I nod. It’s true. A Jiang Shi would know.
“I wish I could stop you from suffering, Nic. But I can’t.”
“You help a lot.”
I sip my tea. I can’t imagine what I’d do without Zin.
“It’s five-fifty,” he says. “I have to work at nine. Want to catch an early movie, take your mind off things?”
“I don’t think I could focus on a movie right now.”
“How about a walk?”
“Okay.”
It’s dusk. Dark masses of cloud blanket the sky, eerily reflecting the city lights. Zin walks faster than usual, making me strain to keep up. I know that he’s doing it on purpose, so that I’m walking faster than I’m thinking.
At the river, we look out at the rippling waves. The wind floods my eyes and makes them water. My hair flies every which way, blinding me.
Zin tries to tame it, tucking the hair behind my ears before it goes flying again. We laugh together. And suddenly, from the sadness of an hour ago, I’m looking into his beautiful face, and I feel joy.
He gazes into my eyes. And for a moment I think he might love me too.
“Dear Nic, you amaze me.”
His lips close over mine. Like two electrical wires searing together, our energy sparks. I feel the cells of my body coming alive.
There’s fire here, and we’re coaxing it into an inferno, breathing each other’s breath and delving into each other’s mouths. My body is pressed against his, my arms around his neck, my hands in his hair. The fire, I realize, is his, in his lips, in his soul, and I’m clamoring to get closer to it, to be burned.
I become aware of a burgeoning in my chest. I have the blissful sensation of my soul rising up inside me, as if it’s being pulled to the surface.
I open my eyes slightly, seeing my reflection in his eyes—pale face, dark hair whipping around me. I notice a ball of light glowing inside me. But there’s something strange within it, like a rip in a brilliant white blanket. It appears to be a void, oozing darkness.
Panicked, I wrench away. His eyes are flashing like Morse code.
“W-what just happened?” I ask.
“Your soul came up to meet mine.” He sounds awestruck.
“I think I saw it—my soul.”
“You saw yourself as I see you. It’s a beautiful soul, isn’t it?”
“There’s something wrong with it. Something horrible.”
“It’s okay, Nic. What you saw is the hole. Where your brother used to be.”
“I thought you said my soul was strong!”
“It is strong. But it’s hurting. In the center of everyone’s soul is love. The love we have for others, the love others have for us. In your soul, you’re missing Josh. You’re missing your family before it was shattered.”
I can’t believe I have a hole in my soul. A nothing. A void. How could I have been walking around with it and not even know?
“Nic, the first time I saw you without your contact lenses, I saw your soul, in all its pain and beauty. I convinced myself I could help you heal. But I guess all I did was distract you from the pain. I’m sorry.”
“How do I heal it then?” I cross my arms over my chest, as if something could seep out of the hole. “I can’t make Josh better. I can’t make my family okay again.”
“Changing the circumstances isn’t the cure. Neither is filling it with somebody else.”
I blink. “Are you saying I tried to fill it with you?”
His eyes are sad. “Don’t you see? I wanted you to fill it with me. I couldn’t help myself.” He turns away, hands curling around the railing.
I feel sick. So sick. “Are you saying I’ve been using you to fill up my soul?”
His eyes don’t stray from the waves. “Only you know the truth.”
“But obviously you can see things that I can’t. You see everything, don’t you? How could you see that hole inside me and not say anything?”
“I didn’t think I was supposed to. You carry your pain like everyone else does.”
“But it’s horrible.” I think of the hole, the nothingness, and I want to erase it from my memory. “I’m just another sick soul, aren’t I?”
“Not to me.”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks. He turns to me, touches the side of my face, eyes filled with tenderness. “It’ll be okay, Nic.”
“No, it won’t.” I dash away my tears. “Maybe we . . . shouldn’t do this. I’m just using you to fill up my soul anyway. Right?”
He doesn’t say anything. I’m waiting for him to talk me out of it, but he doesn’t utter a word.
“I’m going home.” I start walking, and he walks beside me.
“Alone,” I say.
He nods, and leaves me to the night.
VELVET
SINKING
It was a mistake. I never should have looked so closely into Zin’s eyes. I never should have looked into my own soul. But I can’t go back. I can’t un-know what I know. Even the Jiang Shi, who have conquered life and death, can’t go back in time.
Sure, I needed Zin too much. Sure, he was my obsession, my fantasy. But he was my favorite person, the one who made life beautiful. Could he blame me for trying to fill the hole in my soul with him? Was it so wrong?
Two weeks have passed since I looked into my soul, and though I still see Zin often, we feel like strangers. Maybe the kiss didn’t mean to him what it did to me. I’m just temporary for him anyway. For him, I’m a potential four-year relationship, a blip on his endless time line.
He doesn’t deserve my anger. What I saw isn’t his fault. I could have closed my eyes and stayed in peaceful ignorance forever. But no, I wanted to see my soul. Some part of me saw an opportunity to see the truth and took it.
He’s right that I was filling my soul with him, but that doesn’t mean my love for him isn’t real. It is. I know it with the same certainty that recognized the hole inside me. And I know that my love for him is not the sum of his dancing and good looks and charm. My love is the pale boy huddling in the blanket. My love is the rooftop silence.
But it’s too late for that.
♦ ♦ ♦
Carlo prefers candlelight. Though he has two antique lamps in the back of the office, there are only candles within his sight-lines, giving off a soft glow. The room is dark and elegant, like he is—mahogany desk and bookshelf, black leather furniture. When I walk in, he is poring over ledgers, which he keeps in leather-bound books.
“You said you were a soul scientist.”
He raises his eyes. “Yes.”
“Well, if I have a problem with my soul, maybe you can tell me how to heal it.”
“Have a seat, Raven. This is the problem of the hole, I imagine.”
“You can see it too?” I hate the thought that I’m an open book for any Jiang Shi to read.
“Yes. Unfortunately, I can’t help you close the hole inside you. I do know, however, that when we ask the universe a question, it tends to give us the opportunity to find the answer. I believe the universe has systems of balance. Keep the question of healing in your mind, and you might find the answer.”
“Is it possible there isn’t an answer?”
“Of course it is. It’s also possible that the answer isn’t something you are willing to accept, at least not at the present time.”
I feel queasy. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”
“I don’t expect you to. Just keep living the question.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask Rambo on the phone.
“I’m picking up the boys and Kim and we’re drinking in the park with some buddies. I’ll be at your place at eight.”
I’m not big on drinking and can’t hold half as much liquor as the guys can, but I don’t care because I’m desperate to get out. My house has the kind of sad that oozes from the walls. It’s getting to me more than ever. I guess when I relied on Zin, his energy insulated me from it.
It’s n
ot warm out by any means, so I put on a black hat and long striped gloves and a sweatshirt under my jacket. Rambo shows up ten minutes late, the car full of cologne and everyone. When we arrive at the park, there’s got to be twenty people there. Most of them I know from school. They’re all gathered around the jungle gym on steps and slides and swings.
We sit on the second level of the structure, dangling our legs off the edge. Chen offers me a beer and I accept it, though I’m no fan of beer. There are several random conversations going on. I join one, but it doesn’t hold my attention. My mind drifts, and I sip my beer. I can see my breath in the night air.
“You seem down these days.” Kim sidles up beside me. “I’m assuming things didn’t work out with Zin.”
“We have our ups and downs. I guess we’re not destined to be a couple.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope this isn’t my fault. I really thought you guys were a sure thing.”
“It’s not your fault. We’ve been spending too much time together anyway. I’ve been ignoring other things.” I glance at her, not sure if I should say more. “Actually, there’s a family situation that sometimes gets me down.”
“Your brother.”
I look at her. “How’d you know?”
“We’ve spotted him downtown a few times.” She doesn’t say more, and doesn’t have to.
“Oh. I guess I’ve been kind of embarrassed. I don’t really like to talk about it.”
“I understand.”
I can’t believe she and the guys have known this whole time. And I thought I was pulling the wool over their eyes. “Even when I’m not thinking about it, it’s still there. It’s like . . . a void inside me.”
“I know what you mean. My uncle is mentally ill, and he’s just holed himself up in his apartment and won’t talk to us. It’s been hard on the family, especially my mom. They used to be really close.”
“I’m sorry. How does your mom deal with it?”
“She accepted that there’s nothing she can do. It’s still not easy, but it’s given her some peace.”
“But what about the hole? I mean, the void?”
Kim shrugs. “You have to accept it as part of you. What else can you do? Only your brother can save himself.”
I think of the possessed homeless man. According to Zin, even he could save himself if he tried hard enough. That means Josh can too.
But I can’t save him.
♦ ♦ ♦
Viola and I are at a café in downtown Brooklyn stirring milk and sugar into our coffees. A lanky guy comes up, staring at her with this stupidly hopeful expression. “Great day out, huh? Can’t wait to take my dogs for a walk.”
Viola nods and smiles. I am continually fascinated at how random guys find a way to hit on her wherever she goes.
This is the second time she’s asked me to go out for coffee. I hope I’m not a charity case for her. I’d hate to think she’s hanging out with me because she sees the hole in my soul.
“Did that guy seriously think he had a chance?” I ask once we’re sitting at a table.
“Sure, they all do. It’s like playing the lottery. He knows it’s a long shot, but he feels he should try.”
“Doesn’t it get on your nerves?”
“Sometimes. Carlo never liked it.”
“Carlo jealous, huh? I could see that.”
“He would never admit to being jealous. He just said these men wasted my time and his. He never worried that any of them would make an offer that would tempt me away.”
“That’s confidence.”
“Yes. Confidence is one thing he’s not short on. Other things too.” She winks.
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Kirk wouldn’t want to hear that.”
“Kirk would never hear that, trust me. He’s jealous enough already. He thinks whenever he’s out of town I’m supposed to be calling him twenty-four/seven, pining for him. That just isn’t me. A little distance is healthy. It’s best for both of us if we don’t get too attached.”
“Makes sense.”
“So you’re graduating soon, right? Must be exciting.”
“It’s a relief. I’m bored of high school. I’m looking forward to moving on.”
“What’s your plan for next year?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I’m going to college just yet.”
“Good for you. What a waste of time.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure! Why spend the next four precious years of your youth sitting in classrooms, going to bad parties, eating cafeteria food, drinking too much? It’s always seemed ridiculous to me. You learn by living your life, not by sitting in a classroom. If there’s something you really want to learn about, fine, do it—but unless you’re absolutely thirsty for that knowledge, you should stay out here, in the real world.”
“Wow. I’ve never heard anyone put it that way.”
“Let’s face it, Nicole. You’re mortal. I don’t mean to depress you, but it’s true. You don’t have time to waste. Travel the world while you’re young and healthy, then come back and get your degree.”
“I was thinking about doing that. My parents will be disappointed if I don’t go to college right away, but I’m not going to waste the money if I’m not ready.”
“What is it you want to study?”
“Psychology, I think. Why people do what they do.”
“In a hundred years, everything they’re teaching now will be reversed. The best way to understand people is through experience. Actually, the best way is to become a Jiang Shi. Especially when you first turn, you’re painfully perceptive—you can see everything, and everyone, so clearly.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll never be that perceptive.”
She smiles. “Count yourself lucky. We all need our illusions.”
EBONY
BIRD
If dreams tell you something about your subconscious, then I’m screwed.
I’m always dreaming about squawking black birds that hover over horrific disasters—plane crashes, landslides, tsunamis. The dreams are devoid of color, like old movies made with black-and-white film. But the weird thing is, I find myself detached from all the horrors in these dreams, an apathetic spectator to the human tragedy around me.
And sometimes I am not just watching the ravens, I am one, flying over cities and countryside, over years and centuries. As I soar through the air, I feel the wind sliding over my shining feathers, and I feel completely, gloriously free.
I wake up one morning with the realization that this is the symbol I want for a tattoo. I’ve been intending to get one for a long time, but now I finally know what it should be. A raven. Amazing that I haven’t thought of it before, considering Carlo’s nickname for me.
I surf the Internet, looking for the right picture.
I see ravens feeding on carcasses of rodents and small birds. No, thank you.
I see lots of perching ravens, big-beaked and fat and not so elegant.
And then I see it. The one I want.
It’s a back view of a raven spreading its wings, its head turned to the side proudly. It’s a raven whose wingspan has made it several times its size. It’s a raven in position to take flight.
The tattoo will be black and white with a matte finish. I don’t want any shine, any glam. Too bad I can’t fly to L.A. to get Kat Von D to do it for me. She specializes in black and gray designs.
I can’t believe I’m actually getting a tattoo.
It’s a badass idea, and a bad-luck bird to boot.
♦ ♦ ♦
In the past, I never could have done this alone. But here I am now, walking into the tattoo shop for my seven p.m. appointment to go under the needle.
Zaggy the tattoo artist is a walking work of art himself, with vines sprouting out of the neck and arms of his wife-beater. He’s kind of scary-looking, but sweet and friendly, with a good reputation. He did the beautiful Chinese symbol on Kim’s shoulder, and she told me that he was careful and sanitary
, and he offers you breaks if the pain gets to you.
Zaggy takes me into the back. He tells me to take my shirt and bra off and lie on my front; he turns away while I do this. Across from me, a huge guy with a buzz cut is having an arm covered in Latin script. I don’t know what it says, but I catch the word “Memoriam” and some dates in Roman numerals. A tribute to his fallen friends, I guess. We exchange a look, and he gives me an appreciative smile, and I’m suddenly conscious of the fact that I’m topless and he can probably see my left breast squashed against the table.
Zaggy places the stencil on my back and holds up a mirror so I can okay the placement.
“This your first tattoo?”
“Yeah. Is it gonna hurt like hell?”
“Nah. It’ll bite, but this isn’t one of the more sensitive places. Are you ready?”
“Uh, wait.” I breathe in and out, trying to feel calm. “Yeah.”
The needle descends, sears me like fire. “Owww.”
He chuckles but doesn’t stop. His left hand presses down on my back, holding me steady. “It takes some getting used to. We’ll take a little break after I’ve done the outline.”
Kim was right. Zaggy is cool. He asks questions that get me talking, thinking, taking my focus off the pain. About halfway through I have a mini panic attack—What am I doing?—but squelch it, telling myself that I can freak out later. There’s no turning back now.
“We’re done.”
The words revive me. I let go of the table, my hands stiff from gripping it so hard. He angles the mirror so I can see my back.
Wow. It’s just as I pictured it—even better.
The raven is here, proud.
I love it.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Is this a bad time?” I ask from the office doorway. I’ve come to work an hour early, hoping we’d have the chance to talk.
“Not at all.” Carlo gestures for me to have a seat.
“I’ve been curious about how it all began—the Jiang Shi, I mean.”
“I wondered when you’d ask.” He smiles. “It began with my sister. Daniella had been sickly since she was a little girl. Her illness dominated the life of my family for many years. You know how that is.”
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