Xander and the Lost Island of Monsters (22 page)

“True. But you know, not every single oni is bad.” She looks at me from under her eyelashes. “Some who live here aren't, like, demons. Everyone here is a
yōkai
, a supernatural creature. There are thousands of kinds of yōkai. Oni are just one type. Some yōkai even bring good luck.”

Like the snow woman, or the bird thing, or the oni eggs, or the tree gods? “Huh,” I say doubtfully.

“Oni types like to live together, in packs. We're heading to what I call ‘oni central.'”

“Great,” I say under my breath.

Jinx flashes me a quick smile. “Wait a second.” I pause. She adjusts the sword harness, shortening it. “The sword's really too big for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I don't need to be reminded of how small I am. “I can handle it.”

“I really wouldn't mind carrying it for you.” Her voice is hopeful.

There she goes, asking again. The thought makes me feel panicky, like the time when a really grimy kid with dirt and sticky Popsicle juice all over his fingers asked to borrow my favorite comic. “I already said no,” I say, a bit more crankily than I intended. Nobody except me is touching this sword. I might not have wings, but at least I have a weapon. My grandfather's weapon. No offense, but of course I'm not going to let her use it.

I glance up at the sun, try to predict how many hours of light we have left. I can't. “What happens when it gets dark?”

She flashes me her quick smile again. “Let's just say that most oni are nocturnal and they don't stay in oni central then.”

I decide to believe her.

Though we have no landmarks to guide us, Jinx's march is as determined as a soldier's. I'm actually grateful she's pushing me so hard, because otherwise I'm pretty sure I'd be lying facedown in the sand, never to move. Not that I'd admit how tired I am again, and get another lecture.

The sand might not be hot, but it's rough. The soles of my feet feel as if I've been walking over sandpaper for the last two hours. I lift up my right foot. A fat red blister has formed on the ball.

Every time I want to quit, I think of my father. It's only been a day or so, but I feel like I haven't seen him for five years. A cold cannonball lurches in my stomach when I imagine that I might never see him again.

It's the same feeling I had when my mother left. For so long, I kept expecting her to walk right through the front door and say, “I'm back. I'm here to stay. I'm sorry.” Even after my grandmother came and put our household in order and I had spent more of my life without my mother than with her, I still hoped that Mom would come back.

Eventually that cannonball shrank down to something more like the size of a BB pellet. But it remained there, lodged in my intestines forever.

I don't want that cannonball-size feeling sticking around with me again.

I shake away the thought and search the sky, hoping to see Peyton gliding overhead. Nothing. Not even a cloud. In fact, I can't even tell where the sun is. It's like the light is filtered. Twilight. The sun's almost gone for the night.

“Look.” Jinx speeds up. A glint of silver metal is sticking out from a dune ahead of us. As we get closer I can make out that it's a passenger jet—a big one, its wing and top visible. The rest is buried.

I run up to it, rub a dull window, and peer inside, half expecting to see a plane full of skeletons. But it's empty.

I turn to Jinx. “Where'd the, um…bodies go?”

“Where do you think?” Jinx splays her palm over the glass. “Oni don't joke around.”

I recall my comic book. In the first part, Momotaro saved the maidens from getting eaten by the oni. Is my father now in some oni's stomach? “I wish there was a way to get to my father faster.”

“Well, if we hadn't gone down the waterfall, the river would have been a straight shot to the volcano.” Jinx shrugs. “But we did go down the waterfall, so now we're here, and there's no use in worrying about what we can't do, is there?”

A little jolt goes through me. Jinx is right. However, I don't answer her, because I still don't want to admit that she's right about anything.

The horizon is turning into velvety shades of purple and red, like long swaths of fabric piled on top of each other. A frigid wind kicks up, blasting sand into our faces with a ghostly whistle. I shiver. Are there any oni about? I haven't even seen a flying one during our forced march. The air's smoky and thick, and it stinks like a room full of farting people who had beans and old eggs for dinner. I gag. “Do you smell that?”

“Oh, I thought that was you.” Jinx smirks.

I clap my hands together weakly. “Good one.”

“Look over there.” Jinx points, and I face that direction, but she grabs my shoulders and turns me around.

“That is not the way you were pointing.” I shrug her mitts off me. “What am I looking at?”

In the distance, it looks as though the landscape is finally different. I think I can make out hillsides covered with low, brushy vegetation. And beyond that I can see a taller, craggy range jutting up, its rough black ridges outlined in an orange-red glow like melted sun. Gray smoke, blacker than the shadows we cast on the sand, spews up in a rhythmic
pop-pop-pop
.

“That's where the oni are,” Jinx says flatly.

“Inside a live volcano?” I dig my feet into the sand. “Um, isn't that dangerous?”

Jinx flutters her lashes. “Did you think fighting demons would be
safe
?” She spreads out her hands. “We have to stop here for the night.”

“No, we can't. We should push on. I don't care if it's dark.” Why doesn't she see that we need to rescue Dad as soon as possible? We've wasted too much time already.

Jinx pulls at the handle on the airplane door. “We need shelter. You can't help your father if you're dead, can you?” The handle doesn't budge. “Ugh. It's rusted shut. Help me.”

I balk. “Wait. You want me to sleep in the airplane? What if there are skeletons in it?”

She turns her head from side to side. “Do you see a better place, genius?”

I shrug. A distant cry, like a weedwhacker mixed with the howl of an injured animal, makes me jump. Goose bumps raise on my flesh. “What was that?”

Jinx pulls at the door, putting one foot on the body of the plane and leaning back with all her might. “That is the reason we need to get the heck inside this plane.”

The shriek sounds again. Then,
“Itsumade!”

“It's the itsumade!” The monster bird we saw back on the river. I sort of push her aside. “Let me try.” The handle is as rusted shut as she'd said, meaning that it doesn't move at all. Not even a tiny little jiggle. We're in trouble. “I hope Peyton and Inu found shelter.”

“They're in a better position than we are. I'm sure Peyton could find a much better place.” Jinx pushes me aside now. “Get this thing open! Aren't you good for anything, Momotaro?”

Hot annoyance lances through me. I take out my sword and stick the point into the crack by the handle, trying to jimmy it open. It doesn't move, of course. Jinx lets out a long sputter of annoyance.

“Hush,” I order. “I need to think.”

“Don't tell me to hush. Let me try.” She grabs the sword with both her hands and tries to muscle me out of the way, elbowing me in the ribs. Instinctively, I bring up my knee and bop her on the side of her thigh.

“Ouch.” Jinx holds her leg, her face contorting in pain, baring all her teeth. “Xander! That hit my nerve.”

I reach out to her, but she moves away. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

“You really hurt me. Like really, really, really.” Jinx sinks down next to the plane, looking away from me in injured silence.

My rib throbs. “You weren't gentle with me, either. Maybe you could, I don't know, respect what I ask of you.”

Jinx snorts. “Whatever, ‘Momotaro.'” She does air quotes with her fingers. She's not
that
hurt.

I take a deep breath and ignore her. I stare at the airplane door hard, like it's that God Tree whose pixels shifted. Of course, nothing happens. I try the handle again for good measure.

What my grandfather said in my last dream about the comic book floats back to me.
You created it. You know all you need to know.

But I don't remember creating the comic or the drawing of Lovey. I must not have been awake at all.

Could that have something to do with it? Being asleep?

I don't talk myself out of my idea. I stick the sword down into the sand and relax against it. I close my eyes.

My breathing slows.

The light changes, as if the sun's come up. Jinx is nowhere to be seen. The sun's hot now, and I touch the plane, expecting the metal to burn me. Instead, it's as soft as butter.

“Xander!” Jinx's voice, sharp as the sword blade, jolts me back to reality. “Are you actually
falling asleep
right now? What's wrong with you? We need to get inside the stupid plane!”

“Jinx!” Frustrated, I kick a little sand in her direction. “I was almost there! I almost solved it!”

“By sleeping? Yeah, sure.” Her disbelieving, disdainful expression tells me she doesn't take me seriously at all.

“Don't you understand? I
have
to be asleep.” The truth of these words rings through me like I'm the Liberty Bell (before it got the big crack in it). I take a huge breath as I figure this out. “I was asleep when I created the comic book. I was asleep when I helped you with the kappa. I'm asleep when I talk to my grandfather. I have to be
asleep
to be Momotaro.”

Jinx puts her hands on her hips and doesn't blink for what seems like three hundred years. I stare right back at her. Then she breaks her gaze and laughs. A big, hearty one from her gut. “If this is true, Xander, you are the truly the most useless Momotaro I ever heard of.” She stands up and shakes off the sand. “How can you fight demons while you're unconscious?”

I don't respond. Instead, I pick up the sword and jam it back into the plane. Jinx inhales in sharp surprise as I push the sword through the now-soft metal. I draw the sword downward, and the door clicks open.

“And
that's
how I'm Momotaro, Jinx.” My mouth turns up in a smug smile. “Ha-ha. In your face! You never think I can do anything, do you?” I go tingly all over. I feel like I'm on the verge of figuring out how to use my powers. My heart is pounding as if someone with a giant million-dollar check just showed up on my doorstep. “Have a little faith, for Pete's sake.”

Faith and imagination
, someone's voice whispers.

Jinx touches the plane wonderingly with her fingertips. “You got me, Xander. You really got me.” Her tone is more than halfway to admiring. “How'd you do that? Did you picture it first? Just—imagine it?”

I shrug. I don't fully understand how I did it. I kind of did something like this when I got Jinx out of the acid, but I sure wasn't asleep then. How do I control this power without actually being unconscious? “Basically.”

“Can I see the sword now?” She still doesn't quite believe me. Fine. I let her have the sword, ready to tackle her if she tries to run off with it.

She hefts it in her hands. “It's not as heavy as I thought.”

“It's heavy enough.” I hold out my hand. “Give it back.”

Jinx stabs at the plane, but the sword bounces off with a metallic twang and smacks her face. “Ow.” She rubs her jaw. “That hurt my teeth.”

I grab the sword from her. I want to try something new, something while I'm totally awake. Without thinking it through, I grip the sword in both hands, the blade pointing down, and carve a big
X
into the body of the plane. “Oh!” I grin and put my palm on the
X
. “See? I did that while I was awake!” The
X
is a good half inch deep and the color of bricks.

Jinx rolls her eyes. “Good job. Now the oni have a big old red
X
to tell them exactly where we are.”

Oh. I deflate immediately. Yeah, not such a great thing.

She taps at it. “Fix this.”

“Okay, I'll try.” I shut my eyes, picture the
X
being smoothed out, and then take my sword and use the blade like it's an ice scraper. It makes only a minor scratch. Panicked, I try to turn the
X
into something else—a blotch, anything. Nope.

I can't believe I've messed this up. A royal screwup. Good going, Xander. Can't I do anything right?

Desperately I try to imagine another way to fix it, but now my mind's shooting down all my ideas. Nothing will work.

Another spine-rattling squawk infiltrates my eardrums, louder still. I hunch over.

Jinx yanks on my arm. “Forget this business.”

We duck inside.

T
he air inside of the plane is stale, as if it hasn't had any new oxygen in a decade. Which is probably true.