted the ground, the bright blossoms hovering at knee height as she waded through them. Ahead, a pond glittered in the afternoon sun and birds trilled in the quiet woods. It was beautiful, peaceful.

  Amaterasu walked to the edge of the pond and stopped, pondering the rippling surface that reflected the bright blue sky.

  “What is it about this spot that entices you so, Amaterasu?”

  From within Amaterasu, Emi started in surprise, a strange fear trickling through her at that familiar voice.

  Amaterasu looked up. Above her in the tree branches, he sat with his back against the trunk, one foot propped on the thick bough beneath him and the other hanging off. Gazing down at her with bright ruby eyes, he took a bite of the half-eaten red plum in his hand.

  If Emi had been in her own body, her heart would have been pounding. The yokai sitting in the tree was identical to Shiro, his white hair tousled by the breeze, his vulpine ears turned toward Amaterasu, one eyebrow raised in apparent amusement.

  And yet, though he looked the same, she felt a panicky need to slink silently away, to hide from his attention. The ancient cunning she’d only glimpsed in Shiro burned in his eyes, unmistakable. This man wasn’t her kitsune.

  He was Inari, the Kunitsukami of the Fire, and the aura of deadly, calculating power he carried was palpable in the air.

  “Sometimes,” he continued in that too-familiar voice with an unfamiliar edge to it, “I suspect you only visit me so you can stare pensively into my pond. It wounds my pride.”

  “I was under the impression your pride was impervious to injury,” Amaterasu replied in a light, teasing tone. “Though the rest of you clearly is not.”

  A grin flashed across Inari’s face, but it was a colder, harder version of Shiro’s sly smirk. He pushed off the branch and dropped to the ground with easy grace. Half-dried blood drenched the left side of his white kosode, the material shredded and clinging precariously to his shoulder. Deep wounds peeked out from the tears.

  “Yesterday was unexpectedly unpleasant,” he said casually, taking another bite of his plum. His head tilted, ears swiveling toward Amaterasu. “What brings you to my domain, Lady Wind?”

  “I need to speak with you,” Amaterasu said, her tone sobering, “about … about a village.”

  “A village?”

  “The village from yesterday.”

  Cunning shadows gathered in his eyes. “That village? What do you know of that village?”

  “Many humans died,” Amaterasu murmured.

  “I know.” His expression went cold and he threw the remainder of his plum away. It hit the pond with a splash, sending violent ripples across the surface. “Do you come to mock me, Amaterasu?”

  “Mock you? No, I—”

  “My battles are no business of yours.”

  “Battles? Those humans were slaughtered like cattle.”

  “I did not—”

  Anger hardened Amaterasu’s voice. “The valley was saturated with your ki, Inari. Do not deny your unleashing of power.”

  “Why would I deny that?”

  “Do you feel no shame?” Amaterasu whispered, her anger fading and leaving only sorrow in its wake.

  “So you did come to mock me.” He snorted in disgust. “How typical of an Amatsukami. I thought you might be different, but I suppose that is not possible, is it? We are what we are.”

  “We are what we are,” she repeated, quiet regret lining the words. “Inari …”

  His name was a soft plea upon her lips as she reached for him. Confused surprise flickered over his face and he hesitated just long enough for Amaterasu to take his right wrist in both hands. As soon as she touched him, an incantation flew across her tongue.

  In a single explosive instant, light flashed brightly and dozens of tiny glowing orbs appeared out of nowhere, shooting toward Inari’s arm. Disbelief and rage tore across his face. Wind erupted as Amaterasu called it to her defense but Inari was faster. Fire burst from him as his other hand slashed toward her.

  Pain ripped through Amaterasu. Emi felt it too, but it was distant, not quite touching her. Her vision blurred and whirled as she fell backward. The wind formed a protective cyclone around her, carrying a thousand red petals in it.

  Amaterasu looked at her abdomen, giving Emi a brief glimpse of the horrific wound Inari had inflicted in a single, brief attack. Breathing heavily, Amaterasu pressed her hands to her stomach and white light lit beneath her palms. The charred flesh and deep gashes began to heal. Concentrating on repairing her mortal vessel before the body died, Amaterasu didn’t move.

  The pain faded and she rose to her feet. The wind dispersed, releasing the petals to drift toward the ground like fluttering red snowflakes.

  A few steps away, Inari was on his knees, head bowed and clutching his arm where the glossy red onenju had formed. Four loops around his right forearm glowed with power. He panted, his body shuddering.


  “What did you do?” he growled hoarsely.

  He lifted his head and the terrifying rage that burned in his eyes would have sent Emi stumbling away. Amaterasu didn’t flinch.

  “What did you do?” he roared, surging to his feet. He staggered, chest heaving, barely keeping his balance.

  “I bound your power,” Amaterasu said, impressively calm in the face of his violent fury. “You are not well, Inari. We cannot allow you to butcher humans at a whim.”

  “Butcher humans?” he snarled viciously. “Mock me for falling to that wretched dragon if you must, but do not call me a human killer.”

  “Then what do you call the massacre of that village?” she demanded.

  “How was I to know Orochi was hunting me? I did not even know he had revived, but you blame me for his slaughter of—”

  “Orochi?” Amaterasu repeated, stumbling over the name. “What are you talking about?”

  Inari struggled to straighten, still holding his arm and panting for air. “You think I suffered these wounds at the hands of humans? They were already dead when I found the village.”

  “Already dead?” she whispered.

  “You always think the worst of me. Orochi killed them to hide his presence and he ambushed me when I stopped to investigate.”

  “But … I did not sense Orochi …”

  “Neither did I until he was ripping me open.”

  “I … I do not understand,” Amaterasu whispered.

  “What is there to understand? Orochi wanted Murakumo and—”

  “Murakumo? Susano’s sword?”

  “Yes, I borrowed it. Without permission.” A brief, humorless smile ghosted across his face as he continued to clutch his arm as though in agony. “And now I must retrieve it before Susano discovers that I lost his precious sword to his nemesis.”