by Lori Saltis
Your father can help himself, but he won't.
My eyes pop open. That voice, it spoke using the Silent Speech, but I don't know it. I feel a presence nearby, ancient, cold, scaly, surrounded by water. Not human.
Jade Dragon?
That is what you call me. The voice has a reptilian hiss.
Why are you talking to me?
You are someone different using this pearl. A female. Interesting.
Does my father talk to you like this?
No. I'm not interested in talking to him. I watch him. That's more interesting, though not lately. All he does is drink and mourn.
This can’t be Jade Dragon. He’s wise and strong, and aids us in our darkest hour. This presence sounds more like an impartial observer. But who else could it be? Maybe you need to ask Jade Dragon for help before he’ll do anything.
Can you talk to him and tell him to stop drinking and pull himself together?
Not anymore. Alcohol poisoning has ruined his chi. He will soon die.
What? No! I run to the door. Then I see when I missed when I came in. A folded piece of paper lying on the floor. It has my name on it.
You should read that, says Jade Dragon.
Why?
It's too late for your father, but you can still save others.
What others? What are you talking about?
The presence slips away, swimming through the depths of the San Francisco Bay toward the Pacific Ocean. The power ebbs from my body, becoming once again a faint hum. Was I really talking to Jade Dragon? How is that even possible? I don't know how to use the Yang Pearl. I'm no one to him, unless maybe I'm the only one left who can do what he bids. I unfold the note.
Look under Tiffany's mattress.
I blink several times. Not what I expected. Who wrote this? Who else but Sylvia. Do I want to play her game? Do I have a choice? I go to the bathroom and find a hairpin. Most of the doors inside the kongsi have crappy, old locks. George showed me, years ago, how easy it is to pick them. I pause when I reach the second floor. I can feel the silence, that no one is here. Still, my stomach trembles as I creep down the hall. I head straight for the master bedroom. My breath goes shallow as I turn the knob. It's locked. I smirk as I fiddle with the hairpin and feel that satisfying click as the handle turns.
I slip inside, close the door behind me, and turn on the light because the blinds are shut. I squint, but not because of the light. The room is furnished completely different than before Tiffany moved in. Everything is gold-leafed in a fake antique European style. That’s fine. I’ll have the guards toss it all into the gutter after she leaves. There's clothing rack in the middle of the room, hanging heavy with garment bags. During a Chinese wedding banquet, the bride changes her outfits at least four or five times. It figures Tiffany plans to do so as well. After all, this is really her wedding.
Instinct sends me to the far side of the bed. I bend down, grasp the gold satin cover, turn it over and lift the mattress. There is something there. A sword.
I grasp it by its plain wood scabbard and tug it out. It's long and heavy, meant for someone taller and stronger than me. It has a plain silver handle with a simple black grip. It's only decoration is the red Templar cross embossed into its pommel.
What is Tiffany doing with a Templar sword? Even as I think this, I feel it. I know it. My stomach twists on itself, becoming a hard ball. My breath comes in shaky spurts. Mom's death wasn't an accident. Tiffany paid the Templars to act as assassins.
This is the sword that killed my mother.
This sword is now my weapon and will kill my enemy.
9
There's no way to sneak out the kongsi front door carrying a sword, even with a skeleton crew of security guards on duty. I could try disguising it, but what could I use that wouldn't look like something wrapped around a sword? I don't have time for such nonsense. The easiest option is going out the emergency exit on the ground floor. There's no guard, but there is an alarm, which would be a problem if I didn't know the code.
I step out to a narrow, damp walkway that seldom sees the light of day. I look up and see a security camera pointed right at me. Damn. My emotions are robbing me of common sense. I can only hope the guards aren't paying attention. I breathe deep and channel the power of the Yang Pearl.
Wow. My whole body feels energized, like I can do anything. Using the Shadow Skill, I hurry through the maze of tiny back alleys until I reach Taylor Street. Ordinarily, that would deplete my chi, but the Yang Pearl contains a deep reservoir of power. Still in stealth mode, I use Swift Steps to bound up Nob Hill, all the way to Grace Cathedral. When I get there, I'm barely winded, but I'm dizzy from the rush of energy. I'm about to tip over and I tuck myself in a doorway leading to church's lower level as I become visible. I catch my breath and peek out at the wide, round staircase leading up to the gothic marble towers of the church. A crowd of well-dressed Chinese people are standing around, talking. Is the wedding over already? I look them over, but I don't see Tiffany. She must still be inside.
Am I really going to kill her in a church?
My emotions, combined with the Yang Pearl, play havoc with my chi. A wave of dizziness forces me to lean against the wall and I take deep, slow breaths. If I wait too long, I'll get cold feet. I have to act without hesitation...
But what if I'm being played? What if Tiffany is using Sylvia and I'm heading into a trap? Except the last thing Tiffany wants if for me or anyone to disrupt the wedding. Sylvia. She's using me. Should I let that stop me? And what about Jade Dragon? He told me I need to save the others. He must mean by killing Tiffany.
The door behind me opens. A hand reaches out and yanks me inside. It's Mike. He hauls me into a nearby classroom and shuts the door. Roy is waiting there. Both are wearing tuxedoes and looking impossibly handsome and horrible. Roy immediately steps in front of the door, blocking any chance of exit. I tug away from Mike and clutch the sword to my chest even though it's the instrument of my mother's death. Does her blood still stain the blade? My pulse is pounding in my ears and I'm hating them both. "Why aren't you at the wedding?"
"Wedding's over," says Mike. "The happy couple is taking photos inside the church. And by happy couple, I mean George and Mother."
That means I still have a chance. I glance over my shoulder, looking for another door. There isn't one. The only way to get past Mike and Roy is to use the Yang Pearl, but how do I do that without hurting them and me? To make time, I ask, "How did you know to find me?"
"A guard paged me and told me he saw you leave the kongsi by the emergency exit and that you were carrying a sword. Who told you?"
He knows about it. I suck in yet another sense of betrayal. "Sylvia. She left me a note. How long have you known?
"Not long. Sylvia kept hinting that something sinister was going on and that she'd tell me only if I agreed to marry her. It's a lot worse than just your mom's death, Cat."
Like anything could be worse than that. "What do you mean?"
"The clan astrologer told Head Elder that the next born Dragon Son will be the new family dragon. Mother wants power over that dragon, but she won't get it through me. She hired the Templars to kill Meghan. George didn't know and it was just a coincidence that he saw the dagger and realized it held the Wisdom Pearl. The Templars used that coincidence to make Meghan's death look accidental. Afterward, they gave Mother the sword that killed her and she took it to Taoist sorcerer who placed a curse on it."
I make a scoffing sound. Mike reaches out and I back away. He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Pull out the sword and you'll see."
I look from him to Roy to see if they'll make any sudden move. Then I tug on the handle. As the blade comes out of the sheath, I see a yellow slip of paper taped just below the hilt, scrawled with twisted talismanic characters. My arm starts tingling. Something is crawling up my hand. A centipede. Centipedes. Hundreds of tiny ones crawling out of the hilt. I let go of the sword, frantically shaking and swatting my hand.
The sword fall
s to the floor with a clank. I stare at it, my motions slowing to a stop. There aren't any centipedes. The tingling sensation has already gone.
Roy is next to me. "Are you all right?"
I shake my head and look at Mike with wide eyes. "What kind of curse?"
"Sylvia told me that every night, Mother lays on her bed, holding the sword, and chanting a spell. As long as she keeps doing that, it will drive Dad insane and slowly kill him."
I gasp. "Why didn't you get rid of it and her?"
"Because there's more. After Dad dies, Mom will claim that George and I were switched at birth. That he's the true Dragon Son and I'm an imposter. Then she'll rule the clan through him. She'll finally have the place denied her when Dad left with Meghan."
"When did Sylvia tell you?"
"Last week. She's been playing Mother's minion this whole time, gaining her trust. I guess she thinks she's going to come out on top, no matter what happens."
"But you promised to marry her if she told you everything."
He shrugs. "I played her, like she's been playing us, all the way until this morning. I told her I won’t marry her, but I also won’t force her to marry George. That if she wants to leave, go right ahead. I won't let anyone stop her. But if she tells anyone what happened between us, I'll make her life a living hell. She made the choice to go ahead and marry our piece of shit brother. That's on her."
That's why Sylvia shoved the note under my door. I was her last hope and I arrived too late. Good. My voice shakes as I ask, "What about your mother? You’re going to let her walk away?"
"My mother." He gives a humorless laugh. "As if she was ever that to me. No, she'll pay for her crimes."
"How?"
"I hired a Five Venom practitioner. She'll be dead before her plane lands in Hong Kong."
"You'd kill your own mother?"
"There's always a price to be paid for using evil sorcery. This will be hers." His eyes go rock hard. "And there's a price for treason. She’s killing the Dragon Son and plans to supplant his true heir. I can't let her live."
Death by poison. The Five Venoms know what they're doing. It'll probably look like she died in her sleep. As if that's anywhere near punishment enough. I want her to know that she's failed and lost everything.
The power of the Yang Pearl glows in my chest. I need to do something, but what. I reach out to that scaly presence, now frolicking in the waves off the San Mateo coast. What can I do?
Jade Dragon pauses. I feel his gaze on our tragic scenario and sense his renewed interest. You can use my power, but it won't be wise.
Will it kill me?
It could. Or kill something inside you.
There's not much left to kill. What do I need to do?
Do what you need to do. Let the pearl's energy guide you.
The glow of power extends to my arm. I reach down and pick up the sword, ripping off the evil talisman.
"Cat, don't," says Roy as he and Mike come toward me.
Using the power of the pearl, I push with my free hand and leave it outstretched, forcing them against the wall and holding them there. I start trembling and my breath shakes because it's taking nearly all my energy to do just that.
I delve deeper into the pearl and feel its whirling yang energy. I hold the sword upside down, feeling the residue of Tiffany's evil energy still present in the hilt. I focus on that energy and use power of the pearl to send it back to her. I connect with her. She's standing in front of the church altar, posing like a queen between George and Sylvia. The photographer tells her to hold the pose, but she's startled and starts skittering away. She knows it's me wrapping her own evil magic around her heart and squeezing. She falls.
I start to fall. Roy catches me as Mike grabs the sword away. Then, nothing.
When I wake up, I'm on the floor of the classroom, cradled in Roy's arms. Mike is gone and so is the sword. I reach around my neck, though I already know. I feel the lack of the glowing power of the Yang Pearl. I look into Roy's eyes and see the turbulence of worry and anger, and maybe, just maybe, still some love. I try reaching out with the Silent Speech, but he won’t let me in.
"Did I kill her?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Do you hate me?"
"No." He blinks as he says this.
I still love him. That hasn't died. But can our love, or any love, survive all these terrible things that must remain hidden?
The story continues in the Crossroads Series.
Sign up for Wandering Times, the official newsletter of the Crossroads, and receive exclusive offers as well as bonus content and news of upcoming releases. Click here to sign up: http://eepurl.com/ch--E9
Acknowledgments
Heartfelt thanks to Jennifer Gagliardi, my editor and friend.
Hidden is part of a large multi-author series. Every week, a different author will publish a work of fiction titled Hidden. Many thanks to organizers Joy Schultz and Laura Greenwood for including me in this fantastic endeavor! More Hidden stories await you. You can find out more at the Hidden Reader website and Facebook page.
About the Author
Lori Saltis loves writing, traveling, and being a big geek. She was born in San Francisco, the city of her heart, her forever home where she finds endless inspiration while wandering its streets. Discovering the extraordinary in the ordinary world is the compelling force of her writing.
An actor, director, and playwright, her shows have been produced at a variety of venues including the San Francisco Fringe Festival. While working as a freelance writer, her articles appeared on various websites including USA Today.
To find out more about the world of the Crossroads, check out her website loriwriter.com and subscribe to her newsletter Wandering Times http://eepurl.com/ch--E9. You can also find her on Twitter @loriwriter.
Copyright © 2017 by Lori Saltis
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.
Cover art by Julie Nicholls
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.