I switch off the camcorder, breathing hard. Throughout my misery, Okiku does nothing. Her eyes are closed.
I come to three conclusions from the videos. They confirm that the ghost hunters arrived at the village where I am now. They tell me there are at least four angry spirits here.
Now I remember why the temple I’d seen when I entered the village looked so familiar. It’s the same one in the photograph Kagura sent me. And if she and any of the men are still alive, it’s possible that they’ll be at that shrine.
Which means I need to leave this house, whether I want to or not.
Argh.
“There are many ghosts wandering,” Okiku whispers, sensing where my thoughts lie.
“I know.”
“There is one ghost wandering.”
“Yes, I think she made that pretty clear when she chased us in here.”
“No. There is one ghost wandering this house.”
A cold chill takes over. I glance back at the sliding door in a panic, but the ofuda remains securely in place. There doesn’t seem to be any malignant presence outside.
But then the thumping noises begin, and it sounds like the noise is coming from my left.
The furniture that remains in the house is in varying states of disrepair, with parts and disintegrating pieces bundled against one wall. The scratching sounds come from somewhere behind them.
I respond by scampering as far away from the noise as I can, but Okiku is built differently. She moves toward the pile.
“Okiku…”
She ignores me. “It is harmless, but you must end it.”
“End what?”
Furniture tumbles down. Okiku sweeps the remaining debris away with one powerful swipe of her hand, revealing a strange cocoon-like being. It’s the size of a full-grown adult, if full-grown adults wrap themselves like caterpillars and thump against the floor in mute agony.
“What is this?” I ask, appalled.
“A victim,” Okiku says, her voice one of sadness.
“Are you going to…”
She shakes her head. “I cannot touch it. But you can.”
“Me? Ki, I am not touching that thing even if it’s a million dollars.” A million dollars that’s scratching its way across the floor.
“Wood will be enough.”
I look down at the stake I’m holding in my hand.
“Please.” Her voice is softer. “It is suffering…”
I don’t want to. I really don’t. But Okiku has never pleaded with me for anything before…
I swallow and step forward. The cocooned creature makes a noise that sounds like a whimper as I raise my hand.
The thing breaks open when I find my mark. It’s like a brittle, desiccated coffin made of thread. Inside, there’s a wisp of an image: a young man in worker’s clothes, a look of indescribable despair on his face. Then he’s gone. The cocoon crumbles into dust, and all that is left are cobweb-like strings splayed on the ground.
“Silkworms,” Okiku murmurs.
I shudder. I know a lot of rural villages used to be established in the silkworm trade, but just how big do these things get in Aitou? “Ki, was that a man in there?”
She nods. “He was suffering. The village still suffers.”
“But why would anyone do that to him?”
“There is a hunger here. There is a need to feed.”
“Why couldn’t you free him?” The words come out sounding petulant, but I can’t help myself. The thought of whatever killed and entrapped these villagers is an unsettling reminder of the kind of place we’re stuck in.
“It is a creature of earth.”
That might sound cryptic to anyone else, but I understand. Certain elements can nurture or destroy others, according to wu xing, a Chinese philosophy often associated with feng shui. Metal weakens wood; wood weakens earth; earth weakens water; water weakens fire; and fire weakens metal. I suppose it’s why the wooden spikes worked so well on it. I now realize why Kagura brought them with her and insisted that the ghost crew bring the same.
It seemed odd of Okiku to flee from the crawling creature when she’d always stood her ground before. Or that she’d ask me to kill the cocoon. Okiku has always wanted to deliver the killing blows so I won’t have to.
She’s standing so damn still, as if she’s afraid she might break if she moves. I take a step toward her and she sags forward, the rattle in her throat no longer a warning of impending death but a sound of pain. I catch her before she topples forward. And then I realize.
“Ki, if these are all creatures of earth, then you’re—”
Earth weakens water.
“It is of no consequence.”
I wish she’d stop saying that. “‘Of no consequence,’ my ass. Ki, you can barely stand. If staying in this village makes you weaker, then I want to get us out of here as soon as we can.
“Look, do you want to—do you want to rest for a bit? I’ll miss the company, but it’ll help keep your strength up.”
She looks at me.