Foxfire (An Other Novel) (19 page)

“Okay.” My stomach plummets. “So the anburojia was helping with … the eroding. Making me worse.”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

I inhale deeply, ignoring how my ribs ache. “I still don’t have anything for the ritual.”

Shizuka takes a pouch of evening blue silk from her kimono. “Yukimi would not tell you her true name? Or give you her blood?” She tugs on the drawstrings of the pouch, and pulls out a vial of black liquid.

I rub the bridge of my nose. “I need to find her again.”

“The ritual requires it.”

“I know. I’m working on it.” My stomach tightens into a knot. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure I want you naming me.”

Shizuka holds the vial of black liquid to her eyes, and shakes it. “Oh?”

“I want to name myself.”

She meets my gaze. “That’s unconventional.”

“Is it impossible?”

Shizuka’s eyes look like embers. “Do you know yourself?”

“Yes? Yes. I’m Octavian Kimura. I’m half-human, half-kitsune, and I’m going to die unless I can get my shit together.”

“True,” she says, “but not the whole truth.”

“That’s evasive.”

“There is more to you than Octavian Kimura.” Shizuka takes the empty glass from my bed stand. “Please wait while I fill this with water.”

I squint at the vial of black liquid. “To dilute that?”

“It has a rather disagreeable flavor,” she says. “The water will help.”

I nod, and she slips from the room in a rustle of silk. She left the vial on my bed stand. I pinch it between my two trembling fingers and stare at it. The liquid inside looks like honey the color of midnight. I’m tempted to twist off the cap, but I return the vial.

Shizuka reappears with the glass of water. “A drop to help you sleep.”

“I’m curious,” I say. “A drop of what?”

“Medicine,” she says.

I glance into her eyes, but I can’t see a trace of a lie. “Were you there? At the temple, when I was born?”

Shizuka’s gaze flickers to my face. “Yukimi told you?”

“No,” I say. “Zenjiro did.”

“Ah.” Her face tightens, ever so slightly. “I was no more than a miko then, and you a newborn. Of course we would not recognize each other, now, but it is remarkable that we are reunited.”

“Did you talk to Yukimi? Do you remember if she said anything?”

“No,” Shizuka murmurs. “She was in a great deal of pain, and it was a long time ago.”

I realize how overeager I sound, and I clench my jaw. She twists the cap from the vial, then presses the open vial into my palm. Her slender fingers feel cool against mine.

“It will help you sleep a dreamless sleep,” she says.

Dreamless
. The word sounds like a whispered promise. I can lie back and let the pain disappear.

I curl my fingers around the vial. “How much?”

“One drop,” she says. “Any more, and it will be difficult to wake.”

I open my mouth, tilt back my head, and shake a single drop onto my tongue. It tastes like burnt rose petals and the way rain smells on sizzling pavement in the middle of summer. It ripples down my throat and sets my head spinning, dizzying me.

“Rest,” Shizuka says, “before you chase Yukimi again.”

“Sure thing,” I mumble, and my voice sounds slurred.

One moment, Shizuka is there, and the next, gone. Gwen takes her place. She looks down at me, her face blurry, rippling like the reflection of the moon in a black pond.

“You’re pretty,” I say.

“Thanks,” she says. “Shizuka didn’t skimp on the medicine, did she?”

I shake my head, my thoughts sloshing around in my skull. “I’m sleepy.”

Gwen sighs. “You’re not uncomfortable sleeping in your jeans?”

I close my eyes. She crawls into bed beside me, and I feel the warmth of her body mingling with mine. She says something, but I’m already too far away. Emptiness laps at the edge of my consciousness. If this is what death feels like, maybe death isn’t so bad.

When I wake, it’s a lighter sort of darkness. Evening, not night.

I drift in a pleasant daze as I stare out the window, admiring the fading gleam of the sun on the skyscrapers of Tokyo. Lights glimmer in the darkness like thousands of fireflies. A white veil of cloud drifts past the window, blocking my view. I frown. Hopefully the wind will pick up speed. But the cloud lingers, shifting as it hangs.

A face appears from the mist. Not Akira, but Yukimi.

Her lips move, and I hear her voice in my head.
Tavian
.

I sit bolt upright, black out, and almost fall back down again. My vision returns, and I see the translucent image of Yukimi hanging like a ghost outside the window. Like a ghost. Is she … ?

I will wait for you to come to me
, she whispers soundlessly.

nineteen

M
y dry tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and I swallow, trying to summon up some spit. “Okay.”

She can’t be a ghost. That’s an illusion, right? An illusion.

“What’s okay?”

Gwen’s voice startles me. She’s standing in the doorway, her paranormal studies textbook tucked under one arm. She’s staring right at me, but doesn’t seem to see the cloud-Yukimi floating outside the window, behind my head.

“Finally awake?” Gwen says.

I don’t know if I’m totally awake, to be honest. Maybe I’m still dreaming—but of course I had a dreamless sleep, a sleep where Yukimi couldn’t reach me or talk to me …

I turn back to the window, but the cloud-Yukimi is gone.

“Tavian … ?” Gwen says slowly. “You seem kind of jumpy.”

“She was there.” My voice is ridiculously scratchy, so I clear my throat. “Yukimi, outside my window.”

“Can she fly?”

Gwen’s sarcasm wakes me up like a cold splash of water. I must sound like a raving lunatic, still under the effects of the medicine—the sleeping potion, whatever—that Shizuka gave me.

“Of course not,” I say. “She sent an illusion.”

I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and experimentally put some weight onto my feet. My muscles feel like noodles, but they don’t seem to be collapsing out from under me at this point.

“An illusion of what?” Gwen says, her hands on her hips.

“Herself. She wants me to go outside,” I say. “She’s waiting.”

Her eyes flare. “How do you know this isn’t a trap?”

“Who else could craft an illusion like that?”

“I don’t know, Shizuka working for the yakuza? Or maybe Yukimi being tortured into helping them?”

“Point taken.”

Gwen grabs her coat. “I’m going with you. Backup.”

“Thanks, super ninja pooka.”

She sighs in exasperation. “Don’t you ever get tired of cracking terrible jokes? Even when you look like an invalid?”

A smile creeps onto my face. “No.”

“You do realize it’s six o’clock,” Gwen says. “Michiko will be back any minute. She just went to the grocery store to grab a few things for dinner, and Tsuyoshi insisted on driving her.”

My smile wilts. “They’re still out there? Alone?”

“Tavian, I bet your grandparents are tougher than you think.” She coils a scarf around her neck. “Besides, if Zenjiro is trying to play nice now, I doubt he’s going to hurt them. He’s after you.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” I say.

“Let’s hurry,” she says, “and come back before they do.”

I nod, and we both leave the condo. On the elevator ride down, I keep glancing at my reflection.

“I
do
look like an invalid,” I mutter. “With the hollows under my eyes, and the whole pasty-skin look.”

“Don’t worry,” Gwen says, “it won’t last forever.”

I can tell she’s trying to cheer me up, but I’m not sure it’s going to work. If I don’t find Yukimi, I’m history. Not to mention I have no idea where Akira lies buried.

The elevator doors ding open and we hurry through the lobby.

“Did she say where to meet?” Gwen asks.

I shake my head.

But then, from the corner of my eye, I see a wisp of fog curling into a beckoning finger. It wants me to go into an alley across the street. I grab Gwen’s hand and dart through the crosswalk.

At the end of the alley, a dark figure huddles.

“This looks suspicious,” Gwen hisses, her eyes glowing.

“Yukimi?” I call.

“Who’s with you?” It sounds like Yukimi.

I waver at the entrance of the alleyway. “Gwen. My girlfriend.”

“You were supposed to come alone.”

I walk nearer to her, my night vision adjusting. She’s wrapping a bandage over her left calf muscle. Blood seeps through the gauze and she hisses with pain, baring feral teeth.

Acid rises in my throat. “You got bitten.”

She nods. “Damn thing won’t stop bleeding.”

“Did you get bitten as a fox?” Gwen says, her eyes sharp with curiosity. “I’m also a shapeshifter, actually.”

Yukimi glances at Gwen as if seeing her for the first time. “Really.”

“She is,” I say. “You never asked.”

“Yes,” Yukimi says, “I got bitten as a fox. Those dogs must be getting faster, because I doubt I’m slowing down.”

I don’t bother to point out how fatigue adds years to her face.

“We can help you,” I say, “if you come inside—”

“No.” Yukimi’s eyes burn with a feverish light, like those of a cornered animal. “It’s safer outside. I barely escaped from the Lair after Ozuru warned us the inugami were coming.”

“Then why did you come here?” I say.

She knots the bandage with a savage yank, then scoops up a handful of snow and cleans the blood off her fingers. “I don’t have much longer before they catch me and punish me.”

“Punish you?”

She reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulls out two tickets. “The night train from Ueno to Sapporo leaves at seven o’clock. We need to move now if we want to catch it.”

Sapporo, Hokkaido. My childhood home. The heart of my memories.

I stare at the tickets, then take a deep breath. “Tonight?”

“Yes.” Gingerly, Yukimi rolls her jeans down over the bandage.

“I don’t see how we can go back to hiding in Hokkaido.”

“No.” She fixes me with her gaze. “This is for your true name. You will need at least one of Akira’s bones for the ritual.”

I feel like I might throw up. “Right. We’re going to dig them up?”

“Of course,” she says. “They are buried, after all.”

I sway on my feet and Gwen grips my wrist. “Tavian,” she says. “This is what you need, to get better.”

I stare at her. “You think this is a good idea?”

Gwen thins her lips. “Not a good idea, but necessary.”

Yukimi walks to me and touches the back of my hand, gently, like the brush of a bird’s wing. Her amber eyes look deeper than I’ve ever seen them before. “My time on the run is almost up. I would rather know that you are not nameless and doomed to die.”

A shudder passes over my spine, and I take a ticket from her.

“There are only two tickets,” Yukimi says, with a glance at Gwen.

Gwen looks at her with a challenging glint in her eyes, then takes a deep breath and nods. Yukimi retreats further into the alley, and I notice her motorcycle parked in the shadows.

“Tavian,” Gwen says.

She steps into my arms, and we kiss. When she pulls back, she looks into my eyes and mouths some words.

I’ll follow you
.

I nod, very slightly, so that Yukimi doesn’t see.

Of course Gwen wouldn’t be content waiting around in Tokyo while I go on what might be the most important journey of my life. Knowing her, she’ll probably shapeshift into a bird and fly overhead.

“Take this.” Gwen presses her cellphone into my hand. “Since you don’t have one.”

Text me,
Mom said. Maybe I will.

I slip it into my pocket. “Thanks. Might be useful.”

The motorcycle rumbles to life, and Yukimi climbs on. “Let’s go.”

I climb on behind her, and we rumble from the alley. Gwen pretends to wave goodbye, but she doesn’t look nearly as sad as she should. I keep my face blank. I glance at the main road, then back at Gwen, and she’s already gone.

Yukimi tears through the streets of Tokyo, only braking so she doesn’t run red lights—I’m sure police on our tail would slow us down. Above us, I glimpse a gray-winged bird soaring overhead, swerving between the rooftops: a great horned owl. Not the most subtle thing on Earth, Gwen. But Yukimi never looks away from the road.

We park outside Ueno Station as the sky lingers in that shade between blue and black. I hop off the motorcycle and stumble, still a bit wobbly, and Yukimi grimaces as she steps onto her wounded leg.

“We both should really be in a hospital,” I say.

“No time for that,” Yukimi says briskly. She chains her motorcycle to a lamppost, muttering, “If anyone tries to steal this while I’m gone, I’ll kill them when I come back. If I come back.”

“When,” I say.

We descend into the fluorescent-lit underground of Ueno Station, threading our way through the crowd. A small cluster of people wait on a platform at one end of the station.

“We’re taking the sleeper train,” Yukimi says. “The Hokutosei.”

I vaguely remember “
Hokutosei”
as the name of a constellation. The Big Dipper, I think. How poetic.

A shrieking whistle echoes down the tunnel. People lug their luggage closer to the edge of the platform. I glance around, looking for Gwen the owl, but I don’t see any animals down here.

“We don’t have much stuff,” I say. “Compared to everybody else.”

Yukimi’s hair fans in the coming wind. “We won’t stay long.”

A midnight blue train with gold stripes coasts into the station, wheels singing like a wet finger on a wineglass. It has a sort of boxy charm about it, the kind of thing Gwen would think is cute if we were actually on vacation like we’re supposed to be. Where
is
Gwen?

The doors to the Hokutosei open. People start climbing onto the train. Yukimi nudges my elbow, then leads me to one of the cars. We file along the narrow hallway, brushing past rows of curtained windows. Yukimi slides open the door to an immaculate but tiny room with twin beds. Sheets lie in neatly folded squares at the foot of each bed, and blue-and-white
yukata
pajamas lie on our pillows.

I hesitate in the doorway of the room. “Looks nice.”

Gwen must be coming. Maybe she already made it onto the train—but how will she know which room is ours?

Yukimi slides the door shut behind me and slings off her backpack. The Hokutosei shudders gently, then begins to accelerate. A conductor raps on the door, bows politely, and checks our tickets.

Over his shoulder, through the open door, a tiny tan moth flutters in. I hold my breath and try to look causal. The moth darts overhead and lands on the curtains, blending in perfectly. Damn, Gwen’s been getting better with the whole shapeshifting thing lately.

The conductor bows, and Yukimi locks the door behind him.

“We’re safe for the next sixteen hours,” she says. “I didn’t smell any inugami while boarding. Did you?”

I shake my head, trying not to look directly at Gwen the moth.

Yukimi sighs. “This could have been a nice trip to Hokkaido.”

“Have you been back?” I say. “Since we … separated?”

“Separated”
being the nicest way to say it.

“No,” she says.

Yukimi’s face is the color of ivory yellowed by age. She limps over to her bed, kicks off her boots, and grabs her wounded leg to help swing it onto the bed. Her eyes tighten with pain.

I perch on the edge of my bed. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

She rolls up the left leg of her jeans. Blood blooms like a ragged red flower on her bandage. She swears and starts to unwind it. Fresh blood leaks through the gauze.

“You shouldn’t do that,” I say, “or it will keep bleeding—”

“I know what I’m doing,” she snaps.

“Fine. You don’t want my help.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes burning. “You’re sicker than I am. Lie down. Get some sleep.”

I ignore her, and keep staring as she takes the bandage off.

A crescent of torn skin glistens red on her calf. Blood seeps from the wound, trickling down her ankle. She yanks open her backpack and pulls out a wrapped bandage and a tube of medicine.

“I’m going to kill Katashi,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Katashi did that to you?”

“That dog has been after me ever since I took his wife from him.”

I nod. “I remember.” My face heats. “In your dream.”

She concentrates on squeezing a thick white cream onto her forefinger, then daubing it directly onto the wound. “You surprised me,” she says. “When you entered my dream.”

“By accident,” I point out.

“Still.” Her toes curl as she rubs the cream in. “You have potential.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Yukimi tears open the bandage wrapper with her teeth, then starts wrapping it around her leg. When she’s done, she lies back against the bed, her eyes shut, her face ashy.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she says.

After a moment, she opens her eyes. “I’m going to wash this gunk off my hands. The bathroom is just down the hall. I won’t be gone long.” She gives me a don’t-go-anywhere look.

As soon as she’s gone, I peel off my clothes and slip on the yukata. It’s comfortable cotton, and it’s making me sleepy. I crawl under the sheets and flick off the light by my bed.

I yawn. “Shizuka’s medicine probably hasn’t worn off yet.”

Gwen the moth flutters over to the curtain by my bed.

“Are you okay staying a moth for sixteen hours?” I say. “That’s how long it’s going to take to get to Hokkaido.”

She flexes her wings upward. I’ll take that as a yes?

Yukimi returns, flicks off her light, and collapses into bed without even undressing. She feels the yukata under her head and chucks it to the foot of the bed. Clearly pajamas don’t suit life on the run.

“Good night,” she mutters.

“Night,” I say.

I wait until Yukimi’s breathing deepens into soft snoring, then grab my jeans from the floor, find the borrowed cellphone, and shield its glow from Yukimi with my hand. When I hit a button, it beeps, and I muffle the phone under my pillow. I’ve never used this phone before, but I figure out how to bring up the text message menu quickly enough.

Slowly, I type out a text.

Safe on train to hokkaido with yukimi, love Tavian.

I don’t want to risk waking Yukimi with unnecessary beeps from punctuation and capitalization. That’s good enough. I punch in Mom’s number and hit send, then hide the phone under my pillow.

Yukimi whispers so softly it takes me a moment to piece it into words.

“I’m sorry.”

I stare at the shape of her in the darkness, my spine rigid, too afraid to ask her what she should be sorry for.