The Suffering (The Girl from the Well #2)

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”


“Not yet? What do you…” I trail off because she shifts, death draining from her features to reveal human Okiku with several small wounds dotting the side of her kimono, which is ripped and shredded from the fight, exposing a part of her abdomen. “Pull them out.”

I look closer and see several bits of wood and—I blanch—fingernails piercing the skin. I nearly throw up a little in my mouth, then get to work.

Okiku doesn’t flinch at every splinter and nail I pull out, though I do most of the flinching for her. Her injuries would have been severe had she been human, but when I pull out each offending piece, her wounds seem to close up a little, and the blood ceases.

Once I’m sure I’ve gotten everything out, I pull her closer to me. “Are you okay?”

“No. I am angry.”

“Not a surprise. You were angry at me long before we got here.” My grin fades when I see her brows draw together. “Okiku, you’re not still angry at me, right?”

“I am not.”

“We never really got around to talking the other night, did we?” I’m deliberately changing the subject—anything to get her mind off the pain I know she’s feeling. “I knew you were angry at me even before McNeil. We were going to talk and then I opened my big mouth and you…” I try to decide a nicer way to say “stormed off in a huff.”

“…and you stormed off in a huff.”

Okiku works herself into a sitting position. The color returns to her cheeks, if you count pale white as a color.

“I do not like her.”

I blink. “Her? The ghost, Mineko Kunai? I don’t like her either.”

“No. The human girl.”

“Callie? I know she’s still a little wary when it comes to you, but I don’t think she means anything by—”

“No. The girl.”

“The… Kendele? You don’t like Kendele?” It feels a little ridiculous to hear her make this confession when I haven’t thought much about Kendele since arriving in Japan.

“Yes.”

I wait for her to explain, but she’s not forthcoming. She just looks at me expectantly.

“Uh, okay. Why don’t you like her?”

Now it’s her turn to frown. “I do not know. I only know that I do not wish to see you with her. It…upsets me.”

I have never seen Okiku jealous. I am aware of the heat climbing up my face. Okiku is watching me again with that puzzled look on her face, and I realize that she doesn’t even know why. So it doesn’t seem fair that I’m the one feeling embarrassed.

“Kendele is just…a friend, okay? Like Callie, except we’re not related.”

“Callie does not kiss you the way she does.”

My face feels like it is on fire. “It’s nothing! Don’t think about it too much.” Maybe I’m overthinking this, but… “Ki, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“Jealous of what?”

I am definitely overthinking this. “Never mind. I’m just saying that it’s normal for me to, um, have…friendships with other people. It doesn’t mean that anything about us has to be different. Okay?” I catch the look on her face. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“I am sorry.”

Mood swings aren’t usually her thing, but now her voice is so very, very soft, the way she often gets when her own odd sense of depression sets in.

“Sorry for what?”

“For depriving you of a normal childhood when you should be at…parties. To find other people who do not ask you to hunt for strange prey.”

I can’t help myself. I start to laugh.

She eyes me like I’m losing my mind.

“Okiku. First, I’m not a fan of parties, so it’s highly unlikely I’d be going off to one even if you weren’t around.” I pause before making my next point, because I’m not sure how to explain it.

“And secondly—I really don’t know how I feel about Kendele. I mean, I like her. She’s the only one I talk to on a regular basis at school, and that’s kind of pathetic. But regardless of what I think about her, I promise you that nothing will ever change between us. Hunting bad guys might churn my insides every now and then, but that doesn’t mean I regret it. It’s not just because you saved my life either. I want you to be happy, Ki, because I feel happier with you.

“Now, come on. The sooner you step in, the sooner you get to recuperate.”

The smile on her face grows with every word I say, and when I finish, she leans over to touch my face with her fingers in her usual display of affection. Then the smile recedes, her mouth twisting into a look of determination. She takes a step forward—

“I have done nothing wrong,” she says, her voice unsteady despite this assertion.

The young lord does not listen to her, and even if he did, he would not believe her. He looks back once more at his prized collection of plates. Where there had once been ten, only nine remain, but she is not to blame.

“Count them, Okiku,” he commands angrily.

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