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1
EVERETT
I’m currently wishing all the lights would go out. Maybe the darkness would swallow me whole. Then at least I’d finally find some peace. But no such luck. The overly bright bar continues its unnecessary and migraine-inducing display of flashing club lights. Another business meeting. Another foreign transaction. Shake the hand, smile wide, sign the papers, repeat.
Our business in Tokyo concludes with a celebratory dinner. My partners are raising a toast, saying something about the money. It’s our biggest deal yet, but I hardly care. The thrill of the kill and the money that rained down after closing a deal used to excite me. Now it seems even a two-hundred-and-twenty-million-dollar deal with one of the newest and fastest growing tech startup companies in Japan can’t get my blood pumping.
My phone dings. A reminder for my morning flight. Back to California. Back to endless meetings and plastic smiles. What awaits me there? Overpriced sushi and fake tits? I’ve had enough. There’s no one missing me back home. I don’t even have a dog. What kind of miserable, lonely, rich bastard doesn’t even have a dog?
“Come on, Everett, loosen up.” Max shoves a shot in my face. I down it, my body already numb to the effects of the liquid. The scrape of wooden legs across the slick floor as I push away from our table is barely audible above the noise of the rowdy crowd. My partners call out to me, but I don’t stop. The sign for the bathroom is illuminated to my left. I ignore it. My feet are down the steps and out onto the crowded streets before I have a chance to rethink things.
The pulsing neon lights of the street signs and advertisements bathe me in a rainbow of flashy hues. Without much sense of where I’m headed, I walk, easing my way through the throngs of tourists and nighttime socialites.
Sweet and spicy aromas from the multitude of talented street food vendors lure me into a stall. My go-to quick meal in Japan is always yakitori. I raise the skewer of steaming meat high in the air as I squeeze back through the crowd. My tall frame towers over most of those around me, even with the plethora of visitors from around the world. I’m head and shoulders above most people nearly everywhere I go.
The world around me buzzes with excitement as I tear into the salty chicken skewer. But it’s not the artistic chaos of the crowd that I desire. It’s the quiet. I walk until the flashy neon gives way to the soft glow of red and yellow paper lanterns.
Nearly an hour has passed since I left Tokyo’s electric district and my coworkers behind. This part of town feels less well traveled. The crowds have thinned dramatically. The next corner leads me past a row of illuminated Sakura trees. Their pale pink blossoms glow beneath the light of the moon. A soft breeze dances through their branches, sending a light dusting of subtly fragrant blossoms my way. My gaze tracks the flowers as they blow across the waterway. A hand-painted yellow sign advertising drinks reflects on the water’s glassy surface. Beer and sake. That’s all I need right now.
The dim lighting draws me out of the night’s shadows and into a cozy bar. I order a beer, noting the not-so-subtle glances from those who I can only assume frequent this place. From the looks of it, I’m the only tourist present. Maybe I walked even farther than I thought.
An older man with a wiry beard is staring at me. He calls out something in Japanese. After ten years of business dealings here, I’ve picked up a decent amount of the language. But the words spoken by the man currently glaring my way are new. Nearby, a young server shakes his head.
“What did he say?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“He called you Jorogumo bait.”Jorogumo bait? That’s not an insult I’ve heard before.
“What’s a Jorogumo?” I ask, which earns me another round of cackling from some of the regulars.
“She’s a type of yokai. A shapeshifter. The spider of death.” The server speaks in hushed tones, but it doesn’t stop the eavesdropping of the other patrons.
“She?” I ask, surprised by the truth and wariness in his tone.
“She.” He nods. “A beautiful woman at first. She shies away from mirrors, as they reveal her true nature. So, take care not to follow any beautiful women into the dark on these lands. Those who end up snared in Jorogumo’s web are never seen again.”
“You can’t possibly believe in something so outlandish.” A giant spider woman? These guys are obviously fucking with me.
The young server stills. “It’s not about believing. There are too many things left unexplained here.I’ve seen her.Jorogumo. She stood, elegant and beautiful on the bank of the river, calling me closer. But as the clouds parted and the moonlight shone down, her reflection was revealed on the water’s surface. A massive black and yellow body, eight long legs, two nightmarish fangs, and eyes as red as fire.” He rolls his sleeve up to reveal the dark ink of an orb spider atop a jagged silver scar. His fingers stroke the raised flesh. “I’ll never forget. And I’ll never be so foolish again.”
His tone of voice starts a chill creeping across my skin. Surely this is all some big joke. A way for them to frighten tourists. And yet… ‘I’ve seen her.’Words said with complete and total sincerity. There was true fear in his eyes as he told his story.
The others in the restaurant are still watching me. I hunch down over my beer, ordering several more and avoiding any further talk of monstrous maidens. When I’m good and drunk, I stumble out. The eyes of every person here follow me as I dip beneath the lanterns and step into the darkness beyond.
An eerie silence has settled into the surrounding night. The steady trickling of running water from the stream has the server’s cautionary tale rising to the surface of my thoughts. “It was just a story,” I remind myself. Despite the words, I feel unequivocally unnerved. I loosen the knot of my tie which now seems to press in on my throat each time I swallow. What the hell am I afraid of? I’m six-four and carry close to two hundred and forty pounds of lean muscle on my frame at all times. I stalk off into the night, shaking off the dread crawling across my skin like ants. No. My fear will not get the better of me.
I don’t know what time it is, but all the shops I passed on the way here have closed their doors and turned off their lights. The way back is much darker than earlier. My dress shoes are loud against the stone beneath my feet. Not a single other soul is out here. Without the help of the familiar street signs and colorful lanterns from before, I find myself completely fucking lost.
My pride takes a hit as I drag my cell from my pocket. I could have looked this up the second I left instead of aimlessly stumbling around, drunk, in the dark. My phone screen is blurry, making me squint one eye to read the time. Fuck. Did I really drink that much?
“Are you lost?”
I spin toward the voice, my bones wobbly under the influence of too much alcohol. A woman stands a few feet behind me. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a cream-colored sweater. Long, dark hair drapes across her shoulders, and soft brown eyes peer up at me beneath thick lashes.
“No,” I answer, unwilling to admit it.
She gives a soft smile. “Are you sure?”
It takes a few extra moments for me to realize she doesn’t have an accent. “You’re American?”
