um, never heard of him,’ Kenny lied, hoping to protect her.
Kiyomi spun on one boot heel. ‘Well, he damn well knows who you are! In fact, he’s on first-name terms!’
Kenny’s heart sank. This was rapidly going from bad to worse. ‘Uh, was there any more to your dream?’
Kiyomi’s jaw tightened and her eyes drifted into the middle distance, while she replayed the vision. ‘The palace doors go up a mile. They’re so high that I can’t see the top. Anyway, I stand at the entrance, with this freezing-cold wind howling. And there’s this . . . this moaning and wailing sound, of dead people – and guess what happens?’
‘A pizza delivery guy shows up?’
Kiyomi grabbed an eraser from the desk and hurled it at Kenny, bouncing it off his forehead.
‘Oww,’ he protested. ‘Sorry, I can’t help it.’
Kiyomi took a deep breath. ‘So the doors swing open and this . . . rotting thing . . . ushers me in, like some kind of zombie butler, and says that his Lord is expecting me.’ She held her hands out in Kenny’s direction, as if pleading for help. ‘Don’t you get it? I’ve been summoned . . . invited. Me personally.’
Kenny absently wiped a cold sheen of sweat from his brow.
‘Inside, the palace is a crumbling ruin,’ Kiyomi said, ‘all decaying glory. I’m taken through this maze of corridors to the throne room, high up, and there’s like a thousand oni standing there, all waiting for me.’
Kenny scowled, trying to picture the scene.
‘And you know what they do?’ Kiyomi’s voice went up almost an octave and a grimace of horror twisted her face. ‘They bow. All of them. They bow – to me, like I’m one of them.’
Kenny’s head spun and he felt dizzy. ‘But . . . I thought –’
‘No, Ken-chan, you didn’t think. You never think through the consequences of your actions.’
‘What actions? What exactly am I supposed to have done?’ Kenny shrugged. ‘Uh, back to the oni . . .?’
‘Yeah, the oni. Half of those guys should be queuing up to tear me apart, after I sent their sorry butts back to Hell, but no. Now they’re treating me like long-lost family. Then the doors open and in comes the Storm God himself, ruler of the underworld.’
‘Susie?’ Kenny breathed, firing a glance in Poyo’s direction.
‘Susano-wo himself. He comes over, takes my chin in his hand and kisses the top of my head. Ugh! It’s so disgusting. A centipede is crawling through his hair and a freaking cockroach plops on to my shoulder.’ Kiyomi closed her eyes tightly and grimaced at the memory.
‘Does he say anything?’ Kenny asked, dreading the answer.
Kiyomi nodded. ‘You bet he does. He says, “Welcome, child. Any friend of Kuromori is a friend of mine. How is young Kenny? Has he forgotten me and our arrangement?”’
A cold chill ran through Kenny. ‘But this is a dream, right? From your imagination? Maybe it’s post-traumatic stress –’
‘Shut up,’ Kiyomi said. ‘After the dreams you’ve had, you think I don’t know when the gods are sending a message?’
‘But . . .’
‘I haven’t finished,’ Kiyomi warned. ‘So then he takes out a bronze mirror, about this big.’ She held her palms out, marking a space roughly as wide as her shoulders. ‘And he shines a beam of light on it.’
‘Let me guess,’ Kenny interjected. ‘He says, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”’
‘Close,’ Kiyomi said, her voice cold. ‘He says, “Show me the resting place of the Yasakani no Magatama.”’
‘The what?’
‘It’s the Jewel of Life. The image in the reflection changes to show the surface of the ocean, then it shifts to the seabed.’
‘The bottom of the sea?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Kiyomi said. ‘And then Susano-wo looks at me and says, “Tell Kuromori he has four days to bring me the precious Stone of Life or our bargain is at an end. My patience grows thin.” He holds up his hand and shows me this white jade ring on his finger. It’s the twin to that ring you gave me – the red jade one. “Tell him to remember our agreement and honour it,” he says, “or I will reclaim my prize.” And then . . .’ Kiyomi stopped, her breath catching in ragged gasps. ‘And then . . . he punches his claws into my stomach and rips out this . . . white, glowing mist.’
‘Your soul,’ Kenny gasped.
‘My ki,’ Kiyomi corrected. ‘That’s when I woke up.’
Kenny rubbed his face with both hands. ‘That’s some nightmare all right.’
Kiyomi remained by the window, shaking. ‘It wasn’t a dream, Ken-chan. It was a message – from a god.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Kenny asked.
‘Because . . .’ Kiyomi pulled out her phone and scrolled through the photo gallery. ‘When I woke up, I found this . . .’ She handed Kenny the phone.
He stared for a few seconds, uncomprehending, before his mind finally made sense of what he was seeing. The picture showed a bedroom wall and scrawled in mucky red fingerprints to form large marks and symbols, was:
Kenny zoomed in on the photograph and his stomach lurched as he recognised the sticky drips and spatters that formed the writing. The message was written in blood.
Kenny felt the acid tang of bile in the back of his throat. ‘Whose blood?’ he croaked.
‘Not mine, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Kiyomi said, snatching back her phone, ‘although it was all over my hands. Took ages to clean off and I had to wipe the walls down with bleach. Nice way to leave a message.’
Kenny blanched, unable to clear the image from his mind. ‘If it’s not your blood, then . . .’
‘Don’t be such a baby. I checked the fridge and there was a packet of wagyu steak missing.’
‘You wrote that?’
‘Duh. Hello, Sherlock. Looks like someone can make me write in my sleep as well as walk. Aren’t I talented?’
Kenny rubbed his eyes. ‘Am I allowed to get up now?’
Kiyomi gave a curt nod. Kenny stood and went over to the workstation by the window. He picked up a notepad and jotted down the symbols.
‘These numbers,’ he said. ‘What do they mean? Is it some kind of code? A puzzle? Some ancient language?’
Kiyomi rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such an idiot sometimes. Give me that.’ Kenny handed her the pad and for a moment the only sounds were the scritching of the pen and a quiet scrunching from the kitchen. ‘Here.’ Kiyomi held out the pad.
Kenny took it and read:
24°2'55.2'N 123°00'39.6'E
‘Oh, man. This is some kind of mathematics problem? Am I supposed to draw it?’ He scratched his head.
‘They’re coordinates. You know, as in finding things on a map.’ Kiyomi took the pad back and drew a circle on a fresh page.