rather than surrender to it. Miss Aritomo had always said that the masks of the Noh had power, that they were imbued with such tradition that they could help transform the wearer into the character they played. Noh theater was more than just acting, it was inhabiting the legend, and letting the legend inhabit the actor. But the old demons and spirits were equally influenced. With no one left to worship them, they were controlled by the tales people still told about them-things like Noh theater.
To the Hannya, Miss Aritomo was now Anchin, and Anchin had never feared it.
It had lost its host.
The Hannya shrank back from Miss Aritomo and looked up in confusion. The demon hesitated, then shrieked in fury and lunged for Kara. She thrust the bell nearly into its face, ringing it loudly. This close to the Hannya, the metal grew so hot that she could barely stand to hold it, but she dared not drop the bell.
“Damn you!” the Hannya said, its voice a damp, slithery thing. It had become more serpent than woman or monster now, and rose up on its thick snake’s body, swaying in front of her.
It pointed at Miss Aritomo. “She summoned me here! And you dare to-”
“Liar!” Kara’s father shouted, springing away from the wall.
“Dad, stay back!” Kara snapped.
She needn’t have feared. Her father was an intelligent man. He kept well away from the circle that the four of them had created with the ringing of their bells and the power of the Noh masks-the Hannya saw the people of the temple who had destroyed it once already, heard the bells of the monks.
“It lies!” Rob Harper shouted. Then he sneered at the Hannya, pointing at Miss Aritomo himself. “Yuuka never summoned you, she honored you. And this is how you repay her?”
Its voice weak and ragged with pain, the Hannya laughed.
“You are right, of course, teacher. But this woman you love opened the window for me to enter.”
Kara watched as it diminished further, shrinking to become the ebony, horned serpent-part flesh and part smoke-that she had seen before.
“Louder!” she told her friends. “Close the circle!”
And they did. She saw the pain in their faces and knew that the iron bells must have been searing their skin just as hers did, but they did not hesitate. The serpent twisted and coiled in upon itself, then it whipped around and stared at Kara herself, those hypnotic serpent’s eyes locking with hers.
“I won’t be the last, girl. You know that. You all do. My sister Kyuketsuki put her curse upon you and it calls to the rest of us like the scent of fresh prey. Worse things than I will come for you, and you and all that you love will die.”
Movement to her left caught Kara’s attention and she risked a glance, only to see Wakana stumbling into the circle. For a heartbeat, she was too astonished at seeing the girl alive, and too busy trying to put together how she came to be there-that Mai must have freed her from the attic along with Miho-that she didn’t even have a chance to cry out to warn Wakana.
Then she saw the kitchen knife glinting in Wakana’s hand and realized she had picked it up off the floor.
“Some of us have already lost what we loved,” Wakana said, tears streaming down her face.
The serpent twisted round to face her, but too late. Wakana slashed the blade through the air and sliced the horned serpent’s head from its body.
It flopped to the floor in two pieces, a final hiss rising from it-though, this time, of steam. A horrible stench filled the house, a smell of sickness and death, and the shadows puffed up from the serpent like smoke, drifting away.
“What the hell?” Kara muttered in English.
She kept ringing her bell and the others did the same as they moved closer to it. But the iron had gone suddenly cold in her hand and the thing on the floor showed no signs of its horns. All that remained of the Hannya were the head and body of a small garden snake.
“Kara!” her father snapped.
She turned to see the cloth bag containing the final Noh mask burning up. Flames rippled across the fabric, which quickly blackened. Her father raced to it and stomped on the bag until all that remained were tattered, scorched bits of cloth. Of the mask inside-the face of the Hannya-nothing remained but a coppery-hued dust.
The bells fell silent.
Sakura and Ren pulled off their masks and ran to Miho’s side. Wakana knelt by Mai, speaking softly to her. Hachiro stomped on the snake to make sure it was dead.
Kara removed her own mask and looked up into her father’s eyes, surprised to find fear there. At first she didn’t understand, and then she realized what she saw was his fear of losing her.
“Dad…”
“Quiet,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head over and over. He held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I should have believed you.”
Kara shook her head. “No. You shouldn’t have. How could you?”
But he wouldn’t accept her forgiveness. “I’m your father. That’s how.”
Again he kissed the top of her head, and then he turned toward Miss Aritomo. The teacher had begun to stir. Kara’s father went to her, crouched down and slid the mask of Anchin off her face, revealing once more the beauty beneath. Kara watched the way her father looked at Miss Aritomo, the gentle way he brushed the hair from her eyes, and though she wished she could have pretended otherwise, it still hurt her, even after all they had been through. She missed her mother.
But she found now that she could find room in her heart for both the sorrow of her mother’s absence and the happiness of her father’s new hope for the future. The two emotions would not sit easily together, but for now, it would be enough.
In the distance, police sirens wailed.
Otherwise, Miss Aritomo’s house had fallen silent.
EPILOGUE
They met, strangely enough, at Kara’s house. She thought that perhaps Mr. Yamato had decided he didn’t want to talk about demon spirits in his own home, and he certainly couldn’t have held the gathering at his office without people asking questions he would be unwilling to answer.
The house proved a better choice anyway. Miss Aritomo obviously felt more comfortable there, which was no small thing, considering how traumatized she was. The woman sat primly on the love seat beside Kara’s father, and he held both of her small, birdlike hands in his own. She didn’t look up often, and had spoken not a word from the moment Mr. Yamato had arrived. Kara’s father had told her that Miss Aritomo had spoken to the police, but that otherwise she had said little in the days since the horror that had unfolded in her living room.
It hurt her heart to look at Miss Aritomo, and to think of how hard she had made it for her father to fall in love with someone who wasn’t her mother. Kara regretted all of that now. Miss Aritomo had always been kind to her, and now the woman had gone through a terrible ordeal, her body violated by something awful. Something… evil. Kara felt awkward even thinking the word, but there could be no denying the Hannya’s nature.
Miss Aritomo needed someone to hold her now, and Kara found herself glad that her father could be that person. It would still be hard to share him, but she knew that she and her father would get through it all together. They needed to have their own lives, but they had to support each other, too. If they didn’t, who would?
“You can’t be serious!” Mai snapped, staring at Mr. Yamato.
The principal’s eyes narrowed and his lips formed a tight little line. “You are upset, girl, so I will forgive your insolence.”
But Mai only shook her head in amazement and turned to Wakana. The roommates stood with their arms linked together not far from the door, as though they might flee the house at any moment. Wakana still looked drawn and pale, though her bruises and scratches were fading. Mai, on the other hand, had a long recovery ahead of her. Doctors had put a cast on her broken arm and she wore it now in a sling. Of greater concern was the long gash on her right cheek, which had been stitched closed as deftly as her surgeon could manage. Even with plastic surgery, the scar would be significant.
