“And our families would have told us the truth,” Miri added.
“Mr. Campbell’s family, perhaps. If they had known.”
Dean frowned. “What do you mean, if?”
“Your mother was the fortunate recipient of an anonymous donation, one that allowed her to give birth in the luxurious setting of a private hospital. My hospital. It was easy to have my people spirit you away just long enough to effect the change in your body. Before your parents could see you.” Long Nu smiled.
“Jesus Christ,” Dean said, appalled. “You are a bitch.”
“Such language. I gave you a normal life. You would have been treated like a freak had I not intervened.”
“And me?” Miri asked, before Dean could continue arguing. “You didn’t mention my family.”
“Because they knew the truth,” said Long Nu slowly. “Or rather, your grandmother did, and that was enough. She and I were old friends.”
Miri’s breath caught and Dean squeezed her hand, watching as a streak of sunlight floated through the open window to touch her face. He saw with perfect clarity the tears rising up in her eyes.
“She lied to me,” Miri said, and Dean felt the sting of those words like a slap. He understood what she felt; the idea of Ni-Ni knowing so much, and for all those years—and saying nothing….
“She did not lie,” Long Nu said, and for the first time, Dean thought he saw concern cross the old woman’s face. “She would have told you the truth if you had asked the right questions. Fortunately, you had no idea what you carried inside you.”
“But she knew. About Dean, too.”
Long Nu, glancing at him, said, “Yes. We did not know when or how it would happen, only that you would both be drawn together in unmistakable ways.”
“Which is why Ni-Ni encouraged my friendship with Dean.”
“I did not force her, if that is what concerns you. She liked the boy enough on her own to take care of him, with or without me.”
“What a relief,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “I’m glad to know that all the love in my life has been approved by you. Speaking of which, that first time we met, up in the mountains after we found Dela and Hari … you already knew who I was?”
“Yes,” Long Nu said. “Though I did not keep track of your life quite as stringently as you might imagine. All I knew was that you were alive and my magic still intact. That is all that mattered to me.”
All that mattered. Dean had a bad feeling that there were other manipulations of their lives, both large and small—that perhaps the reason he had been unable to find Miri for all those years had more to do with the old woman in front of him than any random act of nature. It was a difficult idea to stomach, and no matter how many questions he had, he seriously doubted he would ever receive a good answer to any of them.
“You’re a mastermind,” Dean said. “You’ve got your finger in everything. Was Robert working for you, too?”
“Robert,” Long Nu said slowly, tasting the name. “You mean that man who interrupted the work of my people. Yes, I know of him. And no, he was not working on my behalf.”
“He was hired to kidnap me,” Miri said. “And the person who paid him knew well in advance what Owen was going to pull out of that mummy, including when and where.”
“Kind of like you, huh?” Dean said to Long Nu. “After all, you knew when our little buns were gonna pop out of the oven.”
The old woman said nothing. Dean glanced at Miri and the two of them shared a long knowing look. Secrets, and yet more secrets. Dean was sick of them.
“Why all the subterfuge?” He asked her. “All of this could have been solved so easily if you had just gotten involved directly.”
“Perhaps,” Long Nu said. “But my ancestors swore a blood oath to the immortal who created your legacy, a binding contract that has been passed down from one generation to the next for thousands of years. It limits us. It … binds us.”
“Boo-hoo,” Dean said. “Cry me a river.”
Long Nu’s mouth tightened. “Fortunately, we have compensated for the loss in other ways.”
“With people like Kevin and Ku-Ku,” Miri said, as her fingers plucked at the edges of her bandages. Dean noted shadows beneath her eyes. He thought she needed rest. Or at least, some quiet time to lick her wounds.
Long Nu stood. The room seemed very small with her in it; she was not a large woman, but she filled up the space with suffocating intensity. Dean heard footsteps outside, treading lightly up the stairs. Long Nu’s eyes flashed gold just as a familiar face peered through the door. Miri let out a sharp breath. Dean grinned.
“Hey,” Koni said, giving Long Nu a wary look. “You guys all right?”
“I could ask the same thing about you,” Miri said. Her eyes were still far too bright, and the rich tones of her skin were cold, sallow. “I thought you were dead.”
Koni shrugged, walking into the room. He stood with his shoulders hunched—at first Dean thought because he had an injury, but his gaze kept flickering back to Long Nu, and Dean wondered if his posture had more to do with trying to stay small, inconspicuous, out of the way of the dragon woman, who watched his movement across the room through narrowed eyes.
But when Koni drew close to the bed and smiled at Miri, his face relaxed, and Dean breathed a little easier.
“I’m a tough bird,” Koni told her. “It takes more than a knock on my head to keep me down.”
“Good,” Miri replied. “Thanks for helping me.”
He shrugged. “Sounds like I missed all the exciting parts.”
“It was boring,” Dean told him.
“Ah. That must be the reason why all the villagers in this valley can’t talk about anything else. You guys are legends.”
Dean was not at all sure he liked that, but Koni did not appear particularly concerned—and usually he was the careful one.
“So, what’s next?” Dean asked Long Nu. “Any more dire predictions? You got other henchman waiting in the wings to drag us away?”
“I believe you and Miri are safe,” Long Nu said, eyes distant and thoughtful. “For now.”
“Still so ominous,” Dean said.
“Still so egnimatic,” Miri added.
Long Nu raised her eyebrows. “What you do not realize is that those who came before you had no psychic talent, no ability to reach beyond what they were given. They truly were vessels, and nothing more. But with you and Miri, everything changed. For the first time, there were two vessels who could harness the power, so that when it was released, there was someone there to control it.”
“Me,” said Dean.
“And the black worm,” added Miri.
“Not just him,” Long Nu said. “You have a gift, too. You merely haven’t opened yourself to it yet.”
Miri made no outright denials, which surprised Dean. But then he thought of her brief vision in Hong Kong, of the way she had reacted to holding the jade while in Taiwan, and thought, Yes. Yes, there might be something to it.
And he thought of himself, too, of the changes he had experienced in his own gift. He raised his hand and placed his palm, very lightly, on his chest. Beneath the bandages he felt something hard, and imagined words and light and red stone. Red stone that was as much a part of him as his heart.
“Yes,” Long Nu said quietly. “Things are different now. You are different, Dean Campbell. You can do things that have not been seen from a human in over a thousand years. Do you have any idea what you are? What your potential is?”
Dean hesitated. “I don’t know if I like where this is going.”
Long Nu’s mouth curved. “Then do not go there. For now. Although I do not think you will be able to resist the taste of power.”
“And where do I fit in?” Miri asked.
“Wherever you want,” Long Nu said. “There is magic in you now. The oldest kind of magic, and it is your birthright. You own it. Your future is your own.”
Epilogue
Three weeks later, Miri f
ound herself sitting behind a cluttered desk in her office at Stanford. Just a visit, really. A chance to reacquaint herself with another life—to find out if she even had one. And she did, if she wanted it. Despite the murders, despite the fires, not one person had brought up the possibility of an inquiry, that she might no longer be welcome at the university. In fact, it almost seemed to Miri that nothing had happened at all. Which made her uneasy, but she was willing to go along with it. For a while, anyway.
Besides, she missed the smell of her books, as well as the look and feel of the afternoon sun cutting through the window behind her, bathing the hardwood floors and white walls in good clean light. All of it, familiar and normal.
And surreal.
Her chest ached. Ghost pains, maybe. The wounds Lysander had given her had healed in those first few days as she and Dean rested inside the home of the old Tibetan woman. Miri expected a longer recovery; she remembered every cut, every splash of blood. But she was finally convinced that she could not die. And if she could not die, then it only made sense that she would heal fast, too. Miri idly rubbed the hard spot beneath her blouse. She felt the stone between her breasts—stone where there should be flesh. Its surface felt like skin, complete with nerve endings, blooding running through the words and rock. Organic. The sensation was eerie. Magical.
But she was getting used to it. Much like the realization that she was never going to be able to publish or discuss any of the remarkable discoveries she had made during the course of her adventure. She couldn’t even pretend; the bodies that had held the jade pieces were gone, Owen’s files were deleted, and all the computers and notes burned in the fire at National Taiwan University. Even the photographs that Owen had sent to the Stanford server were missing.
Wendy, Miri thought sourly. Or Long Nu. Whatever your name is. She imagined the old woman holding hands with Owen, who was still in Taiwan, and wanted to gag. Her friend and mentor had no idea what or who Wendy was—nor did he suspect what had really happened during those few days while he remained disoriented and isolated inside a high-rise apartment on the eastern edge of Taipei. Wendy’s idea of personal care had been to make sure he did not starve or become injured; not once had she shown her face to Owen. Too many questions, she’d said.
And, of course, she expected Dean and Miri to keep quiet about her involvement. It killed Miri to do so—she had never lied to Owen, not once, but if she told him about Wendy, then she would have to tell him about the jade, and if that, then about herself and Dean and a whole host of other people and truths that were not hers to share. Miri did not care about helping Wendy—but Dean? Koni? Even herself? She knew Owen—was certain she could trust him—but a promise made was not to be broken; not when secrecy was important to so many.
So. She had to live with lying. She had to live with watching others tell Owen lies. And no matter how it hurt, she had to keep her mouth shut.
For now, Miri told herself. But not forever. Not when she was quite certain that it had been Wendy’s intervention that had kept Dean from tracking Owen. And if Long Nu could do that with Owen, then it was quite possible the old woman was the reason Miri and Dean had spent twenty years apart.
Unforgivable.
In the hall outside her office she heard footsteps. A light tread. Dean, maybe. He was supposed to pick her up soon.
Only, when her door opened, it was not Dean who greeted her, but Robert. His red hair was tousled, his green eyes a perfect match to his dark emerald shirt. His sleeves were rolled up. Silver flashed at his throat. Miri did not know whether to say hello or scream.
“So,” he said. “I’ve heard things. I sense my job is done.”
“You never did your job,” Miri said. “Though you certainly suffered enough for it.”
“I suppose,” he said quietly, still standing in her doorway. Miri stood, too.
“Are you here for a reason?” she asked, uncomfortable. “And if it’s a bad reason, don’t tell me.”
“I wanted to make sure you knew that our truce was still in effect,” Robert said. “I am not your enemy.”
“Oh,” Miri said, not quite sure how to respond. “Thank you, Robert.”
“My pleasure.” He swayed toward the door, and hesitated. “Tell me, Dr. Lee … what did you find?”
“Too much and not enough.” She smiled, though she felt sad. Why? What are you looking for?”
He thought for a moment, and something bittersweet passed over his face. “Peace, Dr. Lee. Peace would be a most excellent discovery.”
It was not the answer she expected, and as he turned to go, Miri stepped around her desk. She said, “Thank you, Robert. Thank you for your help.”
The corner of his mouth curved. “Would you like a surprise, Dr. Lee? I think I have one you might appreciate.”
Miri hesitated. Robert said, “Look out your window.”
Wary, she edged backward and peered through the glass. At first she saw nothing of interest—only students, massing down the wide sidewalks, sitting on grass. But then, directly below, she saw a red convertible, and in the passenger seat a very familiar face gazing up at her window. Pigtails swished.
“Ku-Ku,” Miri breathed, and looked at Robert. “How?”
“I am not entirely sure,” he said. “She was still in the room when I returned to my senses, and was quite helpful in the aftermath. A very resourceful girl. I hired her on the spot.”
“Huh,” Miri said, thinking of Wendy, remembering Ku-Ku in the lab with that gun pressed to her head. “Do you think you can trust her?”
Robert smiled. “Of course not. But then, I don’t trust anyone.”
“No one at all?” Miri tilted her head. “So cynical. Just how old are you, Robert?”
He threw back his head, laughing quietly. “Dear Dr. Lee. I am older than I wish to be, and that is all I will say on the matter.”
Again, Robert turned to go, and again, he stopped.
“I will give you this much,” he said slowly. “Robert is not my real name.”
So Miri asked, because she knew he wanted her to—and when she did, he smiled until it reached his eyes, softening the hard lines.
“Robin,” he said slowly. “My name was Robin.”
Miri stared. “But,” she began, and Robert shook his head.
“Given enough time, we all change. Some more than others. It is, I am afraid, inevitable.”
“Maybe,” Miri said, still stunned. “But we have some control over what we change into.”
“Spoken with the voice of innocence.” Robert’s smile slipped. “Yes, Dr. Lee. If it makes you sleep easier at night, you may think that.”
He held open the door, but did not leave. Facing away from her, he said, “Let Mr. Campbell take care of you. Pretend, if you must, that you need him. It is the greatest kindness you can give a man in love.”
“But I do need him,” Miri said. “I love Dean. I’ve always loved him.”
“Then hold on to that,” Robert whispered. “Hold tight.”
And he left.
Soon after, Dean arrived at the office to pick her up. Dinner first, then a movie. Indiana Jones, maybe. Possibly the whole trilogy.
Miri did not tell him about her visitor, but only because Dean didn’t give her a chance. He stood in the entrance of her office and pulled her into his arms, hugging her so fierce and tight that, right then, words would have been a sin. Instead, all she could do was hold on, hold on and ride the heat pouring from his body into her own—so easy, like magic, like love.
“You scared yet?” he asked softly. “You scared of forever, Miri?”
“No,” she said, and he squeezed her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. But she didn’t mind, because it was Dean and they were together, and things were different now. Different inside, different between, different all around.
But good. So good. Just another kind of adventure, hitting the big road to who-knows-where, and she was ready for anything. Anything at all. For a moment she was struck by the fact
that she was lucky: She had the kind of peace Robert sought.
“Mirabelle Lee,” Dean murmured. “Mira Mira Lee. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
“What a bold question,” she laughed. “How very cheeky.”
“That’s right,” he said.
Miri kissed his throat.
“I’m waiting,” he whispered.
Miri’s lips brushed against his jaw, the corner of his mouth.
“Miri,” he breathed, and she smiled, rubbing her left hand against his cheek. Gold glittered on her finger.
“I think you know the answer to that question,” she said softly. “I think we made it official before we left China.”
“No harm in asking again,” he said, smiling against her mouth.
She bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. “Don’t you trust me?”
His smile faded, but not the light in his eyes, a gaze so sweet it took her breath away. “With all my heart, Miri. All my heart, I trust you. Always.”
“Dean,” she breathed, and he shook his head.
“No more wasting time, Miri. No more. We’ve wasted enough.”
As he kissed her, she felt the jade inside their chests rub through the barrier of cloth. A spark raced; a firework in Miri’s throat, exploding around her heart. She winced and touched herself. Dean pulled away, frowning.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, rubbing his own chest. Miri could not answer. She felt those words with their roots in the jade, the jade with its roots inside herself … and deep within, something else growing, something powerful that she could not name. Her mouth felt full; if she opened it, words would come—those butterflies that haunted her—but she was not yet ready to release them, to see and hear what would happen when she did. She knew Dean felt the same about what slept inside his own head. Power, waiting. Power that was theirs, but still unknown, still strange.
One day, maybe. One day, when she was strong enough inside her head, when she knew enough to not fear herself—this inexplicable birthright that terrified so many others—she might just release what was burning now within her body. Let it out to play.
The Red Heart of Jade Page 33