“Some of the other ghosts might not be hostile, right?”
“She is likely the exception.”
“I hate that the nice ones always have to be the exception.” Very carefully, I remove the stake and place the doll inside my backpack. “So one down, at least six more to go. Where’s the nearest one you can sense?”
“To the east.”
“Alrighty then. But before that—”
Okiku does not move when I approach her. She looks puzzled. “I’m going to hug you,” I say and then do just that, enfolding her in my arms.
“Why?” The rattle of her voice is muffled against my shoulder.
I risk all for him.
“Because I want to.” My voice still sounds scratchy. “You change your mind about hugs now?”
“No.”
“Party pooper.” I let go. “I guess there’s nothing else for us here. Let’s aim for that next house.”
The Kunai residence is next on the map. As with the Hiranos’, the house has suffered through the years, with gaping holes in the floorboards and caved-in walls, which makes putting up ofudas a useless endeavor. I keep my eyes on the ground, fearful the whole floor might give way with each step. I tiptoe along the walls, where the wood looks firmer and the foundation appears unscathed. Okiku, who likes being unfair, simply sails across the gaps.
The Kunai altar is located inside the inner room. The doll sits atop it, surrounded by discarded bits of incense and broken pottery that may have once contained food offerings to whatever deities the people honored. There is only one problem—the floor has collapsed into a gaping hole that splits the room in two, separating us from the doll by about eight feet of air—at least four feet more than I’m willing to risk jumping across. I try to peer into the dark chasm below, but all I can see is darkness. I play my flashlight back and forth over a stone path about twenty feet down. An underground cave? A collapsed tunnel?
“What the hell kind of architecture is this? Why would people build their houses over yawning pits like this?”
Of course, I get no good answer to that. Okiku—who I’m pretty sure hates holes in the ground more than I do, given that she died in one—just stares at it.
“Is there any way you can get it just this once for me?” I wheedle.
She reluctantly moves across the room and attempts to do just that. Her hands pass through the doll like it’s not even there. It’s the same reason she couldn’t touch the doll back at Sondheim’s apartment—spirits of water can’t touch vessels belonging to creatures of wood. Ghosts can’t touch vessels made to entrap them either, which is the reason the ghosts haven’t been able to hide their dolls. Most of the time, it’s the only advantage humans have over ghosts.
Should the gate fall, only one hope remains: use the vessels to trap the sacrifices and perform a final ritual in their presence.
I can’t help but give the kannushi some credit, albeit grudgingly. He’d read The Book of Unnatural Changes too. He must have told the girls’ families to honor their daughters through these bridal dolls, knowing he would use these vessels to perform the eighth ritual—the one that would give him power to rule the gate.
“Guess not.” I glance around, trying to see if there is any way to overcome the obstacle. There are a few long, wooden planks that don’t look too badly decomposed—sturdy enough to walk across.
“I definitely did not sign up to be a trapeze artist,” I complain, lugging one into place. I drag a few other planks beside the first, until half the hole has been covered. I figure if I don’t put my full weight on just one, then there will be less chance of the planks giving way.
I take off my backpack and make a tentative step, balancing my arms out on either side of me as I begin to make my way across.
“If Callie were here,” I continue to grumble, “she’d say this would be by far the worst idea I’d ever come up with, and she’d be right. I’m glad Callie isn’t here.”
Why would a village build their houses above what look to be deep tunnels? How was it even possible for them to build something like this?
And then another question: what’s at the bottom of these holes?
I make it to the other side, retrieving the doll without incident, and start my return.
“There is something here,” Okiku says.
I nearly lose my balance from that alone. “Goddamn it, Okiku, don’t tell me that when I’m crossing a—”