The hissing, inhuman noises above me are my signal. I glance up.
Yukiko Uchiyama’s ghost crawls along the rock, trailing blood and other sorts of crazy. For once, the dead girl’s focus isn’t on me. Her gaze is trained on Hiroshi Mikage, the man responsible for her years of torment, and her wide-lipped grin is bright with the promise of bloodshed.
That’s the problem with collecting too much energy in one place. There’s the energy that the silkworm tree possesses and the dolls multiplying it further. Just as I attract spirits to me when Okiku isn’t around, the tree attracts spirits eager to feast.
Good thing there’s one other person Yukiko despises more than a budding exorcist.
A thin, earsplitting wail breaks through the air, and the ghost attacks. Her claws sink into the kannushi, driving him to the ground. I sprint toward Kagura and Riley. The assistant priests hesitate, torn between protecting their master and preventing their prisoners from escaping. Finally, they abandon the duo and race to defend their head priest.
“That was dangerous,” Kagura whispers after I use the jeweled dagger to cut her bindings, then do the same for Riley.
“Put that in my annual performance review.” Yukiko is still going to town on the kannushi, but as neither can bleed, I don’t know how much damage Mikage is sustaining. The assistant priests reach his side, but Yukiko doesn’t even blink. Her hands tear through one of them like he is made of paper, and the glowing figure collapses, falling to his knees.
One negligent toss of Yukiko’s hand, and we’re treated to the sight of the man’s head bouncing across the ground before the head and his prone body vanish into smoke, swallowed by the darkness. I remember Hotoke mentioning in her diary that Yukiko had the ability to become a powerful priestess in her own right, which is proving to be correct.
The kannushi disappears in the ruckus, but I don’t have time to see if it’s because Yukiko has finished him off. I flip the switch on my recorder, and the sounds of Buddhist chants fill the cave, bouncing from wall to wall in melancholic resonance. Yukiko beheads the second assistant and turns toward me, her teeth gnashing. She lunges, and I swing the hanayome ningyō like a baseball bat, braining her—but the momentum carries the ghost forward, and I wind up underneath her, treated to a close-up of her rotting, grinning face.
She hesitates, her fingers hovering inches above my face. I feel a surge of heat on my chest. The magatama is throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. The ghost stiffens. She attempts to rake her nails down the front of my shirt but is stopped by a barrier I can’t see.
Then Okiku barrels into her, slashing and scratching. She tears into Yukiko with her own brand of savagery, slicing at the bride ghost’s flesh. Yukiko hisses and delivers a few blows of her own, sending Okiku’s head snapping back. I sense her initial advantage is waning. Earth trumps water, and here, deep underground, Yukiko has strength in reserve.
Yukiko is distracted when Kagura appears. The miko’s aim is true, and she drives a sharpened spike through one of the bride ghost’s hands. Without pause, Yukiko throws off Okiku and turns to swipe at Kagura, who dances back just in time. Riley tries to get in on the fight too, though he’s having no luck getting close enough to score a hit.
Even pinned to the floor, Yukiko drags herself across the ground. The embedded stake actually drags through the rock, creating small cracks in the otherwise solid ground. Her other hand blurs through the air, and Kagura winces when it catches her unaware. Deep cuts appear on the front of the miko’s already ruined haori.
I lash out with my own weapon, trying to restrain the revenant, and manage to drill through her foot. Yukiko stumbles, but persists. She lunges at me, and I recoil, biting back a cry of pain as her nails scour at my face. If I’d been half a second slower, she would have sliced through my neck instead.
Okiku isn’t out of the fight yet; she tackles the other ghost again. Yukiko swipes, and Okiku lets her. Those knife-like fingers sink into the center of Okiku’s chest.
A red mist settles in my vision, and I’m aware that I’m shouting at the ghost, but I don’t know the words I’m saying, just that they are filled with anger. I dimly recall ignoring Kagura’s own yells as I leap at Yukiko. By the time I come back to myself, Yukiko is on the ground, froth dripping from her bared teeth. A wooden stake sprouts from the center of her forehead and black is oozing out of that terrible wound. Her hand has been ripped from her wrist. Okiku must have done that.
Okiku is in my arms, bleeding black from the wounds she’s sustained. I press my hands to her chest, trying to stem the flow. I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the tears dripping down my chin.