Falling Through Glass (17 page)

The press of Kae’s lips against hers blotted out everything in her mind. Emmi automatically slid her hands up to wind around his neck and gave herself over to the exploration of his tongue against hers. She wasn’t even aware of the stopping of the palanquin and the opening of its door until a familiar, sarcastic voice assaulted her ears.

“Why, Yamanami-san, it seems we are to be entertained with an erotic display.”

Emmi jerked away from Kae, not missing the glare he gave to the Shinsengumi vice-commander. Nor did Emmi miss the deep, apologetic bow Hijikata gave in return.

“My deepest apologies, it was a most regrettable slip of the tongue.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Kaemon muttered as he tightened his hakama and eased himself out and to the ground.

“Of course,” Hijikata responded brusquely, gesturing two men forward to help Kae. “Did you recognize your attacker?”

The kindly Yamanami drew Emmi’s attention by stepping into her line of sight. He offered his hand to help her out of the carriage. “Please, Maeda-dono. I’ll have one of the kitchen girls find you other clothing and assist you in cleaning up.”

While Kae’s kiss had calmed her for the moment, Emmi felt her insides tensing and her emotions building into a tight coil when she undressed in the bathhouse. Blood covered her clothing, her tabi socks, her hands… She felt like Carrie when she poured water over her head and saw the red-tinged water pool on the wooden floor before dripping down between the spaces in the floorboards.

Emmi scrubbed herself until her skin tingled. Satisfied that the blood was gone, she stepped into the big tub to soak and try to relax. But no matter what she did, she could not get rid of the blood beneath her fingernails. She got out of the tub, searched her soiled kimono for the long hairpins and used one to scrape beneath her nails. She poked the pin in too deeply in places, but she didn’t care.

Emmi dried herself roughly and pulled on the clean clothes the kitchen maid had given her, but tension and fear began to well up inside her once more. This was no movie. This had been real. So real. And she knew from history that it would only get worse from here once the fighting between the shogun’s military and the rebels escalated. The stupid anime lines were undoubtedly true—the streets of Kyoto were going to run red with rivers of blood. Next time, she might get swept away.

Emmi was shaking with an inner chill as she approached the door to exit the bathhouse. She opened the door, only to be confronted by the scowling Hijikata.

“Why is it,” he began, stepping forward so Emmi had no choice but to back up, “that you are always at the center of violent disturbances lately?”

Emmi trembled as his hard, dark eyes impaled her. This man had killed, and Emmi knew as surely as she knew the sky was blue that he could kill her and feel nothing afterward.

“I don’t know,” Emmi said, backing up until she bumped against the wooden tub. “These things just happened.”

“Well, I certainly have my suspicions,” Hijikata said in a tone that set her nerves more on edge. Emmi raised her arms as if to fend off his mean look and words. He grabbed her wrists so tightly they ached.

“Who. Exactly. Are. You. Helping?” he asked, pronouncing each word slowly, inching in closer and closer.

Unable to contain the emotions she’d been trying to keep in check, Emmi shook harder, hating the way this guy made her feel like a frightened girl. “I’m not helping anyone do anything! I don’t know why these things happen when I’m around. Do you think I like it? Maybe Kaemon’s the cause of it. People are after him, not me!”

“Indeed,” Hijikata said. “And you may be the tool they use to get him. It certainly would throw the court into turmoil, perhaps long enough for the rebels to get near the emperor, if his closest advisor and protector were distracted by the death of his only son.”

“How dare you!” Emmi cried out, trying to hit the angry vice-commander’s chest. He held her wrists in an iron grip, and Emmi tried to pull away.

“Or can it be that you have second thoughts on helping whoever hired you? Perhaps…you’ve fallen in love with young Kaemon…?”

“I’m not in love. I hardly even know him.”

“Is there a problem, Hijikata-san?”

Emmi squirmed free of the vice-commander’s grasp and saw Kae standing on the bathhouse steps.

The instant Hijikata let her go, she ran to the door. She reached for Kae, but he turned his back, went down the steps, then spun around to scowl at both her and the Shinsengumi vice-commander.

“How is your leg?” Hijikata asked flatly.

“Fine,” he snapped before turning his attention to Emmi. “I need to speak with my father. I will ask Yamanami-san to secure you transportation to the Katsura Villa.”

“What?”

“Katsura Villa,” he repeated. “Where your uncle is staying.” With that, he walked away.

Emmi ran after him and tried to grab his arm, but he shook her off and glared at her.

“I can’t go there. I can’t.”

“You will.”

He turned his back and left her standing speechless, more afraid than ever. Emmi couldn’t meet her ancestors. They’d think she was some psycho or imposter and have her imprisoned—or worse.

“An unexpected complication, Maeda-dono?” Hijikata asked with a smirk as he strode past like some damn proud peacock.

* * * *

More than once Emmi considered simply jumping out of the palanquin that carried her through the busy streets of Kyoto, but each time common sense—or maybe stark fear—stopped her. Sure she could run away, but where to? She had no place to go, no one to turn to. She doubted she could ever make herself really “fit in” in this century.

The closer the bearers carried her to the Katsura Villa, the sicker Emmi felt. She guessed they’d arrived when the men passed through thatch-roof gates and started down a graveled, tree-lined path. No building was in sight, so Emmi hoped that maybe they were just passing through some fancy park. However, all too soon, the unmistakable outline of a tiled roof appeared in the distance.

Obviously the Maeda in temporary residence here wouldn’t be expecting her, since, technically, she didn’t exist. Maybe she could pretend to be some distant relative? Some daughter of a cousin five times removed—or something? Emmi wilted. As far as totally dumbass ideas went, that had to be the prizewinner.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath and swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Emmi stared at the entrance to the villa proper. She almost hoped that the palanquin bearers would drop her and render her unconscious as they walked up the wide steps to the veranda. Maybe she could plead amnesia and forget which possible long-lost relative she was.

Fate could not be so kind as to give her that easy out, and Emmi took yet another deep breath once the palanquin bearers stopped and slid open the door. Emmi nodded and tried to present a pleasant face to the servants who greeted her, despite her fear that she’d throw up and ruin the pristine tatami mats at any moment.

Though her mind was spinning and her stomach was churning, Emmi noticed the covert sideways glances the servant girls gave one another. She didn’t look much like a Maeda in the borrowed maid’s clothes, did she? More like some stray plucked off the streets.

Emmi’s blood ran cold the instant one of the girls said, “Lord Maeda has been expecting you. He is on the moon-viewing platform. Please follow.”

Expecting her? Emmi swallowed, though her mouth was close to bone dry, and she followed the girls like a prisoner heading for the lethal injection chamber at You’re Toast Now Federal Prison.

Pain gripped her heart when Emmi was shown to the room that led out onto the moon-viewing platform. This was just like the room back home that her parents had added to overlook the backyard and pond. Finally her brain registered the presence standing just outside the door on the rear deck. This was him—Lord Maeda, her great-great-great-grandfather Takehito.

Emmi stood wringing her hands like the heroine from an old romance movie would when about to come face to face with the villain for the first time. Emmi gasped when he spoke—the words that came out were English, very good English.

“Do you find it strange that it pains me to stay in any place bearing the name Katsura?”

“Considering the state of the nation, I suppose not.”
Where did that come from
? Emmi wondered as the words poured out of her mouth. Emmi knew that Katsura Kogoro led the rebels, but the political sentiment of her words still felt foreign.

“But it is strange and rather foolish to be troubled by a mere similarity. After all it is my—our—birthright, since Maeda money helped preserve this place.”

“I know,” Emmi whispered as one of her great-grandfather’s old tales came back to her.

‘
Then Prince Toshitada married Fu-Hime, the daughter of the lord of the Kaga clan.
’

Slowly her mind finally began to take in Takehito. He still had his back to her. He was rather tall for the time, like Kaemon, but he had a more solid build like her father and Jake had from their martial arts training and stunt work.

Emmi could tell even at a distance that Takehito’s clothing was of the quality silk that she had been inspecting today—no, she didn’t want to think of that. Instead Emmi concentrated on the details.

His hakama was deep blue, as was his haori jacket, which bore the Maeda crest, visible in the center just below his unbound hair. He wore only a short sword, its golden scabbard tip poking from beneath his jacket.

He turned and Emmi gasped again. He looked so much like her father that she wanted to run and hug him and never let go. Of course, he wasn’t her father, and Emmi doubted that he would help her.

“I dreamed of you,” he said quietly as he stepped into the room and walked slowly toward her. He stopped in front of her and stroked her cheek. “You are much prettier to my waking eyes.”

Emmi blushed and looked down. Takehito tilted her chin up. “You also have dreams of things that come to pass, yes?”

Emmi swallowed. “A few times.”

Takehito nodded. He smiled, and Emmi felt that he was relieved to have someone understand at last. Emmi knew the feeling. Jake was the only one she’d ever been able to confide in about her rare “visions” without feeling like an idiot. If only he hadn’t been out of the country and could have convinced her father to believe her the day of the accident…

“I believe this belongs to you, Emiko,” he said, reaching inside his black kimono. He produced a small square of rice paper and offered it to her.

“You know my name?” Emmi blurted, only to feel silly for thinking no one would have told him her name. Reluctantly, she took the packet. Was he giving her money to go away? Deciding to get it over with, she opened the paper. It was her pendant—the one commissioned and handed down by the very man before her—that she had left with Shinjuku-san.

“It’s my necklace. I mean your necklace. I mean your daughter’s. I mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

Takehito laughed and again her heart ached. He was so much like her father.

“Walk with me,” he said after fastening the dragonfly pendant around her neck.

Donning sandals, they went out into the expansive gardens that surrounded the palatial estate. For the first time since Emmi had fallen into this nightmare, she began to feel safe and cared for.

It isn’t really the first time is it
? her heart asked.
You felt very safe and cared for alone in Kae’s arms, didn’t you
?

Yeah well, that isn’t worth thinking about. Not after the look he gave me earlier. What was that about anyway
? Emmi wondered as she followed her ancestor along the path of precisely set stepping stones.

It was just best to try to forget about Kaemon for now and concentrate on finding a way home. Maybe this was Fate’s way of getting her back on track. If Takehito also had prophetic dreams, then maybe he was no stranger to other weirdness. Maybe he could get her home where she belonged.

Home.
Alone
, her heart chimed in sadly.

* * * *

Prince Asahiko entered his son’s rooms as soon as he received word that Kaemon had returned to the palace. He demanded an explanation for his son’s latest escapade and received it, though he was clearly not satisfied.

“Why were you at a silk merchant’s in Gion, with that Maeda girl, no less?”

“Arranging for her to have something suitable to wear for your meeting tomorrow—which is no longer necessary.”

Asahiko stared questioningly at his son. “And why is it no longer necessary?”

“It just isn’t. May we drop the subject, Honored Father?”

“For the moment.”

* * * *

Emmi grew attached to Maeda Takehito almost immediately. There was just something about him, something so similar to her late father besides appearance, that it almost made her cry every time he looked at her. As they walked along the garden path one evening, Emmi was reminded of the long walks she and her father had taken so many times. When Takehito wandered off the path and to the edge of the wide, decorative pond to skim stones across the water’s still surface, the feeling hit her again, and she did cry.

Emmi clung to the sleeves of Takehito’s haori when he comforted her.

“Do not cry, child. You are under my protection.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Kyoto

Present day

Jake Hillhouse gave his twin sister a huge hug when he met her at the airport. “You didn’t need to come all this way, sis.”

“I was worried sick about you and Emmi, and I figure you need backup if the Dragon Lady is coming here.”

Jake ran his hand through his long hair. “She’s due in an hour, and I am not looking forward to it.”

“No word on Emmi at all?”

“Not a one, but I swear I almost heard her when I was meditating this morning.”

“What did she say? Did she sound okay?”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Actually, it sounded a lot like ‘Oh shit’. But I didn’t get any vibes that she was in trouble. It was so faint. I just don’t have the connection to her that I had to Laurie. I don’t think Em’s in the here and now, and I can’t reach her across time.”