The Keeper of Night (The Keeper of Night #1)(90)

But so much could still go wrong. What if Izanami could smell the fear in my blood and knew I was trying to trick her? How much would it hurt to have Death herself tear me open and eat my heart? Too much adrenaline rushed through me and I worried I might vomit all over Izanami’s throne room if I didn’t take a moment to breathe. I jammed my hand into my pocket and grabbed Neven’s clock once more.

The distant sounds of the palace servants halted, the pressure releasing so suddenly that my lungs sucked in a deep and greedy breath, finally unrestrained. I felt around for Hiro and Neven’s faces until they woke up, then I knelt down on legs that felt like wet paper as my eyes began to see once more in the total darkness.

Before us were the doors to the throne room, and around us lay a labyrinth of hallways painted with a thousand murals—cherry trees and waterfalls, giant reeds growing between Heaven and Earth, a coral palace and a dragon waiting beneath the ocean. These walls told the story of Japan, but shrouded them in the dark where no one would see.

Hiro stood up and started examining the painting of two gods stirring the sky with a spear and a baby floating out to sea in a reed basket. He ran his hands over the painted walls as if he wanted to dive into the vivid scenes. Neven was clutching Hiro’s sleeve, eyes casting around but unseeing, the Yokai on his back.

“So this is what it’s like inside,” Hiro said, his fingers gentle as they traced the curves of the painted sea.

He turned to the paper doors separating us from Izanami, transfixed at the watercolor images of purple mountains. I followed his gaze, still nauseous at the thought of passing through the threshold. No matter how strong I felt, Izanami would always have more power than me. She could decide she didn’t want me anymore, she could deny Hiro, she could find out about Tamamo No Mae and snap my spine the moment I passed through the door.

“Ren,” Hiro said, a soft hand on my shoulder, “the hard part is over.”

I said nothing, because his words didn’t feel true.

“You’ve done what she asked,” he said, his grip tense, almost painful on my shoulder. “Go claim what you deserve.”

I swallowed and nodded. After all I’d done for Izanami, I deserved to be a Shinigami, to live in Yomi and find my mother.

“You should hide,” I said, nudging Hiro’s arm. “Pull down a shadow.”

Hiro nodded, drawing back and gesturing for Neven to do the same.

“Don’t anger her,” Neven said suddenly.

I turned to where he stood by the table, shifting from foot to foot. The Yokai stared at the doors to the throne room as if she could see through them.

“I don’t intend to,” I said.

Neven sighed, shifting the Yokai on his hip. “Please be careful,” he whispered.

I offered him a stiff smile and set a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him down to the floor beside Hiro.

“Go,” Hiro said. The finality of his words felt like shoving me off a cliff into dark waters, nowhere to go but down. He pulled a blanket of deep darkness over the three of them, and I stood alone in the hallway.

I swallowed, turning back to the throne room, and released my hold on time.

The weight of Death forced me to my hands and knees, hard enough to shatter my kneecaps if I were a human. I bit my tongue, tasting blood as my teeth throbbed from the impact.

The shadow guard slid the door open.

“You may enter,” he said, moving aside as I painstakingly crawled forward.

I carefully controlled my facial expression when the stench of Death and rot made my throat clench. As I entered the room, the weight of darkness grew heavier on my back, warm and humid as swampland, thick between my fingers and cloying on the roof of my mouth.

As soon as I’d crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind me.

“You’ve returned,” said Izanami. Her voice swarmed the darkness from all angles, raining down on top of me and humming through the floor. “I assume that means you’ve done as I asked,” she said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have dared come back here.”

“I have,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, words too weak to carry through the thick heat of the air. “The Yokai are dead.”

“Yes, that much I know,” Izanami said. “You’ve done well.”

Something close to pride swelled in my chest, but it was quickly crushed by what Izanami said next.

“Soon, all of them will be gone.”

My throat went dry. I thought of the Honengame, Hiro’s friend. Izanami wanted her gone?

“It takes a long time to starve a Yokai,” Izanami continued. “I was growing impatient. So thank you, Ren, for helping to move things along.”

Thank you, Ren. No one but Neven had ever thanked me before, but somehow her ominous words didn’t feel like gratitude. What, exactly, had I helped Izanami do?

“You were starving them?” I said. I thought of Iso Onna’s thin frame, her ravenous hunger. That had been Izanami’s doing?

“I was taking souls from wherever I please, as is my right,” Izanami said, her words a low growl that rumbled the floorboards. “If I want to take the souls of all the sailors in Takaoka and leave Iso Onna with nothing, I can. If I want to devour every snowy village in Japan so Yuki Onna has nowhere else to go, I can. Don’t you understand, Ren? Death is mine.”