The Name of the Blade, Book Two: Darkness Hidden

by Zoe Marriott

  I found myself plastered against the glass of the extension. My fingers, wrapped around the hilt of the katana, were twitching with the need to pull the blade free. Shinobu rocked forward on the balls of his feet, face tense.

  “Rach?” I whispered warily.

  Slowly she turned round. Her expression was miserable and her eyes were clear brown. The tension eased out of me with a long shudder.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “No worries.” I forced my fingers to loosen their grip on the sword, slowly letting my hand drop. “The room’s a mess anyway.”

  I didn’t quite pull off the pretence of unconcern, and Rachel’s expression didn’t lighten. She shoved her glasses up her nose. “I’m… I’ll call the hospital again and check on Jack.”

  She hurried out of the room, leaving me staring at the still-vibrating chunk of wood, sunk at least a handspan deep in the wall.

  “She kicked it away from us,” I whispered when she was gone. “She wasn’t trying to hurt us.”

  “This time,” Shinobu said equally softly. “Has she always been prone to sudden fits of temper?”

  I hesitated for a second. “I don’t know. She doesn’t take any crap, like Jack, but she’s … together, normally. I think. I guess, even though she’s always been around, I don’t know her all that well. We weren’t … friends.”

  But we were now. After everything we’d been through together, Rachel was no longer just Jack’s bossy big sister. She was my bossy friend. And she was in trouble.

  “Rachel needs a friend now. More than she realizes,” Shinobu said, unknowingly echoing my thoughts.

  I didn’t have any answers. I sighed and changed the subject. “Why aren’t the foxes responding, Shinobu?”

  “You were right. Something must be very wrong there. The Kitsune do not break their word. It is not in their nature.”

  I thought about the Kitsune. Daredevil Hikaru was surprisingly kind beneath his reckless façade. Hiro was clever and funny, and you never quite knew where you were with him. Araki was serenely competent, and solid as a rock. Poor Araki. I was never going to forget that awful noise she had made the last time I saw her. And even though the king scared the pants off me, he had still proved himself to be an honourable, decent ruler. What was happening down there that prevented them from at least answering me?

  We needed their help desperately. Right now they were the only viable resource we had. But I was equally keen to help them if they needed it – and I had a bad feeling that they did. With me stuck here in the mortal realm, help in either direction was impossible. It was infuriating.

  I plopped down on the threshold and set the katana across my lap. “Maybe they’re just … busy,” I said dismally. “Really busy.”

  Shinobu sat on the floor next to me. His arm brushed against my shoulder, and our knees bumped. “I hope you are right.”

  I stared at the shadowy space of the back garden, my fingers restlessly tracing the lines of the katana’s hilt and saya. The lack of streetlights at the back of our row of buildings meant the whole garden was practically black, and the horrific, tangled-up remains of the Shikome were impossible to make out. I could feel the presence of the creature’s body out there, though. It itched at my awareness like that sore sensation you get just before a giant spot erupts on your skin.

  I’d never been scared of the dark. Not like Jack. Not even as a kid. I don’t think I had enough of an imagination. But since I’d taken the sword out of its hiding place, I’d had a crash course in all the terrible things that liked to hide in the dark places. I had every reason to be terrified of shadows these days.

  If things keep going wrong like this, what will I do? What if … what if there’s no end? What if this darkness I’m in now stretches on forever?

  “You’re starting to shiver,” Shinobu said. “Come back to the other room.”

  “No, I want to wait.”

  “Hikaru is capable of knocking on the door to get our attention if he suddenly appears.”

  I shook my head stubbornly. It was probably irrational, but I was determined not to budge from this spot. Not to give up on them. The Kitsune would come. They had to come. I would be waiting.

  Shinobu sighed. “Very well.”

  He got up and walked out of the kitchen. I stared after him in shock, struggling with the urge to follow and apologize again. But … no. I hadn’t done anything wrong this time. It was his choice whether he wanted to wait with me, but he didn’t get to decide what I was going to do.

  Two minutes later he reappeared. His arms were filled with two of our big squashy tapestry cushions, Mum’s angora throw and the old woollen crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa.

  He quirked an eyebrow at my look of surprise. “Must we freeze to death as well? You did not mention that part.”

  I couldn’t resist the smile that twitched at the corners of my lips. “Shut up.”

  He smiled back at me for a moment, then seemed to shake himself. “Rachel talked to a nurse in Jack’s ward. Jack is stable.”

  “But she’s not getting better, is she?”

  He looked grave, but only said, “Rachel is going to try to rest. She says she will sleep on one of the sofas in the living room, and keep the telephone with her in case Jack or the hospital call.” Bending, he arranged the blankets and pillows into a cosy nest, and then pulled me into his arms. “Is this acceptable?”

  “It’ll do.” I sighed, letting my head rest in that oh-so-comfortable hollow in his shoulder. “Thank you. Again.”

  His hand found mine, which was wrapped tight around the hilt of the katana, and clasped it wordlessly. He does care for me. He loves me, even if he can’t say it yet. Even if he never says it.

  “I wonder if the neighbours heard me screeching,” I said into the quiet, after a while. “They must have heard something over the past couple of days. I bet they think gang members have taken over the house while my parents are away, and killed us all.”

  “They have not called the authorities,” Shinobu pointed out.

  “That’s not all that surprising,” I said. “No one ever wants to get involved – especially not when the city’s practically on lockdown. They’re most likely too busy barricading their doors and windows.”

  I heard Shinobu’s frown in his voice. “That does not match with what the woman was talking about on your television set. She said people would pull together in times of crisis. What did she call it? Blitz spirit?”

  “Hmmm.” I let my head fall sideways so that I could look up at a partial view of his face. I smiled a little as his arm shifted to curl around my back. “My dad doesn’t believe in Blitz spirit. He thinks everyone likes to look back on wars as golden times, and say that people all pulled together, and everyone was noble and brave. But really? Crime rates rise by, like, a hundred per cent during wartime. People loot bombed houses, and buy black-market food, inform on their neighbours. Dad said you can’t expect people to act noble and brave when they feel powerless. You can only expect them to act in whatever way seems most likely to ensure their own survival. The more powerless they feel, the more desperate to save themselves they’ll get, no matter what they have to do…”

  My voice trailed off as my dad’s words struck me anew. Just how powerless would I have to feel before I got that desperate? And how was I supposed to change things?

  “Your father is cynical,” Shinobu said, faintly disapproving.

  “He likes to think of himself as practical. Doesn’t believe anything if he can’t see it with his own eyes. If he’d been here to see what we have, his head would probably explode.”

  “My father – my adopted father – was the opposite,” he said softly.

  I went still, my attention suddenly riveted on his quiet voice in the darkness. Shinobu had only spoken to me about his life with his lost family once before. “The opposite, how?” I prompted after a couple of seconds.

  “He was … incredibly honourable and idealistic. He had seen man
y terrible battles, had killed in the course of his duty, but his faith in people and his sense of right and wrong were unwavering.”

  “He sounds really nice,” I said wistfully.

  “He was a great man.” An almost noiseless sigh slipped through Shinobu’s lips. I felt it move through his chest. “But he was not perfect. His idealism sometimes made him unrealistic. I did not see it then. It makes me feel disloyal to think it now. But I wonder … if he had let the frightened villagers attack the newcomer to our village and drive him out as they wished to, would that have driven the Nekomata away also? The creature came at the same time as the newcomer did. Perhaps he led it to our lands. Perhaps…”

  Now it was his voice that trailed away.

  Perhaps none of this would ever have happened.

  Perhaps Shinobu would have lived out his mortal life happily.

  Perhaps our family would never have had the katana.

  Perhaps we would never have met.

  A pang of misery went through me at that last thought. But I knew it was selfish to feel that way – and I knew what Shinobu meant. What would I be doing right now, if things had been different? Hanging out with Jack and Rachel, getting ready for Christmas, laughing and messing around, living a normal, carefree life with no idea of the darkness that lurked out there. I would never have had to know this pain, this fear, all this guilt and sadness.

  Or maybe not. The tiniest of changes in history could have massive effects. I had seen enough Doctor Who to realize that. If Shinobu had lived, everything might be different. Maybe the Yamato family would have made entirely different choices, or died out centuries ago, and I would never have been born. There was no way of knowing. There were no certainties.

  I would have given a lot for some certainty right then.

  I have the katana. But even if I could figure out how to unsheathe it and unleash its energy without letting it inside my head, I still don’t know how to control it and make it do what I want instead of what it wants. It’s almost useless to me, except as a way to destroy things. It healed me after the car accident, and made me stronger, but I had no choice about either of those things. The sword does what it wants, and I’m powerless to stop it.

  How can it be right that I possess the weapon so many creatures are willing to die to get hold of, and yet I’m the one who’s running and hiding? I’m the one that’s afraid and powerless…

  Give me what I want, the sword had whispered into my mind. I heard it now so clearly that it was almost as if the sword was speaking to me again. I will give you power. Such power as mortals have dreamed of since the dawn of time. Only I didn’t want power or strength. Not unless they would let me fix what I had done when I took the sword from its hiding place. I just wanted to set everything right and end this nightmare.

  The katana throbbed heavily under my hands, its warmth rippling against my skin in a strange, beguiling rhythm. For an instant my instincts urged me to fling it away from me. But it was so warm and comfortable in the nest of blankets, curled up next to Shinobu, and I was sleepy. Before I could even move, the knee-jerk reaction had passed, fading away as if it had never been.

  I let my eyes fall closed.

  The girl is waiting for Shinobu.

  The woods are still and silent, their vivid red colour dimming as the sun dips below the horizon. Standing on one of the smooth stones in the garden, she shivers in the evening shadows, eyes straining against the dusk for any sign of him. Through the rice-paper screen she can hear her mother and father speaking, their voices low and tense with worry. She knows what they are saying, even though she cannot make out their words. “He should have been back by now. He should have come back.”

  They are right.

  I should have fought harder.

  I should not have said those things.

  I should never have let him go alone.

  A sudden wind stirs the leaves, chilling the girl to the bone as it whips around her, sending long strands of hair into her face. She brushes them aside impatiently – and something moves under the trees. Her heart leaps with fear and hope.

  But it is not him. In the next instant she knows it. That is not his shape, not his walk.

  I should not have let him go alone.

  I should have held on…

  It is another man who walks towards her out of the gathering darkness. She recognizes his long, pale face and dark robes. It is the newcomer, the wanderer Yoshida-sensei. He carries something in his hands, and when she realizes what it is, the knowledge strikes through her like a knife. She jams her knuckles against her lips to hold in a cry of denial. My sword. The sword that Shinobu took with him when he ran away from her to fight alone.

  I should never have let go.

  Suddenly the vision shifts. The tree limbs dance, their colours blurring, growing dim before my eyes. I am lying on my back, my hand clasped over my heart. The heat of my own blood pours through my fingers, scorching me. I am grown so cold, so numb.

  Mio…

  I hear footsteps crunching in the fallen leaves. Something moves in the corner of my eye. I twitch, but I cannot move. I catch a glimpse of a pale face, eyes glowing bright with excitement. Too bright. The light makes me flinch. Yoshida-sensei? What is that in his hand? What is it that he lifts above me?

  Mottled green-brown, curved like a leaf, it gleams in the red light of the setting sun.

  Why? Why, when I am already dying…

  The green blade flashes down in the red light—

  A gentle shake of my shoulder had me jerking bolt upright.

  “Who – what?” I flexed cramping fingers around the katana’s hilt, rubbing my face with my other hand. For a second, vivid, disturbing images from my dream danced in front of my eyes. They shredded away from me before I could make sense of them, leaving me with nothing more than the familiar feelings of sorrow and frustration. Argh. Stupid dreams.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Most of the night. It is nearly dawn,” Shinobu said.

  “Never mind that!” Rachel’s voice broke in excitedly from somewhere above me. “Look.”

  I took my hand away from my eyes and gasped when I saw that Shinobu’s face was lit with dancing copper light. The whole kitchen shimmered with it. We cast long black shadows over the wreckage strewn across the floor. Rachel was pointing to the garden. I turned to look.

  My eyes skipped uneasily past the body of the Shikome to the unruly mulberry bush that grew by the garage. It was glowing, incandescent with all the shades of autumn. Red and gold and bronze rays pierced the foliage, and the leaves tossed wildly, as if there was a high wind in the garden. Their movement made the copper light flash like the neon displays at Blackpool Pier.

  I’d only seen this light shining from the mulberry twice before. Both times Hikaru had stepped out of the bush within a few seconds. But there was no sign of any of the Kitsune now. The bush just sat there, glowing and rustling and flashing.

  “What are they waiting for?” I muttered.

  “Maybe…” Shinobu said slowly. “Maybe they want us to go to them.”

  I looked from him to the urgently blinking lights.

  “But you need someone to create a rift in the veil between this world and the spirit realm. You need someone to hold it open while you pass through.” And you need to be sure that whatever is waiting for you on the other side is something that doesn’t want to eat you…

  “Maybe there are other ways,” Rachel suggested, shifting from foot to foot impatiently. “Come on, we have to try! The Kitsune might know how to help Jack!”

  She was right. If those lights went out while I was hesitating, I’d want to drown myself.

  “OK.” I kicked blankets away from my legs and got up, adjusting my grip on the saya and hilt of my sword as I did so. Shinobu picked up his katana and wakizashi and shoved both sheathed blades into his sash.

  “You go in the middle,” I told Rachel. “And go quickly. We don’t know what else might be waiting out there.
”

  She nodded jerkily. “One, two…”

  “Three,” Shinobu finished.

  We squashed through the doorway together. My head wanted to tilt back to check the sky, and my ears strained for the telltale thunder of wing-beats. I fixed my eyes on the light and ran. I reached the glowing mulberry bush half a step ahead of Rachel and two ahead of Shinobu.

  After skidding to my knees in front of it, I crammed myself under the spiny branches, shoving the katana in ahead of me. A twig nearly poked my eye out, and I hissed as it scraped my cheek but didn’t slow down. As I was ferreting my way under this bush, Shinobu and Rachel were stuck out there in the open, unsafe space of the garden.

  Shinobu was stuck alone with Rachel…

  I kept crawling forward, twigs scraping my scalp and back, wet soil squelching under my knees, and the stink of cat pee in my nose. I was expecting to take a tumble at any time. Last time we’d done this, the ground had dropped right out from under me and sent me plummeting helplessly into the earthy darkness of Between – a sort of airlock space that the Kitsune conjured up whenever they opened a gateway into the spirit realm, to stop anything nasty making a run for it from either side.

  Come on, where are you? Where’s the rupture?

  A huge earthy paw reached up out of the ground and engulfed me.

  The air left my lungs with a squeak, my vision swam with distant silvery shapes, and I thought my eardrums were going to burst. I could feel myself moving, but I was immobilized, trapped and powerless.

  Then, with a sound exactly like a belch, the paw released me.

  I landed face down in soft, sweet-smelling grass.

  For the space of a few relieved gasps I lay there, letting the water stream from the corners of my eyes onto the mossy cushion of greenery under my cheek. There was another belch and a thud, and I turned my head to see Rachel flat on the grass beside me, looking as messed up as I felt. Her hair stood out around her head in a fuzzy halo, and there was a long streak of mud across her chin.