by Dave Turner (Vampire: The Masquerade | Fiction)
Street hustlers and thrill-seekers surged against her like salmon returning to spawn. They were attuned to an entirely different instinct that sprang from money and hunger. Keres tightened her grip on the matte black briefcase and tried to summon the long-forgotten ability to make forward progress in a Wanchai crowd. It hadn�t been that long, had it? She�d never dreamed that a city could change so much in seven years. Now she wondered if it was the city that changed or some part of her.
The Wanchai district was every tourist�s wet dream, a long series of life-size postcards taped together. Countless layers of lights and neon blocked any view of the cloudy night sky, virtually replacing the light of day. The street was filled with a syrupy flow of two-stroke scooters, Japanese sub-compacts, and bright double-decker buses. Each sidewalk was filled to overflowing with manic Hong Kongers. Squeezed into a constantly shifting No Man�s Land between the road and the sidewalk, street vendors leaned over steaming food carts or gestured to glittering earring displays.
Many of the familiar landmarks on Chanbai Road were gone. Her eyes reflexively probed the gaudy neon for Golden Sunrise Electronics or Super Bomb nightclub. Golden Sunrise had been a front for the 14K triad and Super Bomb had been a favorite spot to find easy prey. She found no trace of them and marveled at the pace of constant change in this city. There�s nothing else like it in the world, she thought.
She almost walked right past the alley, which was nothing more than a gap where the tourist�s postcards didn�t quite line-up. A woman selling knock-off Nikes from a towering shoetree and an ex-patriot Australian guitarist panhandling with 20-year-old American folk songs flanked the entrance. A light shaped like a blue carp caught her eye. She waited for a gap in the crowd and darted into the alley.
It was far from empty. There was nothing more valuable in Hong Kong than space and the inhabitants of this alley knew it. Both sides were dotted with narrow doors that doubled as storefronts. Merchants simply spread their shoddy wares on folding tables or faded Persian rugs just outside their doors. Silhouetted by the light from inside the buildings, they reclined in simple wooden chairs or slouched against doorframes. Keres strode past stacks of bootleg Windows software, questionable herbal remedies, and plastic statues of the Buddha. She could see the rusty iron fire escape that led to a familiar door and the blue carp light hanging above it. She could also see the young Triad soldiers loitering at the base of the permanently lowered stairs.
She slowed to a stop nearly twenty feet away from the gang member, instinctively avoiding the faint light that escaped the alley�s doorways. A half-dozen thugs in knock-off Tommy Hilfiger were huddled around something on the ground that one man was casually prodding with a crowbar. Snippets of their conversation, and wagers over an event, reached Keres� keen hearing. Their leader sat about halfway up the iron stairs, holding a Styrofoam bowl of noodles close to his mouth. He wore a red leather jacket and a bored expression. Looking up from his subordinates, he locked bulging brown eyes with Keres. He absently stabbed his chopsticks into the noodles and put the bowl down. Running his small hand over his jaw, he sized up the gweilo woman.
She stood tall and straight, wrapped in an expensive black overcoat. That glossy, straight hair would be the envy of any geisha, he thought to himself. Even in the meager ambient light of the alley, her chalk-white face gleamed Shanghai porcelain. Her blue eyes never wavered under his scrutiny and a frown tugged at the corners of her thin mouth. A dark briefcase was gripped with assurance, not fear. A gust of wind pushed a thin lock of hair across her face, which a black-gloved hand tucked behind her ear. The Triad leader needed several moments to finally identify her unfamiliar demeanor. This was annoyance, not nervousness, he realized with trepidation. This gweilo projected disdain, not concern.
The small group of gang members stopped their activity and collectively glanced up at their leader, after realizing his trickle of bored insults had suddenly dried up. They followed his gaze to Keres; one of them stood up and turned to face her. The street vendors, fighting to remain uninterested, seemed to be holding their breath. Keres glanced dismissively at the curious gang members and feigned an interest in her wristwatch. Indecision fueled the Triad leader�s nervous fingers as they lightly held the stair rail. If it looked as though the woman, a gweilo woman, was intimidating him, he would lose huge face with his men. Keres understood this and realized that if she simply brushed past him, he would be forced to order an attack. So, she gave him an extra minute to come up with an excuse.
"You idiots!" he finally barked in Cantonese. "Why didn�t you remind me of my meeting with Dead-Eye Wang? I�m gonna be late!"
The Triad thugs, picking up on the tension, followed suit with a babbled barrage of surprise and apology. The leader sauntered down the stairs and angrily gestured for his men to follow him, cursing them all the while. Keres resumed her confident stride. As she started up the stairs, she glanced down at the thing that the gang members had found so amusing. A battered alley cat struggled to its feet, limping away from a pool of blood with one leg held on by tattered skin, the injuries telegraphing its ultimate fate. Keres continued up the stairs and pressed the doorbell.
The chipped red door jarred open, held in check by a brass chain. Half of a very thin Chinese man�s face examined her, then jerked back slightly.
"Eh?!" he mumbled to himself in surprise, "Who�by the Buddha!"
"Open the door, Charles. I have traveled too far to linger on your doorstep."
"Wait! You don�t understand, Ms. Ilargui! I am no longer in the employ of Mr. Thrace. Not for many months. I have a different life now!"
"Really, Charles? According to our records, none of the special shipments has ever been returned," Keres said with narrowed eyes.
"The�shipments?" Charles fumbled. His eyes dipped slightly in desperate thought, trying to divine an answer in the door�s flaking paint.
Her tone nearly stopped Charles� heart. "Open the door."
Plaintively whispering a prayer under his breath, Charles removed the chain and held the door open for Keres. She took two soft, sure steps into the apartment. Her memory reacquainted her with the layout: a common room and kitchen, short hallway, a bedroom and a separate bath. She eased her senses to inhuman levels and slowly swept the room, tasting faint traces of cigarette smoke, smelling the residue of sex on the couch, and hearing no unaccounted-for breath or pulse.
"You�ve bought a new television, Charles. And how is that woman from so many years ago? Tian, was it? I can smell her perfume and you aren�t the kind who buys plants."
Charles shut the door and dragged his hand from the knob. He fished around in the breast pocket of his gray, short-sleeved shirt, shaking a stick of gum out of the pack. He walked to the kitchen counter, deliberately casual.
"The TV was a gift, part of a shipment a friend hijacked out of Singapore. Tian is�Tian is not here right now, I�m afraid. Ms. Ilargui, I truly regret this misunderstanding, but I am no longer involved in the business affairs of the past. I have several new and very profitable ventures that�"
"Profitable, Charles?" Keres said skeptically. She slid a fat brown envelope from the inner pocket of her coat. "Then why haven�t you moved out of this apartment? Sentimental?" The sound of the envelope dropping onto the coffee table was louder than Charles had anticipated.
"I won�t be here for long, Charles. I have a meeting that should take a couple of days and then I�ll be leaving. I need a safe, quiet place to stay and you�ve always been able to deliver that."
Charles stared down at the gum, tapping it lightly against his palm. He took extra care in removing the silver foil, like a gift wrapped in that peculiar Japanese style that required no tape or ribbon. Keres could see the muscles in his jaw grinding in frustration.
"No one has used that room in over a year," he sighed. "It�s probably quite dusty."
She rested her briefcase on a small stack of glossy car magazines and subvocalized a brief incantation. The clasps sprang open of their own volition and Keres placed a rack of five steel flasks on the table. A brief command word resealed the black case. Keres glanced at the clock on the VCR.
"I�m hungry. I should be back in two hours. Make sure that the room is prepared by then."
Ignoring his expression of incredulity and resentment, Keres turned on her heel and left. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Charles absently stared across his apartment, searching for stray pieces of his freshly-shattered life. An argument erupted in the alley that brought him back to his senses. He reluctantly turned and opened a cupboard, nudging aside instant noodle cups and dusty cans of fruit. Peeling away the lid from a coffee can, he shook a small silver key into his hand. He drifted down his short hallway and nudged the bedroom door open with his foot. The trunk was far enough under his sagging bed that he had to strain to reach it. One strong heave landed the trunk on the mattress. Charles slid the key into the lock then paused, closing his eyes and asking the Buddha to turn his joss around, to protect him over these next few days. He turned the key and lifted the heavy lid. Several oiled pistols and shotguns lay quietly in the trunk, like smug lovers who knew their absent partner had come crawling back.
************
The smooth concrete room was virtually empty, a 21st century Zen garden. Lit by two fluorescent lights, a pair of towering wooden crates stood near the center. They were tattooed with Mandarin, Cantonese, English instructions which left no doubt of where the tops of the boxes were. Charles held his thumb against the CLOSE button of the massive, clattering roll-up door as the forklift slipped away. He was dressed in a new Armani leather jacket, a real one, and new green alligator boots, courtesy of his newfound wealth. The door finally clanged against the floor and he lifted his thumb. He turned and began to walk around the crates, resting his SPAS-12 combat shotgun over his right shoulder. Slowly, as he rounded the back of the tall crates, Keres came into view.
She was working on the last design. It was black gweilo magic and he didn�t understand any of it. Several interconnected circles, ringed with writings, drawn in red paint. Keres held a small silver can with the paint in one hand, a brush with the other. She was fastidious as she worked, leaving no drips on the floor or her gray Vera Wang suit. One step back and a tilt of the head to make sure the design was flawless. She had created the same wards on the other walls, the roll-up door, the floor, and the ceiling. Stepping forward again, she placed her forefinger against the wall, near the center of the design. The final glyph took shape in thick, black blood. Holding the paint can and brush in her left hand, she walked back to her briefcase and perfectly folded overcoat. She fixed Charles with a clinical look.
"Is the door secured, Charles? I don�t want to be distracted by mundane concerns after all this effort."
A brief nod was her answer as he pulled a cigarette from a pack with his lips.
"Out of gum, Charles?" she needled as she placed the can and brush next to the case.
The glow from the lighter deepened his sullen glower. "Is there anything else I can do, Ms. Ilargui?"
"Yes, Charles, you can open the crates now."
Tucking the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he replaced the crowbar leaning against the crate with his shotgun. The roomed filled with the echoes of protesting nails and cracking wood.
Was this Oliver Thrace�s legacy? she wondered. A pair of unknown artifacts nearly five meters high? It was no secret that the Council quivered in anger and uncertainty over the Hong Kong Chantry leader�s recent disappearance. Common wisdom on the matter was that Thrace had adapted to the Clan�s most dangerous assignment and was thriving in the East. A superb investigative team had visited the Chantry when regular communication ceased. Their report highlighted few signs of any battle, shattered and sputtering wards, and a thorough removal of all Thaumaturgical texts and artifacts. Ominous rumors slithered through the Clan, rumors of suppressed details of the investigation, rumors that the entire Chantry had been mystically "sterilized", foiling the more advanced investigative applications of Auspex.
A sudden rush of air signaled the fall of one crate�s front panel, filling the room with a booming crash. Keres turned eagerly then frowned as a tightly packed wall of straw blocked her view of the contents. Charles lowered himself from the top of the crate and started removing the straw. As she waited, Keres walked to each ward and checked its integrity.
Word had first arrived from an operative in the Deutsche Bank. An attempt to exceed the limit of an obscure credit line activated red flags. Accounts showed that nearly two million dollars had been spent and the funds were a discretionary asset under the missing Chantry leader�s control. A Chinese man named Cheung Ma had made a request for another one hundred thousand. This man, a disgraced historian and archeologist, was finally contacted at an unauthorized dig near Xian. Cheung rushed to explain that he had unearthed a fabulous treasure on behalf of Mr. Thrace. The additional money was required to ship this treasure according to pre-established instructions. He refused to divulge the nature of the artifacts, implying that the Communist government would happily accept delivery if the Clan was no longer interested. The historian assured the Clan that he hadn�t been in contact with Thrace for over a year, under the assumption that continued cash flow signaled approval of his actions. Arrangements were quickly made to ensure delivery and Keres was asked to return to Hong Kong.
She finished her scrutiny of the ceiling ward and brought her head forward to stare into the crate again. Knee-deep in a spray of straw, Charles continued to expose an old, carved pillar. Pitted and gray, the pillar was wrapped in rings of script. Keres dipped into her briefcase and found her flashlight.
"Give me a minute, Charles." He straightened and stepped back, shifting mounds of straw with his legs.
The flashlight�s beam meandered across the surface as she tried to select an arbitrary starting point. Careful not to touch the pillar, she leaned close. The writing was a very early form of Chinese. Her eyes flicked back and forth between several characters, smoothly comparing and modifying them in her mind to bridge the differences of millennia. Comprehension built slowly, then crashed over her suddenly like a tsunami. She took several halting steps back on weak legs. Had she made an error in translation? Could these words be as ancient as she suspected? She lifted her hand, holding it an inch from the cool stone. The spiritual impressions in the pillar would provide confirmation of its age, assuming she could withstand the immense volume of input. Steeling herself, she laid her hand on the pillar.
Charles kneeled in front of her as her vision returned. A dull ache buffered the feeling of cold concrete against her back. She was propped against the wall, legs out in front of her. The electrifying scent of vitae pushed its way through the cobwebs in her mind. A rumbling snarl like an angry tiger resonated in her chest as she shot to her feet, knocking Charles on his back. Hunched, alert, hands curled like claws, she searched for the source of the scent. Her eyes widened when she saw the dark stains on her own jacket and shirt. A grunt from Charles captured her attention.
Lying on his right side, propped on his elbow, he held a wrinkled bandana towards her. Seeing her confusion, he brushed the cloth against his nose and mouth for a moment. A check of her own face marked her fingers with blood. Keres leaned forward and snatched the bandana away, cleaning her face quickly and thoroughly. She flicked the stained rag away from her, ignoring Charles� unhealthy interest in it. Straightening her clothes, she plucked her discarded flashlight from a tuft of packing straw and faced the pillar again. You�ve definitely found something, Oliver, she thought to herself.
"Remove the rest of the crate, Charles," she murmured.
************
"�and so Zao-lat, humbled by his failure, gathered his robes and rice bowl and turned away from the Grand Arhat. As the barbarian�s shadow passed over the horizon, Xue turned to his students and spoke."
"Mark well the nature of Zao-lat, for it is my own short sight that brought him to us."
Lau spoke. "Great One, we have never before seen such a creature, and yet you take responsibility for his failure? How can this be?"
Xue sat against the Stone of Harmonious Thought and his students sat before him.
"As the protectors of the Middle Kingdom, the Wan Xian were obligated to defend every valley and river, even those in the darkest and most uncivilized regions. The most worthy Wan Xian watched over lands in the heart of the Middle Kingdom. The less strong or less vigilant had to search much more distant lands before finding a region to defend."
"As time passed, the Wan Xian on the edges of the Middle Kingdom began to lose contact with their brothers and sisters in the center. Separated from their homeland, the outlying Wan Xian began to adopt the culture and practices of the mortal culture in the region. In time, some Wan Xian forgot their true identities."
"When the Wan Xian were cursed by the August Personage of Jade, a time of great darkness and confusion followed. Wan Xian, now cursed as Wan Kuei, had great difficulty speaking with their closest brothers, let alone the nearly-forgotten Wan Xian on the frontier. The Kings of Yomi took advantage of the confusion to sow great evil and the mortals of the Middle Kingdom suffered."
"One day, one of the forgotten frontier Wan Xian returned to the heart of the Middle Kingdom, searching for answers to his new cursed existence. When he found his humble brothers and sisters, he asked them: �What has happened? Why has the August Personage done this thing?�"
"The Wan Kuei approached the Forgotten One, calling to him in his ancient name. The Forgotten One lifted his hand and spoke: �I have given up that name, since it has gathered dust for so many years. I am now spoken of as Quian.�"
"For the next three nights, the Wan Kuei told Quian of the shameful events in the Middle Kingdom since his absence. Quian�s anger and sorrow grew each night until he could take no more."
"�Fools!�, he cried. �Long ago, I was judged unfit for the sacred duty of guarding the Middle Kingdom�s heart. I accepted my fate and performed honorably on the frontier. One day, I am cursed without reason. Now I come to find that I have been betrayed by my brothers and sisters!�"
"The Wan Kuei shook their heads at Quian�s words. �If you had performed honorably, brother Quian, then surely you would have escaped the August Personage�s wrath?�"
"Quian�s response echoed from the mountains like a tiger�s roar. �No, I refuse to believe that! It was you who was cursed by Heaven, not me. I still have a sacred duty to protect the Middle Kingdom from the Kings of Yomi. I shall not fail as you have failed, brothers and sisters.�"
"Quian fled from the heart of the Middle Kingdom and returned to his home. Many years passed without word from the Forgotten One. The Wan Kuei were concerned about the rage and spite in Quian�s heart, but could spare no time to address it. First came the Midnight Ambush of Emma-O, then the Year of the Savage Elephant, then the March of the Seven Burning Monks. Only then could the Wan Kuei send representatives to Quian to learn how their younger brother fared."
"When the Wan Kuei arrived in the distant West, they were greeted by startling creatures. These creatures were unable to endure the Eye of Heaven and shared the taste for blood that young Wan Kuei harbored. These creatures also employed Chi, but recklessly, in a way that unbalanced the Yin and Yang Worlds. Declaring these creatures to be servants of Yomi, the Wan Kuei destroyed them. Quian walked over a hill and saw what the Wan Kuei had done."
"�Why have you slaughtered my servants?�, cried Quian."
"�We did not know they served you, Forgotten One. What manner of creature are they?�", asked the Wan Kuei.
"�They are a new breed of Wan Xian, created to continue the sacred duty given to me by the August Personage of Jade.�", said Quian.
"�Why would the August Personage send them to you in your disgrace, brother Quian?�", said the Wan Kuei.
"�They were not sent by the August Personage�, said Quian. �Despite my disgrace, I still have access to the knowledge and strength of my former station. Were we not given mastery of Chi and the secrets of the Ten Thousand Things? It was a simple matter to transform the most worthy mortals under my care into the instruments of Heaven�s justice. I have blessed these chosen mortals with a portion of Heaven�s power and they in turn have passed that power along to others. Heaven�s will is served.�"
"The Wan Kuei looked upon Quian�s Chi and saw that is was weaker, lessened somehow. They looked upon the broken creatures upon the earth, the servants of Quian. They shook their heads in sorrow as they spoke."
"�O brother, you have overstepped your bounds. Only the August Personage of Jade holds the sacred right of creation. We are but shepherds. Look what your imperfect understanding of the Ten Thousand Things has wrought. These creatures share our weaknesses, but none of our strengths. They are ignorant of Chi, wastefully expending energy without regard for harmony. They subsist on simple blood, unable to taste the pure Chi of breath and the earth. They perceive the Yin and Yang Worlds, but are unable to understand them. Most dangerous of all, they have no understanding of the Kings of Yomi. You must destroy them and take back the Chi you gave them. They are threat to the Middle Kingdom.�"
"�You are wrong, brothers and sisters�, said Quian. �They are the only true hope of the Middle Kingdom. Without knowledge of Chi, they shall not be tempted as the Wan Xian were tempted. Without knowledge of the Yin and Yang Worlds, they shall be able to focus on the Middle Kingdom without distraction. Without knowledge of the Kings of Yomi, they shall remain untainted by Hell�s touch.�"
"The Wan Kuei stood firm. �Your time on the frontier has driven you mad, Quian. You are blind to the danger that these creatures present. They are unprepared for such responsibility and such power. You have unleashed another scourge upon the Middle Kingdom, fulfilling your new role as one of the Ten Thousand Demons. These new creatures must be destroyed.�"
"Quian bowed to his brothers and sisters for the last time. �I must respectfully disagree.�"
"And the land filled suddenly with a host of Quian�s offspring, overwhelming the surprised Wan Kuei. The Wan Kuei had great success against the creatures initially, but their sheer numbers proved a tremendous strain on the Chi of the area. The Wan Kuei fell under the ambush, except for Moki. Moki escaped to a Dragon Line and fled the slaughter."
"Upon his return to the great temples of the heart of the Middle Kingdom, Moki spoke of all he had seen and heard. It was decided that Quian�s offspring were a danger to the harmony of the Great Cycle and their destruction was agreed upon. When a small war party of Wan Kuei returned to Quian�s land to perform their duty, they found the Great City of Quian in ruins and no trace of the Forgotten One or his brood."
"Quian had hidden his tracks well and finding his scattered children proved to be impossible. The war party returned to the temples in disgrace, unable to complete their duty."
"It was agreed that the Wan Kuei would remain vigilant against the rise of Quian�s brood and would strike the creatures down when they were found. Time passed and the remaining Wan Kuei became concerned with other matters. But I never forgot the Forgotten One or his offspring. When Zao-lat came to me, I immediately recognized him for what he was."
"Just as all creatures, even the Wan Kuei, are worthy of salvation, so I extended the same belief to this misguided creation of my brother Quian. I knew Quian before his initial journey to the frontier and compassion stayed my hand when I looked upon Zao-lat. Sadly, he has proven incapable of transcending the limitations that Quian placed upon him, confirming the wisdom of my fellow Demons."
Lau spoke again. "Why suffer Zao-lat to live, Arhat, if he is such a danger to the Middle Kingdom? Surely we would gain much face with the August Personage of Jade if we were to eliminate him?"
"Now is not the time to take action against the spawn of Quian. Just as Zao-lat was given the chance for enlightenment, so must Quian receive the same opportunity. There may come a time, in the next Age or the Age that follows, when Quian no longer feels the desire to atone for his transgression against Heaven, when he will understand his error and destroy his offspring. When the spawn of Quian have multiplied and overrun the frontiers of the Middle Kingdom and have spread beyond even Quian�s ability to influence, then the Wan Kuei must act. If that time ever comes, then it will fall to the Wan Kuei to take up their sacred duty once more, to eliminate Quian�s folly and protect the Middle Kingdom, as Heaven demands. If that time ever comes, remember these words and the story of my brother, the Forgotten One, Quian."
"Do something, you fucking gweilo!"
Charles� furious words held the echoing impotence of a man trapped in a well. Keres sat on the concrete, legs folded under her, limp hand pointing the flashlight at an empty corner of the crate. What had Thrace uncovered? Was this pillar the reason for his disappearance? How had Thrace known where to look for it? Could this pillar�s writings have any truth in them? As she began to absorb what she had read, frightening theories and dark misgivings pulled at her mind like a man being drawn and quartered. She marshaled her wits and told herself to stop trembling. Then she realized that it wasn�t her body that was trembling.
The floors, the packing straw, the air, her teeth, all were thrumming in response to the sickly-sweet energy that had filled the room. Keres unsteadily rose to her feet, dazedly wondering if Charles was going to dent his shotgun with his white-knuckled grip. Feedback from all six protective wards sliced away the remaining cobwebs in her mind. Keres acknowledged the impending breakdown of the wards, conceding their failure, as a general would sacrifice overwhelmed soldiers. She had to focus her will and prepare to use all of her potent blood magic to face these attackers.
Charles swiveled aimlessly in one direction, then the other, needing a target to ease his mounting terror. The energy penetrated his flesh, stretching his nerves tighter and tighter, coating his tongue and teeth with pasty saliva. The shotgun�s roar deafened him as a sizzling pop from the ceiling seized his attention and jerked his trigger finger.
A small patch of concrete vaporized, taking a piece of the protective ward with it. A bright red light was re-tracing the ward, but it was erasing the pattern at an ever-increasing pace with steady, crackling precision. A staccato burst of sympathetic pops rang out as the other wards began to suffer the same fate. Lit by the faint light of the disintegrating sigils, Keres grimly stretched and flexed her fingers.
The tiny Chinese man had already taken several steps into the room before Keres noticed him in the corner. She had trouble keeping her gaze focused on him, as if he were physically deflecting it. Stooped shoulders, long face, large ears, dressed in a stark black business suit, that was all she could make out. Keres had encountered Cathayans three times during her time in Hong Kong and twice they had materialized out of thin air. Both occasions were highlighted by bloodshed.
She summoned fire and relsilience from her blood, gaining confidence from the familiar feel of power, like easing her body into a steaming bath. Magical energy streamed from her body towards the Cathayan. Before it could reach him and consume him with flames, the magic was sliced into thousands of wild streamers, veering and chasing each other like dueling kites. Keres swore and backed away, blindly probing for her briefcase with her feet.
Charles turned at the sound of the echoing curse and nearly dropped his shotgun when he saw the quiet Cathayan. Relfex and practice made the switch from semi to fully automatic instinctive as he pressed the shotgun's stock into his shoulder. He leaned far forward, braced his legs, and squeezed the trigger. Charles had learned long ago that Keres' enemies requried the use of extreme force, which was why his combat shotgun could fire seven shots in three seconds. Deafened after the first shot, he strained to keep the shotgun on target as the air around the little man filled wiht confetti from the shredded suit. His barrage thrust the intruder against the wall, pinning him like a fire hose. The shotgun ran dry, changing the sharp thunder of gunfire to the frantic rattling of reloading. Charles made the final mistake of his life when he glanced up to the check the status of his target.
The Cathayan stood straight, torn, and tattered, as if he was the proud sole survivor of a plane crash. He began his advance again, turning his body towards Keres as his gaze lingered on Charles for a moment. The Chinese men locked eyes for a dark instant. Charles dropped the shotgun and managed a wet, strangled gasp. His legs jerked unconsciously, landing him on his back several meters away. He never noticed his total loss of bowel control.
Keres reached into her pocket for three red pebbles, turning it inside out in her haste. The Cathayan continued his lazy advance, his features still obscured. Throwing the pebbles down her throat, she whispered a release word that transformed the little stones into precious blood. Her briefcase spun slightly as she made contact with it. She dropped to her haunches, fumbling with the contents, her eyes never leaving her attacker. Fountain pen, digital camera, French perfume. She found the blackened wooden stake and rose to a defensive crouch. Beyond the Chinese demon, Charles crawled forward, eyes shut tight, babbling prayers in a whining voice.
"Let's not act rashly, Honorable Kuei-jin," she offered in Cantonese. "We can resolve this situation in a civilized manner."
The Cathayan's voice was that of an old man, calm and polite. His Cantonese was flawless. "Thered boat in the harbor sails into the river dragon's mouth. The Fourth Minister of Protocol will insist that our ambassador compose a written reply. You have something which was never meant for you. If love cannot be found in that young woman's heart, it must be placed there."
Keres strained to get a better glimpse of the Cathayan. Did he understand her question? He had replied in Cantonese, so he must speak the dialect, she thought.
"If these artifacts are your property, then I apologize for their theft. I assure you that I was unaware of their criminal origin, Honorable Kuei-jin. It is a priviledge to return them if this is the case."
"Seven jade knives must be used to prepare the sacrifice for the Elegant Typhoon rite. I must protect the Middle Kingdom from what you have learned. Noburo Akashi never realized that Hideo Taka had hidden one thousand soldiers in the nearby woods." The Cathayan was now dangerously close, but seemed more interested in the pillar than in Keres. Charles' hand brushed across the dropped shotgun, triggering an undercurrent of excitement in his simpering.
Is he aware of me? Keres thought desperately. Should I strike? I can't even see the bastard clearly. What if I miss him? What if I miss my chance to do something?
Keres struck, guiding the stake with her left hand and pushing it with her right. Her body moved forward as a unit, drawing on the faint memory of martial arts classes in this very city. She felt herself over-extend, knew that she had stabbed just in front of the Cathayan, and knew that she was dangerously unbalanced. A faint breeze drifted across her skin and clothes as his darting, Snake blows landed. Strong taps to her forehead, sternum, hips and the small of her back spread paralysis throughout her body. Her stiff, extended arm broke most of the fall, but her head still bounced off the concrete floor. A Ventrue antitribu had staked her once in Berlin and the feeling was identical.
She could see Charles lift himself to his knees, fumbling with the shotgun. Unable to turn away even if she wanted to, she watched her henchman place the stock on the ground and the barrel in his mouth. She expected the shot to be muffled somehow, but it was as loud as all the others had been.
Keres watched as one foot, then the other, stepped over her. The Cathayan's thoughts slipped past his lips on an almost imperceptible sigh. She couldn't make out the words, spoken like a relieved parent to a formerly lost pet. His Gucci shoes rasped when he turned.
"I must ensure that enough rice is produced to satisfy the need of all of the ancestors. When the moon and sun stare at each other across the sky, Tou Mu will send her legions against the Silver Monkey Court. You should have listened to Klaus von Bavel, Keres Illargui. His misgivings about the auspiciousness of this venture were well-founded."
If Keres' heart could have skipped a beat, it would have. Did she know this demon? How did he know the name of her Sire?
"Defiled Chi might spread to the Bone Court in the wake of the rash actions in the Scarlet Phoenix Court. Unfortunately, I doubt that your masters in Vienna will grasp the lesson of your destruction. The author of the Sutra of Blessed Harmony did not recognize that the P'o can be trusted in most situations. I regret that there is no elegant solution to the mischief you've caused, Keres Illargui."
Dear God, he's going to kill me, she realized. Maddening energy flared to life inside her head, white-hot light trying to shine through her skull. The Beast had finally stirred and nearly seared away the vestiges of her hope. She focused her will and clamped down on her vampiric nature. She knew there was an option, an escape. Only the timid ever acknowledged otherwise.
The solution seeped into her mind like a black thundercloud. It continued to build, to strengthen, as she desperately floundered for an alternative. It's the choice between guaranteed death and near-certain death, she thought morbidly. This information was too valuable.
Taking a firm grip on her senses and thoughts, she withdrew from consciousness as quickly as she could. Every time she attempted this, she found it hardest to shake the imagery of her Sire's inner sanctum. He had led to her mastery of Auspex and his lessons, with their attendant smell of pipe smoke and sounds of antique clocks, were always the last thoughts to leave her mind. She imagined herself as a meteor, vaporizing in the atmosphere en route to Earth. But in this case, Earth was the astral plane. The sensation of leaving her body behind usually reminded her of being brushed with hundreds of feathers. As the Cathayan opened his mouth and breathed fire over her, the feathers became razors.
Faster! she screamed to herself as she hurtled through astral space as fast as her mind could take her. She was a panicked marlin, unspooling as much silver cord as her burning body would allow. She kept a vivid image of the her Chantry in her mind, a beacon for navigation. A blossom of heat in the small of her incorporeal back, where the cord was attached, threatened her clarity. Concentrate, Keres, she repeated over and over. If you don't make it to the Chantry before that cord burns away, you'll be lost for eternity. Vibrant slices of the world, shuffled with smears of color and sound, flashed around her as she flew. There was no wind to measure her speed, which was a distraction in itself.
A recurring image began to repeat itself in her vision, her Chantry. Familiar details became distinguishable as she neared. A quiet, unassuming mansion guarded by stone and iron walls. A small, Victorian tower capped by an iron weather vane, a rooster. A hedgerow maze that guarded more than a marble fountain. A web of mystical protections among the strongest in Europe. And near the gate, standing just outside the wards, a short figure, stooped and dressed in a black business suit. A Chinese man...
