by Alyc Helms
I stepped between them to cut off their squabbling. “Why is it Mian Zi’s fault that you can’t get to Lung Di?”
“He–”
“I–”
Mei Shen flicked a hand for her brother to explain.
“Because when Tsung helped Mei Shen take over the Shadow Dragons, I had no choice but to take charge of the People’s Heroes to stop them.”
I froze. Blinked. He said it like it was no big deal.
“You took over the People’s Heroes.”
“Of course.”
I sputtered as I tried to make sense of that. My son, who had lived his entire life reading and playing wei-qi in a valley in Sichuan, was the head of one of the world’s most powerful private armies. A dragon was the Commander of China’s shining example of the modern secular state. I gave up trying to come up with a coherent response to that. “Of course,” Mian Zi had said, and who were any of us to argue with such clarity of purpose?
My kids scared me sometimes.
“You.” David Tsung tensed when I turned to him, his expression closing off. “Where’s Skyrocket?”
“Safe. Jiu Wei is tending to him.”
I wasn’t sure if leaving the boy with a huxian constituted “safe”, but it was safer than being left in the Shadow Realms. “What happened?”
“He was out when I found him. No injuries I could see, but the Conclave knights were approaching. I assumed you could take care of yourself, so I got us out of there.”
So the rescue on the bridge hadn’t been a fluke. He knew the Shadow Realms well enough to fear the knights, and he’d saved Skyrocket when he could have left the Ace behind.
I dropped my head into my hands. I needed a shower and an aspirin and possibly a shotgun to the head. I pressed fingers hard against my browbone. “If you’re Lung Di’s blood, his protégé, why help us? Why betray him?”
“Because some things are more important than power.”
I raised my head to catch him looking at Mei Shen in a way that made me wish for that shotgun even more.
“She’s your cousin.”
“Mother!” Mei Shen wailed.
“Distant.” Tsung took my daughter’s hand.
“She’s underage!”
“Is she?”
Mei Shen threw up her hands. “I can’t believe you. You’re as bad as Mian Zi.”
And then it clicked. All this squabbling and sniping and sibling rivalry. David Tsung was the wedge that had come between Mei Shen and Mian Zi. The question was, had he done so of his own choice, or at Lung Di’s behest? I hoped for his continued health and well-being that it was the former.
I looked to Song Yulan for help. “What do you think of all of this?”
“I think that it distracts from the larger issue, which is perhaps exactly what Lung Di intended.” She raised a brow at Mei Shen, who thrust her chin up and stepped closer to Tsung. Mian Zi shifted to stand at my shoulder.
Lovely. A face-off. I stepped away so that I stood between them. An arbiter rather than an ally. We still had a common foe. “Have either of you bothered to sit down and talk?”
“I do not see the point–”
“He won’t listen.”
“I will listen.” I turned to Mei Shen, who presented me with the same mulish chin she’d been giving Mian Zi. “I am not wild about the idea of confronting your uncle again, especially since that seems to be what he wants; however,” I included Mian Zi in my glare when he snorted. “Nor am I so quick to trust Mr Tsung’s motives. So we will sit down and I will listen to your arguments about how we should take down the barrier, and whatever I decide is what we’ll do. Agreed?”
Neither of them seemed inclined to agree, but Mei Shen nodded under my glare. Mian Zi remained stiff.
“My people are already on their way here,” he said.
“The more the merrier.”
The knowledge that he would not be alone on his side of the table seemed to relax Mian Zi. He held out my hat to me. “Then perhaps you will need this? I recovered it from the crash. They are expecting Mr Mystic.”
I took the hat and groaned. Mitchell Masters seemed as far away as a dream at the moment. Song Yulan saved me, taking my arm.
“Come along. We’ll see if we can get you a shower at least, and perhaps you’ll want to check in on your flying fellow?” I thought it was just a delaying tactic, but Song Yulan was wilier than that. “David, why don’t you go and let Jiu Wei know that we’ll be needing somewhere to hold our little war council?”
Neither of my kids looked pleased when they realized this would leave them alone with the other, but David Tsung slunk away under the commanding gaze of the Guardian of Shanghai.
I followed Song Yulan out of the room. “You’re good.”
She sighed. “I’m passable. If I were good, I would never have allowed things to come to this pass. Come along. Let’s see if we can give you a moment to breathe.”
* * *
The space to think was a little less welcome when it turned out to be the same prison of misery I’d stayed in the last time I’d been to Shanghai. The decor had changed, and Jiu Wei had added the modern amenity of a bathroom, but I’d stared at these walls for too long to mistake them.
Was I seriously considering bearding the dragon in his lair? Again? With less of a plan than last time?
I avoided answering that question by staying in the shower until my fingers were pruny, only leaving when the hot water gave out.
Song Yulan was waiting for me. With a fresh suit, so I was less inclined to tell her to get lost.
She remained silent as I dressed. I could only take it for so long. “Any advice on how to get them to see reason?” I asked as I settled before the cheval mirror. I hated braiding my hair when it was wet, but it did make for a tighter braid. I winced a few times when the wet strands clung to my fingers. Someday, I was just going to cut it all off and have done.
“You assume that they aren’t seeing reason. Perhaps it was unreasonable for you to expect that they would always remain devoted to each other. They are Yin and Yang. Conflict was inevitable. Here, let me do that. Watching you makes my scalp hurt.”
I lowered my arms and tilted my head to give her better access. She was right, but that didn’t solve anything. I was going to have to convince them to do things my way with something stronger than a “because I said so”.
“You think this is silly, don’t you? Mr Mystic, I mean.”
“I wonder why you think it is necessary.” She grabbed a hairband from the pile of pins I’d removed before my shower. She was too good at this. I suspected she’d done time as a boy during her long tenure as Guardian.
I took my wig from her when she would have pulled it on. She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, leaning forward to watch my transformation with avid interest.
I didn’t even let Shimizu watch this. I turned my back on Song Yulan and tried to ignore the discomfort that came with such intimacy. “It made sense at the time. I’d just gotten back. Nobody was taking me seriously. It drove me mad. Everything that I’d gone through, everything I’d learned, it started to feel like a dream. I joked to a friend that I felt so old, more like my grandfather than myself. She said that at least my grandfather commanded respect. And she was right. From that conversation, Mr Mystic was reborn.”
As I spoke, I deepened my voice, lengthened my vowels, let my Rs recede and my consonants become crisp to the point of being clipped. Mr Mystic’s voice, coming from deeper in my chest and sitting richer and fuller in my mouth. A voice made for drawling and considered words.
“It is an impressive transformation,” Song Yulan said. Quite a compliment, given that she had a front seat for the process.
I paused in the act of tying a half-windsor. “How well did you know him?” I asked her reflection.
Her nails clacked together. “Hardly at all. I’m afraid I have no secrets to share, if that’s what you’re after.”
I lifted my hat, ran my hands along
the inside to smooth out bumps, both real and imagined. It smelled a little scorched, possibly from the car crash. I’d taken more than my share of knocks these past few days. “I find myself less and less interested in learning his secrets. It is only that I wonder what he would have done in this situation.”
The clacking stopped. Song Yulan rose and took the hat from me, flicking dust from the brim. “He would have walked away. Your grandfather was Lung Huang’s champion. He avoided confrontation with Lung Di at all costs.”
The more I learned about him, the more I wondered just how much of a hero Mitchell Masters had been. Perhaps he and Argent were more suited to each other than I’d thought.
I retrieved my trench coat and checked the pocket. The silk-wrapped knife was still there. I pulled it out. Looked up at Song Yulan. “I wonder if you might do me a favor.”
She set my hat atop my head and tapped the brim with one long nail to give it a rakish tilt.
“Depends upon the favor.”
* * *
After sending Song Yulan on her errand, I quizzed a few fox ladies and found my way to Skyrocket’s recovery room. Jiu Wei was tending him herself, her white hair rolled up in a rat-and-snood, the back of her white nurse’s uniform twitching as she bustled around his bed, plumping pillows and straightening covers.
At least somebody was amusing herself in the midst of all this.
She stopped fussing as I entered, amber eyes laughing as she sashayed out the door. “Don’t tire him out.”
I watched Skyrocket watch her depart.
“Now that is one pretty little lady.”
Oh lord. Make that two people amusing themselves. I felt compelled to give him some kind of warning. After all, Sylvia had put him in my care. “Down boy. She’s old enough to be your grandmother.” And far older than that.
Skyrocket sighed and tore his gaze from the empty doorway. “Always did like a lady with a little bit of mileage.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. On his own head be it.
“Speaking of. How’s the Kestrel.” From the forced cheer, I had a feeling he already knew. Asking was pro forma.
I perched on the edge of the bed. “I think I’m required not to tell you. For your health. No sudden shocks and all that. How are you feeling, my boy?”
“Like Samson after a trip to Supercuts. Can’t even say the other guy looked worse. Sorry I let you down, old man. Don’t know what happened. One moment I felt fine, the next, like I was flying through molasses. Knocked out by a crash landing.” He shook his head. His color was still off – a peaked grey under the sun-kissed skin. “My rep’ll be in the can after this.”
“I won’t let it get about.”
“Still leaves the other fellow. Tsung.”
“He won’t let it get about, either.” I’d make sure of it.
“So, what’s the sit-rep?”
Always the soldier. No. Always the hero, even when he was down. Hard not to be inspired by that. “I’m heading into a sit-down with the two big power players here. One group wants David Tsung to go in and take down the New Wall. The other supports me. I’m going to listen to their pros and cons, and they’ve agreed to abide by my decision.”
“Seems like a no-brainer to me. I trust you a lot more than that other fellow. Even if he did haul my ass out of hell.”
“But you are not Chinese. We are the intruders here. Just because I can be the one to go in doesn’t mean I should be. ‘The wise man prefers the left; the man of war prefers the right’.”
“Mind putting that in plain speak for me?”
“My apologies. The Tao helps me think. It means that peace favors the creative solution, and the creative solution often leads to peace.”
“The Tao. I get that. It’s Johnny Cash for me.”
That surprised a laugh from me. “There’s a good deal of crossover between the two, now that I think on it. What do you think Mr Cash would say about this situation?”
“Something ‘bout the guy on the right and the guy on the left and the guy in the back being a Methodist. Which means don’t bring in politics when you’re starting a folk band.”
I laughed and shook my head. “A very sage man is Johnny Cash.”
* * *
Mian Zi met me at the door to the conference room, gave me a once over, and sighed with only a minimal brow twitch – just as his father might have done.
“I might say the same thing about your costume,” I drawled. He didn’t rise to my baiting – likely a good thing, since we were supposed to be on the same side. “Have your people arrived?”
“Some time ago. They’re waiting inside.” He opened the door and gestured for me to precede him. Yangtze and the monk from my earlier capture rose at our entry, along with several other men and women in near-identical suits. “Where is Mei Shen?”
I paused on the threshold. “Last I knew, she was glaring daggers at you.”
Mian Zi frowned. “She went to get you when they arrived. Ten minutes ago, at least.”
That didn’t sound good. Jiu Wei’s temple wasn’t that big, and I’d left a string of huxian in my wake who knew I’d gone to visit Tom.
“Bollocks,” I muttered, because I had a fair idea where she must have gone and who she must have taken with her.
As if on cue, several phones rang. The suits answered, buzzing into them. Mian Zi didn’t need to know the details to figure out what was wrong.
“She lied.” He spun and charged back towards the front doors of the temple.
“Mian Zi, wait.” I hurried after him.
“For what? She promised. She said she would abide by your decision. Do you see what she has become? What her association with that man has made her?”
“This is pure Mei Shen, and you’re upset because you should have guessed she’d do this. We both should have.” When hadn’t Mei Shen been one to take advantage of opportunity? She was a tactician where Mian Zi was a strategist. I should have known better than to trust that docile nod. What better time to make a run on Lung Di’s sanctum than when Mian Zi was away and occupied? “We still need to talk–”
“No. I have tried talking. I have been reasonable. The longer I delay, the greater the chance that she will make herself more of a tool of that man and our uncle. Now is the time to put a stop to this for good.”
He thrust open the temple doors. With a flash of green and gold, he took to the skies, leaving me with the queasy certainty that his “for good” would not be to anyone’s good at all.
I turned to find the ranking agents of the People’s Heroes arrayed behind me, gawking at their commander’s departure.
“I don’t suppose any of you have a way to get across the river quickly?”
Seven Lotus Petals Falling lowered his phone long enough to answer. “We have cars.”
Of course. And I’d already been given a firsthand demonstration of the traffic issues in Shanghai. By the time we arrived by car, the fight would be decided. And what would David Tsung be doing while Mian Zi fought Mei Shen? He wanted to get into Lung Di’s sanctum, that was clear. Whatever the reason, I had to stop him. Had to get there first.
Song Yulan flowed into being in the midst of the confusion, and a moment later, Fang Shih trundled through the half-open temple doors. The suits fell back before the squat spirit with grunts of surprise. Yangtze huffed and crossed her arms, and the monk bowed to Fang Shih.
“I feel like we might have missed something,” Song Yulan said, as she took in the muttering agents.
“Mei Shen and David Tsung decided to use the delay to have a go at Lung Di’s sanctum. Mian Zi left to stop them,” I said.
“That girl.” Song Yulan sighed and shook her head.
We could commiserate later. I bowed to Fang Shih, who gaped and blinked at me. Had Song Yulan neglected to explain my guise? Lovely.
“The knife?” I prodded, hoping that getting to business would distract him from giving me away.
“Oh. Yes. Yes.” He held it out to me atop its
wrappings of silk. “It is as it always was. There is no new magic on it that would make it a key. And such a purpose wouldn’t settle easily on it in any case. It’s a tool of deception, not of warding.”
I ground my teeth to keep back all the curses I wanted to give vent to, because most of them would have been directed at myself rather than Fang Shih or the others. Deception. I should have known. I had known, and I’d worked with Tsung anyways.
I didn’t know his game, but I knew how to stop him. I took the knife from Fang Shih, wrapped it back up in the silk, and pocketed it.
“Song Yulan, I need you to find Tsung and guide me to him. The rest of you, take the cars and head to Lung Di’s tower. Except for you, Seven Lotus Petals Falling. You follow me.”
He obeyed, glancing back at his fellows as I led the way through the temple. “Where are we going?”
“To see a man about a ride,” I said, pushing open the door to Skyrocket’s room.
* * *
Skyrocket couldn’t carry the both of us. “Not even on a good day, and this ain’t one of those,” he said with a shake of his head as Jiu Wei helped him on with his pack in the courtyard of the temple.
“I promise you, I’m lighter than I look–”
“Not a matter of weight. It’s a matter of grip. Only got two hands. Something goes wrong, I don’t want to drop you in the river.” He cocked his head, grinned a strained version of that Colgate grin. “Well, maybe you, Old Man. But not the other fellow. He seems pretty decent.”
At this rate, it might have been wiser to take the cars. “Fine. After you drop me off, come back for him.” I turned to Seven Lotus Petals Falling. “Be ready. I’ll do my best to delay Tsung.”
The monk bowed. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for this new madness. “Let’s go.”
“Aye, sir.” And then Tom surprised us all, save perhaps for Jiu Wei, when he bent the nine-tailed huxian back in a classic first-ashore kiss. She came up giggling. He tapped her nose and scooped me up beneath my arms.