Xander and the Dream Thief by Margaret Dilloway

Author:Margaret Dilloway
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2017-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

We follow Kintaro and Kuma into the garden. Kuma stands on his hind legs, pointing up into a willow tree. “Here.”

I peer upward. All I see are the vine-like branches of the tree, which we are stirring. “I don’t see anything.”

“Spirits live in willow trees.” Kintaro stares up into the silvery-green branches as if he’s searching.

“It’s a spirit, all right.” Kuma sniffs the air. “A vengeful one.”

My stomach clenches. “Gozu? But how?”

Jinx sighs. “Sometimes, when oni are killed, they don’t really die. They become something worse. A reiki. The ghost of a dead oni.”

Wait. “Oni can become ghosts?” I almost yell. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” An oni is bad enough, but a vengeful, angry oni ghost…I can’t even imagine.

“That could very well be it.” Kintaro has the thoughtful, calm tone of a scholar. As if he’s reading about an idea instead of facing something that could actually hurt us.

Even Jinx doesn’t seem alarmed. I, on the other hand, don’t feel calm at all. I want to run screaming back down the mountainside. “So what do we do about it? I can’t just wait for him to find me. How do we get the spirit out of here?”

Kintaro laughs.

A flush heats my face, and I know I must look as red as a stoplight. “What, exactly, is so funny?”

“If the spirit has hidden itself, we cannot access it. Why waste emotion on something you cannot change?” Kintaro asks. “Come inside. My house is a safe space, I promise. Then, at daybreak, you can decide how to proceed.”

“How to proceed?” I throw my hands up. “How I’m going to proceed is by finding the Angry Lord of Light. Oni or no oni.”

Kintaro looks at me with an expression I’ve seen on my father’s face. As if he’s assessing me and approving what he sees. He gives me the slightest smile and nod, and I feel like Inu must when we pet him on the head. I smile back, in spite of myself. No wonder they call him Golden Boy.

We go back inside, and Jinx points to a line of dried beans sprinkled along the doorway. Fuku mame, like at our house. “See?” she says. “That’s why it’s safe here.”

“Safe-ish,” I correct her.

“Not a real word.”

“I make up words all the time. English is an evolving language.”

“Me talk pretty,” we hear from nearby. Peyton is sitting up and spooning rice into his mouth while holding a bowl against his lips. He’s now the color of a glacier, somewhere between white and blue, but I’m just glad to see him awake.

I run over to him. “Peyton!”

“Unnnh,” he grunts. He squints at me without focusing. “Ice cream?” Peyton reminds me of my father when he got his appendix out. When Dad woke up from the anesthesia, he had no idea who we were, and he kept babbling about squirrels attacking the doctor.

I sink down next to my friend. “No. Sorry, dude. We’ll get you some as soon as we get home. Your favorite: mango.”

Peyton lets the rice bowl fall out of his hands.

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