Miss Aritomo shook her head. She tried to speak but had been running so hard that she did not have the breath for it. Instead she pointed into the trees on the side of the path. Kara looked over and caught a glimpse of a figure in the woods, but with the wind and the snow turning everything a ghostly white, it took her a moment to realize that the elderly woman she saw amongst the trees was not alive.
The ghosts will show you the way.
Another stepped up beside the first, this one the spirit of a young man. She did not recognize either of them, but stared in fascination at the way the snow passed right through them.
As one, they pointed along the path. Kara looked at Miss Aritomo, saw an expression of astonishment that she knew must match her own, and then they both looked toward where the ghosts were pointing.
"I know that girl," Miss Aritomo said, her voice like a whisper in the roar of the storm.
"Chouku," Kara said. Once, the girl had been one of Ume's soccer club friends, but that was before her blood had been drained from her body by the creature Kyuketsuki had sent to prey on Monju-no-Chie school.
In life, Chouku had been a pretty girl with a full, round face and intelligent eyes. Now she had no substance at all. As gusts of wind swept curtains of snow across the path, she seemed to fade in and out of the world.
The ghost gave Kara a meaningful glance and then turned, leaving the trail and hurrying through the trees. Kara started to follow and Miss Aritomo grabbed her arm.
"What are you doing?"
Kara took her hand. "The ghosts will show us the way."
"The way to what?"
There were a dozen answers to that, but Kara did not feel certain of any of them. She pretended that the wind had stolen the words away and ran along the trail and into the woods, chasing ghosts.
Miho tripped on a snow-covered stone and nearly fell. Mr. Yamato caught her by the arm and they ran together. Her face stung with the cold and the speed of the snow pelting down around them. The storm had kicked up only seconds after Kara had first called her to say that Yuki-Onna had figured them out and was on her way back, and they'd been running ever since. Now it raged around them, the wind so strong that it had knocked her over twice.
They bent against the storm, all of them fringed with snow and ice, their hair crested white. The cold bit deep into Miho's bones and her teeth chattered and her eyes watered, tears freezing on her cheeks.
Ren and Hachiro straggled behind, both of them weak. The storm beat at them but they kept running, practically stumbling down the mountain. Hachiro held Ren by the arm, but Miho wasn't sure if this was to maintain his own balance or to keep the smaller boy from behind swept off into the trees by the screaming wind.
"Look out!" Mr. Yamato yelled.
Soundless, a huge tree fell across their path, branches snapping off, shards tossed into the maelstrom and whipped up into the storm. The gale was roaring so loudly that they had not even heard the crack of the old tree giving way.
Up ahead, Kubo climbed over the fallen tree without slowing. When Miho and Mr. Yamato tried to follow, the principal slipped and scraped his knee on the bark.
"I can't see anything in this!" he said, reaching up to tear away the mask Kubo had insisted he wear once they knew the witch had discovered their ruse. Miho and the boys had the wards the monk had given them, and Kubo had whatever mystical defenses he had mustered, but Mr. Yamato had only the mask.
"No!" Miho shouted, grabbing his wrist. "The Unsui said you cannot remove it!"
Mr. Yamato swore, shocking her, but he kept the mask on as they scrambled over the tree. By then, Ren and Hachiro had caught up and came right behind them, and then they were all following Kubo down into a thicket of dense brush. They forged their way through, the sky growing darker.
"I'm so cold," Miho said, too quietly for any of the others to hear over the storm. She especially did not want Ren and Hachiro to hear her, knowing that however cold she might be, it would be nothing compared to what they had endured at the hands of the Woman in White.
Miho watched Kubo, careful to follow his every step. Beyond him she could see several ghosts urging them on, racing ahead and then beckoning for them to follow. The old monk seemed able to do more than see them. Miho thought he could hear them as well, or understood them some other way, for he insisted they were here to help, that the presence of the winter witch had given them a kind of anchor in the world, had woken those who had not yet accepted their own deaths. Ren had wondered why the ghosts would help them, then, since that sounded to him like a good thing, and the answer had been simple. Death — at least until their spirits passed from this world into the next — was hollow and cold, and if Yuki-Onna meant to kill, they meant to stop her.
Especially if she meant to kill people they loved.
One of the spirits ahead was Sora. Miho had seen Hana earlier as well. Now she glanced back through the storm and saw three figures rushing after her and Mr. Yamato, two living boys and one dead one — Jiro's ghost. In life, Jiro had been Hachiro's best friend. Now the boy's spirit raced along between Hachiro and Ren as if he were alive as well and in just as much peril. But he did not feel the cold that clawed their bones and slashed their skin.
"Are they still here?" Mr. Yamato asked. "The ghosts?"
It wasn't the mask blocking his vision. Of all of them, Mr. Yamato was the only one who had never encountered the supernatural directly before. He could not see the ghosts. He had to take their presence, and Kubo's words, on faith.
"Yes," she said. "They are."
Up ahead, she saw Kubo turn to the left in front of a steep, rocky ledge, and she realized that they had reached the cave he had asked her to tell Kara about. Hope gave her a spike of renewed vigor and she picked up her pace, pulling Mr. Yamato by the hand. If they could get out of the storm they would have a moment to think, Kubo might be able to create some kind of mystical shield to hide them completely, Kara would catch up to them, and then they would just have to somehow get back to Sakura, find Ume, and —
The wind scooped her off the ground, her boots dangling beneath her. Miho spun, arms outflung, breath stolen from her lungs, ice crusting her whole body. And then she fell, hit the snow and rolled. When she looked up, she saw that the others had all been tossed around as well. They lay sprawled in the snow, trying to climb to their feet, as the ghosts scattered to hide in the trees.
Kubo stood alone, unmasked, unprotected.
As Yuki-Onna glided toward him, floating above the snow, the storm carrying and caressing her. Her jaws opened wide, rows of teeth stained with blood, white hair flowing.
With a gesture, she stole Kubo's breath. He clutched at his throat, and ice began to form around his face and hands, covering his eyes.
Mai sat in the passenger seat while Ume drove them toward Takigami Mountain. At the hospital, only a few flakes had fluttered lazily from the sky. But now she leaned over to look through the windshield and could barely see the mountain ahead. The snow was not coming down terribly hard, but the mountain was a white blur. Winter had claimed it, hidden it, almost as if it had been dragged from this world into another.
"Don't go to the parking lot," Sakura said from the back seat.
"What?" Ume said, frowning. "Why?"
"Take the next left. When it forks to the right, go that way. I will tell you when to stop."
Mai shuddered. She thought she heard something different in Sakura's voice. Something . . . other. She turned in her seat and studied the girl in the back seat. Sakura had changed quickly in the hospital, pulling on a thick sweater and jacket, black pants and boots. She had removed the bandages wrapped around her head. They were spotted with blood, which had gotten sticky and matted her hair in one spot. Mai thought someone had said there were stitches in her scalp, but that the doctors had not been sure how much damage might have been done to her brain. Her skull had been cracked or fractured or something like that.
But not anymore.
"Sakura?" Mai ventured.
/> The girl in the back seat looked like Sakura. Same eyes, same nose, same severe, jagged haircut. But something in her expression seemed different, and the voice . . . she did not sound the same.
The girl in the back seat shook her head.
"You're not Sakura?" Ume asked, a fearful tremor in her voice.
"Ume!" Mai yelled.
The storm had become blinding now, the visibility perhaps ten feet beyond the nose of the car, and with her attention on the rearview mirror, Ume had nearly driven them into a ditch.
She spun the wheel to right them. The tires skidded, the rear of the car slewing sideways. One or two tense, heart-pounding seconds passed and then they were shooting along the road again. A road appeared on the left.
"There," Sakura said, pointing.
Ume braked carefully and took the turn onto the side road, then rolled onto the side road bent over the steering wheel, looking for the fork.
"So where is Sakura?" Mai asked. She hadn't meant to, wasn't sure she wanted the answer, but the words had just popped out.
Sakura looked at her — or someone did, using Sakura's eyes. "She's here. We're both here."
Ume's voice, when she spoke, was a mouse-squeak. "Akane?"
The ghost, the girl in the back seat, said "Keep your eyes on the road."
"I'm sorry," Ume said, voice still small and broken.
Mai wasn't sure if she was apologizing for nearly crashing the car or for something else, for her greatest sin, and she did not ask. This was between Ume and her heart, between Ume and the ghost of the girl whose life she had taken.
A moment later, Ume turned right at the fork and they were driving through several inches of snow, the tires slipping, then catching. The mountain loomed up on the right, the bottom of the slope and the woods less than a hundred yards away.
"What now?" Mai asked.
"Follow the ghosts," said the girl in the back seat.
Mai was about to ask what she meant, but then Ume squeaked again and Mai looked up, and they all saw the apparitions looming in the storm ahead. They were pointing to a small pull-off that looked to lead up the mountain.
Ume went where the spirits indicated. Neither she nor Mai said a word. Mai's breath was caught in her throat. But she could not truly say she was surprised. After all, it had been a winter of ghosts.
Kara and Miss Aritomo approached the cave from the south. Snow had gotten into their clothes, up sleeves and inside collars, and with the cold came a terrible despair. More than once Kara thought of turning around, but her friends needed her and it was a long way back to the parking lot, now. Miss Aritomo must have considered it as well, but neither gave voice to the temptation. Or if Yuuka did speak, Kara did not hear her over the rage of winter that churned around them. They had given up trying to talk to each other. Kara trudged after the ghosts and Miss Aritomo trudged after Kara, and in that way they found themselves on a trail that seemed almost cut into the mountain slope, and then the dark mouth of the cave was there, looming up on the right.
She saw Kubo first. The old monk seemed frozen, jagged ice forming on his arms and snow frosting his beard and hair. And yet he was still moving. Kara saw his hands in motion, fingers contorting, and suddenly the storm seemed to die around him. Not everywhere . . . not where Kara stood, or anywhere else on the mountain. But suddenly it seemed as though Kubo stood inside some protective sphere. The snow parted around him, blew past him, and like a wet dog he shook off the ice that had clung to him.
Only then did Kara see Yuki-Onna. She had been hidden by the pines above the mouth of the cave but now she glided into view, her beautiful face contorted into ugliness by fury and by evil. Her jaws were wide, her teeth bloody, and she screamed in frustration and pointed elongated fingers at him.
"Kara, hide!" Miss Aritomo said, trying to pull her into the mouth of the cave.
The snow on the ground flowed together like crashing waves, freezing into a solid ridge of jagged ice, all rippling across the ground toward Kubo. The old monk seemed to inflate as though from a deep breath, held out his hands in a meditative pose, and hung his head. Two feet from where it would have impaled him, the ice ridge shattered and fell away.
Kara wanted to cheer. As she moved nearer, she saw others in the snow beyond Kubo. At first she thought they were more ghosts, but they began to rise from the snow and her heart soared at the unmistakable sight of Hachiro. She knew him by size alone, by the tilt of his head and the way he held himself. Ren and Mr. Yamato and Miho were with him.
Hachiro's alive! She couldn't believe it. She had not allowed herself to believe anything else, but in her secret heart the doubts had started to grow. Her body flooded with relief and then that was washed away by an overwhelming surge of love that filled her so completely that she could barely breathe. It warmed her, burning the cold from her bones, at least for a few moments.
But then Kubo turned to look directly at her — somehow he had sensed her there — and she saw the urgency and the pain in his eyes. What are you doing just standing here? she thought. Kubo had made it clear he did not believe he could destroy Yuki-Onna and Kara had just stood watching.
She spun toward Miss Aritomo. "The ritual. We've got to do the ritual."
"How? We don't have Sakura or Ume!"
Kara heard a cry of pain echo across the mountainside, and then the storm swept it away. She turned to see Yuki-Onna and Kubo. The witch gripped the old man by the throat, lifting him off the ground, and whatever mystic rite had protected Kubo from her could not prevent a physical attack. The snow spun around him now, and Kara stared in horror as the old monk's flesh began to turn blue in the snow woman's grasp.
Kubo was freezing to death.
Miss Aritomo grabbed Kara's arm and spun her around again, pointing down the mountain at a group of ghosts making their way toward them. They passed through the trees, insubstantial, untouched by the storm . . . or at least some of them did.
Kara wiped snow from her eyes. Three of the figures were not ghosts. She saw Mai and Ume, and then she recognized the third.
"Sakura?" she said, jaw dropping in astonishment. "But how —"
"The ritual!" Miss Aritomo shouted.
Kara glanced at Kubo — saw ice crystals and gray, dead patches of frostbite blossoming on his cheeks — and then she ran to meet Sakura and the ghosts.
Chapter Fifteen
The ghosts were insubstantial, but Yuki-Onna existed in two worlds at once. She was both tangible and intangible, spirit and storm and flesh, and when the ghosts attacked her, she screamed and began to beat at them, snap her jaws at them, tear bits of them away with those shark teeth.
But they had diverted her, and her grip on Kubo broke. He fell to the ground.
The storm faltered, the snow slowing, the wind lessening . . . but only for a moment. The Woman in White stretched out her arms as though conducting a symphony and suddenly the wind could touch the ghosts as well . . . and yet Kara could no longer feel it. The wind had begun to blow in another place, a world between life and death where these spirits had lingered, clinging to the lives they did not want to leave behind.
"Hurry!" Kara snapped.
But she need not have bothered. Sakura grabbed Ume by the hand and dragged her toward Kubo, and Kara's mind spun with the sight. Sakura had been unconscious, even comatose, with major damage to her skull. How she was up and running Kara had no idea. It seemed impossible. Kara had grown used to impossible things, but they were always terrible, and here was something that was both impossible and wonderful. She had to force herself to focus on the ritual, on Kubo, instead of on Sakura and Hachiro and Ren, and the fact that they were all, for the moment, still alive.
Because Kubo was dying. A sweet, funny, venerable old man, this monk, but also a mystical adept, the only one who could perform the ritual that would break the curse on them.
"Master Kubo!" Kara cried as she ran to him and dropped to her knees in the snow.
He looked ancient, now, sickly and shaking with
cold. His eyes were tired and almost opaque, but not blind. He saw her, and he glanced around at the others. Mai and Ume hung back, but Sakura came close, almost gliding herself, a kind of ethereal beauty about her and a serenity in her eyes that seemed so strange in the midst of the rage of this storm, with the ghosts trying to restrain Yuki-Onna so close by.
Miss Aritomo ran to Mr. Yamato, the two of them shouting to be heard over the wind, telling Kara and the others to hurry. Miho and Ren came over to Kubo and dropped to their knees opposite Kara.
Hachiro knelt in the snow beside her. His eyes were haunted, his face gaunt with starvation, and she knew he had been through hell these last three days. But he reached down and took her hand, held it tight, fingers twined with hers, and she saw that the Hachiro she loved was still there, deep down inside this tormented boy.
All those who were there when Kyuketsuki had been destroyed and driven from the world, Kara thought. Not just the cursed — her and Miho and Sakura — but all of them. Hachiro was beside her, but Ume had still not approached.
"Ume, come on!" Kara shouted to be heard over the storm.
But the tall, statuesque girl, the former Queen of the Soccer Bitches, only shook her head. She tried to back away but Mai put an arm around her and urged her forehead. Ume stared at the ghosts and Yuki-Onna, tearing at one another, and she began to cry, her tears freezing on her cheeks.
"Ume, it must be now!" Sakura said.
Kara frowned. It had sounded as though two voices spoke in unison, two people speaking from one mouth. Was that just the storm, some weird echo? Kara studied her face and realized it had a hardness, a grim twist of the mouth, that were nothing like Sakura at all.
And then in an instant, her expression changed, softening. Even her eyes seemed to lighten with a kindness and understanding that hadn't been there a moment before. Sakura held out a hand.
"Ume, please," Sakura said, and now her voice, and her face, were hers alone.
A Winter of Ghosts (The Waking Series) Page 19