A Winter of Ghosts (The Waking Series)

by Christopher Golden, Thomas Randall

  Frustrated, feeling the staccato beat of her heart in her chest, she threw back her covers and got out of bed. She looked in what she thought was the direction of Takigami Mountain, wishing she could see it from here. That would make her feel closer to Hachiro, which was all she wanted right now.

  In her faded Negima t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, she shuffled to the window and bent to look outside, hoping to see even the mountain's peak. But the angle was all wrong. All she could see was the houses on her street, bleached white in the moonlight, and the tops of some of the taller buildings in the city in the distance.

  She started to draw back into the room, but froze as she caught a glimpse of motion. A pale figure passed in front of a house diagonally across from Kara's, headed toward the train station.

  Kara's mouth went dry. She blinked, moving to get a better look. The man had his back to her, but his silhouette seemed to shift as though ticking in and out of focus. He turned his head and for a moment she thought he would look back at her, but his face was lost in shadows.

  The figure flickered, nearly transparent for a moment, then solid once again. Another ghost on the streets of Miyazu City.

  Her whole body began to tremble and she shook her head. The height, the build, the thick, unruly hair.

  Hachiro?

  Chapter Eight

  Forgetting the winter, Kara rushed from her room and down the short hall, through the living room, and to the front door. She unlocked the door and flung it open, letting in a blast of frigid wind. The door banged against the wall but by then she was already stepping out onto the stoop and then onto the sidewalk.

  The January night embraced her with fingers of ice, cutting deeply. Her teeth chattered and her skin prickled with gooseflesh. Her thin t-shirt and pajama pants did nothing to protect her from the winter. A gust of wind whispered past her and she hugged herself against the cold. The frozen street hurt the soles of her feet.

  She ignored it all.

  The ghost had paused a moment, just out of reach of the gloomy yellow light thrown by a streetlamp. It seemed almost to be waiting for her, but did not turn to look at her. Instead it glanced up at the night sky, head tilting as though it searched the stars for some vital truth that had eluded it.

  Then it started toward the train station again.

  "No!" Kara said, barely hearing her own voice.

  She bolted down the street, bare feet slapping the frigid pavement, stumbling a bit when she stepped on a rock. Her face felt flushed despite the deep chill settling into the rest of her body. Her breath plumed from her lips, drifting away behind her as she ran, and her legs felt like brittle sticks that might snap out from under her. Still she ran, lungs burning with cold, heart clenched along with her fists.

  Cold heart, she thought. Got to keep a cold heart.

  She kept her lips pressed together in a tight line, refusing to let herself feel, but she could not stop her mind from rushing into dark places. Please don't be Hachiro. And at the same time, her thoughts spiraled along other avenues. This was the second ghost she had seen, but who else had seen them? Wakana, Hachiro, and Miho. All of them people who had previously been touched by the supernatural. Not just Kyuketsuki's curse — the curse didn't affect Wakana — but people who'd had their eyes opened to the things lurking behind the curtain of the world. Had that given them some kind of sight, enabled them to see things others could not? Or was it all coincidence? Or were there people who had seen ghosts that she just didn't know about yet?

  A block from the train station, Kara stumbled to a halt, feet painfully cold and raw. She looked around, panic surging, but did not see the ghost. Up ahead, an old man with a white beard rode a bicycle toward her. Truly peculiar at going on three o'clock in the morning, but he was no ghost. Just strange.

  No, she thought. And then she said it aloud.

  "No. I can't not know," she whispered into the winter night, each word a wisp of icy breath. And now her trembling had nothing to do with the cold. She'd tried to make her heart turn to ice but her breath began to hitch and her lower lip quivered and she hated to cry, hated how weak and foolish it made her feel.

  "Kara!"

  She turned.

  The old man's bicycle squeaked as it approached, but she had her back to him now, looking back the way she'd come. Her father must have heard her, for he had come out after her. He wore slippers, a white t-shirt, and sweatpants, and a giddy, frazzled part of her mind realized that the two of them must seem just as peculiar to the old man on his bicycle as he did to her, that anything might happen in the small hours of the night, and every street, and every night, was a quietly bizarre midnight circus.

  "Kara!" her father called again, concern in his voice. Even fear. And why not, given all they had been through.

  But she could not focus on her father.

  The ghost stood between them. Somehow she had passed right by it without noticing. Moonlight and shadow made it seem barely there and even as she watched it faded further, slipping into nothing, vanishing. But she had seen its face and it was not Hachiro.

  Tears did come, then, but they were tears of exhaustion and relief in equal measure.

  And then her father was there and he pulled her into his arms.

  "Sweetie, what are you doing?" he asked. "You scared me, running out like that. Are you okay?"

  They both jumped, startled by the sound of a bicycle bell as the old man rode by. The tension inside Kara broke like a wave on the sand and she laughed, heart still pounding. But that respite lasted only a moment, the presence of the ghost so fresh in her mind.

  "Did you see him?" she asked, staring into her father's eyes.

  She expected a look of confusion. Instead, his concern turned to uneasiness.

  "I think I did," he said. "Just for a second, when I was running after you, I thought you weren't alone, that there was someone in the street with you."

  He's been touched by the supernatural, too, she thought. The Hannya had nearly killed him.

  "A ghost," she said.

  "But it wasn't . . . ?"

  "No," she said quickly. "It wasn't Hachiro."

  Her father took that in, then looked at her more closely. "God, you don't even have shoes on. You're going to get frostbite. Come on, let me carry you back."

  Kara frowned. "I'll be fine. Let's just hurry. It's freezing out here."

  Knowing how cold Hachiro must be up on that mountain, she would not let this brief exposure get to her. Or so she thought. By the time they were halfway back to the house, her feet were so numb that they felt like blocks of wood. Kara's father insisted that she let him carry her, and she went along with it gladly. Thin as he was, Rob Harper was still strong enough to lift his daughter in his arms.

  For the first time in days, she felt safe.

  All through Wednesday morning, Kara felt as though she was holding her breath. School felt surreal. Why were they here? Books and pencils, notes and quizzes. How could they all go on with this ridiculous pantomime of normality? Miho kept glancing back at her with sad eyes, and Kara knew she was worried. Kara loved her for it, but Miho could not comfort her.

  Outside the windows, snowflakes danced on gusts of January wind. She had woken this morning to a light coat of new fallen snow across Miyazu City. The white swirl looked beautiful over the turgid surface of the bay, but the sight of it had made her feel like throwing up.

  She should be on the mountain with Hachiro. Searching for him. Just sitting here, all she wanted to do was scream.

  It had taken her no time at all to get used to the Japanese system, in which the students remained in their homerooms all day and the teachers moved from class to class. Ordinarily she thought it a much more sensible way of doing things, but today she would have given anything to be able to get up out of her seat. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and her head felt stuffed with cotton. Teacher after teacher entered the room and droned on, but to her they sounded like the adults in old Charlie Brown cartoons, their voices
an unintelligible drone.

  The seat in front of her was empty. Sora's seat. She wondered what would happen to it. No one would want to sit there and the empty seat seemed forbidding, a constant reminder of his death. Hours ticked by. At lunchtime, Kara turned away so she would not even have to look at it. She decided to talk to Mr. Sato at the end of the day and ask if he could just have the desk removed.

  The afternoon crept by even more slowly than the morning. Several times she found herself nodding off. When her father came in to teach his American Studies course, she tried her best to stay alert, but kept rubbing her eyes. He couldn't help but notice. Several times it seemed he was about to say something, but then he stopped himself. Kara knew that he would be worried that it would be improper for him to interrupt class just to ask her if she was all right, and she was glad. The conversation she wanted to have with him — needed to have with him — would have to wait until school was over.

  As she drifted between sleep and wakefulness, feeling a bit sick to her stomach from struggling to stay conscious, she thought of ghosts. Hachiro had seen Jiro, shoeless, on the train into Miyazu City back at the beginning of this horror. Kara studied the back of Miho's head and from time to time she glanced over at Mai, who sat in the front of the room by the window, and she wondered.

  The ghosts had to be connected.

  Her father and Miss Aritomo were worrying like mad, trying to figure out how to hide the girls from Yuki-Onna. Yesterday that quest had been a useful diversion, helping her keep her mind off of Hachiro at least part of the time. But today, she couldn't care less about the curse of Kyuketsuki. What the winter witch might do to her meant nothing — not with Hachiro still missing.

  No, she had to solve this. Figure out the mystery. They still didn't know for sure that it was even Yuki-Onna they were dealing with. But with the woman who'd frozen to death on the mountain and the way her haka had been disturbed, her ashes removed, it sure seemed to match the legend.

  So why had Sora been killed, but Ren still lived? Why was Hachiro still missing? What did the Woman in White do to them? And what did the ghosts have to do with anything? Studying the back of Mai's head, thinking of Wakana seeing the ghost of Daisuke, she fell asleep.

  The bell woke her with a start. She sat up, sucking in a ragged breath, her heart slamming in her chest. None of her tension had eased. She still felt like she could not exhale. Kids were moving all around her, rising from their desks, some of them muttering about how Mr. Yamato should not have resumed classes so quickly after Sora's death, and with Hachiro still missing. Kara agreed, though some of those she heard seemed to be complaining more because they wanted additional days off than because they hadn't felt ready to focus on school again.

  Another major adjustment in the move to Japanese education had been the tradition of o soji. Monju-no-Chie school employed maintenance staff to do repairs and things, but the basic cleaning of the premises was conducted every day by the students themselves. After the final class and before club meetings began, they swept the floors, took out the garbage, cleaned the boards, washed windows in need of attention, and performed many other tasks. While it had taken some getting used to, Kara now prided herself on the results of o soji, pleased to leave the school as clean as they had found it.

  She caught up to Mr. Sato in the corridor, a trash bag in each hand.

  "Sato-sensei," she said, "could I speak with you for a moment?"

  He gave a tiny bow of his head. "Of course."

  Kara asked him about moving Sora's chair and the teacher agreed that it should be removed, but expressed concern that it not be done so quickly that some of Sora's friends might take offense and think they were attempting to erase the boy's memory. Mr. Sato decided he would move the desk himself while the school was closed over the weekend. Two more days with it in the classroom would not be intolerable.

  "Sensei, there is something else."

  Mr. Sato frowned, his eyebrows like furry gray caterpillars above his eyes. His glasses seemed too small for him, suddenly.

  "What is it, Kara?"

  "When you found Ren, he really didn't remember anything?"

  The teacher stood up stiffly, what little expression he had shown vanishing. "I'm sorry, Kara. It is not proper for me to speak with you about this. I know you are concerned for —"

  "Sensei, please. Did he say anything? Anything at all?"

  Mr. Sato seemed to deflate a little. He glanced around to be sure they were not overheard.

  "He said 'thank you,' many times. Nothing more than that until long after we had come down from the mountain," Mr. Sato said. Then he lowered his gaze, hesitating.

  "What?" Kara prodded.

  "Nothing," Mr. Sato said. "He barely seemed to realize I was there at first."

  "But he thanked you."

  "It was almost as if he were talking to someone else," the teacher said. "That is what I am trying to explain to you, Kara. He was delirious. If Ren knows anything about where we might find Hachiro, he cannot yet remember it. We must hope that his memory will return."

  Kara dropped her gaze, lost in thought. If Ren hadn't been thanking Mr. Sato, who had he been thanking?

  "Is there something else?" the teacher asked.

  "No, sensei," she said. "Thank you."

  And she hurried away, trash bags in hand, wishing that she could confront Ren at that very moment. According to Kara's father, Mr. Yamato had offered to let the boy's parents take him home for the rest of the week, but Ren insisted that he would be all right and wanted to stay at school. He had not come to class today, but perhaps tomorrow, according to Sakura.

  Kara needed to talk to him. Somehow, she had to make him remember.

  As she hurried down the corridor, she spotted Mai and Wakana coming out of the girls' bathroom with cleaning supplies. Mai carried herself with an air of superiority that made Wakana seem to fade into the background, though in many ways she was prettier than her roommate. She had kinder eyes, her hair lighter and more suited to the warmth of her features. Mai had once been quiet like Wakana, and had smiled more, then. But now that she was Queen of the Soccer Bitches, her arrogance made her striking, if not pretty.

  The two girls were whispering to one another about something when Kara walked up.

  "Can I talk to you two for a minute?"

  Mai and Wakana looked up at her, both troubled, but then Mai turned chilly, almost sneering at her.

  "Bonsai," she said. "What do you want?"

  Kara bristled. "Not that attitude, that's for sure. I thought we were past this. You don't have to like me, Mai, but we have shared interests. We had a truce. What is your problem?"

  As she spoke, Mai grew more and more rigid and obviously uncomfortable.

  "I thank you, bonsai, for giving me permission not to like you," Mai said, even more haughtily.

  Kara threw up her hands. "You know what? Sora's dead and Hachiro's still missing. You might hate me, but I thought you might actually care, but I guess I was —"

  Mai narrowed her gaze, lowering her voice. "We do care, you stupid girl."

  Wakana squirmed with awkwardness, glancing past Kara, who turned to see what she was looking at and saw Emi and Kaori sweeping the corridor three doors down from them. The girls were unmistakable, Emi with her square glasses and Kaori with her perfect athlete's build.

  Kara felt like throwing up. She spun on Mai and Wakana.

  "Are you kidding me?" she said, her whispered voice practically a hiss. "You're seriously worried about those girls seeing you talking to me? We all suspect that they took part in Sakura's sister's murder, or at least stood by and watched and did nothing, and it's their approval you care about? What is wrong with you?"

  Mai exhaled, seeming to deflate. Wakana had the sense, at least, to look ashamed.

  "Kara," Mai said, "just as I do not have to like you, you do not have to like me. Wakana and I have managed a certain status at this school and it has value to us, both now and as part of the foundation for ou
r futures. You are a gaijin. You cannot possibly understand —"

  "Please, don't," Kara said, holding up a hand to stop her. "Trust me, we've got shallow bitches back home in America, too."

  "It isn't like that," Wakana protested weakly.

  Kara glanced back and saw that Emi and Kaori had vanished from the corridor, probably to dump what they'd swept up or already headed off to their after school soccer club meeting. Mai and Wakana would see them there.

  Sadly, Kara gave a small shake of her head and looked at Wakana. "Keep telling yourself that. Look, I just wanted to ask you a question, test a theory, and then I'll stay far away from both of you, okay?"

  "Have you heard anything about Hachiro?" Mai asked.

  Now that the other soccer girls weren't there to see, Mai's mask had dropped, and she seemed genuinely concerned. But Kara could not forget that mask. At heart, Mai might be a good person, but the word 'shallow' fit her all too well, and by her behavior she forfeited any right she had to sympathy.

  "None," Kara said, putting ice in her words.

  "Have you learned something about the ghosts?" Wakana asked quickly.

  Kara studied her. The girl seemed nervous and frightened.

  "No," she replied, "but I think the ghosts we've seen are connected somehow to what's happening on Takigami Mountain."

  Mai asked what she meant. Kara reminded herself that the girls had not been privy to the conversations about Yuki-Onna, so she quickly filled them in on all that had transpired and about the ghost she had seen the night before. She knew that they would not dare breathe a word of it to anyone for fear of incurring the wrath of Principal Yamato or the police, who wanted anything supernatural kept quiet to avoid public panic. But more than that, no one would likely believe them, and girls like Mai and Wakana would never run the risk of being mocked and ostracized.

  "This is all guessing," Kara warned them. "But as far as I know, only those of us who have encountered other supernatural things have seen ghosts. My father and me, Hachiro, Miho, and you, Wakana."