“Why are you not in Shion?”
“I was attacked by yokai in the park near the shrine. They decided I would be safer in a secret location. For the last three years, they’ve hidden me at small shrines instead.”
“Why were you seeking the other Amatsukami?”
“I … I found out something about the solstice ceremony.” She stumbled over the words, burying her emotions down deep where he wouldn’t see them. “Being the kamigakari means I’ll be destroyed when Amaterasu descends. I needed to know if that was true, if I was destined to … so I asked Shiro to find an Amatsukami who could tell me.”
“And last night? Did you receive your answer?”
“Yes … it’s true.”
He didn’t look surprised—or sympathetic. “And did you tell him you are Amaterasu’s kamigakari?”
She nodded. A slight frown pulled at the corners of his mouth and he sat silently for several minutes. Eventually, he refocused on her.
“You can remove the onenju because you possess Amatsukami ki.”
“I figured that’s how I was doing it,” she admitted. “I don’t understand why it works though.”
“I suspect it is because Amatsukami ki wove the curse.”
Her mouth fell open. She’d thought the power of the beads was familiar when she first felt it. If an Amatsukami had created the curse, then she was probably the only one besides another Amatsukami who could affect the spell.
“Why would an Amatsukami curse him?” she asked, utterly baffled.
“Why indeed,” Yumei murmured. “Why waste such powerful magic on a mere kitsune?”
She looked over at Shiro, seeing again in her mind when he had remembered how to summon his twin swords.
“He doesn’t remember his name, does he?” she whispered. “He doesn’t know who he is.”
“No.”
She tore her horrified stare away from him. “Does he remember why he was cursed?”
“No. Insignificant memories and scattered knowledge have returned since you removed the first binding. When he wakes, we will learn what else he might remember from the removal of the second binding.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you care so much about his amnesia? You’re obviously not the altruistic type.”
To her surprise, a ghost of a smile touched his lips at her rude observation. It faded swiftly as his gaze turned to Shiro. “I do not know him, but the forest remembers him. Tsuchi also remembers his presence … and welcomes him.”
She shivered at the reminder of the alien power she’d felt when passing into the spirit realm.
Yumei tapped one talon on the table, an unusual sign of restlessness; he was normally so still. “When Inari vanished, all the kitsune set out to find their master. One by one, they too disappeared until none were left. Many decades have passed since I have seen one of their kind … until him.”
“You think he knows something about Inari’s disappearance?” she asked in a hushed whisper. If Shiro had gone to search for Inari with the other kitsune and he was the only one to ever return, maybe he had found something—something that someone wanted him to forget. But why curse him instead of kill him?
“There are secrets buried in his memory,” Yumei said. “If he can remember them, perhaps he can unravel the mystery of his master’s disappearance.”
“And then Inari could find the other Kunitsukami,” she finished. She absently smoothed the sleeves of her kimono. Shiro had seemed so bitter about Inari’s disappearance. Did he think Inari had abandoned the world by choice or did he suspect the Kunitsukami’s disappearance was more sinister? Had Yumei discussed his thoughts with Shiro, or …
She examined her hands, remembering the surge of Amatsukami power exploding out of the beads as she removed the binding. “If Shiro was cursed with the onenju to bury whatever secrets he might know about Inari’s disappearance, why is the onenju created from Amatsukami ki?”
Yumei said nothing.
“You think the Amatsukami have something to do with the Kunitsukami going missing?” She made a furious noise in the back of her throat. “That’s impossible. The Amatsukami might not like the Kunitsukami, but they wouldn’t do something like that. They know the Kunitsukami are crucial to the balance of power.”
“You assume they wish to preserve the balance. Kami do not balance power; they crave it.”
She shook her head but didn’t argue. Nauseating fear curled in her belly. If he thought the Amatsukami were responsible for the missing Kunitsukami, then he would be very motivated to prevent Amaterasu from descending and adding to the Amatsukami power. She was only alive because he needed her to remove the onenju from Shiro. After that, he would kill her. He’d already as good as promised to.
Either oblivious to her dread or ignoring it, Yumei rose. “I must repair my barrier. Stay here until I return.” His voice hardened with warning. “Do not attempt to leave, kamigakari. My karasu guard the entrance. You will not get far.”
He moved toward the doorway of darkness with gliding steps.
“Yumei?” She swallowed the tremble in her voice. “How did you know? That I’m the kamigakari?”
He stopped in front of the threshold and glanced back. “I was not certain that a kami’s ki was the only power that could remove the cursed onenju, but no human could have broken my barrier.”
Stepping forward, he vanished into the impenetrable oblivion in the doorway, leaving her alone in the room with Shiro.
She rubbed her face with both hands. So Yumei had used Tornado to bring her to his barrier, then he’d sat back and waited to see how she would handle it. And what had she done? She’d given him a beautiful demonstration of her divinely infused ki. Now the most dangerous yokai in the mountains knew her secret and intended to kill her as soon as she was no longer useful to him.
A bitter laugh crawled up her throat. She’d run from the humans who would ensure her life ended on the solstice to the yokai who would ensure she died before it. She was doomed no matter which way she turned.
Rising, she crossed the room and knelt beside Shiro. She’d known he had some issues with his memory—forgetting about his swords, not recalling his life before the curse—but she hadn’t realized the extent of his amnesia. He didn’t even know his name. How long had he wandered the land, trapped in his fox form, not knowing who he was or what had happened to him?
She watched his chest rise and fall. She’d come here to remove the beads, but now Yumei knew her secret. She lived only by his mercy—mercy that hung entirely on her promise to remove the onenju from Shiro. Yumei needed Shiro’s memories to continue the hunt for the missing Kunitsukami, and if she took the beads off, Yumei would be free to kill her.
She had no choice; she would have to wait a little longer. Yumei knew the magic to remove the beads wouldn’t work if she was unwilling, so he couldn’t force her. With some planning, she could arrange a time and place to remove them where she would be safe from the Tengu.
Lifting the edge of the blanket, she uncovered Shiro’s onenju-wrapped arm. How terrible must it be to not remember who you were? To not remember who had cursed you and left you lost and helpless for years?
She brushed her fingers across the onenju and felt a whisper of their power. Her fingertips slid past the beads and over the black sleeve wrapped around his arm. Without deciding to, she found herself running her fingers over his skin, tracing the swell of his bicep, his shoulder, the line of his collarbone to the dip at its center. Her fingers found the pulse in his neck and she held them there, comforted by the slow, steady rhythm. She’d been so worried he might have died.
Her gaze drifted across his face and lingered on his mouth, his lips slightly parted in his sleep. Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she remembered asking Katsuo to kiss her. But she’d had to. She’d needed to know whether the feelings she’d experienced when Shiro kissed her had been a reaction to being kissed by a man or being kissed by him.
Except it had backfired horribly. Katsuo’s k
iss had been completely different—soft and tender, more like a comforting embrace than a passionate kiss. And yet her heart raced at the mere thought of Shiro’s mouth on hers. Why? She didn’t understand. Maybe the thrill of doing something forbidden made her react that way.
She stared at him as her fingers crept from his neck to his jaw. It was because it was forbidden. Touching him was forbidden. Kissing him was forbidden. Wanting him was forbidden.
Her fingers brushed over his lips and his warm breath tickled her hand, sending tingles rushing up her arm.
She snatched her hand back and held it against her chest as though it was entirely outside her control. What was wrong with her? Touching him while he was asleep? She was no better than him kissing her while she was helpless. Well, now they were even. She leaned back against the wall, sternly lecturing herself into behaving.
Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids, the image of Katsuo trapped in her binding appeared and guilt slashed her. She felt so scared and alone, surrounded on all sides by people who wanted her dead—humans, yokai, kami. Was there anyone besides Katsuo who didn’t want her gone?
If you give me a reason … Even Shiro had promised to kill her if it came to it. Tears burned her eyes. Fatigue crept through her and her aching muscles made themselves known. She’d only had a few hours of sleep. Just a couple minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Yumei had told her to stay put after all.
She slipped into sleep in moments.
She was running, the snow-covered ground flying beneath her feet.
Ahead of her, among the dark trees, the little white fox bounded through the snow. His bushy tail snapped side to side with each leaping stride. She sprinted after him, the icy air cutting into her lungs. She wanted to call to him to stop but she didn’t have the breath.
He rushed ahead, drawing away from her so fast. His white fur appeared and disappeared as trees and underbrush blocked him from her sight. She pushed herself harder, frustrated by the drag of her heavy kimono that flew out behind her in waves of crimson silk. The forest grew darker and the shadows danced with a life of their own.
The kitsune vanished behind a cluster of trees. Running hard, she followed his tracks in the snow. As he appeared again, three tails flicked behind him. He was the size of a wolf and glowing orbs of fire danced around him, keeping pace with his bounding run.
She should have been afraid, but all she knew was that she needed to catch him. She needed to tell him … something. But he kept running, fleeing from her.
Darkness coiled and spun along the ground in thick tendrils, closing in around them as they ran. Pain seared her chest and her legs hurt. The kitsune shot ahead, wheeling around a corner and disappearing behind the dense underbrush. The darkness thickened, swallowing her until all that remained were his paw prints in the snow, beckoning her onward.
She rounded the trees and heat blasted her like an inferno unleashed.
A beastly specter awaited her. Its massive body blended flesh and fire, its fur rippling like white flame. It filled the clearing, impossibly huge. Behind it, nine fiery tails writhed. Flames raged beneath its giant paws and the snow around it melted into puddles of steaming water.
The wolf-sized, three-tailed kitsune cowered before it.
The great kyubi no kitsune lowered its head, its blazing eyes of solid, unbroken red fixed on the kitsune as its lips pulled back from its fangs. Crimson markings glowed on its face and forehead. A low growl rumbled from the beast. Flames surged over it and the nine tails thrashed and swirled. It gathered itself, jaws opening.
Emi jumped toward it, one hand outstretched as she cried out a name.
It lunged for the kitsune in a wave of white-hot fire, the consuming flames filling her vision until she could see nothing else.
Her eyes flew open and the kyubi no kitsune was gone. Relief swept through her. A dream. Just a dream. She was still in Yumei’s home, dim shadows flickering over the walls with only one candle still lit. She was safe from the great beast of fire.
Except she could still feel the heat of flames.
Her gaze snapped to Shiro. The markings on his cheeks glowed, his face tight and his breath coming fast and harsh. Heat radiated off him. He twitched, muscles bunching with tension even though his eyes were closed. She wasn’t the only one having nightmares.
“Shiro,” she said loudly. “Shiro!”
He didn’t hear her. She pushed off the wall and stretched a hand toward him, hesitating when she felt the heat.
The air around him sparked. Tiny orbs of flames took form, burning brighter and hotter as they grew in size. One of them drifted past her head and almost caught her hair on fire. She jerked away and reached for him.
“Shiro!” she yelled as she grabbed his shoulder, intending to shake him awake.
The instant her hand touched him, his eyes flew open. He sat up in a surge of motion, the blanket falling away, and in the next instant, her back slammed into the wall, her legs splayed awkwardly on the floor.
He knelt over her, one hand gripping her shoulder with bruising force. The other he held in front of her face, his curled fingers tipped with claws of red flame. His three spectral tails hovered behind him and the kitsunebi danced in a slow pattern around him.
His eyes, locked on hers, were empty pits of glowing red hatred.
“Shiro?” she stuttered.
He blinked. His hand lowered a little and he blinked again, his eyes focusing on her face. He released her and looked around, the glow in his eyes fading. He stared at the floating kitsunebi, his brow furrowing in confusion. His gaze returned to her, then slid down and back up again. Her stomach did an odd little swoop and her face heated.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked.
She scowled. “That’s your first question?”
“Should I have asked something else?” That sly grin of his returned, and relief unexpectedly fluttered through her that he was still his normal self.
“How about asking what happened after you passed out on the verge of death?”
“Is that what happened?”
She pushed back against the wall. He was straddling her legs, trapping her in place, so close she almost couldn’t breathe.
“Are you going to move?” she demanded.
“Are you going to eat her?” a voice croaked.
She and Shiro jumped like they’d been shocked. He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her away from the speaker—not realizing he was kneeling on her kimono. They both tumbled over and he landed on top of her, squashing the air out of her lungs.
“Master said the human belongs to you.”
Still sprawled on the floor, she and Shiro looked over as the crow yokai sidled toward them on spindly legs, its beady eyes watching her.
“Will you share?” it asked hopefully, leaning closer.
“I’m not sharing,” Shiro said firmly. “Leave.”
The yokai’s shoulders wilted. Snapping its beak irritably, it transformed into a crow and flapped across the room, disappearing through the doorway with a loud caw.
She looked back at Shiro at the same time as his face turned to her—their noses inches apart. She was suddenly acutely aware of him lying across her, his body heavy and warm against hers. Also, he wasn’t wearing a shirt—a lot of bandages, but no shirt. Her heart leaped and she pressed into the floor, unable to get away.
His ruby eyes seared hers, burning through her defenses, down to her bones, until she could hide nothing.
“Are you afraid?” His voice was a croon of ice and fire, his tone indecipherable.
Her heart thumped crazily and her stomach did slow somersaults. Afraid? Yes, she was afraid, but not that he would hurt her. She didn’t know what she was afraid of.
“Should I be?” she whispered.
“I am a yokai. You should always be afraid.”
She licked her lips. “What if I’m not?”
“Then you are a fool.”
No word could have bett
er described her in that moment. Pinned to the floor by a powerful, dangerous yokai with unknown intentions, in the home of an even more powerful yokai with known lethal intentions, in the mysterious and highly dangerous spirit realm of yokai—and she wasn’t even properly scared for her life.
“I guess I just don’t care anymore.” The words slipped out, muttered under her breath.
He stilled. “You don’t care if I hurt you? If I kill you?”
“Does it matter?” She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. “Yumei plans to kill me as soon as I take the onenju off you.”
“Does he?”
“And if he doesn’t do it before the solstice, I’m gone anyway.”
“The solstice,” Shiro repeated flatly.
She flinched. She should not have said that. Clouds of despair churned inside her again, fighting for an outlet.
“What about the solstice, little miko?”
Opening her eyes, she forced a dull, humorless laugh as her heart raced and her blood went cold with dread. Trapped beneath him, she’d never felt so vulnerable. “Can’t you guess, Shiro, why a worthless human can remove a curse that was created with Amatsukami ki?”
He stared at her, his face blank—not with confusion, but with the blankness of tightly controlled emotions. His fingers touched her skin just below her collarbone. He slid them down, forcing her kimono apart. She tensed as his gaze dropped to her chest. She knew what he would see: the black mark of Amaterasu glaring on her skin.
He lifted his hand from her skin, eyes closing, and dropped his head. He didn’t move as he withdrew into himself. Was he steeling himself to kill her? Was he putting aside his feelings so he could deal the lethal strike that would end her life? He’d admitted he couldn’t kill her without guilt. Did that still apply now that he knew she was the kamigakari? Was killing her more important than getting the onenju off?
She didn’t move except for her heaving chest as her breath came faster and faster. Tension built in her muscles and she couldn’t stand the wait, knowing what was coming. Why had she told him? What insanity had come over her?