Christopher Golden - A Winter of Ghosts

"I love you, Sakura,"Kara whispered. And then she said it louder. "You and Miho are the bestfriends I've ever had. I could not bear to lose you. And I won't. We won't. Ipromise you that we are going to fix this. . all of it. . and there willbe no more curses, no more demons, no more — "

"Ghosts," Miho said.

Kara started to nod inagreement, but then she frowned. Something was odd about the way Miho had saidthat. It hadn't sounded like she was being helpful, but more like she wasmaking an observation.

"Come over here," Mihosaid, her voice small.

As Kara stood, she watched Mihobend close to the window, peering out and squinting as though trying to makeout something at a great distance.

"Ghosts?" Kara echoed."Do you mean more than one?"

Miho stood back and gestured forher to look. The view showed the street in front of the hospital, a busy MiyazuCity avenue with cars, people on bicycles and on foot, and a man selling fruitfrom a small cart in front of a boarded up, abandoned shop across the road.

She saw Daisuke's ghost first,standing by the fruit seller, but he wasn't alone. There were at least a dozenothers, most of whom Kara did not recognize. Sora stood in the middle of theroad, and a little electric car carrying the implements of a street sweeperbuzzed right through him. The ghost did not even seem to notice.

"I see Jiro," Mihowhispered. "And Hana."

Kara had not known Jiro, but shesaw Hana as well, along with Chouku, another girl who had been a victim of theketsuki, the monster that Kyuketsuki had set loose upon the school.

"No one else sees them,"Miho said.

Kara nodded. She had noticedthat as well. People strolling or riding or driving by did not seem to registerthe presence of the ghosts. It confirmed what she had previously suspected,that only those already touched by the supernatural could see the ghosts.

"What do you think theywant?" Miho asked.

"I have no idea," Karasaid.

And that much was true. Butwhatever the ghosts did want, she thought it must be important for them all togather like this. She hoped that Kubo would have an answer, because she fearedthat if they could not figure it out, very soon they would all beghosts.

Sakura knew she was dreaming,but only in that distant way which never seems to make the dream feel any lessreal. Standing on the shore of Miyazu Bay, she gazed across the bay at theblack pines that grew thick on Ama-no-Hashidate and at the horizon beyond. Theair shimmered with a dim gold light that made it feel like twilight, or likethat moment just before a storm broke, when the air grew thick with static andmoisture and the promise of rain, and thunder would roll in from the distance,like a stampede of horses about to come over the rise.

But there were no horseshere. No thunder. Just the quiet lap of water against the shore.

She wore her school uniform,and yet not hers. Sakura personalized hers as much as possible with pins andbadges, and it had never really fit her well. But what she wore now waspristine and crisp, brand new and a perfect fit. Perfect. That was her. Theperfect student. The perfect child. The perfect sister.

But, of course, she had neverbeen any of those things. That had always been Akane.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice echoing over the water.

But Akane did not answer. Thetrees whispered back in her stead, and as happened so often in dreams, Sakurarealized that she had not noticed them until now. She stepped back from thewater and turned to study the trees. They were so close that their branchesseemed to be reaching for her, but it wasn't the trees that frightened her.

The ground sloped up from thebay and at the top of that slope stood the silhouette of Monju-no-Chie school. Yetwhen she glanced at the school she frowned, narrowing her gaze. Somethingseemed off and it took her a moment to realize that the building seemed to haveshrunk.

No. It's not smaller. Justfurther away.

Of course. So far. Too far. When the killers came for her, there would be no safety to be found therefor the girl who would die on the muddy slope.

Muddy ? she thought, glancingdown. And then it was. She could smell fresh rain, as though a storm had justpassed, and the ground was soft and spongy underfoot. The grass on the slopewas slicked down. In places — where it had been worn away by generationsof students making a path down to the bay — the soil had turned dark andmalleable. Mud.

Fear rippled through Sakuraand her breath came too fast, matching her racing heart. This was all wrong. Sheglanced at the bay again, then spun toward the trees, wondering if that waswhere the attack would originate. Who had killed her? Who would killher?

Not you. They killed Akane.

And then the memories swarmedin. She looked out at the water where they had drowned her sister, but it hadnot started in the bay. It had begun here, on this muddy ground. They hadbeaten her savagely, kicking her nearly to death even before they got her tothe water.

But Akane was still here. Somehowshe knew that.

Grief rolled in like thestorm she had felt before had finally arrived. She wanted to shout at thenight, to cry to the heavens, to tear her hair and scream. Out of the corner ofher eye she saw something white flutter in the darkness and she spun to seewhat it had been. A length of black hair flew behind as the figure darted intothe tree;, branches swayed, and it was gone. But Sakura knew the girl wouldn'tstay hidden for very long and she did not want to see her. . the killer. Perhapsthey were all there, the faceless, merciless girls who had murdered her sister.

She found herself walkingtoward the trees.

Maybe they've come for me thistime , she thought. Immediately the idea took root and grew. She stoodstaring into the trees, breathing hard, something rising up inside of her, ascream, a plea, a certainty she had never put into words before. And, at last,turning toward the water, she let it out.

"Why did you leave mebehind?" she screamed.

I did not leave you, a voicewhispered in her ear — Akane's voice. I'm still here.

Slowly, Sakura turned, andshe saw Akane standing on the muddy slope, a red bow in her hair, her smileironic and teasing all at the same time. Sakura rushed to her sister, crushedAkane in her embrace, thinking of all of the times that they had fought andsaid cruel things to each other, times she wanted to take back. The scent ofripe plums filled her nose, Akane's favorite perfume, and Sakura laughed outloud.

"It really is you!" she said.

"Yes," Akaneagreed.

But Sakura felt her joyshatter, felt the darkness flooding into her heart, and she stepped back fromAkane, shaking her head. After all, she knew. The school was too small, theworld too quiet, the light too surreal.

"You're only a dream,"Sakura said, and even asleep, she began to dread waking. Grief wracked her withsorrow.

Akane reached out and heldSakura's face in her hands, held her tightly so that they were eye to eye, andshe shook her head.

No , she said, withoutspeaking . I am here. You are dying, but I am here with you.

"Like the other ghosts?"

Akane nodded, and now what floodedinto Sakura's mind were not words at all. They were images, moments, spillingout of her head and shifting the landscape around them. Sora's ghost on themountainside, in the falling snow. Daisuke on the train. She had not been thereto see Daisuke's ghost, but she could imagine it vividly. . or perhaps itwasn't imagination at all. Perhaps the image came from Akane.