His ears twitched and he gasped. His eyes popped open, bright red and burning with a terrible rage.
Then he blinked and confusion was all she could see in his gaze. She quickly wiped the snow away and sat back on her heels. He sat up, wincing and flexing the fingers of his right hand. The onenju shone innocently on his arm, unmarked by the heat or lightning they’d released.
“So I guess it didn’t work,” he observed.
She backed away as he hopped up, as lithe and agile as he’d been before the explosion of power. Yumei still held his hand to one side, by all appearances unconcerned by his injury as blood dripped from the blisters on his skin. The long sleeve of his black kosode waved softly in the breeze, reminiscent of the dark feathers of his other form.
“The spell has not deteriorated,” the Tengu said. “The anomaly lies with the girl.”
With the same swiftness as before, he strode to her. Before she could back away, the fingers of his uninjured hand closed on her chin. None too gently, he forced her head one way then the other, examining her. Pushing her head back, he dipped his face down to her neck and inhaled through his nose.
“Is she human?” he asked Shiro, straightening. He didn’t release her chin. “She smells of human female and you. Did you bed her?”
She gasped, outrage and embarrassment flooding her face with heat. She tried to jerk back but his fingers tightened painfully, holding her in place.
“We rolled in the snow together some,” Shiro said, mouth quirking up in that sly grin of his as he met her furious stare, “but it was an act of survival, not passion. The oni were something of a challenge.”
Yumei turned her face to one side and back again. “Are you certain it was she who removed the first binding?”
“There was no one else.”
The Tengu studied her a moment longer, then released her chin. She had time to take in a single relieved breath before he grabbed her wrist. He pulled her hand to his face, turned her palm up, and bit the side of her hand beneath her thumb.
She cried out and tried to yank her arm away from him. His strength was like the grip of a steel vise, unmovable. He held her hand in his mouth, his gaze distant. He let her go so suddenly that she lost her balance and fell on her rump in the snow.
“Human,” Yumei said decisively. “But I can taste the kami power in her blood.”
Emi turned her hand up to see a small puncture wound in her palm from his canine. A single drop of blood ran down her wrist, tracing a crimson line on her pale skin.
A shadow blocked the moon above. Shiro reached down and touched his thumb to the trail of blood. He slid his thumb up her wrist to the wound, then brought it to his lips. He grinned at her as he licked her blood off his skin. She stared at him, too shocked and appalled to speak.
“Definitely human,” he said to Yumei without breaking eye contact with her, daring her to protest their treatment of her. “Do miko normally taste like kami?”
“I am not certain,” Yumei admitted. “I have never tasted a true servant of a shrine.”
She clutched her chest, her hand pressed against the hidden mark over her heart. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her fear almost too much to bear. She didn’t taste like kami power because she was a dedicated miko, but because she was a kamigakari. If they realized the truth, they would kill her on the spot.
Looking between the kitsune and the Tengu, she realized Shiro had tricked her twice in one night. First, luring her out of the shrine under the pretense of meeting an Amatsukami. Second, convincing her to come along willingly to meet the Tengu under the pretense of securing his help in finding an Amatsukami. But that wasn’t why they were here. Shiro had brought her so Yumei could help him figure out how she’d messed with the onenju. Their dangerous journey had nothing to do with the request Shiro had agreed to fulfill.
“My question now, kitsune,” Yumei murmured, “is why you bring her to me with the curse still upon you.”
Shiro’s ruby eyes slid across Emi, absent of any glint of humor. “She refused to remove it.”
Yumei looked at Shiro, and when he spoke, his words were flat with disbelief. “You allow a human to refuse you?”
“I owe her a debt.”
“Ah.” Yumei’s head tipped in a brief nod. “Yes, of course. I understand.”
While she was still puzzling through Yumei’s response, he grabbed her hair. Pain shot through her scalp as he dragged her to her feet. He once again took hold of her jaw, but this time, sharp talons pricked her throat—talons he hadn’t used on her before. His expression was empty, revealing neither malice nor mercy.
“Miko,” he said softly, “as I am unencumbered by a debt to you, I am under no compulsion to allow your defiance. Do you understand?”
She stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Do you understand?”
Unable to move with his talons so close to breaking her skin, she whispered, “Yes.”
He released her throat. “Remove the onenju from the kitsune.”
She didn’t move, her panicked brain unable to come up with anything useful—nothing she could say, nothing she could do to stop this.
His hand closed painfully on her shoulder and he spun her to face Shiro. “Remove it. Your blood will run before I repeat myself again.”
Shiro extended his arm toward her. His face was as impassive as Yumei’s. There was no kindness in his eyes, no compassion. He couldn’t hurt her himself without smearing his honor, but his precious honor wasn’t preventing him from allowing Yumei to complete the dirty deed in his place. Had he brought her here for this very purpose—so a yokai not within her debt could force her, under threat of violence, to do what he wanted?
She lifted her hand, the trembling of her fingers painfully obvious. With her heart in her throat, she took hold of the lowest loop of the onenju. Her fingers tightened around the beads and heat built against her skin.
She met Shiro’s gaze and hissed, “You’re despicable.”
He said nothing, just waited. She squeezed her eyes shut. What had made her think she could trust a yokai? She’d almost begun to think that Shiro wasn’t that bad, but just because he appeared more civilized on the surface didn’t change the fact that his soul was as black as the monsters who’d dragged Hana off the bridge to her death. He was a manipulative liar, a trickster just like the tales said.
With fury and betrayal cutting through her, she pulled on the beads.
Power surged up her arm and light flashed so brightly she could see it through her eyelids. The raging ki from the beads lit her chest on fire, then rebounded down her arm and collided with the power still coursing through the onenju.
It exploded.
The detonation hurled her backward, ripping the onenju out of her hand. She crashed onto her back, her lungs frozen and burning, her arm throbbing and numb. All around, crows screamed their harsh cries, filling the forest with an unholy racket. Her lungs unlocked and she gasped in a breath. Pushing herself up, she blinked dazedly.
Shiro was down for a second time, crumpled in the snow ten feet from where he’d been standing, his arm still bound by the red beads. Yumei was slumped against the fallen tree on which he’d first been perched. Blood ran down his face; his head must have struck the trunk. How hard had that burst of power hit the two yokai?
Yumei’s eyelids flickered open. Pushing off the log, he took a single staggering step before catching his balance. He faced her, silver eyes alight with ki that thickened the air until she could feel the weight of it in her lungs. All the crows went silent at once.
She didn’t recognize the danger until he moved.
A short, terrified scream escaped her, then he was on top of her. His hand closed around her throat, cutting off her air as he lifted her right off her feet. She clutched at his hand, trying to pry his fingers loose. His talons punctured her neck and hot blood ran down her skin. He gazed at her emotionlessly, his face a mask that revealed nothing. Her ofuda. Where were her
ofuda? She couldn’t remember. Her lungs screamed and her vision blurred. Weakness swept through her arms, and despite her desperation, they fell limply to her sides as the yokai calmly choked her to death.
An arm slid around her middle, taking her weight off her neck and pulling her back into a warm body. A hand, the wrist wrapped in black material, red ties, and crimson beads, took hold of the yokai’s wrist.
“Let her go, Yumei.”
“I will allow no human to strike me down.”
“It was the onenju, not her.”
“She reflected the release.”
“No human has such power. You tasted her. She is human, nothing more.” He tightened his hand on Yumei’s wrist and his voice hardened. “Release her.”
“You dare command me, kitsune?” Yumei whispered.
“Yes, I dare. Release her now.”
Yumei’s lips curled as anger flashed briefly across his face. His hand opened and Shiro released his wrist.
Air rushed into Emi’s lungs in an agonizing gasp. She doubled over, coughing and gagging. Shiro’s arms wrapped around her, supporting her as she convulsed. He lowered her down, crouching with his arms still around her while she fought to breathe again, her legs sprawled in the snow. Her muscles shivered with weakness and his arms were her only anchor as the world rocked and spun.
The moment an iota of strength returned to her muscles, she shoved out of Shiro’s unresisting arms. She started to rise but her legs gave out. Landing on all fours, she crawled away from both yokai, panting for air. Her throat ached mercilessly but she managed a painful swallow. Her arms shook and she stopped, turning to sit in the snow, facing the two yokai. They watched her, neither moving.
“Why didn’t it work?” Shiro finally asked. “She removed it without any trouble last night.”
“She was unwilling,” Yumei replied. He appeared calm, almost tranquil, as though he hadn’t just tried to murder her. Then again, he hadn’t looked angry when he was throttling her either. “The power began to release, then rebounded and struck us down. Assuming she did not reflect it deliberately to harm us, her ability to remove the onenju may be dependent on her genuine inclination to complete the act.”
Shiro’s mouth flattened into a thin line. He stepped toward her and she flinched, ready to force her aching, shivering body up so she could run from him. Little good that would do, but she wouldn’t sit there and let the two yokai continue to abuse her.
He hesitated, then crouched so they were on the same level, coming no closer.
“Will you remove the beads, Emi?” he asked her, his words unexpectedly soft. “I swear upon my honor and life that I will find an Amatsukami for you afterward. I will find them all if you ask it.”
The trembling in her limbs increased as fury rose through her, competing with her pain and weakness.
“You’re asking me now?” Each word hurt and her voice was so hoarse she barely recognized it as her own. After he’d tricked her into coming to this place and let another yokai almost kill her, she couldn’t believe he had the gall to ask her for a favor. “I wouldn’t trust your word even if you swore on Inari’s life instead of your own.”
Shiro’s eyes slid closed, his face unreadable. Abruptly, he stood, his eyes opening and flashing over her. He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Inari is immortal. Swearing on a Kunitsukami’s life is a rather empty oath.”
“You know what I meant,” she snapped.
“Do you still want to speak to an Amatsukami?”
“I … yes. Of course I do.”
He turned to Yumei. “That is her request of me. As you know, I am ill-equipped to accomplish such a task alone.”
“Why does she wish an audience with an Amatsukami?”
Shiro shrugged.
“I will assist with this,” Yumei said, absently wiping blood from his cheek, “but in return, your recovered power will belong to me until I deem your debt repaid.”
Emi blinked. Such a casual demand for unlimited servitude.
Shiro’s attention returned to her. “Alone, I can’t fulfill your request—though I will try, since I agreed to it. However, Yumei can realize your wish with far greater efficiency. If I take on this debt for you, will you agree to remove the onenju?”
He was willing to agree to an unspecified debt to the Tengu, an infinite obligation purely at the other yokai’s discretion, in order to fulfill her request? Was it that important to him to get the onenju off?
She looked from one yokai to the other. She should say no. She should walk away and end her association with these yokai entirely. But the words from the kannushi manual kept repeating in her head, and even without that, she doubted they would let her walk away if she said no.
“After I meet with the Amatsukami,” she croaked, “and not a moment before. And if you lie to me or trick me again, we’re done.”
“And after you meet with the Amatsukami, you will freely remove the onenju?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, his eyes glowing briefly like crimson fire, a deadly heat that promised vengeance should she betray him. His gaze shifted to Yumei, allowing her to breathe again.
“I agree to the debt in exchange for your assistance. How soon can you locate an Amatsukami?”
“Soon enough.” Yumei cocked his head as though listening to something only he could hear. “The oni have discovered the bodies of the three you slew. They gather and come this way.”
Shiro grimaced, his ears swiveling back like an unhappy dog. “I guess we won’t be returning the same way then. She needs to get back to her shrine tonight.”
“Gather the miko. I will take you back.”
With a surprised glance at Yumei, Shiro started toward her. She scrambled back but he easily scooped her off the ground into his arms.
“Put me down!”
He ignored her and turned to Yumei. The Tengu’s form glowed with black and red light, softening around the edges. His shadowy shape morphed and his body shrank as feathered wings spread wide. The great raven snapped his wings down and shot toward them, ribbons of black and red power trailing after him.
His huge talons closed around Shiro’s shoulders, yanking them off the ground. She gasped, clutching Shiro’s neck as the raven swept toward the moon. Ki filled the air, choking her. Black light swirled, mixing with the wind. It closed around them, engulfing the raven, Shiro, and her. She opened her mouth to scream but the air was sucked from her lungs as the world went dark and nothingness crushed her.
Then she was falling.
The world returned in a blur of snow and trees as she fell through the air, Shiro’s arms still around her. The ground rushed up.
Shiro landed feet first, legs buckling from the impact. He twisted as he fell and she landed on top of him, splayed over his chest. She raised her head, her panicked gaze flashing across the landscape. No fallen tree, no swarm of watching crows, no giant raven in the sky. Tiny snowflakes drifted down around them, the snow all around unbroken by tracks of any kind.
The raven had dropped them in a completely different spot in the mountains, and she had no idea where they were.
Chapter 12
Emi trailed after Shiro, each step an effort dragged from some internal well of stubbornness she hadn’t known she possessed.
Yumei had dropped them three miles from the shrine, or so Shiro had told her. She didn’t understand how it was possible that the Tengu had teleported them miles in a single instant, but she also didn’t understand how Shiro could walk through walls. Either way, Yumei’s magic had saved them from another confrontation with the oni, who were headed deeper into the mountains toward the Tengu’s valley.
She hadn’t spoken a word to Shiro since they’d started walking. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Her body hurt at a level of pain she’d never experienced. Her neck was in agony from Yumei’s crushing grip and stabbing talons, and her throat burned with each breath. She was lucky he hadn’t opened her jugular, instead piercing the muscles near the bac
k of her neck.
On top of her discomfort, she was exhausted. Weary to the bone, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. She couldn’t stop shivering. The snowy forest went on forever, the terrain rising and falling, rocky in one spot, snow drifts in others. Every couple minutes, she stumbled and tripped over nothing. Twice, she’d fallen, muscles too weak for her to catch herself.
Shiro had tried to help, tried to walk beside her, but her glare had driven him away. She wouldn’t allow him to placate his guilty conscience—assuming he had a conscience—by playing nice. Fury and pride were all that kept her walking.
Trusting a yokai. What had she been thinking? The flimsy hope that an Amatsukami would tell her the kannushi manual was wrong had clouded her thoughts. What did she have to show for her foolish efforts? A bruised and bloody neck.
She kept her gaze on the ground so she wouldn’t trip again and followed Shiro’s footsteps in the snow. Yumei had called Shiro’s humanoid form his new shape, as though he’d never seen it before. He’d commented that she had removed the first “binding” by pulling off a loop of the beads. It sounded like the onenju had cut off Shiro’s second form and he only regained the ability to shift once she’d removed the first circle of beads. With three more loops left, and therefore three more bindings, what other abilities and power were still sealed away?
The Shion Shrine library included written accounts of yokai dating back over a thousand years, and at least a few of those ancient tales mentioned tengu encounters. If they all referenced Yumei, did that mean he was over a thousand years old? How old was Shiro? How long had he been trapped in his fox shape? Long enough to forget he had weapons, apparently, but not long enough to forget how to use them.
According to Yumei, only a Kunitsukami could free Shiro—but they were missing. She suspected that, as far as Shiro was concerned, she was his only chance to get the onenju off, which explained why he’d agreed to the Tengu’s steep price. Whatever his reasoning, she didn’t like being tied to either yokai.