Christopher Golden - A Winter of Ghosts

On the east side of the school,perhaps thirty feet separated the building from the tree line, and the nightusually transformed it into a tunnel of darkness. Tonight, however, themoonlight shining off of the fresh snow illuminated even that dark alleyway. Shepassed the ancient prayer shrine tucked against the trees. On the left was arecessed doorway, long since painted over and forgotten, that had become herfavorite smoking spot. But she surprised herself by walking right past it andaround the front of the building.

Monju-no-Chie school stood on aslight hill which sloped downward to the shore of Miyazu Bay. Sakura stuckclose to the line of trees at the edge of the school's property as she walkeddown to the water, passing the place where — more than a year before — students had made a different kind of shrine to remember her sister.

Akane had been murdered righthere on the shore. Sakura could not walk down to the bay — or even glanceat this spot — without picturing the savage beating that the police saidher sister had received. Akane had been forced under the water, drowned righthere. And yet it had never occurred to Sakura's parents the torment to whichthey consigned her, leaving her at this school, where she would run thishideous scenario through her mind every single day.

Not that she would have wishedto go elsewhere. Sakura felt at home here, and loved her friends. But Akane'smurder always felt fresh to her, no matter how much time had passed. She hadlet go of the rage toward her sister's killer, helped by the fact that Ume wasno longer at Monju-no-Chie school, but she had not forgiven the girl, and neverwould. And her sorrow remained.

Yet she alone, among all of herfriends, had not seen a ghost.

Sakura took out a cigarette andlit it. The tip flared a bright orange and then dimmed to an ember's glow. Shedrew smoke into her lungs and then exhaled, smoke mixing with the mist of herwarm breath in the cold air.

"Are you there?" shesaid, speaking softly in the dark.

The only answer came from thelapping of the bay upon the shore. No ghosts revealed themselves to her.

It didn't seem fair.

Hachiro had never been so cold.

He huddled on the ground withhis knees drawn up beneath him, his back against a thick tree trunk. Twiceduring the long afternoon he had found the strength to force himself to hisfeet and he had tried to run, but both times she had caught him. Her touch hadbeen as light as a breeze, but it froze him rigid, as though ice had formed onhis bones. In his mind he could picture ice floes forming on the surface of ariver, the water slowing and then ceasing altogether, and he knew that shecould have done the same to his blood.

Winter had such beauty, and yetit could be fierce. Winter could kill so easily.

The Woman in White had a touchof winter, but her gaze was far worse. It had drained his will, turned him intolittle more than a puppet, a marionette held up by icicle strings. Twice he hadmanaged to summon enough willpower to break those strings, to attempt escape,but now he had used the last vestiges of that will, and the last of his hope.

The tree against his back wasthe only thing he trusted, now. The only thing that did not seem intent uponmaking him suffer. The rest of the world was winter. Moonlight streamed throughthe bare branches above, making long finger-shadows that seemed to reach forhim across the snow. His body felt stiff and if he shifted even an inch, hisbones ached so much he feared the marrow had frozen. Hachiro felt brittle, asthough a fall or a blow might shatter him.

Safer, then, to stay right here.

Hachiro's teeth chattered andhis whole body shook from the cold. When he closed his eyes, the lids andeyelashes stuck together, threatening to freeze. His hair was frosted with ice,his pants covered with a coating of snow that clung to the fabric, almost asthough the winter hoped to consume him, draw him down into the snow and makehim a part of it forever.

The night seemed to go onforever.

He thought of his parents andwondered if he would ever see them again. In his heart, he knew the answer, andit filled him with grief, as much for them as for himself. He thought of Karaand knew that she must be terrified for him. Hachiro would have given anythingto have been able to hold her, to touch her hair and whisper softly to her, totell her it would be all right.

But it wouldn't be.

Even now, he could hear Rencrying, begging to be set free. Hachiro hated himself because he could not makehis legs work, could not make himself stand and fight, could not save Ren fromthe Woman in White.

She did not want Hachiro towatch. It had been she who placed him here, against this tree, facing into thewoods and the cross-hatching of moonshadows that spread across the snow.

Ren called his name.

Hachiro closed his eyes, wishinghe could close his ears as well, and his heart. Instead he forced himself totry again to move, and was surprised to find that he had the power to turn hishead. A spark of hope rose within him and he took a moment to muster hisstrength and his courage before twisting around to see, to help. But as hetried to get his feet beneath him, his body would not obey him. The Woman inWhite had sapped his will and the cold had sapped his strength. He realizedthat he could no longer feel his feet, or his lower legs. His hands were likeclubs, no longer even connected to his body.

He lay on his side in the snow,unable to move even to lift himself into a sitting position again. He managedto twist his head to keep his face out of the snow, and there in the moonlightand winter shadows, he saw the Woman in White. Her beauty stole his breathaway.

She stood just a few feet awayfrom Ren, who floated above the ground, tossed to and fro by the winds that shecontrolled. Snow whipped at him, turning him round and round, toying with him. Hachirohad thought of himself as a marionette, but the Woman in White had turned Reninto a real puppet, and now she made him dance even as she caressed him withthe wind and the snow at her command.

" Beautiful ,"she whispered. " So beautiful ."

Hachiro closed his eyes and theicy grip of winter carried him down into the darkness.

On Tuesday morning, Kara woke tothe sound of the doorbell. She squinted against the sunshine that floodedthrough her window as she dragged herself out of bed, and when she lookedoutside and saw the lovely, gauzy blue sky, a terrible guilt descended uponher. How could she have slept so soundly, so well, when Hachiro might be dead? Hemight be frozen, like Sora, still lost upon that mountain, and she had manageda wonderful, restorative sleep without a single nightmare.

She leaned her forehead againstthe window, staring out at the bay across the street, and the cold glass numbedher skin. Sadness threatened to overwhelm her. She could so easily crawl backinto bed and succumbed to her fear for Hachiro and her guilt at leaving himbehind.

But he would still be lost.

No, something had to be done. Aglance at the clock told her it was just after eight o'clock. Searchers wouldalready be starting up the mountain, spreading out, looking behind every treeand in every hollow. The urge to be among them, to be up on that mountainlooking for him herself, was powerful. But if she believed there was somethingother than nature at work here — and she could not deny it seemedprobable — then the best way for her to help him was to figure out what,exactly, that might be, and figure out how to combat it.

When impossible things had firstbegun to happen to her — terrifying, supernatural things — she hadfelt more alone than she ever had before. But slowly others began to getinvolved, to learn the truth, and now Kara did not have to face this byherself.

Pulling on a robe, she left herbedroom. In the kitchen she found her father and Miss Aritomo embracing, Yuuka'scheek pressed against his chest as if she were listening to his heartbeat. Karafroze, hating to disturb their intimacy, but as she began to take a stepbackward a creaking floorboard gave her away and her father looked up.