Yamada Monogatari: Demon Hunter by Richard Parks

Author:Richard Parks
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: fantasy, short story, short stories, collection
ISBN: 9781607013945
Publisher: Prime Books
Published: 2013-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

THE BRIDE DOLL

“You do realize that she’s a demon, don’t you?”

Kenji, the often inebriated and always disreputable priest, whispered this comment into my ear as we followed behind the attractive young woman who was leading us through the icy mountain pass. At first our meeting with the woman, who claimed to be a wood­-cutter’s daughter from Aoi Village, seemed an unusual turn of good luck. The mountains this far north were treacherous at best and deadly at worst. A sudden snow squall had caught us all but unprepared, and the promise of warm food and shelter for the night was extremely appealing.

I sighed and tried to shake some feeling back into my fingers. “No. I thought it was mere happenstance that the air turned suddenly colder and the snow fell harder when she appeared. Are you prepared?”

“Yes. Pity, though. She is quite winsome.”

“I’ll thank you to think with your mind and not your loins where our lives are concerned.”

The woman paused and turned back to look at us. Kenji was right—she was a beauty. Her hair was long and seemed even blacker than obsidian against the backdrop of snow. She had a sweet if rather sharp-featured face. Her eyes were the only real clue, if one could interpret them correctly. They were as black and cold as stone.

“Forgive my impertinence, but may I ask what you gentlemen are discussing? We get so few visitors up here that sometimes I feel starved for human company.”

Both the irony and the implication of that statement were not lost on either of us. “We were simply marveling at our good fortune and our rudeness in turn,” I said. “We forgot to ask your name.”

The woman smiled at us, though she demurely concealed her teeth with her open right hand. “Yuki.”

Snow. Of course. More a statement of identity than a name, if a little obvious: yuki-onna. Snow woman. I looked beyond her. The pass was sloping downward, which was a good sign, but daylight was fading quickly.

“It’s a pretty name,” Kenji said.

“Thank you,” she said. She started to turn, then hesitated. “The snow is getting worse. We might not be able to reach the village by nightfall, but there is a hut nearby that my father built for shelter in just these circumstances. We might be better off to stop there. The path is dangerous at night, even for one who knows the way.”

“We will yield to your judgment,” I said. “Lead on.”

My tachi was loose in its scabbard, but I wasn’t inclined to use it on mere suspicion, compelling as that suspicion was. I didn’t have the knack for reattaching a person’s head once I’d cut it off—such actions tended to be irrevocable. Besides, I knew Kenji had a better way.

Yuki turned onto a side path that led up the mountainside. At first I thought she was leading us to some quiet cave to work her will, but we soon approached a very old but solid and serviceable-looking hut. It was partially sheltered by an ancient pine tree.

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