"Rieko."
She did not wait to listen to Taki. She walked into the woods, flashlight beam cutting through the dark like a blade.
What did he think? That she would wait until tomorrow to find her father's beatbox? If he really knew her, he would know she never listened. She did not care if something weird was happening tonight. She had to find that beatbox.
Her flashlight swept over roots and leaves. She kept her eyes on the ground, scanning every inch. The forest smelled of damp earth and old leaves. Tiny moths fluttered in the cone of her light and then were gone. Every footstep made the dry leaves crackle. The beam caught twigs that looked like tiny bones. Rieko felt the night press close around her, but she walked on.
At last she saw it. The white case lay half buried under a carpet of wet leaves and small stones. It was scuffed and a little muddy, but she knew it instantly. She crouched and picked it up. The weight of it was a small, steady thing in her hands, like a warm heartbeat. She found her earpiece tangled in the strap and popped it into place. The plastic felt familiar, the little ridge worn smooth from years of use. A small smile tugged at her mouth. For a second the panic loosened in her chest.
She dragged a finger across the case, cleaning off a smear of dirt. The memory hit quick and sudden. She saw suddenly her father in their kitchen, laughing as he showed her how to set the equalizer, tasting the different beats. He had wrapped his fingers around the same case a hundred times. The thought made her throat tighten, and she swallowed.
Her light drifted up across the clearing and landed on a tree that had not been there before. It was massive, its trunk wider than a car. Roots twisted into the soil like sleeping snakes. Beneath it, tucked in the shadows, pale blue mushrooms glowed softly, the same blue she and Taki had seen earlier.
Her breath caught in a small, sharp way. She stood up slowly, boots crunching on dry leaves. The mushrooms looked fragile and impossible and beautiful all at once. Tiny halos of dust floated in their glow. She could have reached out and touched one, but she held back. The beam of her flashlight trembled a little in her hand.
"Well," she said under her breath, "this is why we came." Her voice was small and fierce. "Miko's research will not go to waste. We have to prove the mushrooms exist."
She set her bag down and took out a small folding knife. The metal felt cold in her palm. She clicked it open, the tiny sound loud in the quiet. The air around the tree seemed heavier, like the space after thunder. It carried a strange sweet note, half sap and half perfume left out too long, a smell that made her think of attic boxes and old dresses.
Rieko crouched and cut the first sprout. It hissed quietly as if startled. A thin wisp of gas curled up, bright with a citrus and earthy scent. The sprout wilted and collapsed as if the air itself had bitten it.
Weird, she thought. Her tongue lightly touched the inside of her cheek. She felt oddly calm while she worked, her hands steady. Maybe because the chopping beat was like a rhythm she had known since childhood. One by one she cut and tucked the small mushrooms into a paper bag. The knife made soft, neat sounds. Slice. Drop. Each small sound kept the dark at bay.
As she worked, the clearing seemed to shrink around her. Her bag filled. Tiredness pressed at her shoulders, but she kept going, because the weight in her hands felt important, like proof of something true.
When she finally stood to brush dirt off her knees, a small sound made her stop.
A sneeze.
Soft, like someone trying not to be heard.
She looked up. The branches above trembled as if someone had walked across them. For a moment Anothing else moved. Then a light began to run along the tree's bark. It started faint, then rolled and brightened in waves of green and gold until the trunk seemed to glow from the inside.
Rieko squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand. The light moved like a slow pulse. The tree's shape shifted, bending and reforming as if something slept right beneath the skin. Shadows stretched and then pulled back, like curtains moving in a wind that she could not feel.
Her heart hammered sooner and louder than it should. For a ridiculous second she thought, wow, an alien tree.
She laughed once, a short, nervous sound that fizzed and died. Then she remembered her phone. Mom had it. Great, she thought. Fantastic. She wanted to shake her head clear of that silly thought, but the chuckle stuck in her throat.
The glowing tree extended one long branch. It reached toward her like a finger. The tip trembled in the air, thin and poised. The branch moved with surprising delicacy, like a hand testing a doorknob.
Rieko smiled before she could stop herself. Maybe it was curiosity, or some part of her that wanted the world to be friendly. She reached out and touched the tip, thinking it wanted to be friendly. She tapped the bark with her fingertip, mimicking the slow movement.
The moment skin met bark, a ring of light bloomed around the connection. It hovered for a beat like a halo made of glass. Rieko felt warmth flow up her arm. It was pleasant at first, like sun on cold skin. It felt safe.
The warmth changed. It pressed. The ring tightened. The light sank into her fingers and then deeper, seeping into her veins.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, and she tried to pull away. The force was stronger now, crawling up her arm like cold roots. Her muscles pulled against it, then tensed.
Something pushed. It burrowed into her skin. It felt like wood and soil working under her flesh, like roots forcing their way deeper and taking hold. The pressure moved from her arm to her shoulder, then into the center of her chest. Her breath hitched. A hot, stabbing panic rose in her throat, loud and raw.
She tried to yank her hand back, but the ring did not loosen. Her fingers tingled, then burned like frostbite and fire at once. The forest seemed to shrink to the sound of her own breathing and the sound of sap running. She felt very small and very large all at once.
She screamed. The sound tore through the forest, raw and long, a cut that echoed off trunks and stones.
The light poured in and then, as sudden as a switch, it stopped.
Silence fell so complete she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Leaves settled. The moths that had been dancing dissolved into the dark. For a long second there was nothing but the small rasp of night insects far off.
Her eyes rolled back for a second, white and blank. Then color returned, but not as it had been. They moved through shades, like light through a prism, and finally rested on a deep, earthy green. Her hair was no more black but light green with black stripes that caught the moonlight like wet leaves.
Something like bark split the skin on her forehead. A horn, smooth and pale, grew from the center and curved slightly. Another horn, jagged and half broken, pushed out beside it. When she moved her mouth, her lips lifted in a smile that was at once childish and cruel.
She breathed in slowly and it sounded wrong, as if wind moved through hollow wood. Her chest rose and fell with a steady, unnatural rhythm.
"Finally," she said, her voice deeper and rougher, as if something else were shaping the words. "I am free."
She lifted her head and the new light in her eyes caught the mushrooms. The glow reflected in those green irises and sharpened like a blade.
"Now it's time to kill that angel," she whispered, and looked up to the moonlight smiling like freedom at last.