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“But—”

“You know you’re my favorite grandniece of them all. You got great power. You’re a natural. But don’t let that mouth get your lifespan tangled into short knots.”

I gulped down fear.

Nobody in our family argued with Delphine unless they had cleared the rest of their schedule for consequences.

She headed off. “Are you going to finally listen?”

“Yes. I would just like to. . .provide some context to my thoughts.”

She grunted.

I laid the shovel against the nearest tree and followed. “Aunt Delphine, I don’t like planes, and. . .respectfully. . .what the hell would I know about a place like Japan? They’ll have their own spirits and spooky shit following me around. I don’t need more nightmares and—”

"There is a root in the back of a haunted shrine outside of a place called Kyoto."

“And that’s what I mean.” I shook my head. “Now why does the shrine have to be haunted? And why can’t the root be in a nice grocery store?”

Aunt Delphine clucked her teeth.

I pursed my lips, knowing not to push her anymore.

She continued, "The shrine is called Oiwa. The ghost that haunts the shrine has the same name.”

“Can I avoid the ghost?”

“You have my blood. She’ll come to you. Do your protection spells. Keep in mind that she may want to follow you back to your hotel. Take care of that too.”

Goddamn it. I don’t want to do this. I just want to lie under blankets and feel bad.

“This ghost Oiwa lived over three hundred years ago. She was a beautiful young wife.

Hardworking. Loyal. She married a samurai named Iemon, and unfortunately for her, Iemon wanted money and status. And even worse, a younger woman from a wealthy family moved in right next door."

Aunt Delphine stopped and turned to me. “Iemon started plotting. He gave Oiwa a gift—facial cream."

I frowned.

"Poisoned."

"Now that's evil." My stomach tightened.

"She put it on that night and the poison disfigured her face. Her hair began falling out in clumps. Her insides began to heat up and melt.”

“That bastard."

"Oiwa died in agony, and her husband just dumped her in the river. He didn’t even give her a proper burial.”

Now I understood automatically why she was haunting the shrine. The dead deserved respect. The body mattered. The rituals too.

With every one of my dead lovers, I washed their bodies, dressed, and covered them with sage and roses before burying them with prayers.

The dead who were murdered, dishonored, or disposed of improperly could remain tethered to the earth. And their anger became weapons among the living.

I looked at Delphine. "What did Oiwa's ghost do?"

"She'll tell you when you get there."