Soul of the Sword (Shadow of the Fox #2) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,90

me fraying as my consciousness began to stir. Already, the world seemed darker, colder, without the presence of a cheerful fox girl. I wondered if I would truly see her again, if she would hunt me down as she promised, before I grew angry at my own weakness. It would be better for everyone if she stayed away, far from me and the demon possessing my body. Yumeko was brave, resourceful and had many kitsune tricks she could call upon, but she had never faced a foe as terrible as Hakaimono. I would rather the Kage track us down and kill us both than watch Hakaimono tear the kitsune girl in half and laugh at me for daring to hope.

Around me, the castle was growing less substantial, less real, by the second. I knew I could open my eyes anytime I wished, but for several heartbeats, I didn’t move, wanting the dream to last as long as it could.

For me, the nightmare would continue as soon as I woke up.

15

TEA WITH MY ENEMY

Yumeko

“Hakaimono is going after the Dragon scroll.”

Silence followed my announcement, four pairs of eyes staring at me in alarm and disbelief. At my insistence, we had all gathered in Master Jiro’s room, with Reika’s ofuda firmly across the doors to prevent eavesdropping. It was still very early morning; the castle was still dark, and Okame had frozen with his mouth open midyawn, Daisuke looked grim and Reika’s cheeks had gone deathly pale. Master Jiro sat motionless in the corner, flanked by Chu and Ko. I saw his withered fingers tighten around his staff.

“Are you certain of this?” Reika was the first to speak, her voice matching the expression of horrified disbelief on her face. “How do you know the First Oni is going after the Dragon scroll?”

“I…had a dream.” At their incredulous looks, I hurried on. “I went to Yume-no-Sekai, the realm of dreams, and I saw…” My face heated, remembering the other incidents that happened while I was with the white kitsune in the dream realm. “Well, Tatsumi was there, too,” I went on. “He told me that Hakaimono intended to seek out the Dragon scroll, and that we had to stop him before he could reach it.”

“The demonslayer met you…in a dream?” Daisuke said slowly. He and Okame sat side by side, I suddenly noticed, their knees almost touching. Neither seemed to notice the proximity, but perhaps I was seeing too much in it. “You spoke to Tatsumi-san directly?”

I nodded. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really did speak to him.”

“But…demons have no use for the Dragon scroll,” Reika argued. “They can’t summon the Harbinger or use the Wish. Only a mortal soul can do that. Why would Hakaimono suddenly want the Dragon scroll?”

“It’s not for him,” I told her. “It’s for Genno, the Master of Demons.”

Okame choked on his sake jug. Coughing, he bent over, gasping for breath, while the rest of us looked on in mild alarm. “Sorry,” he gasped, sitting up again. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his red, bleary gaze met mine. “Very clever, Yumeko-chan,” he told me. “You almost had me fooled. At least now we know it was just a dream.”

“I’m serious, Okame-san.” I frowned at the ronin, pinning back my ears. “The Master of Demons has returned, and he sent Hakaimono for the Dragon scroll. He’s on his way to the Steel Feather temple right now.”

“Genno.” Okame put down the sake jug and gave me a dubious look. “The guy from the history scrolls who raised an army of demons and undead horrors to overthrow the empire? Whose exploits were so heinous they inspired the Oni’s Night festival with a parade of ‘monsters’ fleeing the city? That Genno?”

“There is only one Master of Demons, ronin,” Reika snapped. “Unless you can think of a different blood mage with an undead army who nearly destroyed the empire, I believe we are talking about the same person.”

“The same person in books, poems and Kabuki theater.” Okame frowned at the shrine maiden. “Myth and legends tend to get bigger and more exaggerated the longer they endure. Didn’t the real Master of Demons die over half a century ago?”

“Four hundred years ago.” This from Master Jiro, his pipe held thoughtfully to his chin, Chu and Ko at his side. “And unfortunately, the legend of the Master of Demons is a pale comparison to the real thing. The stories all focus more on the exploits of the heroes who opposed him, rather than