I offer him some of my water, and Kagura has some dried beef on hand, both of which he finishes with relish. I don’t know how long I’ve been stuck in Aitou, much less how long Kagura and Riley have—time seems to have its own rules in this village—but the fear of running out of food and water lurks at the back of everyone’s minds.
That fear remains with us until the Oimikado house looms into view. Until I knee the door aside and discover that the ofuda I placed across it for protection is no longer where I left it but is now torn in half on the floor.
I raise my hand behind me to signal Kagura to stop and then pry the rest of the door open. The unmistakable metallic aroma of blood and earth and dirt clogs my nostrils. There was no pungent odor when I left. Alan George is not here, but there’s ample enough evidence that he used to be and may not have left on his own terms. The wall where I remember leaving Alan is caked in soot and something congealed is scattered in lumps on the floor. One whiff tells me that I am better off not knowing what it is.
“Where’s George?” I’m not sure Stephen Riley can take too many more hits, and it’s apparent by the way he’s shaking that he knows something came for his friend.
“I’m sorry, Stephen,” I say, suddenly angry. “I told him! I told him not to take it off!”
“He wouldn’t have if there wasn’t good reason to,” Riley insists, defending his crewmate. “We all saw what happened when Garrick removed the protection. He wouldn’t make that same mistake.”
“Then what the hell happened here? I should never have left him alone.” My voice is hoarse with emotion.
“You didn’t have much of a choice,” Kagura reminds me, though her own face is grim, her lips thinning. She’s quick to compartmentalize her emotions, stepping bravely into the room. I endeavor to follow, though with less calm. I bind the door with another strip of ofuda, though I’m not sure it will make much of a difference if the creature is already inside the house.
“You’re not going to leave me here, are you?” Riley asks, panicked. I don’t blame him.
Kagura takes a deep breath, and I suspect she is about to suggest it. “Alan-san took off the ofuda when he wasn’t supposed to. You should still be safest here.”
“You’re going to leave me to become food for whatever creatures lurk around here? Hell no.” Fear is a great motivator, and as weak as he is, Riley isn’t backing down. “I’ll go with you guys. I won’t fall behind. Just don’t…don’t leave me here with the thing that got Alan.”
Kagura glances at me, and I nod after a moment, still feeling guilty about leaving the man to fend for himself. May as well die together rather than alone.
“I think we need to go over this place, just to be sure,” I say. Whatever tore the ofuda might still be lurking inside, and I want to make sure there are no more surprises. Kagura nods in agreement. Riley is less accommodating, but neither of us says anything as we begin the search. My back still aches, but adrenaline’s doing a good job of helping me ignore the pain.
I find Alan George in the next room. His knees are drawn up despite his bad leg, his face buried between them, and his arms are wrapped around his calves. He is rocking back and forth, and he doesn’t seem to hear me when I call out gently to him.
I take a step back, turning my head toward where the others were. “Kagura, I found Alan. He’s—”
The screen dividing the two rooms slides shut inches from my face, barely missing my nose and cutting off the rest of my words, as well as access to Kagura. Startled, I yank at the screen, but it refuses to give.
“What the hell? Kagura!” I hear pounding on the other side and know it’s the miko, but she’s having just as much luck as I am at prying the door open, which is none at all.
I rear back, raising my foot and slamming my heel into the wood. “Alan?” I say as I kick the door again. The man is barely fazed by the loud noise and the unexpected poltergeist activity. He’s too catatonic to notice. “Hey, Alan, are you all right? We found Stephen Riley. We’re gonna get you both out, just as soon as—” I kick hard; the wood wheezes again but doesn’t give.
I stop in my tracks. Now that I’m not banging on the door, I can hear a strange hissing sound coming from behind me. It doesn’t sound normal. In fact, it doesn’t sound human at all.
I swallow hard and force myself to speak. “You’re not Alan George, are you?”
The spitting, croaking rattle that responds is answer enough. “No.”
I can feel Okiku rising, ready to do battle, but I gently push her back down. This one’s on me.
“Alan George is dead, isn’t he?” I grip the wooden stake, hard enough that I could have squeezed water from it.