Shadow of the Fox

by Julie Kagawa

  “Huh.” Okame crossed his arms. “So, you are kami-touched, after all. I thought so. Though the creepy glowing sword was a huge hint.” He spared a glance at the black-clad samurai behind us and dramatically lowered his voice as he leaned in. “There are stories,” he told me, “that if a Kage child is born kami-touched, it is taken away and raised to become a shinobi.”

  I frowned. “What are shinobi?”

  “Shadow warriors. Secret assassins that strike from the darkness, cutting your throat from behind or in your sleep.” Okame snorted. “Every clan employs them—don’t let all that talk of honor on the battlefield fool you otherwise. But there are stories that the Kage shinobi have the ability to pass through walls, to become shadows themselves...or to turn invisible.”

  “There are also stories,” Tatsumi said in a soft, lethal voice, “that those who speak of these shinobi vanish, and are never seen again.”

  “Good thing I don’t believe wild tales, then.”

  A faint chime shivered into the air from the direction of the graveyard.

  We turned, peering down the rise. A ghostly figure in white was walking through the cemetery, straw hat and staff bobbing as he moved between headstones, passing shambling gaki, who paid him no attention. He moved slowly, purposefully, trailing fading tendrils of mist that curled into the air, before he himself walked behind a large cedar trunk and disappeared.

  “There he goes,” I whispered, and glanced at the dark warrior behind Okame. “Tatsumi, you said you could get us down there, without having to fight?”

  He drew back a step, his gaze solemn as he peered down the rise. “Yes, but there are a few conditions. The spell only works if we ourselves remain silent and unnoticed. Anything louder than a whisper will cause the illusion to break, as will any sudden movement. Looking directly into a gaki’s eyes or drawing its attention will also dissolve the spell. So be quiet, keep your head down and stay close to me. Can you do that?”

  “What about me?” Okame demanded. Tatsumi gave him a cold look.

  “The more people that go down there, the harder it will be to maintain the spell. I’m already stretching the limit of what I can do with one other—two would be setting us up for failure. It would be better for us all if you stayed here.”

  “Trying to get rid of me, Kage-san? I’m wounded. It would be such a waste if I was eaten by a gaki.”

  Tatsumi narrowed his eyes. “Your swordsmanship is lacking,” he said bluntly. “You would be no use to us among the gaki should they see through the spell. Trying to protect Yumeko with your blade would be futile, and would put you both in harm’s way.”

  Okame sniffed. “You don’t have to insult me, Kage-san. I don’t have the right to demand satisfaction anymore, but I can be offended. In fact, I think I am.”

  “You’re a better shot with your bow,” Tatsumi continued, as if the other hadn’t said anything. “If the spell fails and the gaki attack, it would be prudent for you to be farther away, covering our escape. You can kill the gaki before they get to us, and I won’t have to worry about protecting you and Yumeko, should the worst happen.”

  “I...suppose you have a good point. Much as it pains me to admit it.” Okame crossed his arms with a sigh. “Fine. I don’t like the idea, but I know as much about magic as I do flower arranging. I’ll stay back here, put an arrow through the skull of any gaki that gets too close. Yumeko-chan...” He nodded at me, smiling. “Good luck. Don’t get eaten—you were just starting to make my life interesting.”

  “You be careful, too,” I told him, and turned to the samurai. “All right, Tatsumi. I’m ready. What do I have to do?”

  He hesitated once more, then held out a hand, palm turned up. “We have to stay connected,” he told me, and, for some strange reason, my stomach fluttered like a swarm of moths were set loose within. “The spell will cover both of us, but it isn’t meant to be used on a group. If we get separated, the gaki will be able to see you, so don’t let go, no matter what.”

  I nodded, took a quiet breath and placed my hand in his. His palm was rough with calluses, but the fingers curling over mine were long and slender, almost elegant. My heartbeat quickened, and the moths in my belly swirled even more frantically before settling into an agitated fluttering.

  Tatsumi had gone perfectly still, staring at our clasped hands, as if fighting his instincts to pull away. I peeked at his face and saw a flicker of emotion in those purple eyes, a hint of uncertainty and the barest shadow of fear. But only for a moment; then his expression shut down, that icy mask dropping into place. Bringing two fingers to his face with his other hand, he half closed his eyes and murmured a chant using words I didn’t understand.

  A whisper of power went through the air, centered on Tatsumi. It swirled around us, cold and caressing, seeming to muffle sound and make the shadows around us even darker. Somewhere off to the side, Okame uttered a breathless curse. I suddenly felt very strange, as if my body wasn’t quite solid, and the moonlight blazing down overhead was passing right through me.

  Tatsumi opened his eyes. The glimmering violet orbs peered down at me, but I could not see my reflection within. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “Remember, stay close, keep your eyes off the gaki and don’t let go of my hand. Are you ready?”

  I nodded, tightening my fingers around his. He turned, and together, we walked down the narrow winding path into the cemetery.

  Several ancient trees grew among the gravestones, towering cedar and looming pine. As soon as we reached the edge of the cemetery, Tatsumi broke away from the path and slipped into the shadows thrown by the giants. Gaki shambled among the gravestones; I kept my head down but saw them in my peripheral vision, their naked, bloated bodies shining grotesquely in the moonlight. My heart pounded, but as Tatsumi had predicted, they paid us no more attention than the falling leaves, though a few passed frighteningly close. Once, Tatsumi pulled me roughly against a tree, pressing us both into the bark as a gaki lurched around the trunk, barely missing him. For a few heartbeats, it stood just a few feet away, raspy breaths hissing into the air, scanning the area as if it could sense something was close. I closed my fingers around my tanto and squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to move or even breathe. My heart pounded, and I pressed myself as far from Tatsumi as I could, hoping he wouldn’t feel the lacquered case tucked into my furoshiki. If he found the Dragon’s scroll now, a graveyard full of hungry ghosts would be the least of my concerns.

  Finally, the gaki’s footsteps staggered away, and I felt Tatsumi relax. “Move,” he whispered to me, and we did, slipping away from the trunk and weaving our way past the gravestones.

  As we ducked between two pine trees, something glinted in the corner of my eye, causing me to halt and grab Tatsumi’s sleeve.

  “Tatsumi-san,” I whispered. “I think I see the monk. Over there.”

  He followed my pointing finger. At the farthest end of the graveyard, a lone headstone stood in the shadow of three enormous cedars. A beam of moonlight slanted through the tree branches, illuminating the headstone and gleaming off a staff with metal rings at the top.

  “The monk’s grave,” I whispered, as with a ghostly shimmer, a section of moonlight detached from the headstone and stepped into view. The yurei monk, in his straw hat and still holding his metal rod, met my gaze over the stones and raised an ethereal eyebrow.

  “He sees us,” Tatsumi growled.

  A piercing shriek made my blood run cold, and a gaki hurled itself over a headstone, jaws gaping like a rabid wolf. Tatsumi spun, Kamigoroshi clearing its sheath in an instant to strike the spindly body from the air. But his hand came free of my grip, and I felt the tearing of magic as the spell dissolved, like a stone hurled through a spiderweb. All through the cemetery, gaki were turning to look at us, eyes blazing bright with hunger, their hisses and shrieks rising into the air.

  Tatsumi stepped forward, the cold purple light of Kamigoroshi w
ashing over the stones, matching the chilling look in his eyes. “Go,” he told me, swinging the blade in front of him. “Talk to the monk. I’ll keep them off you for as long as I can.”

  I looked up at the approaching gaki, torn between running toward the monk and pulling out my tanto to stand with Tatsumi. Fox magic flared, making my hands tingle, and I wondered if a ball of kitsune-bi to the face would slow the gaki down, even as it exposed my true nature.

  As the first gaki drew close, something streaked through the air behind it, striking it in the back. With a shriek, it pitched forward, the shaft of an arrow protruding from its neck, and dissolved into green mist. Another jerked and went careening over a headstone, and a third crumpled to the dirt in a tangle of flailing limbs, before writhing into nothingness.

  “Okame,” I breathed, sparing a quick glance at the top of the hill. I could just make out a lean figure silhouetted on the roof of the shack, just as another gaki screamed and tumbled into the weeds. Tatsumi waited patiently as the first wave drew close, his blade held loose at his side.

  “Yumeko.” His voice was eerily calm, though I heard a ripple of something terrifying underneath, a barely restrained bloodlust that sent shivers up my spine. “Go.”

  I went.

  I darted between headstones and wove between the aisles of rock, searching for that ghostly shimmer of white. It waited for me in the shadow of the trees, standing patiently beside its grave, a bemused expression on its pale, glowing face. I dodged around a headstone to avoid a gaki and winced as its claws raked four white gashes into the rock. It scuttled around the grave, jaws gaping as it reached for me, when an arrow hissed through the air and struck the back of its neck. It dissolved with a chilling wail, and I hurried on.

  Gasping, I stumbled past the last of the gravestones, darted around a tree, and was abruptly standing before a transparent figure in white.

  “Well.” The monk’s voice was a shiver of an icy wind, the echo of a long-forgotten emotion. His face blurred in and out of reality, like a pebble dropped into the reflection of a pond. “This night has been full of surprises. Hello, little fox. What brings you to my lonely corner of the village?”

  I drew in a breath, not surprised that he knew what I really was. He didn’t sound like an onryo, the terrible grudge spirit that Tatsumi had spoken of. His voice was calm, pleasant even, and maybe a little sad.

  “Konbanwa, yurei-san,” I began, as a shriek rang out behind me in a flash of purple light. Tatsumi was keeping the gaki busy, as he’d promised. “Oh,” I went on anxiously, “is it proper to call you yurei-san? I haven’t spoken to any ghosts before this.”

  His hazy features lowered into a frown, but he seemed more puzzled than angry. I hurried on in case he took offense. “Please, master monk,” I implored, clasping my hands together in a bow, “the people here have suffered greatly at the hands of their own loved ones. I’ve come to ask if you would lift the curse. You were dealt a terrible wrong all those years ago, but none of these people were responsible for your death. And it must be terribly boring, drifting around as a ghost. Surely your desire for vengeance has been satisfied by now.”

  “Ah, little fox.” The ghost of the monk bowed his head. “I wish I could. It was never my intention to place such a powerful curse upon this village. I was...angry...back then. Though time for me blurs and runs together. I do not know how long it has been since I cursed this village’s greed and died with retribution on my lips. I wish only to move on, to complete my journey to Meido, or wherever my soul is destined.”

  With chilling screams, several more gaki met their ends on Tatsumi’s sword. But ominous green lights were beginning to rise from several graves, slowly taking form as more hungry ghosts began to materialize. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but the yurei didn’t seem to notice.

  “Unfortunately, the curse keeps me tied to this world,” the monk continued. “I cannot pass on until it is lifted, and I cannot seem to lift it myself. Or perhaps I can, but I’ve forgotten how.” His shoulders slumped, one ghostly hand lifting to his face. “I’m tired,” he whispered. “So tired of lingering, of being stuck in this tiny village, surrounded by the monsters I brought into this world. I watch the villagers constantly, hoping one of them will gain the courage to try to lift the curse, but they are too fearful to even approach the graveyard. Not that I blame them.” He glanced at the sky, where a faint pink glow could be seen over the treetops. “Dawn is almost here,” he said. “The gaki will vanish for another month, and I will continue to haunt this place.”

  Despair flickered. “Can’t you do anything?” I asked.

  The ghost shook his head and gave me a sad, resigned look. “You were brave to come here, kitsune,” he said, drawing back. “But you are not from this village, and you cannot lift the curse. If the curse can be lifted at all—”

  “Omachi kudasai!”

  The shout echoed behind me, high-pitched and frantic. I spun, and saw a figure running full tilt through the cemetery, arms out and hands clutching something in front of him.

  “Please wait!” he cried again, as I blinked in surprise. The headman? What’s he doing here? “Please,” the headman called, his voice drawing the attention of every gaki in the cemetery. “Master monk, please hear me out!”

  The gaki snarled and bounded after him. Leaping atop a headstone, a gaki tensed to pounce, but an arrow slammed into its back and it tumbled off the stone with a howl. As the headman passed Tatsumi, one of the hungry ghosts turned and lunged at him, claws grasping. Tatsumi’s blade hissed down, severing the gaki in two, but its nails still tore a bloody gash across the man’s neck. He staggered, nearly falling, but regained his footing and came on.

  I stepped back as the headman reached us, instantly falling to his face on the ground. “Forgive us, master monk!” he cried, holding up the thing he’d been carrying: a full bowl of rice. “We were wrong, to let you suffer so. We will never again let any traveler starve as you did. Please...” He held the bowl even higher, even as he stayed prostrate in the dirt. “Accept this as a token of our regret. Or, if your vengeance requires it, I will offer my own life for the rest of the village. Turn me into a gaki, drag me to Jigoku, it matters not. Whatever you need to do to pass on and leave us in peace.”

  Heart in my throat, I looked at the monk. He gazed down at the headman with a stunned expression. Behind us, the gaki shrieked and howled as they flung themselves at Tatsumi, and the hiss of arrows continued as Okame picked them off one by one, but both the headman and the monk seemed to have forgotten all about them.

  Then, the monk smiled, and a single silver tear ran from his eye, writhing into mist as soon as it hit the ground. “That was all I wanted,” he whispered. “One bowl of rice. A single offering of kindness. But even in the face of cruelty, I should not have let my anger consume me so. This has become my punishment, as well.” His expression became peaceful, and he bowed his head. “I think we have all suffered enough.”

  The cries of the gaki faded. I looked around the cemetery to see that the hungry ghosts were standing motionless, looking lost. Even those that had been fighting Tatsumi stopped moving, their arms dropping to their sides and their faces lax. As I watched, they shimmered, becoming transparent as they started to fade. A glowing ball of blue-white light rose from each of their bodies, filling the air until the entire cemetery glowed with ethereal luminance. Left behind, the shells of the gaki disappeared, writhing into mist that disappeared on the breeze.

  “Arigatou.” I looked back at the monk as he whispered the words. He was fading, too, his ghostly form becoming fainter and fainter as he smiled at me. “Thank you,” he whispered again. “You could not lift the curse on your own, but your courage illuminated the way for those who could. May the Kami bless you, and may you never lose that fire that burns within your soul.”

  “Safe travels to you, master monk,” I said. “May your journey to the other s
ide be swift and clear, and may Jinkei light your way so that you will never stumble.”

  He bowed to me, and a moment later, became a glowing sphere of light that floated into the air, joining the rest. For a moment, they hovered overhead, almost too bright to look at. Then, as one, they scattered, flying to every corner of the heavens, becoming smaller and smaller until they turned into distant stars and were lost from sight.

  PART 3

  20

  Blood Magic

  Lady Satomi was back.

  And, from what Suki could see, she was not happy.

  “Useless minions,” she muttered, standing in the center of a small, horrifying room. A single candle flickered on a low table, and a cracked, full-length mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the room’s grisly state. The walls were streaked with old blood, the floor stained with dark, unidentifiable patches. Lady Satomi stood there, stunning in blue robes patterned with cranes and dragonflies, her hair perfectly styled and held in place with ivory combs. She looked supremely out of place in the center of the gruesomeness, except for what she held in her hand. The head of a large crow lay cradled in her palm, dripping blood between her fingers to spatter the edges of her robes. The body of the bird lay in the center of the table, a small knife resting beside it in a pool of blood. Suki could barely look at the still twitching corpse, having had to leave the room when the actual deed was performed. Though being able to go through walls made that easier, at least. Lady Satomi’s eyes were closed, a frown stretching her full lips, as if she was watching something she found distressing. Finally, she let out a huff and opened her eyes.

  “Two kamaitachi, one wind witch and a giant demon bear,” she grumbled, tossing the severed head to the table, where it landed beside its cooling body. “And Kazekira still couldn’t manage to kill them and take the scroll piece. Sliced to bits by her own familiars, how disgraceful.” She shook her head, plucked a cloth from the mirror and wiped the blood from her hands. “I suppose that is what I get for relying on outside help. If you want something done right...”