The Night Parade (18 page)

Saki shut her eyes tight. When the wind slowed and she could breathe again, she found herself floating past the tall poles of the wind fields. The ogres were becoming colored blurs on the ground, and the object spirits were already too small to see.

She twisted her neck, but she didn't dare take a hand off the umbrella to wave. “I didn't even get to say good-bye!” she shouted. The wind took her words the moment they came off her lips.

The tanuki held his muzzle by her ear. “It's okay. Those rascals have a knack for showing up in unexpected places.”

The mountain peak loomed closer, but they were still a long way off. The butterfly messenger beat its wings against the night sky, faster than any real butterfly could. When a bank of heavy clouds rolled in and stifled the light of the moon, the spirit glowed and led them through the dark.

Saki couldn't tell how far up they had climbed. The ground was nothing more than a vague shape beneath them, as if they were floating through a land of shadows. The shroud held her tight to the umbrella, and her fear of falling was soon overwhelmed by wonder.

The wind carried them up, up, up until they nearly brushed the clouds. The mountain in the spirit world was ten times the size of the mountain she'd seen in the daylight. Tiny flecks of light wandered through the dark woods and collected into one long procession. The Pilgrim's Road teemed with the spirits of the Night Parade making one last journey before the sun came. Their path glowed like the Milky Way beneath Saki's feet, each fleck of light another guiding star.

Saki tugged on the tanuki's tail. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yikes, careful with the merchandise, sweetheart!” he yipped. “What's eating ya?”

“Well, I've spent so long worrying about how to lift the curse, I hadn't really thought about what happens after.”

“That's easy. You go home, no curse and no worries.”

“And when the Night Parade ends, the barrier between the worlds is restored.”

“Hey, why so glum? I thought you didn't want anything to do with any more spirits.”

“I thought that, but…” Saki frowned. The pang of disappointment was unexpected and illogical, but no more illogical than believing her adventures the last three nights had been anything more than wild dreams. Yet with each step along the spirit roads, she'd stopped doubting, not only her eyes but herself. It would all be over in moments, and she might never be able to come back.

The umbrella swerved, and Saki's stomach did a flip. The tanuki pressed himself closer. Ahead of them, the butterfly messenger was struggling against the currents of the wind.

They neared the high walls of the palace. The white stones with their gold and green trim stood pristine against the darkness of the night, but a moat of black liquid writhed and tossed at their base. The rising tide surrounded the palace and made the wind tremble with each undulating movement.

Frantic gusts tossed them back and forth. The air burst like pinpricks on Saki's face. The wind from the air koi kept them going forward, but every other current in the sky tried to push them away. The palace, which had once seemed impossible to reach, towered above them, too tall for even the clouds to cover.

On closer inspection, the moat of black liquid was not liquid at all. Long, slimy tendrils had woven together until they formed a writhing river. They groped along the white walls, leaving stains and refuse in their wake. The tendrils crawled on top of one another at the corners, groping at the towering heights of the sanctuary.

The black moat opened like a festering wound. Tendrils of squirming filth shot up from the ground and grasped at the air, fumbling to catch the intruders in the sky.

The captured wind bucked and reared, tossing Saki and the spirits up and down. Saki's sweat-slicked hands slipped on the umbrella handle. Gust after gust howled past. Her teeth would have chattered from the cold, but her jaw was clenched hard enough to make her head throb.

They rode out the storm while the black tendrils scraped the skies. The palace was within reach. As long as the wind held, they could cover the distance in less than three bursts of air.

A sudden drop made Saki scream. The umbrella flapped to keep them steady, but the wind that had carried them from the fields was failing.

“Only a few more seconds,” she called to the umbrella. “We've almost made it!”

Nauseous fear seeped into her mind. If they couldn't reach the palace, every trial she'd passed would be for nothing. If the wind couldn't hold, she would be lost. This was her very last chance.

Something wet and cold brushed Saki's leg. A black tendril wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

Their wind scattered into a burst of loose breezes. The tendril hauled Saki and the spirits down from the walls with force enough to snap the umbrella's joints. It flapped desperately but couldn't slow their plunge.

The butterfly dove down with them. A glow spread from its wings as it latched onto Saki's arm. Soft light eddied around them, and the cold tendril retreated from her leg. Though still in freefall, the butterfly's power nudged them away from the pulsing pit of black sludge.

Saki hit the ground hard. Covered in the butterfly's light, she rolled along the stones until she came to a stop under the empty sky. The Palace of Souls towered above them, its high walls blocking out half of the moon. The wind hadn't lasted long enough to push them inside the courtyard, but they had made it to the inner gate.

On her ankle, a chill prickled where the tendril had touched, as if it had left something of itself behind inside of her. The ghost of the darkness wrapped around Saki's chest and squeezed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The tanuki pawed at her.

Saki sat up and breathed deep, but the chains of dread only drew tighter. The umbrella and the cotton shroud were scattered only a few paces away. They were battered and broken but alive.

The butterfly lay beside her on the ground. It neither moved nor flapped its wings, and its light sputtered and dimmed like a candle flame. Saki scrambled to her knees and crawled to its side.

“Oh no… Please be all right. Where are you hurt?”

The butterfly's wings twitched. It made no further move to get up. “I am sorry that I could not guide you to the palace. I have failed.”

“You didn't. You saved us.” Saki picked the messenger up and set its frail body on her lap. “Now you need to rest. Is there anything I can do?”

“Leave me,” said the butterfly. “There is no time to waste. You must cross the bridge and enter the palace gates. The enemy has already felt your presence.”

“We're not abandoning you. I'll carry you, and you can tell us the way to go.”

The light was almost gone. The edges of the butterfly's wings flaked away and dissolved into the air.

“I used my power to get you to this bridge. Forgive me for not seeing your journey through to the end.” The butterfly's body lightened and faded. “Remember the words of my mistress. Hold close…to courage…”

Saki cupped her hands to keep the last bit of the spirit from disappearing. Tears fell into her open palms. Every last trace of the spirit was gone.

The inner palace gate stood in front of them. The outer gate to the shrine compound was boarded shut behind. As Saki wept, black tendrils crawled up from beneath the bridge and blocked the way forward. The clouds fled, and the light of the stars grew dim. A row of sharp teeth sunk into Saki's arm.

“There's no time for mourning,” the tanuki barked. “Go now or you'll miss your chance forever!”

Saki staggered to her feet, took a step, then hesitated. The umbrella and the shroud were still mangled and strewn across the bridge. The tanuki held his front leg as though it had been broken.

The chill on her ankle was now as cold as ice. Once the tendrils snared them, they'd be finished. The darkness in Saki's chest seized so hard she gasped. The moment the tanuki saw her turn back, he bared his fangs and gave a fierce, rasping growl.

“I said scram! Get out of here, human!”

Saki turned and charged toward the palace.
Hold close to courage. Do not fear the night
. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, even as the black tendrils wriggled up between the wood at her feet.

Was it courage or was it cowardice, leaving them there to fight alone? Her chest seized again, and her vision flashed. She staggered and gasped for breath as the night pressed all around her.

The tendrils of slime wove together until they formed a net over the palace entrance. More tendrils branched out and followed her. They snapped like vipers on her heels as she ran toward the gate. With voices as dead and hollow as a curl of shed skin, they sang, a chorus of hissing cries to drown out the pounding of her heart.

The end of the bridge came too soon. Saki's knees buckled, and she slid down toward the dark mass. The tendrils groped for her foot. They curled around one of her wooden geta and tore it away when she pulled her leg back.

Her lungs strained for a breath that wasn't there. There was nowhere left to run. The entrance was blocked. It was all over. She was helpless.

The hissed chorus became a roar of triumph. The roar twisted into a voice. A thought, dark and unbidden, leaked into her mind.

This is all your fault.

Saki shook her head. The thought didn't belong to her. Something cold and rotten clawed up through her heart and slipped into her head. She tried to push it away, but the rotten feeling held on. She felt tendrils looping through her mind, the black roots pulling out her fears and the poison feeding on her deepest doubts.

She tried to scream, but she couldn't breathe. With one hand, she clung to the bridge. With the other, she clawed at her frozen throat. The voice in her mind pushed deeper into her head.

You gave us this power. You lit the flame. You opened the gates for us to slip in. We've made this world ours, thanks to you.

Saki's nails drew blood. The sharp burst of pain loosened something inside of her and she drew in a desperate breath. “Stop it! Leave me alone! I didn't ask for any of this!”

You called to us. You set us free. You called the spirits as well. They took you and showed you the fruits of your labors.

Saki struggled to keep her breaths under control. The tendrils were poised, waiting. A predator playing with its prey. On the back of her tongue, she could taste the slithering darkness. Her voice shook when she spoke. “Let me pass.”

You have no need of this world.

“I'm going to the palace. I'm going to lift the curse. Get out of my way.” Her hands could barely lift the marble pouch out of her pocket, and her fingers trembled violently against the strings.

The tendrils stretched out, and the voice that had invaded her head seemed to laugh. Each burst felt hollow, like the tolling of a graveyard bell.

Those will not touch us. Our roots have dug too deep. Now this world is ours to take. You left it long ago with no one else to care for it. The curse you fear is not for you, selfish child. The curse is for this world. We are the curse. We are the end of this miserable, forgotten place. Return with your pitiful life and leave this broken world to its end.

A mass of twisting darkness rose into the air like a tidal wave of hate and decay.

Leave, wretched human. This world belongs to us.

Her fault. It was all her fault.

The black tendrils covered the bridge and stretched for Saki's legs. She kicked them back with her other wooden geta. Behind her, the tide of darkness washed over the umbrella and the cotton shroud. The tanuki was gone.

“Give them back!” Saki screamed at the writhing mass.

They belong to us.

“They belong to no one! Let them go!”

Saki lunged at the wall. If the death curse was not for her, then she could still fight. She had to fight. She clawed at the black tendrils, but each one she ripped away grew back twofold. The stench was overwhelming. Her skin reeked of wet mold, and sticky fluid ran into her hair.

“I'll tear you apart! Let them go!”

You do not belong here. You cannot stop us.

Saki's scream died in her throat. Her nose flooded with the smell of death and decay. Everywhere, black tendrils closed in as the wave of darkness crested, fell over her, and tore her away from the safety of the ground.

LEAVE. DO NOT COME BACK.

She struggled, her breath once again trapped in her chest. She twisted upside down and inside out as the tendrils burrowed under her skin, snaked around her insides, and burst through her mind like corpse worms. Around her, nothing remained but the dark. Darkness and the smell of rotten wood.

A cool hand smoothed Saki's forehead. Whispers lingered in the air. Saki forced her eyes to open, but the lights blinded her. She moved her neck, and her head throbbed in reply. The same cool hand brushed the matted hair from her face.

“Saki, dear, can you hear me?”

When Saki tried to sit up, the cool hand pushed her down. Three blankets had been piled on top of her body, yet she shivered.

“Saki, say something.”

Her tongue was sluggish in her mouth, but she recognized the voice and the hand. “Grandma?”

“That's right, dear.”

Saki's eyes had adjusted to the light. She was stretched out on a bed in a small, clean room. A man with thick glasses stood nearby, clipboard in hand.

Grandma stroked her hair. “Do you know where you are?”

“This isn't your house…” Saki rubbed her eyes, and the room drifted in and out of focus.

“No, dear. We had to take you to Dr. Maeda. You have a bad fever.”

She was in Maeda's house? It was bright and spacious, and the floors were made of wood, not tatami. She'd assumed that Maeda was from a farming family, like most of the village. Then again, she'd never bothered to ask… No, there was no time for guilt.

Saki pushed herself into a sitting position. Her vision swam, but she brushed Grandma's hands away. “We have to go home.”

“You won't be leaving today. You have to rest, Saki. Maybe tomorrow.” Grandma tried to pat her hand, but Saki couldn't keep still.

“No, we have to go to your house,” she insisted. “We have to go back now.”

The daylight would hide all paths to the spirit world, but she had to do something. Anything. The last she'd seen of the tanuki and the object spirits, they'd been sucked into the darkness on the bridge. And what about all the other spirits in the groves, on the roads, and in the villages?

“I have to go,” Saki repeated.

Grandma rose from the bedside chair to hold her back. The doctor, Maeda's father, hurried over and swung her legs back into bed.

Saki's head throbbed, and every quick movement made her dizzy. Grandma continued to stroke her hair while the doctor rummaged through a collection of bottles. After sorting through the shelf, Dr. Maeda handed her a folded paper filled with powder and pressed a cup of water into her hands.

“Drink this,” he said. “You'll be back on your feet in no time.”

Saki upended the paper and drank the medicine. The powder stuck in her throat, even after she drained the entire cup of water.

“Your parents will be back soon,” said her grandmother. “They took your brother out to get some dinner in town.”

Saki's voice cracked in her throat. “I've been asleep all day?”

The fever burned under her skin, as if her body was trying to expel something from her system. The rotten smell of the black tendrils stuck in her nose. Saki snapped to attention, then clutched her forehead as a burst of pain pierced her skull.

“What's the matter? Does it hurt?” Her grandmother set a hand on her back.

“Grandma, are we lighting the Farewell Fire tonight?” The throbbing pain retreated as Saki breathed in deep. That was the last part of the ritual, the final rite of Obon.

Grandma patted her back and gave a sad smile. “I know you don't care much for old superstitions. We don't have to think about it tonight.”

“No, I want to do it, please! We have to get back in time to light it.” Saki remembered the smell of wood smoke and her grandfather's strong arms holding her to watch the fire crackle around the sakaki branches. One fire welcomed the dead, one fire laid them to rest…

Grandma held her hand. “You shouldn't trouble yourself, dear. You need to relax and wait for your strength to come back. We'll be keeping you here with Dr. Maeda until he thinks it's safe to take you home to Tokyo.”

If her body hadn't been racked with fever, Saki would have jumped to her feet and run the rest of the way to the mountain. Every second she spent in bed was another moment that her friends in the spirit world were in danger. The black mass wasn't a spirit; it was from
her
world. She'd seen it the very first day she'd arrived.

Most importantly, she had an idea of how to stop it.

“Grandma, you have to listen to me. I need to go back up for the Farewell Fire. I have to get another branch and—”

Grandma stood up. “I think I've heard enough. All I'm doing is upsetting you, so I think I'll step out and let the doctor take over.”

“Wait, Grandma!” Saki held out her hands, but Dr. Maeda was standing by to hold her down on the bed.

When Grandma left the room, Saki saw another figure in the doorway. Maeda watched her from the hall as the door swung shut. She offered Saki's grandmother a cup of tea in the living room, their muffled conversation filtering in through the hall.

“Lie back down and try to rest.” The doctor tucked Saki's blankets into the bed. “We'll take good care of you, I promise.”

When she settled back down, he checked the watch on his wrist and excused himself. Before the door latch clicked shut, Saki pushed the blankets back. The fever still made her head swim, but her energy was returning with every minute. On wobbling legs, she hunted for a way out.

She opened the door a crack, but the hallway was dark, and she didn't know the layout of the house. She gave up on the door and crept to the window near the bed. She pressed her face against the glass and looked down.

She was in a room on the second floor. There was enough roof underneath the window to sneak along and a trellis reaching up the side of the house. She flicked the window latch and pushed up on the frame to see if it would budge.

“Even if you get out, our house isn't even close to the mountain. You'll be walking for half an hour at least.” Maeda stood in the doorway, a tray of rice porridge in her hands.

Saki put her back to the window and tucked her hair behind her ear, feigning innocence. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

The other girl's mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. “Yes, you do. You've been making that same face ever since I met you, like you're planning some sort of prison break.”

“I'm not just playing around this time.” Saki dropped the act and turned back to the window frame. “I have to get back to the mountain sometime tonight, with or without your help.”

“My help?” Maeda raised her brows.

“No. I mean, of course you wouldn't.” Saki grimaced. The fever made it hard to think straight.

“What about Tokyo?” Maeda set the tray of rice porridge on a table near the bed. “You're supposed to eat this, by the way. Doctor's orders.”

Saki shook her head and paced around the room. “Tokyo doesn't matter right now. Anyway, I can't explain it, but there's something that I have to do.”

Maeda watched Saki turn all around the room. Just when Saki thought the other girl would go fetch her father, Maeda crossed the floor and pushed the door shut. She looked back at Saki with a curious tilt of her head.

“I still haven't forgiven you, but if something can make you forget about your big city, it has to be pretty serious. What exactly do you have to do?”

Saki snorted. “You wouldn't believe me.”

“Try me,” Maeda replied with a shrug.

Saki took a seat on the bed. “On the first night of Obon, I sort of messed up the Welcome Fire. It summoned some kind of vengeful spirit that's gone and cursed the whole mountain and everything that lives there. Now all of the other spirits are going to be destroyed unless I can get back to light the Farewell Fire and send the darkness away for good.”

Maeda scratched the back of her neck and grimaced. “Um, I think you should go back to sleep for a little while…”

Saki scowled. That was the reaction she'd expected. “I'm not crazy. I really saw them. For the last three nights, I've been going to the spirit world. They call it the Night Parade and—oh forget it. You said yourself you haven't forgiven me, so why would you help?”

“I might, if I didn't think you were delirious,” Maeda said.

Saki raised her legs onto the bed and tucked her knees under her chin. “You don't have to pretend to be nice to me, after all of the things I did to you. You were right about everything you said at the Bon dance. I was a jerk…and I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you kind of were a jerk,” said Maeda. “But I also shouldn't have yelled. I accept your apology.”

Saki quirked a brow. “Just like that? Do you even remember what I said to you?”

“I remember. But you apologized, and now I've forgiven you. What good does it do me to hold a grudge?”

Saki gave a grim smile and shook her head. “You know, I thought the goody-goody act was just for show, but you're the real deal, aren't you?” Girls like Yuko, Hana, and her friends from home would have laughed Saki out of the room after a story like that.

In a single movement, Maeda took a step from the door and stood in front of Saki. “Okay, I've decided. I know a way to sneak you out.”

“Uh, what? Wait. Didn't you say I was delirious?”

“Yes, I did.” Maeda couldn't stay still, and she took up Saki's job of pacing back and forth by the window. “But I've changed my mind. It's too much work to make yourself sick just to mess with me. I don't think you're that desperate, so you're probably telling the truth. So I'll help you.” She bound over to the window and scanned the one-lane road outside.

“Thank you.” Saki didn't give Maeda time to change her mind. If there was any chance they could reach the shrine before the night ended, Saki would gladly take it. “How can I get out of here?”

Maeda put a finger to her lips and went back to the door. She waved Saki down the hallway while her father and Saki's grandmother talked over tea in the living room downstairs. They tiptoed down the steps, and Maeda stabbed her finger around the corner.

“Take the back door by the kitchen and meet me around the house,” she whispered. When Saki nodded, the other girl turned toward the tea party in the living room.

Outside, Saki slipped on a pair of oversized garden shoes and pushed the kitchen door closed behind her. The click came as soft as a sigh. Saki let out the breath she'd been holding and shuffled along the side of the house, trying to keep her feet from slipping out of her stolen shoes. Maeda came around from the front and waved her behind the family's car.

“I told them I was going to borrow a book from a girl on the other side of the village. That should buy us some time. We'll take my bike.”

“If we get caught, you're going to get in a lot of trouble, you know. Let me take the bike, and I'll go on my own.”

The other girl flashed a grin over her shoulder as she turned a key into the bike lock. “Nope. You're not getting away that easily. You're not well enough to be going all the way up there alone. And besides, if you're telling the truth about the spirits, I want to see them too.”

“I don't even know if I can get back to the spirit world now that the Night Parade is over, let alone bring someone else,” Saki said. Not to mention the black tendrils…

Maeda kicked up the stand and wheeled the bike out into the street. “We'll see about that when we get there. Come on, get on the carrier.”

It wasn't safe for either of them, but it was a chance Saki had to take. She squeezed in behind Maeda. There wasn't a lot of room, but they managed to fit well enough for Maeda to kick off down the road. The summer air was still warm, but Saki's fever left her shivering in the wind. The sun was setting at their backs, and the orange twilight grew darker as Maeda turned the bike onto the main road through the village.

“I sort of have a confession to make!” Maeda called from ahead.

“What?” Saki had to raise her voice to beat the wind.

“I was lying when I told you that your grandmother asked me to talk to you. When I saw you at the graveyard, I thought you looked kind of cool. If you didn't notice, I don't have a lot of friends my age around here…”

Saki blushed. “I thought you were being condescending. But I guess that's because you seemed like one of those girls who's always good at everything, who gets good grades and gets along with her parents. It was intimidating.”

“You were intimidated? By me?” Maeda laughed as she turned a corner.

“Yeah, kind of. I guess we were both pretty dumb, weren't we?”

“Some of us more than others.”

“You're never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.”

The bike sped past the convenience store and up toward the mountain road. The forest rose through the red dusk. Maeda stood to pedal as beads of sweat streamed down her face. They were halfway up the steep road to the graveyard when the weight of two girls became too much. The bike tipped over on a switchback turn, and Maeda threw out her foot to keep them steady.

She cried out, and the bike fell anyway. Saki tipped back and landed on her side in the dirt. One tire spun idly in the air as Maeda curled up in the middle of the road clutching her leg.

Saki bit back a yelp and scrambled to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry…I'm just…a little winded…”

Saki pulled the bike off the road as Maeda sat up and rolled back her sock. It hadn't even been a minute, but the ankle already looked pink and swollen.

“Don't worry,” Saki said. “We can walk up from here. Give me your arm.”

Maeda put an arm around Saki's shoulder and hobbled along with one foot. She frowned down at the dirt on her clothes and cast one last look at the bike before they continued. “I guess slipping back into the house without my dad noticing is out of the question now.”

“Do you think your ankle's broken?”

“No, it hurts, but not that bad.” In spite of the brave words, Maeda's face was drawn and pale. She winced with every other step. “I bet it's only a sprain.”