The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(22)

Shin grimaces. “Nothing good.”

Behind us there’s a crackle and a pop of sound. The bodies of the thieves begin to fade, smoke swirling off them. After a few minutes, all that’s left are piles of empty clothing and discarded weapons. Even the blood on the paper screen has vanished.

“Where did they go?” I ask.

“They’ve returned to the River of Souls,” Shin says. “Their second life has ended.”

“Their last life,” Namgi adds. “No more coming back for them.”

I shudder. I’m not unfamiliar with death, but seeing it never gets easier.

Shin wrenches his sword from the floor and sheathes it. “We’d better hurry to the main pavilion. It’s almost midnight.”

He looks toward the broken window, where the night seems to pulse. I notice a new scent in the air, like sulfur.

“What about her?” Namgi says, throwing a glance in my direction.

“She comes with us.”

This earns an eyebrow raise from Namgi, but he doesn’t question Shin.

We leave the pavilion. Outside, the once balmy summer night is now hot and dry.

Trailing Shin, Namgi sweeps back his wide sleeves to reveal wiry arms tattooed with intricate markings. “What are you going to do about the soul?” he asks, glancing at me. “Everyone will expect some evidence that you’ve taken it.”

“I’ll think of something,” Shin says, then proceeds to lengthen his stride.

Instead of the forest, we follow the path Kirin traveled earlier over a green field. I look up, expecting to see stars, but the sky is filled with dark, ominous clouds. A fire must be burning somewhere, because I can smell the smoke.

Namgi slows to a walk beside me. His hand is on the hilt of his sword, his eyes on the sky. He wears a grim, worried expression.

“What you said earlier,” I say. “What did you mean by my soul being used as evidence?”

“Ah, it’s part of the yearly ritual. Why all these opportunistic spirits are in our house, drinking all our good liquor. They’ve come to bear witness that the Red String of Fate has been cut, ensuring some semblance of peace, at least until next year. The evidence is the soul of the bride—your soul. Though now that it’s gone, I don’t know what we’ll do.” Namgi scratches his chin with his knife, appearing unconcerned.

“How long has this ritual been going on for?” I ask.

“No one knows for sure. But if you’re the one hundredth bride, it stands to reason for as long as that. Things get a bit hazy in the Sea God’s realm, where spirits and gods can live indefinitely. One day is much like the next. One century, too, for that matter.

“Shin has always protected the Sea God. He’s the head of Lotus House, and his duty is to serve him. Nothing drives Shin like his sense of duty.”

If he protects the Sea God, then should he not help the brides in breaking the curse? But I swallow my question for now.

Shin leads us across the unlit eastern bridge I saw earlier with Nari, toward the pavilion on the lake. The bright interior is filled with people reclining on silk cushions as they pick from tables laden with fruit and colorful rice cakes. I spot what must be the lords of Tiger and Crane Houses, judging by the miniature courts they’ve set up on either side of the pavilion.

The music stops at our arrival. Kirin approaches, his light, enigmatic eyes sweeping over me before settling on Shin.

“They’re here,” he says.

At first I think he means the lords of Tiger and Crane Houses, but then I notice that every person in the pavilion has their gaze trained on the sky over the lake.

A storm appears to be rolling in, bringing with it that sul-furic stench from before, but now it’s more pronounced. Inside the pavilion, guests lift silken cloths to their mouths. The heat grows unbearable, dry and thick. A scalding wind sweeps low across the ground, and the Red String of Fate whips to the side. Above, the sky begins to writhe, swelling and pulsating as if a great heart beats within the darkness.

At first, I can’t discern what I see, but then I start to make out shapes in the tumult. Snakelike creatures, as large as dragons, but without horns or limbs. They blend with the sky in colors of deep red, indigo, and black.

“Imugi,” Kirin growls.

My grandmother’s stories never spoke of creatures such as these, as large as rivers, and so many in number they appear to swallow the night.

I feel a pressure on my shoulder. “Stay here,” Shin says, pushing me lightly toward Kirin. “Namgi, with me.” As Shin turns away, Kirin frowns, though his eyes never land on the bright ribbon. Like Namgi, he can’t see it.

Together Shin and Namgi move to the opening of the pavilion that faces the well-lit western bridge, the crowd stepping back to give them space.

One by one, the creatures in the sky descend into the lake outside the pavilion. As they plunge downward, gusts of wind from their bodies blow out the lanterns on the bridge, leaving only the pavilion in light. There’s a resounding boom, and water from the lake splashes onto the smooth wooden floorboards. Several guests scream, hushed quickly by their neighbors. In the ensuing silence, all eyes turn to where the end of the bridge meets the pavilion. In my imagination, I conjure up the gruesome face of a snakelike dragon stretching its neck through the opening, eyes burning like fire.

The blackness undulates. Those standing nearest scatter in fear. I hold my breath.