A Winter of Ghosts (The Waking Series) Read online

  The early return would be a pleasant surprise for Kara, so he had not told her. And Hachiro had quickly discovered that he did not mind traveling alone. A couple of hours on a train had offered myriad options. He could have played a video game or read baseball magazines or manga. Instead, he listened to music and read from To Kill a Mockingbird in English. Professor Harper had assigned it over break and explained that the subject matter would be addressed in his American Studies classes and that it would be a challenge for his English language students. Hachiro had read it twice. Kara's Japanese was excellent, and he wanted to surprise her by improving his command of her language.

  Now, though, as nine o'clock came and went and the long winter night was well under way, he could not help closing his eyes. He drifted in and out of wakefulness, barely aware of the murmured conversations around him, of the old couple attempting to retain their composure while their granddaughter exhibited a wild imagination and bursts of laughing energy, of the rock-star cool university guy with two giggling girlfriends fawning over him. They were all just vague background as he dozed.

  The train slowed a bit as it rattled onto older tracks, and so he knew they were not far from Miyazu City. The ride would not be as smooth from here on in, but still he rested his head against the window, skull juddering against the glass. Sleepy as he was, Hachiro could not fall into a full slumber because he knew that once he arrived in Miyazu he would have to change to the local train that would take him out along the bay to the station just down the street from Monju-no-Chie school.

  The little girl let out a mischievous squeal, forcing her grandmother to snap at her. Drifting, Hachiro listened, and felt badly for both the girl, who only wanted to play, and the old woman, who could not help being embarrassed by what she would see as improper behavior.

  Eyes closed, head jouncing against the window, he listened. The too-cool university guy whispered things to his female companions that were doubtless far more improper than anything the little girl's grandmother could even imagine. There were giggles and more whispers, and Hachiro began to drift off again.

  A cold draft caressed his face and slipped like a scarf of silk and snow around his neck. He opened his eyes, wondering where the breeze had come from. Had someone opened a door that let the winter in?

  He glanced around at the windows, then at the doors at either end of the car, but saw nothing that could have been the source of the draft. Only when he lowered his gaze, shifting in his seat, did his mind process what he had just seen. A familiar face, spiky black hair, bright eyes. A face he knew very well.

  Hachiro's heart raced and a tentative smile touched his lips. Impossible. He was sleepy, half in a dream. There were plenty of teenaged boys with spiky hair, and the kid was half-turned away from him anyway. He could be anyone.

  Curiosity driving him, that chill caress running up the back of his neck, he turned again and looked toward the back of the car. The kid had his chin down, almost as if he were dozing off as well, but his eyes were open and he stared at the floor. The lights in the train car flickered and in each lightless moment it almost seemed that the darkness outside the windows was trying to get in.

  Jiro.

  But it couldn't be Jiro, of course. Jiro had been murdered on the shore of Miyazu Bay, his body found drained of blood, his shoes missing. Hachiro had been there when they hauled his corpse out of the water. He could still feel the hollow place inside where his friendship with Jiro had once been.

  The resemblance was uncanny. Hachiro wanted to look away but he couldn't stop staring. The train rumbled over a rough section of track and outside the windows he saw the lights of shops and offices — they would be arriving at Miyazu station in moments.

  The wan, yellow luminescence inside the train car flickered again, off and on, off and on, off for several long seconds, and then on again. The kid had not moved.

  Hachiro leaned forward to get a fuller view of the kid, slid almost off his seat so that he could see past briefcases and small suitcases and outstretched legs. Then he froze, ice racing through his veins. His breath came in tiny, hitching gasps and he slowly shook his head.

  The kid had no shoes on. His feet were so pale.

  He turned to look at Hachiro, not in some random fashion but in a slow, sad glance that said he had been aware all along of being watched. And when he smiled wistfully and gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement, Hachiro could not lie to himself anymore.

  Jiro.

  The train began to slow. Hachiro could not breathe. He locked eyes with the ghost — for what else could it be? — and felt all of the sadness of his friend's death return. He wanted to speak, to ask questions, to say that Jiro had been missed. He wanted to run, to hide, to nurture the fear that rose in him. The lights flickered again and now, for the first time, he realized that Jiro had faded, his presence thin as delicate parchment, the shapes and shadows of the floor and the seat and even the window visible through him.

  The conductor's voice filled the air. The train lurched three times in quick succession, but the third was the worst, rocking Hachiro forward, breaking his eye contact with Jiro. He had to put a hand out to keep from being thrown from his seat as they came to an abrupt halt.

  As he turned, the doors shushed open and people began to rise, grabbing their bags, chatter erupting as they began to herd out.

  "No," Hachiro said, grabbing his bag and standing.

  He thrust himself into the flow of disembarking passengers, searching the crowd for that spiky hair, that familiar face. He caught a glimpse of a silhouette he thought might be that of the ghost.

  "Jiro!" he called.

  Several people gave him disapproving looks, but most simply pretended not to hear him. Hachiro called out again, fear and confusion warring within him, and he pushed through the crowd and stepped off the train.

  On the station platform he stopped and looked around. Hachiro was tall and broad-shouldered, so he stood his ground and peered over the heads of the other passengers. He called Jiro's name again, but already his hopes were fading. Someone bumped him from behind and he staggered two steps forward.

  People streamed away, reuniting with family and friends and lovers and then vanishing from the platform. Only stragglers were left when the train hissed loudly and the doors closed and it began to glide away.

  Jiro stood just inside the doors, staring out at Hachiro as the train pulled away. He hadn't been there a moment before. The ghost watched him with sad eyes, and as the train rattled out of the station he faded from view.

  Gone again.

  Hachiro stared along the tracks for a long time after the train had gone, frightened and glad all at the same time, and he wondered if, perhaps, he should never have come back to Miyazu City. To Monju-no-Chie school.

  To Kara.

  Chapter Two

  Kara knew there had to have been a time in her life when she had been more bored, but she couldn't think of one. Her father had gone into school to make final preparations in his classroom and office for the new term, which started tomorrow. His lesson plans were done, but the principal, Mr. Yamato, wanted all of the teachers to organize their own materials so that all was in order when classes began. They were also taking turns overseeing the return of the boarding students to the dormitory behind the school. Kara had wanted to go along — she couldn't wait to see her friends — but her father had discouraged it. Mr. Yamato would have frowned upon it.

  So she waited, and the wait was torture. She fiddled with her guitar for a little while, but found it impossible to focus long enough to play any song all the way through. Television in Japan usually bored or appalled her, depending on what was on, and she didn't have time for a movie . . . she hoped.

  Finally, she logged on to her computer and started to upload her favorites among the most recent batch of photos she had taken in and around Miyazu City. Her friends back home in Medford loved when she posted them on her Facebook page.

  As she studied the pictures on her computer scree
n, she shivered. December had been chilly, but now that January had arrived, it really felt like winter. The shirt she had on had been fine this morning, yet for some reason she felt colder now. A glance at her window showed her that the day had turned gray, as though threatening snow. The forecast hadn't called for any of the white stuff, but with the sun gone, it certainly was cold enough.

  Kara jumped up from her chair and pulled a green, V-neck sweater from a drawer, tugging it on over her head.

  Tea, she thought. Nice and hot.

  The photos temporarily forgotten, she went out into the kitchen, and as she reached for the teapot, a soft knock came upon the door. She glanced up, smiling, and hurried to answer it.

  Kara opened the door to discover Sakura and Miho on the stoop wearing matching grins. For once the two girls, polar opposites in so many ways, looked almost exactly the same in their gray wool coats and winter hats.

  The three girls let out a chorus of squees and threw themselves into each other's arms as though they had been separated for months instead of weeks. They all began speaking at once, talking instead of listening, and then laughing at the absurdity of it. Somehow in the midst of this Kara managed to usher them inside and close the door, and then they were taking off their boots and jackets and hats, and suddenly they were the Miho and Sakura she knew. Sakura was tall, with eyes the color of brass and spiky hair. Miho was a couple of inches shorter and had a shy, bookish demeanor that was punctuated by her glasses and her long hair, clipped up on one side to keep it from hiding her pretty face. The two girls had become her closest friends in the nine months since school had begun.

  "Okay, okay, let's all breathe," Kara said. "Come in and sit down. I was about to make tea. Does anyone else want some?"

  Miho raised her hand immediately, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear.

  "Me, too," Sakura agreed. "It's cold out there. I think winter should be over on New Year's Day."

  "It's just starting," Miho said, frowning at the impracticality of the statement.

  "I know. I'd just like it to end now."

  "No way," Kara said as she put water in the teapot. "I look forward to snowball fights and snowmen. And there will be tubing."

  Miho and Sakura shared a dubious glance. Kara pointed at them with the teapot, water sloshing inside.

  "There will be tubing!"

  The girls laughed, raising their hands in surrender, and another giddy wave went through Kara. She was so grateful to have them back. As the girls chatted to her about their New Year's Eve activities — they had all updated each other about Christmas already — she put on the teapot and then joined them at the table.

  "My father and I got up to see the sunrise on New Year's Day," Sakura said. "It's good luck."

  Kara blinked in surprise. "You didn't tell me that. Was it your idea or his?"

  Sakura gave her a tiny, sheepish shrug. "His. I know. It is strange."

  "Not strange at all. It's amazing that he actually noticed you were there," Kara said.

  "Actually, Sakura had a good time with them," Miho said.

  Kara looked at her, then at Sakura. Her hair had been freshly cut but she had not altered the style. Short in the back, but longer in the front, it framed her face in two slashes of black hair, highlighted by dyed streaks of bright red. Yet she wore a black and white checked sweater, and her face had an uncharacteristic softness about it, a lightness that took some of the edge away from her rebellious image.

  "That's huge," Kara said. "That's great!"

  Sakura nodded. "I suppose. I don't want to make too much of it. I'm back, now, and it will be easy for them to forget me again."

  Even before her sister, Akane, had been murdered, Sakura's parents had not paid their children much attention. And with Akane's death it had only become worse. Kara had spoken to her father about it once and he had suggested that their grief might have made the Murakamis afraid to love Sakura. But Kara refused to let them off the hook. They had lost a daughter, but they had one still alive and they barely acknowledged her existence, traveling on business or on holiday, leaving her at boarding school even when she was on break, hardly ever coming to visit. Their neglect had reached a level where Kara had been genuinely surprised when Sakura had told her she was going home for the holidays. And now to hear that her father had made an effort to spend time with his daughter came as an even greater surprise, but a welcome one.

  "I don't think they'll forget you again," Kara said. "If they're trying to . . ." She couldn't think of the Japanese words for 'amends.'

  "It's a start, at least," Miho said.

  "It's great," Kara said, but she could see that the conversation had begun to make Sakura uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. "Anyway, I have something I wanted to talk to you both about."

  Flashes of worry flickered in the girls' eyes and Kara realized they had misunderstood her.

  "No, no," she said quickly. "No demons, no curses. Nothing bad. Something good, I hope."

  "Don't scare us like that," Sakura said, her tough-girl core resurfacing.

  "Sorry."

  Miho smiled. "It's not your fault. We're all trying not to think about the curse, but it is always in the back of our minds. I guess it always will be, even if nothing happens for years."

  An awkward, dreadful quiet descended upon the house. It lasted only a few, nervous seconds before Kara rose and went to get them tea cups.

  "A new year, a new beginning," she said. "We can't live with that shadow over us all the time. And nothing's happened for months."

  "I know," Miho replied. "It is just difficult to put it out of my mind."

  Miho was right. Kara had to work at forgetting. It took an effort not to be afraid of the dark, to be able to go out at night or feel safe being home alone. It helped that they weren't the only ones who knew about the events of the spring and fall. Her father and Miss Aritomo had been involved, and Mr. Yamato, the principal, knew. So did the Miyazu City police, who had instructed them all to report anything unusual immediately, but otherwise not to discuss it with anyone. Officially, those things they had experienced had never happened. The deaths of the students and teachers who had been killed in both instances were attributed to human causes. Human killers.

  Last spring, they had stopped an ancient demon called Kyuketsuki from entering into the modern world. In the process they had learned that some of the spirits and gods and demons that had once been worshipped in Japan still existed, weak and nearly extinguished because most people did not believe in them anymore. They were kept from vanishing entirely by legends and songs and plays, but most did not have the strength to manifest in the real world anymore.

  The combination of Akane's murder and Sakura's grief over her death, and an act of pure happenstance — or fate, if such a thing was to be believed — had been enough to stir the demon Kyuketsuki. Kara and her friends had stopped the demon and driven it from the world, but not before it had cursed them.

  Little remains in the world now of the darkness of ancient days . . . but what there is will come to you, and to this place. All the evil of the ages will plague you, until my thirst for vengeance is sated.

  Kara shuddered at the memory, the words burned into her mind. There might not be many supernatural evils left on Earth, but Kyuketsuki had marked them all for death. For months, nothing had gone wrong. Nothing strange had occurred. And then students had begun to disappear. A new demon, the Hannya, had possessed Miss Aritomo and nearly killed them all.

  They had destroyed the Hannya, but not before it had confirmed that the curse had drawn it to them. If there were other ancient evils still strong enough to manifest in Japan, they might appear at any time.

  Kara and her friends knew this, but they still had lives to lead.

  "So what was it that you wanted to talk to us about?" Sakura asked as Kara set their cups in front of them and went to get the teapot.

  "Well," Kara said, excitement dispelling the shadows from her mind. "My dad and I are planning to
go home for a visit at the end of winter term, before the new school year starts."

  "You're going to be gone the whole time?" Miho asked, her disappointment obvious.

  Sakura rolled her eyes. "You're not listening. It's great news! That means they're coming back for next year!"

  Miho's mouth dropped open and then she clapped her hands like a little girl. "I wasn't thinking. That is great. That's wonderful!"

  "Hey, I couldn't pass up the chance to be seniors with you two," Kara said as she poured their tea. "But there's more. I talked to my father about it, and he agreed. If you can get your families to pay for plane tickets, you can come with us."

  This resulted in an eruption of babble, some of it so fast that Kara could not translate, as the girls speculated on whether or not their parents would let them go, and if they would be willing to pay for airfare. Sakura felt fairly certain she would be able to go, but Miho seemed less sure. Still, they started making plans about all of the things they would do and see if their parents could be persuaded.

  The shadows had been driven back for all of them, at least for a while.

  The house Kara shared with her father was just up the street from Monju-no-Chie school. There were times when it still felt awkward to her, being the only gaijin girl — the only western student, period — at the school, but she loved the foreignness of the whole experience, the challenge and constant stream of new cultural information that came with each day. Like any school, there were teachers that she liked better than others, there were mean girls and jocks and cliques, and there was gossip galore. But she enjoyed her classes and her calligraphy club, and she had made the best friends of her life.