The Red Heart of Jade

by Marjorie M. Liu

  “You want him that bad, you hunt him down! You love him, don’t you? Or are you just too scared? Too scared of your old man to go that extra mile, but hey, all you gotta do is get us to walk it for you, right? Some plan. Will that help you sleep at night? No guilt, because you tried? Big dragon shape-shifter, my ass. You got no heart, man. You got no balls.”

  Bai Shen’s eyes glowed so bright Miri felt certain something—or someone—was going to catch fire. Perhaps Dean thought so, too. He was on his feet in a second, gun pulled, aimed at the shape-shifter’s head. Koni crouched beside Miri, helping her scoot backward.

  “Don’t you dare,” Dean whispered. “I will shoot you if you try.”

  “All I needed was help,” Bai Shen murmured. “All I wanted to do was help.”

  “And we appreciate it. But I think you should leave. Right now.” Miri got chills listening to that voice come out of Dean. It belonged to a man who had seen hard times for years and years; a distinct voice, like a fingerprint of the soul, telling Miri exactly how much he had suffered in the past two decades.

  Bai Shen, on the other hand, suddenly seemed like the opposite of everything that voice embodied. Maybe not a bad heart, but an immature one. A psyche that had not yet been tempered or cut or broken. She did not wish any of that on him; only, she could tell the difference, which was profound: It defined who was a man and who was still a boy.

  “I’m sorry,” Bai Shen said. “I’m so sorry.”

  And with that, he backed away to the door and left.

  No one moved. Miri held her breath. Dean stared at the door, gun raised. And then, slowly, he turned his head and looked down at Miri and Koni, and said, “What the fuck was that?”

  “Someone who didn’t know any better,” Miri told him. “A kid who was trying hard and doing some things wrong, and others right.”

  “Are we really not going to help his father?” Koni asked.

  Dean lowered his gun. “I’ll help him if I can.”

  “You could have mentioned that to Bai Shen,” Miri said.

  “And make promises I’m not sure I can keep?” Dean shook his head. “I won’t do that. Besides, he irritated me. I don’t mind helping, but if you love someone, if you’ve got family that needs you, you don’t … turn your back. You don’t get someone else to do the dirty work for you.”

  He said the last in a careful voice, filled with careful meaning. Miri understood. She held out her hand to him, and when he took it, she squeezed hard. Dean sat down beside her on the floor, and it was odd: all that nice furniture feeling less safe than a rug and wood.

  “I don’t feel any better now than I did twenty minutes ago,” she said.

  “Ditto,” Dean replied. “We have more information now than we did before, but talk about depressing.”

  “And overwhelming,” Koni said.

  “Don’t forget bizarre,” Miri added.

  “As long as we’re all in agreement.” Dean rubbed his face. “So we find the second piece of jade, if we can. I think we had already figured that one out.”

  “But oh, the pressure.” Miri patted his leg. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something. Everything will be fine.”

  Dean shook his head. “Either you think I’m about to lose it, or you’re turning into an optimist.”

  “Scary?”

  “Not as scary as when you wigged out. You scared the hell out of me, babe. I was afraid the jade was causing you to have a stroke. Brain damage, at the very least.”

  “Brain damage?”

  “It was the way you talked,” Koni said. “Complete gibberish.”

  “Accompanied by some foaming at the mouth,” Dean added. “Very sexy.”

  Miri lay back down on the floor, resting her hands on her stomach. She tried to recall the exact sensations that had flooded her in those moments when she had been open to the jade—or maybe just the world—but she could not duplicate the feelings inside her heart. So she drifted from there to Bai Shen, and imagined what she would do if her own father was hurt, committing crimes against his will.

  You would help him. You would do the same thing Bai Shen did, if you knew that someone was hurting him.

  She frowned. “We never did get his father’s name.”

  “Shit. I’m losing my edge, babe.”

  “It was already lost,” Koni said. “But since we’re on the subject, how did Bai Shen know you were investigating his father? And how, for that matter, did he know Miri was in possession of the jade?”

  “I put that under the grand umbrella of questions he answered with the whole ‘I’m rich and I hear shit’ comment.” Dean grimaced. “I can’t believe I let that slide. You sure he’s safe? One of the good guys?”

  “No, but he’s a dragon, and that usually counts for something. Usually.”

  “Dragon,” Miri said.

  “Dragon,” Koni said. “Just like I fly as a crow.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Never mind.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  He needed sleep, he needed to lie down beside Miri and hold her in his arms, but instead she went to bed alone, and Dean stayed by the phone to make one last call. Koni settled down in the adjoining room.

  Artur picked up on the third ring. He answered in Russian, which told Dean exactly how deep in sleep he had been.

  “Yo,” Dean said. “Sorry to bother you.”

  “No,” Artur mumbled. “You are not.”

  Dean heard another voice on the other end of the line; a woman, talking quietly, and sounding far more alert than her companion. Bed springs squeaked.

  “How’s the missus?” Dean asked.

  “Suffering from jet lag,” Artur said. “Elena is still on California time and cannot sleep. She is thrilled you called because it gives her an excuse to get me up.”

  “She needs excuses now, huh? Dude, that’s sad.”

  Artur sighed. “What is it you want?”

  “I have some questions,” Dean said. “I’m in the middle of a case right now, the one involving those murders in Taipei. Only, the guy causing all the trouble is a shape-shifter and he’s whacked-out like crack, man. Totally shit-zoid. And there’s, um, some other stuff, too.”

  “Other stuff.” Artur sounded wary.

  “Kidnappings, magic, long-lost love of my life. Nothing to rock the boat. All in a day’s work.”

  “Of course,” he said dryly. “Which is why you’re calling me in the middle of the night while I’m on my honeymoon.”

  “Man, you’ve been married three months. The honeymoon is over.”

  “Not until we leave Russia,” Artur said. “And never even after that.”

  Which was like hearing the Incredible Hulk start talking like Gandhi.

  “So,” Dean said. “About the Consortium. I need you to clarify something for me.”

  “The Consortium?” His voice was suddenly stronger, more awake. “Have you had dealings with them?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not ruling anything out yet. Actually, my question is less about them than the mind control you mentioned having to fight. You called it the black worm, and you said it … possessed people.”

  “Possession is an accurate label,” Artur said carefully. “As are others. But that question makes me very uneasy, Dean. What have you encountered?”

  “The murderer’s son found us tonight. He said that his father had been taken over by a nameless spirit that can physically transform its host depending on the length of contact. He specifically mentioned eyes and teeth.”

  “You said the murderer is a shape-shifter, yes? It is my understanding, at least based on my experience in the lab, that the worm cannot infect shape-shifters. Or rather, Beatrix Weave was unable to take command of Amiri and Rik’s minds, and so we just assumed that was the case.”

  “What if you were wrong? What if there’s a loophole?”

  Artur made a clicking sound with his tongue. “This is very serious, Dean. Has you
r murderer tried to infect others?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but I’m not really on close personal terms with him, either.”

  Again, Dean heard Elena speaking quietly. Artur sighed.

  “Instructions?” Dean asked, only half teasing.

  “Elena wants us to go to Taipei,” Artur said. “She thinks we can help.”

  “No,” Dean said. “I know how much this trip to Russia means to you, and once you leave the country, Roland will probably find some excuse to get you back on another case. After which your fine-tuned sense of duty will kick in and you’ll never escape again.”

  “And you think I value my leisure time over the lives of my friends? No, Dean. You are very wrong.”

  “Artur—”

  “I will hear no more of it. Who else is there with you?”

  “Koni is in town, but the only other agent currently in the region is Ren, and he’s stationed in Hong Kong.”

  “We need him there,” Artur said. “Fine. Elena and I will come as soon as we can.”

  And that was the end of it. Dean returned to the bedroom and kicked off his shoes. Miri was asleep and snoring, her tiny hands clutching the blanket in a white-knuckled grip. Dean crawled in beside her. She did not wake up, which was fine. He watched her for as long as he could, until sleep crept close and he closed his eyes and fell into another place that was far, far away.

  He dreamed of a circle made of sand, and within, bones. Familiar bones, surrounding a familiar altar made of stone. There was no woman hanging there, just a bloody spot on the rock, and Dean felt his heart beat like a vile vicious creature that had no business being alive, no business—when she is dead and you killed her, you animal, you beast, you betrayer—

  A sound intruded. He woke up to a terrible ringing sound. Miri was sitting up in the bed beside him, hollow-eyed and with her hands clapped over her ears.

  “Is that an alarm?” she asked, wincing. Dean grunted, rolling from the bed just as Koni burst into the room, breathless.

  “Don’t know how many there are,” the shape-shifter said. “Could just be one.”

  “Anyone we know who might have forgotten their codes?”

  “No.”

  “Shit,” Dean snarled. “Someone’s tracking us.”

  “Or maybe you guys aren’t as secret as you think,” Miri said.

  Dean ran to the closet, and Miri watched as he inexplicably began reaching deep past the clothes. Koni handed Miri her purse and went back to shut the bedroom door and lock it.

  Dean’s head disappeared behind dress shirts. Miri wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, but she heard a click, the whir of gears, and he stepped into the closet, past the clothes, and disappeared.

  “Oh my God,” Miri said. “You guys are crazy.”

  “I know,” Koni agreed. “These are definitely people with too much time and money on their hands.” But then he smiled like he thought it was fun, and for a moment, Miri thought she might just like him.

  From the other side of the closet, Miri heard Dean call her name. She pushed back the clothes, took a step forward, then walked through with her arms extended, because even though Dean was gone she still expected a wall, an end to the illusion, a call to wake up.

  All she found on the other side was another room, very tiny, about twice the size of the closet itself. There was one light in the ceiling, and it illuminated a metal wall covered in weapons: guns, knives, and a few that looked unfamiliar.

  On the opposite wall, which was also metal, Miri saw drawers. Several had been pulled out, and Dean sat on the floor with them, muttering. She saw cash, credit cards, passports.

  Miri felt a hand on her back. She moved aside to let Koni in, then pressed against the wall as he maneuvered the door back in place. Miri saw wood on one side, the same color as the closet—which she could still see, clothes and all—but as the door slid shut she saw the inside was metal, with a wheel for a knob. Just like in a bank vault. Once the door closed, the outside alarm noise cut off. Soundproof.

  “Oh my God,” she said again, and looked at Koni. “This is weirder than you.”

  “Good to hear it.” His eyes still glowed. Miri imagined the shadow of something soft against his neck. Like … down.

  “Here.” Dean passed an American passport and two credit cards to Koni. Miri did not catch the name on them, but she crouched beside Dean and flipped through the other passports in front of him. She saw names like Max Reese, Artur Loginov, Agatha Durand—and more, more than she could count, and credit cards with the same. Cash, too. Miri thought there must be thousands of dollars in front of her.

  “Dean,” she said. “What the hell is this?”

  “This here is lawbreaking at its best and most efficient. Papers, cash—a safe house isn’t much good without all the trimmings.”

  “But those passports must be fakes, Dean.”

  “The best fakes money can buy. They fool customs every time.”

  Miri sat back on her heels, staring. “This is not just a detective agency. This is an operation. The kind of operation I don’t think most governments have.”

  “Miri. Don’t be naive. All governments have operations like this.”

  “Okay, fine, maybe. But a detective agency? If you believe that’s normal, then you have your head so far up your ass you’re never going to see daylight again. My God. Who needs this, Dean? What’s so dangerous about your lives that you need something like this?”

  Even as she said it, Miri felt stupid. What in Dean’s life hadn’t been that dangerous so far? And yet, she could not help but feel the vault went right over the edge of everything reasonable.

  “It’s coming in pretty handy now,” Koni said.

  “And before tonight? How regularly do you use places like this?”

  Dean shrugged. “The whole point is preparation.”

  “For what? War? Because that is what I see, Dean. A group of people prepared for an actual war. I sure as hell didn’t notice any windows out there, either. Is this a fallout shelter, too?”

  Dean said nothing. It was not, she thought, that he wanted to lie to her. Only that he did not have an answer to give. It made her wonder just how much he knew about the people he worked for. Or, if the people running the show were all psychic, just how much they knew about the future.

  Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe your little heart out. You have bigger things to worry about.

  She breathed. Sucked it in deep and said, “I’m sorry. Now is not the time.”

  “No,” Dean said. “No, you’re right.”

  But he said nothing more as he stood and repacked everything into its proper drawers. He gave Miri more cash, as well as his passport and credit cards, to carry in her purse. Koni faced the opposite wall, pulling down knives and examining them. Dean joined him.

  “Miri,” he said. “You still play with sharp objects?”

  “I pick my teeth with them,” she deadpanned. Dean grinned and passed her a six-inch Bowie encased in a hard plastic sheath. She wondered where, exactly, she was supposed to carry the thing, and tucked it in her purse.

  “You’re making like we’re going to get out of here,” Miri said. “I don’t see how. There’s only one door.”

  “There’s another,” Dean said, pulling down a gun and its ankle rig. “Behind you. It blends into the wall.”

  Miri looked, and sure enough, saw lines set in metal. Very high-tech. She did not like it. Dean put down his weapons and gestured for the artifact in Miri’s purse. “I’m going to try again.”

  “It laid you flat the first time.”

  “No choice. I’ll try to be more careful.”

  “What did you see?” Koni asked. “What hurt you?”

  Dean did not answer him. Miri held the red jade in her hands, tracing the words, the lines in the stone as Dean sat back down on the floor. She kept expecting someone to bang through the wall, but the men did not appear concerned. She wondered if it was just good acting. She handed Dean the ja
de. He hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Miri watched his face. He had tried to take a reading of Owen’s statue in the car, but the light there was poor, and she was curious to see if anything had changed over the years, if he had learned new skills, more efficient control. Their experiments had been careful and increasingly complex—but he was older now, and twenty years was a long time.

  A furrow appeared between his eyes—that much was the same, as well as the movement beneath his lids, as though he was dreaming. Everything else was different, though. Dean looked calm and relaxed; the sinews of his throat no longer bulged, nor did his breathing change. He did not make strange motions with his hands, did not move at all.

  She wanted to smile, watching him. She wanted to touch him, to hold his hand and say things like, I’m proud of you, and You never thought you’d make it, you called yourself a freak, and look now, look what you’re doing, and isn’t it wonderful?

  Wonderful and strange. Frightening, too. Not that Dean scared her. Or his friend Koni. But everything else. This was another world walking parallel to the one she’d thought existed, and now that she could see, now that her eyes were open, nothing would ever be the same. The world she now saw was one of dangerous mysteries, of people who were not human, who hunted with smiles and magic and guns.

  Dean sucked in his breath. Miri did not touch him, but she leaned close, and for a moment felt an odd déjà vu, one that had haunted her as a child and teen—always in his presence—and she felt, once again, an overwhelming darkness surround her, remembered in her head, in flashes, a room and a voice, her grandmother’s and another, and then heat, the smell of burning flesh …

  Dean opened his eyes. His knuckles were white around the jade. He stared at her, but his gaze was distant, unseeing. Miri said his name. She touched him, and he twitched. His eyes, however, did not change.

  “We need to leave Taiwan,” he said, and his voice was eerie, high and clear, as though he spoke in a trance. “We need to go now.”

  “Why? What did you see?”