“And your father awaits no one,” Youna said.
Sen tensed, turning the dangerous edge of her glare on Youna. “What do you mean by that?”
Youna rose to her feet, her dark shadow falling over Sen. “The Lord Iwasaki lives alone,” she said. “His house has no doors. You are better off staying in this house than seeking him.”
Sen stared at Youna, her skin feeling tight and dry where Youna had washed it.
“You speak out of place,” Sen said at last.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Youna said, bowing and returning to the house.
Sen let out a breath, leaning back and glaring at the forest. Her father would be pleased when he returned and saw her still awake, still waiting for him.
She startled at the sound of small footsteps to her left and unsheathed the dagger.
But it was only a hare darting down the main path, scurrying under her porch. It was the first animal Sen had seen on the property in days. She knelt down on the ground and watched it burrow into the dirt.
What are you running from?she thought.
But when she turned to the sky, she got her answer.
In the distance, toward the town center, the sky swirled with thick, black smoke.
Chapter Twelve
Lee
Last summer, Lee went back to the island that had devoured his mother.
He remembered the hotel room number because it had appeared on all the police reports. So, the year before he went to college, when he was eighteen and his father couldn’t stop him, he flew to Cambodia and stayed in the same hotel room and waited for a sign.
The first night, he left the sliding door open.
He couldn’t explain to himself exactly why he did this, only that he knew he had to. The door had been open on the most important day, so it had to be open now, like a ritual, or a homecoming.
Part of him thought his mom might simply walk back through the door, that last time he’d simply closed the door too soon and his mom hadn’t been able to return. She’d come back after Lee and his father had flown home, had scratched and pounded at the glass, but hadn’t been able to come back inside and dry off from her swim.
A small, secret part of Lee hoped that whoever—or whatever—had taken his mother would come back.
It had been six years, and both humans and entities would have moved on, Lee suspected. But maybe this was a special door and opening it was like opening a secret mouth that screamed into the forest, that called for the darkness to return and eat and eat and eat.
Lee wouldn’t have minded if they’d taken him too. He knew a human trafficking ring probably wanted young women and would leave him alone, but he would let them drag him to their lair and harvest his organs because then at least he would know how it felt inside the suitcase.
But when he arrived at the room, everything was wrong.
Six years ago, the walls had been white, like eggshells. Lee remembered this clearly. But now, the walls were beige. He couldn’t explain why this deeply upset him, but he could hardly sit still, as if the color of the walls was screaming its wrongness at him all night. He pushed the bed to the side and scratched at the wall with his fingernails until he could see the white beneath. He needed to know for certain that it had been real, that he had not misremembered this one specific thing. And there it was—the soft milky flesh just beneath the tan skin. The truth.
With that problem solved, Lee turned to his luggage.
Lee had bought an extra suitcase when he arrived in Phnom Pen, large and black with a loud zipper and bulky pockets on the outside. He left it on the patio, just beyond the open porch door of his hotel room. He thought of it like a nest, a womb, somewhere warm and safe that his mother would crawl back into.
He considered sealing himself inside and waiting to see who would take him. If they came for him, he would be quiet, wouldn’t say a word as they rolled him away. But no, his place was here—on the bed, sleeping, just like before. If his mom was trapped in his dreams, this was the only way she would come out.
He lay on the left side of the bed, just as he had back then. He’d left space for his mom when she came back from her walk,hoping she’d lie down next to him. Her shampoo smelled like lemons and he liked to press his nose up against her hair and fall asleep in a forest of lemon trees. Maybe this time, she would come back and lie down next to him.
Darkness fell, and the sliding glass door fogged up as the night grew cool.
Lee rose from his sacred place on the bed and wrote a message with his finger on the glass.
