A Winter of Ghosts (14 page)

Kubo had said that it didn'tmatter what the book was, as long as the story was about Yuki-Onna. There weredozens of incarnations of the story, but this was apparently one of the mostcommon.

Kara held the book open to thefirst page of the story in question and dripped three more tiny splashes ofblood onto the paper. Then she picked it up, and began to read aloud inJapanese.

Telling Yuki-Onna's story.

Giving it life.

Kubo had told them all that inthe absence of real worship, storytelling was the modern world equivalent. Theblood, the snow-woman. . they made the story an offering, and such thingswere so few and far between in the twenty-first century that they would turnthe story — when told aloud — into a powerful summoning. Yuki-Onnawould not be able to stay way. Curiosity alone would have compelled her, evenif the power of the summoning did not.

And so Kara read:

"Two woodcutters were ontheir way home one very cold evening when a great snowstorm overtook them. Whenthey arrived at the ferry, they found that the ferryman had gone away, leavinghis boat on the other side of the river. It was too cold to swim, so thewoodcutters took shelter in the ferryman's hut. They had nothing with which tobuild a fire, and so could only cover themselves with their coats and lay downto rest and wait out the storm, which they though would end soon.

"The old man quickly fellasleep, but the boy lay awake a long time, listening to the howl of the windand the battering of snow upon the door and roof. At last, in spite of thecold, he too fell asleep.

"He was awakened by ascattering of snow upon his face — "

Kara paused, frowning deeply,for the wind had picked up. She glanced about, heard some shuffling in thepines — though Miss Aritomo stayed well hidden this time — and onlythen did she notice the snowflakes that floated gently down to alight upon thepages of the open book.

Swallowing her fear, shecontinued to read.

Her hands shook as thetemperature dropped sharply. It was working. If she kept reading the sky wouldchurn and the storm would blast through and them Yuki-Onna would be there. Karatook a deep breath and she thought of Hachiro, and of Ren, and of the peoplewho had already died because of the Woman in White. For several seconds sheclosed her eyes, halting her reading, trying to muster up her courage, soafraid that she would end up like Sora, frozen solid, dead in an instant.

"Why did you stop? Keepreading,
" a voice like the sighing of the wind said, just beside herear.

It was not Miss Aritomo.

Miho leaned against a tree, itsknots and bare, broken branches jabbing her back. She had sat on the ground inthe snow for a while, but it had gotten too cold for her. The snow did not seemto bother Kubo, however. The old monk sat cross-legged in the snow, barelyseeming to make an impression. His eyes were closed and his expression one ofutter serenity. His hands lay open and palm upward on his lap, and if it werenot for the straightness of his spine, Miho would have thought he had fallenasleep.

Mr. Yamato stood a shortdistance away. The principal had gone from anxious to jittery. He held an unlitcigarette between his lips and from time to time he would take it out and holdit between his fingers, just as he would if he were actually smoking it. Whenthey had first come up the mountain, the old monk had warned him not to lightit, and so instead the principal used it as a personal comfort, like a childmight hang on to a favorite stuffed animal.

They had driven north and comeup to the base of Takigami Mountain from that side. The climb was a bit steeperand the forest there thicker, but it was not really that much more difficultthan the observatory side. What drew tourists to that spot was the convenienceof it, the well-kept observatory and the nearness to the rest of Miyazu City,not to mention the view.

Kubo had guided them up throughthe trees, sometimes following established paths and other times forging hisown trail through areas of the mountain that showed no sign of human intrusion.The silence on the mountain made Miho uneasy. She felt as though spirits lurkedbehind every tree, watching them pass as they journeyed further fromcivilization and from safety. She told herself that was just in her head, thatshe was just being paranoid, but she knew that a girl with a curse on her had agood reason to think that everything was out to get her.

From time to time, Kubo wouldstop, give a little croaking cough, and then spit into the air. At first Mihohad flinched in revulsion and worried about the old monk's health, but then shenoticed that each time the Unsui performed this tiny ritual, he would watch theway the wind took his spittle, studying it as a tracker would study the printsof an animal on the ground. Several times he had stopped for several minutes,closed his eyes, and seemed to be listening to something Miho could not hear.

Not listening
, she haddecided after a while.
Feeling
.

Those weren't the only peculiarthings Kubo had done in their search for Yuki-Onna, and the place she kept Renand Hachiro. The monk had taken out a sheet of rice paper, torn it into tinyshreds, and blown the pieces out of his palm in order to watch them swirl awayon the breeze and skitter across the snow. Some small writing had been scribbledon the paper, but she had been unable to make out even a single character. Kubohad chanted softly under his breath and then, each time, taken a swig of whathe said was plum wine from a small ceramic flask. He claimed that this was partof his search for Yuki-Onna and, watching him, Miho actually believed him.

Perhaps twenty minutes afterthey had started up the mountainside, Kubo had seemed to lock on target,somehow. After that it was not a matter of searching, but of rushing. The oldmonk moved with speed and agility, skipping over fallen trees and duckingbeneath jagged branches so swiftly that both Miho and the cigarette-craving Mr.Yamato had difficulty keeping up, losing sight of Kubo several times as theyfollowed.

The higher they climbed, the colderthe air. But there was more to it than that. If Miho looked carefully, shecould see that in some places the snow seemed more significant, the treesfrosted with ice. Every time she studied their path ahead and tried to guesswhere Kubo would lead them next, she was correct. Yuki-Onna was a creature ofwinter, and she left her mark.

Perhaps an hour had passed sincethey had come up a steep rise where an outcropping of stone jutted from thesnow, walked past a few bare trees that seemed to lean together into a kind ofarch, and found Kubo sitting just as he was now. The old monk had looked up atMiho and spoken a single word: "Call."

Miho had done as she was told,using her cell phone to call Kara and tell her to get in position for thesummoning. Kubo had explained that no return call would be necessary; if thesummoning worked, he would know, and sense Yuki-Onna's departure.

But for Miho the waiting wastorture.

She pushed away from the treeand walked over to Mr. Yamato. He held his unlit cigarette down low as if tohide it, though that was impossible. Obviously the principal did not wishanyone to know that he smoked, so Miho did him the courtesy of pretending shedid not see it.

"I wonder — " shebegan.

Kubo thrust himself from theground so abruptly that he startled them both. The cigarette fell from Mr.Yamato's hand and Miho uttered a squeak of surprise, reaching up to reassureherself that her glasses would not slip off.

The old monk turned to them,grim and commanding. "We must hurry."

And then he was off, dartingthrough the trees, and Miho and Mr. Yamato ran to catch up to him. Brancheswhipped at Miho, the forest blurring around her, her entire focus on followingthe cloud wanderer, whose shoes barely seemed to touch the snow. Mr. Yamatobreathed heavily as he struggled to keep pace with her, but he began to fallbehind almost immediately. Miho did not slow to wait for him; if she had, shewould have lost Kubo's path.

For several long minutes theyran, and before Miho truly understood what had happened, she realized they hadentered a storm. The wind blew. Branches swayed and cracked. Snow whipped ather face. Terror seized her. The storm had come on even more suddenly than theone during their field trip, when Sora had been frozen to death.

But then the truth struck her. Thisstorm had not found them, they had found it.

She came around a thick stand ofevergreens and nearly collided with Kubo. He stood and stared at a formation ofice and snow. It had the shape of a giant ant hill, but twisted and pitted andscoured by the wind. A large, dark, cave-like hole yawned in the face of thething and Miho could only stare at it.

The snow had begun to subside. Didthat mean Yuki-Onna had left?

"We may not have much time,"the old monk said.

But Mr. Yamato came stumbling upbehind them, and he stared at the ice hill. "Impossible."

Kubo sniffed. "Very fewthings are impossible."

"This wasn't hereyesterday," Mr. Yamato said, taking several steps toward the ice hill."The police and volunteers have been scouring the mountain. They wouldhave found this."

Kubo shook his head. "Itisn't always here."

Miho turned to stare at him."What?"

The cloud wanderer looked backat her with eyes like thunderstorms, full of lightning. "Yuki-Onna is anancient thing. She exists now in a world that is neither here nor there,neither spirit nor flesh. The winter she brings is not the winter you know, andit is with her always. Your friends have been with her in that storm, but nowshe has gone to see who has summoned her. But Kara will not be able to distracther for very long. We must be gone before the witch returns. Do you understand?"

Miho nodded. "Enough."

Mr. Yamato ran past them, headedfor the dark cave in the face of the ice hill. Kubo and Miho hurried to catchup. As they reached the hole in that strange, tapered hill of ice, Miho felt afresh wave of fear wash over her, but Kubo did not hesitate and she knew thatshe could not, either.

Mustering her courage, Mihofollowed Kubo and Mr. Yamato into the ice cave. Snow crunched underfoot. Onlywhen she had gone ten or twelve feet did she realize that a dim gray lightfiltered in from somewhere, holes in the twisted surface of the ice hill,perhaps.

Mr. Yamato had paused in frontof her, but once he started moving again, she saw that they had entered a smallchamber, whose floor was dark and textured. It took her a moment to realizethat this was not ice or snow, but earth and scrub and roots — theground.

Two figures lay curled up on theground as though sleeping. Mr. Yamato rushed toward them, but Miho was faster.

"Hachiro, wake up!" she said, crouching beside him, jostling him hard. She glanced over at Ren, whoshivered with the cold, even asleep.

Mr. Yamato shook Ren. "Boys,let's go!"

Kubo remained at the chamberentrance. His breath plumed in the freezing icebox the ice hill had turned outto be. Not far away, Miho could see a sort of menagerie of human statuary thatshe felt sure had once been actual people. But the boys. . she felt Hachiro'spulse. Slow, but his heart was beating. They were alive.

"Come quickly," Kubourged.

"Hachiro!" Mihoshouted.

His eyes opened. He flinchedwith surprise, then scrambled backward as if fearful of them. For a moment itlooked as though he had thought he might be dreaming, and then relief andhappiness lit his face.

"Is Kara-?"

"She's fine," Mihosaid. "Put this on!"

Miho held up the ward Kubo hadset aside for Hachiro, then quickly helped him tie the leather thong around thehulking kid's thick neck.

Ren sat up as well, andsubmitted to Mr. Yamato tying the last of the wards around his own neck, buthis gaze was dark and hopeless.

"You shouldn't have come,"Ren said. "She'll never let us leave her. You're all as good as dead."

Miho smiled. "You'rewelcome," she said, reaching out and pulling him to his feet. "ButYuki-Onna is occupied elsewhere at the moment, so start running, and try not todie!"

The book of folktales fell fromKara's hands and dropped into the snow. A gust of wind picked it up, whirlingit around, lifting it on air until Yuki-Onna plucked it out of the gentlyswirling snow with pale, beautiful, slender fingers.

"What is your name,girl?"
the Woman in White asked.

The words gripped Kara with afear deeper than any she had ever known. Yuki-Onna could see her.
Girl
! Thewitch could see her. The ward had worked before, in the cafeteria kitchen, butnow somehow it had failed.

The snow woman flipped throughthe pages of the book with a gentleness and delicacy that seemed like littlemore than a mask. Kara took a deep breath and studied Yuki-Onna's beautifulface, so perfectly sculpted and so beautiful except for the black pits of hereyes. Her hair moved in the breeze as if she were underwater, swaying andfloating. Her feet did not touch the ground. Her skin was whiter than thewhitest snow.

Yuki-Onna threw the book and agust of wind carried it away, spinning the book, fanning its pages and sendingit soaring up over the bare branches of the skeletal trees around them. Thenthe witch looked at her and -

No
. Those black eyes werehard to read, but Kara was certain they were not focused on her. The witch wasclever. Kara had been fooled at first. Yuki-Onna could not see her after all.

But that did not mean the Womanin White could not kill her. Or could she? If Yuki-Onna only saw human essence,and Kara's was masked, would the witch even see her footsteps in the snow ifshe walked away? Kubo had instructed her to say nothing and to stay completelystill, but she could not help the tremors of fear that went through her or theurge to flee. This close to Yuki-Onna, she could feel the cold at the heart ofthe witch, could sense its otherness and its malice.

A rustle came from the trees andKara held her breath.
No, no, Yuuka. Stay still
, she thought, prayingthat Miss Aritomo would not give herself away. If she believed Yuki-Onna wasabout to attack, Kara knew that her father's girlfriend would try to save her.
Please,stay still. I'll be all right
.

Yuki-Onna looked over at theplace where Miss Aritomo had hidden herself, with only a mask over her face todistract the witch and no guarantee, even from Kubo, that it would work.