The Name of the Blade, Book Two: Darkness Hidden (11 page)

I blinked a few times and cleared my throat, dazed from the intensity of the moment.

“Remember what I said,” Shinobu said softly. With a last touch to my cheek, he reluctantly released me.

Rachel gave us a sly grin, so like Jack’s that my heart stuttered in my chest. I scurried away from both of them, snatching the katana up from the sofa en route to the kitchen, where I retrieved the sandwiches and some bottled water.

When I came back, Rachel had flicked on the overhead light in the living room, making me realize how dim it had grown. She had the TV remote in her hand and was frowning down at it.

“Turn it on,” I said quietly. “Try to find a news programme. I have a worried feeling about what’s going on out there. We need to know how bad it is.”

Rachel nodded and switched on the set, flicking channels for a minute before coming across what seemed to be a press conference. A woman stood outside the front door of Number 10 Downing Street, surrounded by microphones, her face lit with constant photo flashes.

“Health Secretary Anders is unable to carry out his duties due to illness at this time,” she was saying. “The prime minister has authorized me to take over.”

“Can you confirm the reports that Mr Anders is in a coma?” one of the reporters shouted.

“It would be inappropriate for me to divulge any confidential medical information about Mr Anders,” she responded primly. “Next question.”

Another reporter called out, “What can we – the general public – do to protect ourselves from this disease?”

“Firstly, it is not a disease. It is an allergic reaction. Secondly, current information shows that around ninety-eight per cent of those admitted to hospitals with these symptoms today were outside, either when they were taken ill or immediately before. We are urging Londoners to stay inside their homes unless their journey is essential. If you are currently at work or travelling, we advise that you head for your home or the home of a friend or family member, whichever is closest.”

“How many people have been affected?”

The woman looked grim. “We need to focus on helping one another at this time, not on numbers.”

“What about the risk of infection from person to person?” the same reporter demanded.

“I repeat, this is not a disease. It is not infectious. There is no evidence – I repeat, none – that these contaminants are transmitted through person-to-person contact. Please do not hesitate to welcome friends and family into your home.” The woman drew herself up, raising her chin. Her voice took on a rolling, pompous tone as she continued. “London is an ancient, proud city which has survived plague, fire, flood, and the
Blitzkrieg
of World War Two. I am sure that Blitz spirit will remain with its people today, and we will pull together, and work to get through this crisis—”

Rachel made an exclamation of annoyance and jabbed the remote with her finger. The TV screen went black. “They’re as useless as normal,” she said. “But the question is, how many of those Shikome are out there? They must have infected a lot of people for the government to be doing a public statement.”

One by one, two by two…
If it really had been Izanami in my vision, and if she had told me the truth, then she was somehow getting “closer” to the mortal realm, and the closer she got, the more of her Foul Women she was able to push into our world. Their numbers had to be increasing – but how quickly? How many of the Shikome would it take before the situation reached critical mass and so many people were infected that the city just fell apart?

“Hello?” Rachel interrupted my train of thought. “Are you listening? Please tell me that you have
some
sort of plan?”

I set the sandwiches and water on the coffee table and sat down on the floor next to it, shoving my hair back behind my ears. “The plan is, we’re all going to eat something so none of us pass out at a crucial moment. And then I’m calling in my favour from the Kitsune. Whether they want my help or not, they still owe me theirs.”

Rachel pulled a face. “They ignored you this morning,” she pointed out. “What makes you think it’ll be any different tonight?”

“This time I won’t let them ignore me,” I said grimly.

CHAPTER 8

S
hinobu waited patiently, leaning on one of the extension’s glass panes while Rachel wandered around the messy kitchen, not tidying so much as rearranging the mess. I stood in the back doorway, yelling for Hikaru. Then shouting the name of every other Kitsune I knew. I called for the king. I even tried a formal “summoning” in stilted Japanese that Shinobu taught me to repeat parrot-fashion when it was clear things were getting desperate.

Hikaru didn’t answer.

No one did.

I didn’t give up easily. It took a good couple of hours for my voice to give out. Or maybe it was my hope that failed first, not my throat. Finally I had to admit that I wasn’t doing any good. That was when Rachel lost her temper. “Those sneaky, lying, ginger b—”

I glowered at her. “Stop it. They’re our friends.”

She folded her arms in the now-familiar defensive posture. “You are such a child, Mio. Just because people say ‘I promise’ doesn’t mean they’re your friends.”

The condescending tone tweaked a nerve, and when I spoke again it was through gritted teeth. “Can you give it a rest, please? I know that you’re older than me – you point it out every three seconds – but you don’t know everything. When it comes to this world, you are the kid and I’m the adult.”

“Excuse me?” she demanded. “What does that mean? I should be seen and not heard?”

“That’d be nice actually, yeah,”

Rachel let out a tiny scream of frustration. Vivid yellow sparked in and then flooded the dark brown of her eyes. She spun round and kicked at the pile of debris that was the ruined kitchen table. A splintered piece of wood – one of the table legs – flew up and embedded itself in the wall.

I found myself plastered against the glass of the extension. My fingers, wrapped around the hilt of the katana, were twitching with the need to pull the blade free. Shinobu rocked forward on the balls of his feet, face tense.

“Rach?” I whispered warily.

Slowly she turned round. Her expression was miserable and her eyes were clear brown. The tension eased out of me with a long shudder.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No worries.” I forced my fingers to loosen their grip on the sword, slowly letting my hand drop. “The room’s a mess anyway.”

I didn’t quite pull off the pretence of unconcern, and Rachel’s expression didn’t lighten. She shoved her glasses up her nose. “I’m… I’ll call the hospital again and check on Jack.”

She hurried out of the room, leaving me staring at the still-vibrating chunk of wood, sunk at least a handspan deep in the wall.

“She kicked it away from us,” I whispered when she was gone. “She wasn’t trying to hurt us.”

“This time,” Shinobu said equally softly. “Has she always been prone to sudden fits of temper?”

I hesitated for a second. “I don’t know. She doesn’t take any crap, like Jack, but she’s … together, normally. I think. I guess, even though she’s always been around, I don’t know her all that well. We weren’t … friends.”

But we were now. After everything we’d been through together, Rachel was no longer just Jack’s bossy big sister. She was my bossy friend. And she was in trouble.

“Rachel needs a friend now. More than she realizes,” Shinobu said, unknowingly echoing my thoughts.

I didn’t have any answers. I sighed and changed the subject. “Why aren’t the foxes responding, Shinobu?”

“You were right. Something must be very wrong there. The Kitsune do not break their word. It is not in their nature.”

I thought about the Kitsune. Daredevil Hikaru was surprisingly kind beneath his reckless façade. Hiro was clever and funny, and you never quite knew where you were with him. Araki was serenely competent, and solid as a rock. Poor Araki. I was never going to forget that awful noise she had made the last time I saw her. And even though the king scared the pants off me, he had still proved himself to be an honourable, decent ruler. What was happening down there that prevented them from at least answering me?

We needed their help desperately. Right now they were the only viable resource we had. But I was equally keen to help them if they needed it – and I had a bad feeling that they did. With me stuck here in the mortal realm, help in either direction was impossible. It was infuriating.

I plopped down on the threshold and set the katana across my lap. “Maybe they’re just … busy,” I said dismally. “Really busy.”

Shinobu sat on the floor next to me. His arm brushed against my shoulder, and our knees bumped. “I hope you are right.”

I stared at the shadowy space of the back garden, my fingers restlessly tracing the lines of the katana’s hilt and saya. The lack of streetlights at the back of our row of buildings meant the whole garden was practically black, and the horrific, tangled-up remains of the Shikome were impossible to make out. I could feel the presence of the creature’s body out there, though. It itched at my awareness like that sore sensation you get just before a giant spot erupts on your skin.

I’d never been scared of the dark. Not like Jack. Not even as a kid. I don’t think I had enough of an imagination. But since I’d taken the sword out of its hiding place, I’d had a crash course in all the terrible things that liked to hide in the dark places. I had every reason to be terrified of shadows these days.

If things keep going wrong like this, what will I do? What if … what if there’s no end? What if this darkness I’m in now stretches on forever?

“You’re starting to shiver,” Shinobu said. “Come back to the other room.”

“No, I want to wait.”

“Hikaru is capable of knocking on the door to get our attention if he suddenly appears.”

I shook my head stubbornly. It was probably irrational, but I was determined not to budge from this spot. Not to give up on them. The Kitsune would come. They had to come. I would be waiting.

Shinobu sighed. “Very well.”

He got up and walked out of the kitchen. I stared after him in shock, struggling with the urge to follow and apologize again. But … no. I hadn’t done anything wrong this time. It was his choice whether he wanted to wait with me, but he didn’t get to decide what I was going to do.

Two minutes later he reappeared. His arms were filled with two of our big squashy tapestry cushions, Mum’s angora throw and the old woollen crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa.

He quirked an eyebrow at my look of surprise. “Must we freeze to death as well? You did not mention that part.”

I couldn’t resist the smile that twitched at the corners of my lips. “Shut up.”

He smiled back at me for a moment, then seemed to shake himself. “Rachel talked to a nurse in Jack’s ward. Jack is stable.”

“But she’s not getting better, is she?”

He looked grave, but only said, “Rachel is going to try to rest. She says she will sleep on one of the sofas in the living room, and keep the telephone with her in case Jack or the hospital call.” Bending, he arranged the blankets and pillows into a cosy nest, and then pulled me into his arms. “Is this acceptable?”

“It’ll do.” I sighed, letting my head rest in that oh-so-comfortable hollow in his shoulder. “Thank you. Again.”

His hand found mine, which was wrapped tight around the hilt of the katana, and clasped it wordlessly.
He does care for me. He loves me, even if he can’t say it yet. Even if he never says it
.

“I wonder if the neighbours heard me screeching,” I said into the quiet, after a while. “They must have heard something over the past couple of days. I bet they think gang members have taken over the house while my parents are away, and killed us all.”

“They have not called the authorities,” Shinobu pointed out.

“That’s not all that surprising,” I said. “No one ever wants to get involved – especially not when the city’s practically on lockdown. They’re most likely too busy barricading their doors and windows.”

I heard Shinobu’s frown in his voice. “That does not match with what the woman was talking about on your television set. She said people would pull together in times of crisis. What did she call it? Blitz spirit?”

“Hmmm.” I let my head fall sideways so that I could look up at a partial view of his face. I smiled a little as his arm shifted to curl around my back. “My dad doesn’t believe in Blitz spirit. He thinks everyone likes to look back on wars as golden times, and say that people all pulled together, and everyone was noble and brave. But really? Crime rates rise by, like, a hundred per cent during wartime. People loot bombed houses, and buy black-market food, inform on their neighbours. Dad said you can’t expect people to act noble and brave when they feel powerless. You can only expect them to act in whatever way seems most likely to ensure their own survival. The more powerless they feel, the more desperate to save themselves they’ll get, no matter what they have to do…”

My voice trailed off as my dad’s words struck me anew. Just how powerless would I have to feel before I got that desperate? And how was I supposed to change things?

“Your father is cynical,” Shinobu said, faintly disapproving.

“He likes to think of himself as practical. Doesn’t believe anything if he can’t see it with his own eyes. If he’d been here to see what we have, his head would probably explode.”

“My father – my adopted father – was the opposite,” he said softly.

I went still, my attention suddenly riveted on his quiet voice in the darkness. Shinobu had only spoken to me about his life with his lost family once before. “The opposite, how?” I prompted after a couple of seconds.

“He was … incredibly honourable and idealistic. He had seen many terrible battles, had killed in the course of his duty, but his faith in people and his sense of right and wrong were unwavering.”

“He sounds really nice,” I said wistfully.

“He was a great man.” An almost noiseless sigh slipped through Shinobu’s lips. I felt it move through his chest. “But he was not perfect. His idealism sometimes made him unrealistic. I did not see it then. It makes me feel disloyal to think it now. But I wonder … if he had let the frightened villagers attack the newcomer to our village and drive him out as they wished to, would that have driven the Nekomata away also? The creature came at the same time as the newcomer did. Perhaps he led it to our lands. Perhaps…”