Legend of the Jade Dragon

by Yasmine Galenorn

  A noise at the front door startled me out of my thoughts. What the hell was going on now? I couldn’t turn my head, but I saw Randa’s expression shift, her eyebrows raising as she stared at the archway leading from the foyer into the living room. Then, after a brief pause, a man’s voice echoed through the room.

  “You are the weirdest freakin’ woman.”

  It wasn’t Horvald or Joe or Andrew. Who else did I know that would show up at this time of night? One of Murray’s buddies, maybe? With a hopeful heart, I tried to speak through my gag, but it came out as garbled gibberish. A few seconds later, the cloth fell away from my mouth and I gasped, breathing as deeply as I could.

  “What the hell are you up to now?” The deep reverberation of his voice triggered off my memory. Then I caught a glimpse of black leather and smelled tobacco.

  Oh, no, it couldn’t be. “Jimbo? Is that you?”

  He snorted. “Oh, yeah. It’s me all right. My, my, my, isn’t this convenient, you all tied up and waiting for me?” With a chuckle, he slid down on the floor next to me. Grinning with delight, he raised his hand and traced along my face, over to my nose where he lightly bopped me. “Looks like you had quite a party, babe.”

  I’d been exhausted, but this new turn of events sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through my veins, and I let out a shriek of frustration, with a little fear thrown in for good measure. “Shut up! Shut up and untie me, you goon! This isn’t funny. My son’s been kidnapped.”

  That wiped the smirk off his face. In less than a minute, I was free from my bonds, and Jimbo was untying Miranda. I leapt to my feet and immediately fell back on the sofa, dizzy. “I have to go after him. I know he’s headed toward the border.”

  “Who?” Jimbo pocketed his knife and folded his arms, looking puzzled. A red bandanna covered his hair, which was held back in a long braid, and his beard nearly reached his chest. Made me think of ZZ Top, now that I looked at him more closely.

  “Oliver—my neighbor’s nephew. He robbed me and kidnapped my son to keep me quiet.” I glanced out the window. “Oh hell, he took my car.”

  “Mom, shouldn’t we call the police?” Randa was crying, her eyelashes shining with tears.

  I pulled her close and kissed her on the head.

  “He’s gonna hurt Kip, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know if he’s going to hurt Kip, honey.” I looked at the bewildered biker. “What are you doing here? I mean, thanks for untying us, but why are you here?”

  Jimbo shrugged. “You know, it was the weirdest thing. I was headed to Reuben’s to get stewed, when I stopped to gas up my bike, and this old woman comes out of the shadows near the station. She looked like something out of Heidi, you know? She told me to get my ass over here pronto, and then she vanished. Made me think of my granny. I got back on my bike and aimed for Reuben’s, but damned if I didn’t end up in front of your house. I saw that your door was open, and I decided to come on in.”

  Nanna? It had to be her! Unable to comprehend the bizarre happenings, I turned to Randa. “Go upstairs and get dressed. Don’t screw around, I want you to hurry.”

  As soon as she took off upstairs, I turned back to Jimbo, gauging his mood. White Deer’s advice echoed in my memory, and I cringed. How could I ask for help from someone I despised? The very thought set me on edge, but I had no choice. I didn’t trust Oliver to keep his word, and every minute that passed put more distance between me and my son. I swallowed my pride.

  “Jimbo, I need your help. Oliver’s got Kip, and they’re in my car. He’s headed for the border, but he said that he has to meet some friends first. Do you have any idea of where he might be? If you do, please tell me. My baby’s in danger.”

  Jimbo stared at me for a moment, the gruff machismo in his eyes giving way to a slightly softer glow. “How old is your boy?”

  “He just turned nine last month.” I held my breath. “Please, please help me. Help Kip.”

  “I had a little brother,” he said, distracted. Then he sighed. “Oh, for chrissake. Okay, I’ve got my chopper out front. You sure you don’t want to call the police in on this?”

  I glanced at the clock. We were wasting time. “Randa can do it after we leave.”

  She came running down the stairs and looked from Jimbo to me, then back to Jimbo. “What should I do?”

  I grabbed the phone and dialed Horvald’s number. He answered, sounding a little sleepy. “Horvald, I need your help. If I send Randa over, will you watch her until I get back? She’ll tell you what happened. Please, Kip’s in danger, and I’m going after him.”

  Horvald stammered out an “Okay,” and I thanked him.

  I gave Randa a long hug, then kissed the top of her head. “Go. Once you’re safe in Horvald’s house, I want you to call Murray and Greg. Tell them what happened. And… be my good girl, okay?”

  She nodded, pale and drawn, then scurried across the street to where Horvald was standing, his front door open as light streamed out onto his lawn. As soon as she was safely inside, I turned back to Jimbo. “Let’s ride.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

  “Years ago,” I admitted. “One of my boyfriends owned a Yamaha, and he used to drive me around town on it.”

  Jimbo let out a strangled cough. “Yamaha? Whoa, boy. Okay, listen up, babe. When I lean to the side, you lean to the same side. Hold tight to my belt at all times. Don’t jerk around or freak out on me. If the dude is meeting some friends before heading toward the border, I’m pretty sure I know which route he’ll be taking ’cuz I got buddies who do border runs on a regular basis. There’s a field along the way that they party at during the summer. Easy to get to but not easy to spot from the main road. Good hideout material.”

  I didn’t ask him why his buddies made border runs. I didn’t want to know. “There’s something else,” I said. “If we’re able to catch him… he took something of mine that I have to get back. It’s a little statue of a dragon.” I considered Jimbo’s questionable nature and record. “It isn’t worth much, but I really need to find it.”

  He shrugged. “Right now let’s focus on your kid.” He swung a leg over the chopper and scooted forward. Feeling awkward, I clumsily crawled on the back, wincing as my thighs stretched wider than they had in a while. Damn, it was a big bike!

  “Hold on,” he said over his shoulder. “And put this on.” He reached back, handing me his helmet. It was too big, almost covering my eyes, but I wasn’t going to complain. Motorcycles made me terribly uncomfortable, and I prayed we’d get through this without an accident. “What kind of car you got?”

  “Grand Cherokee. Green.”

  He nodded, revved the engine, and we shot off like a bottle rocket. I leaned forward, tucking my arms around his sides as I grabbed hold of his belt. Holding on as if my life depended on it, I clenched my teeth as the road raced by beneath us. The wake of cold air that blasted by sent goose bumps up my arms; I should have brought a jacket.

  Kip… Kip… Kip… the sound of the engine seemed to chant out his name as we roared along. Would Oliver keep his promise? Would he let my son go if he didn’t see the cops behind him? Or would he take a sadistic delight in hurting my child? I thought back to Huang Fu and the curse he’d called down on the dragon, and found myself wishing that I could command the spirits like he had, that I could summon up some demon or spirit to spiral into Oliver’s path and destroy him, leaving my son unharmed. The tendrils of anger coiled against my tailbone wound together, rooting into my being, blossoming up to overwhelm every sensation I felt except for the worry for my son. The next thing I knew, I shot away from my body, my spirit connected to my physical form by a silver cord stronger than steel. I was out on the astral realm.

  I hovered in a gray mist as a current of energy rumbled below my feet. And then, the jade dragon was there. Perhaps it was the spirit of the stone from which it was carved; most assuredly it was the e
ssence of the carving. The dragon curved and coiled, eyes glowing red as it leaned down to meet my gaze. Not flesh, not in the sense that a bird is flesh, but a spiral of energy and form, one of the mysteries of the universe better left untouched.

  “Help my son, and I’ll free you of the curse!” My words were feathers on the breeze, wafting aimlessly as they hovered for a second, then vanished. The dragon turned, coiled again, reaching out to graze me with long cat whiskers. They twitched, agitated, and I repeated my request, not caring whether I was speaking to the demon who cast the curse, the spirit of the dragon statue, or just the residue anger that Huang Fu had poured into the statue. “Help my son, and I’ll free you of the curse!”

  The dragon reared back to cover the sky. The gray mist that seemed to stretch on forever shuddered, looping in on itself in waves. I shuddered as the mist became clouds became a vortex sucking me in. Wanting to scream but somehow managing to remain in control. And then…

  And then, I was on the bike again, my cheek pressed against Jimbo’s back as I clutched at his belt. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, looking around for the dragon, but it was gone. An incredible surge of energy and strength raced through my body. I was ready for a fight.

  Jimbo seemed oblivious to what had just happened, which was just fine. I cautiously probed his aura; nope, nary a speck of psychic energy, which was probably a good thing, considering his predilection for causing mayhem and trouble.

  The night sped past as we traversed the back road, and I was beginning to wonder if we were going the wrong way, but the roar of the bike and the feel of the big man’s girth between my arms was oddly comforting; I let myself reach out again, breathing slowly to regulate my jump onto the astral.

  No dragon awaited this time. I searched for Kip’s energy, for anything that would tell me we were on the right track. There—in the distance, a little spark that I knew was my son. His aura was usually bright, flickering with strength, but now it was pale, fear overwhelming his ability to trust his intuition.

  Once again, the connection vanished, and my head whirled with the roar of the energies that had raced through my body and engulfed my mind. And yet, regardless of all the psychic abilities in the world, I was afraid. Could I trust my instincts? Could I trust the visions that, for so long, had seemed simply another one of my senses? Could I trust that my son was still alive?

  As I struggled to hold on to the remaining confidence I had, White Deer’s advice came rushing into my ears. “Tune back in to the otherworld; if you don’t, you’ll risk short-circuiting your psychic awareness.” I believed in White Deer’s powers. And if she believed in me, then I had to believe in myself as well. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Kip was alive, and we were headed in the right direction. And the dragon? I didn’t know what would happen, but I had touched its core and had faced it square on.

  Jimbo slowed down and pulled off to the shoulder. He pointed to a turnoff ahead. “There,” he said. “I’ll bet you anything that he’s in there.”

  I closed my eyes again, reaching out once more. There. Again, a tiny spot, a Kipling-spot, faint but alive, faint but breathing, faint, but undeniably my son. “They’re there, all right. Okay, what do we do now?”

  Jimbo gave me a lurid grin. “Sneak in, grab your kid, and see what havoc we can cause. Are you ready to rumble?”

  The energy that had filled me moments earlier reeled up, making me dizzy. I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Then let’s go bag us a bad boy and see what we can do to him.” Without another word, he pushed the bike off the road before anybody spotted us, leading me into a thicket of ivy and fern.

  Chapter 14

  JIMBO LEANED HIS chopper against a nearby cedar and motioned for me to follow him. The turnoff was a few hundred yards ahead. “We’d better cut through the woods,” he said. “If we go in on the main road, they’ll see us for sure.”

  We huddled in the shadow of the trees while he got his bearings.

  “Do you know which way to go?” I asked.

  He snorted. “Babe, I know my way around the woods better than anybody in this godforsaken town. I’ve lived and worked out in the forest for years, so don’t get a bug up your butt. You big-city broads are all the same. Soft as a creampuff.”

  Big city? If Jimbo considered Chiqetaw a big city, I’d hate to see what he thought of Seattle. “I just thought, since it’s dark and all…” My voice trailed off, and I had the feeling I’d made him mad. Hell, I couldn’t afford to lose his help; but when I glanced at him again, his eyes twinkled, and I knew he was just spouting off.

  He motioned for me to follow him. “Keep quiet, don’t scream or shout, don’t go all wacko on me. If a cougar or bear wanders in, I’ll sense it before it senses us.” He gave me an appraising look as he plunged into the undergrowth. “Can you move any faster than that?”

  “Cocky, aren’t you?”

  “I got reason to be. Come on, your kid’s in there waiting.”

  I followed him, struggling over the vines and branches that cluttered the forest floor. The temperature must have been hovering around forty; without my coat to keep me warm, I was finding it hard to keep up with the big man.

  Jimbo glanced back to see what was holding me up. He must have noticed that I was shivering because, without a word, he took off his jacket and tossed it back to me. I silently wrapped it around my shoulders. Engulfed in the folds of leather, I wasn’t sure which was worse—the cold or the smell of smoke-laden, sweat-soaked cowhide.

  The huckleberries crowded in between trees, snagging us on their thorns, and ferns rose knee-high, obstructing every step we made. Jimbo went slowly, pointing out branches and sticks along the path that were big enough to trip me up. Grateful, I stumbled along, barely able to see his silhouette in front of me.

  After a moment, he stopped, raising his hand. I froze and listened. Voices, coming from somewhere up ahead. Jimbo leaned down to whisper in my ear. “We still got a ways to go. My plan is this: we head to the north, then swing to the west and sneak up on them from behind. They’ll be watching the main road, not the forest itself.” He motioned for me to get moving. “Keep your mouth shut, and don’t scream if you fall or bump into anything. I have to concentrate on the path, so don’t screw up.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, swinging in behind him. The night took on a surreal glow as we fought our way through the tangle of brambles and vines. Though I wasn’t a girly-girl, I’d never really been out in the woods like this; I’d always stayed sheltered within my tent or my cabin and kept to the paths when I went hiking. Now, thrust into uncharted territory, I had no idea of where we were, or which way we were going.

  As I glanced at the forest canopy, a pale light glimmered as it haloed the treetops. The spirits of the trees, the very essence of the forest. I inhaled deeply, and the clean, crisp scent of the cedars and firs cleared my head. Nearby, water drops trickled, an ever-present force in these mountains as they dripped off trees and bushes in rivulets, carving long snakelike fingers through the forest floor. As I pushed through one of the thigh-high ferns, a frond snapped back, slapping my face, and I could taste the wet, gritty tang of fresh earth.

  I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I bumped into Jimbo when he came to an abrupt stop. With an irritated grunt, he pushed me into a crouch behind a fallen log, holding his finger to his lips for silence. I leaned against the stump; it was as big around as my kitchen table and covered with moss. A sour smell rose from it, one of decaying mushrooms mingled with the acrid scent of the soil. My nose began to itch. A handkerchief was sticking out of one of Jimbo’s pockets, and I took a chance and wiped my face with it.

  Sudden laughter filtered through the trees from our left. We had looped around, all right. Jimbo had managed to lead us through the inky forest until we were hiding right next to the clearing. Please let Kip be there. Please let him be safe.

  “Stay here while I check out things.” Jimbo took off, bending
low as he scuttled away. Within less than a moment, he was out of sight, and I was alone. My eyes had adjusted to the night, but everything was still bathed in indistinct shades of black and gray. I pulled his jacket close around my shoulders and shifted so I was sitting on the ground with my back against the stump. Oliver had sure done a number on my legs; they still ached. I’d never again truss up my Thanksgiving turkey without thinking of him. I rubbed my calves, trying to get the circulation going, but my blood felt like it had been thickened with molasses.

  Where the hell was Jimbo? How long could it take to peek out into a clearing? I glanced in the direction from which we’d heard the voices. Was my son really over there, or was it just a group of Jimbo’s friends, on one of their border runs? I knew in my heart that Oliver wasn’t going to let Kip go, and I prayed that they were the ones in the meadow, that we had actually caught up to them.

  A brief notion of following Jimbo danced through my head, but before I could seriously entertain the idea, I came to my senses. He was right; I wasn’t trained for guerilla warfare. If I traipsed off by myself, I’d probably end up giving away our position. Digging at the ground with the heel of my sneaker, I forced myself to wait until the brush rustled with Jimbo’s return. He let himself down on the ground next to me, sitting cross-legged.

  I leaned close to him so we wouldn’t be overheard. “Are they there? Is Kip out there?”

  “He a short, strawberry blond haired, scared looking little runt?”

  “Runt?” I sputtered. “He’s not a runt, he’s just small for his age!” Then I realized what he was telling me. “Kip! You saw Kip? Is he okay?”

  “Shush. He looks fine, just tied up and a little scared.” Jimbo pulled me to my feet and dragged me away from the encampment until we were out of earshot. There, under the frozen starlight, he laid out what he’d seen.