by Karen Dales
The blur of streetlights settled into a singular yellow glow and he realized that they had stopped. Buildings full of people taking their evening meals with friends could not stifle the yelling that was coming from the front, and he turned around to find he was alone with Jeanie. The question of the Noble’s disappearance faded before the words reached his lips. One of the people yelling outside was Fernando. The shouting ceased and the Noble re-entered, nearly shattering the door with slamming force.
“God damn it!” fumed de Sagres, settling back onto the bench. He encased himself in his cloak.
“What is it?” asked Jeanie. She had looked out the opposite window throughout the ride, afraid to look at the Angel and see the distance between them. She could feel his presence beside her as she kept her attention on the Noble.
“Those blasted automobiles shouldn’t be allowed on the roads!”
“What happened? Why are we not moving?” inquired the Angel.
“Well, I’m glad that you finally woke up,” snapped the Noble. “One of those goddamned machines came careening into the intersection where it slammed into a carriage, flipping it over and killing one of the horses, and maiming two others. They’ll probably have to be put down as well.”
“What happened to the driver?” asked Jeanie, her eyes shimmering with horror and worry.
“Which one?” rounded Fernando, “The carriage driver and his occupants are fine, but I wouldn’t say the same for the automobile driver. Daddy’s little rich boy made a wonderful stain on the road and his whore is being removed from the wreckage. Poor li’l thing lost her head.” He smiled exposing his pointed teeth. “We’ll be here until the mess is cleaned up.”
“When will that be?” asked the Angel. He wanted to get to the docks as soon as possible. Since the would-be captors knew of their escape and they may very well be on their trail, or worse, covering up one.
“What do I look like, your answer man? Half an hour, an hour, who the bloody hell knows.” Fernando settled back in the seat, brown eyes smouldering.
“We could walk,” he ventured.
“And do you think your pretty little housekeeper would be able to keep up? I think not.”
He turned to face out the window. Fernando was right, Jeanie’s presence was hindering their ability to act in ways that were normal to them, slowing them down, but he had made a promise, one he was starting to regret for more than one reason. He felt her shift on the seat, taking her farther away from him.
The idea of being in such close quarters with the Noble suffocated him and his only escape was to watch the people as they swarmed around the accident sight, ignoring the cold and the drizzle, curiosity seeking morbid entertainment.
Some things do not change, he sighed.
A darting between clusters of onlookers caught his attention and focused it. Threading around couples and individuals, a boy of about nine, dressed in dirty, rumpled clothing and wearing a bowler hat too large for his size, appeared to be searching for someone or something. Those who bothered to notice the lad were repelled by his obvious foreignness and shooed him away. He knew it was he who Yi Li searched for. Turning to face Jeanie, oblivious of the situation, he realized he needed her help. The Angel could not become the centre of the mob’s attention and Fernando surely would not do this for him.
“Jeanie,” he spoke quietly and watched her startle and turn to face him, green eyes wide in expectation. It was invitation enough. “There is a Chinese boy over there, beside the blonde woman in the blue dress, grey coat and silver wrap. Do you see him?”
Jeanie followed the direction the Angel pointed and could barely make out the woman. It was clear that she had hoped for something more when he said her name and frowned when he tried to point the lady out. As for the boy, all she could see was a short, small shadow near the woman, and she nodded.
“What is this?” interrupted Fernando.
Ignoring the Noble, he continued. “Go to him and bid him to come here. The boy’s name is Yi Li. If he refuses or puts up a fuss tell him you are sent by me – the Angel. Do you understand?”
“Aye, but why?“
“Please, Jeanie,” he interrupted with a sigh, “just do as I ask.”
She closed her mouth and looked ready to give him an earful. Instead she got up and left the carriage to walk towards the boy. He watched her from the window and felt Fernando beside him, also watching the girl.
“Are you planning to feed with her here, and on a child she caught for you?” queried the Noble. “I wouldn’t have thought you the type.”
Repressing a shudder of revulsion at such close proximity to the Noble, he replied tersely, “I am not.”
Jeanie had just made contact with Yi Li, and as expected the boy initially put up resistance. Now he followed at her side, Jeanie’s face a menagerie of anger, embarrassment and amusement.
“Then what’s the boy for?” asked Fernando.
“We agreed last night that we should find out how the herbs work.” He watched Jeanie come closer, walking in between people coming to see the gruesome show.
“Yes, but how does the boy fit in?” Fernando was now genuinely confused.
“His mother is a master herbalist, as is his grandfather,” he answered and sat back from the window in time for Jeanie to open the coach door, allowing the boy to enter first.
The boy’s face was smudged with grime and his wool clothing sported patches of dried mud. A bruise on his left cheek revealed itself when Yi Li tipped the brown hat back far enough to look at the cowled Angel and at the man who was not the Good Father. His smile of perfect white teeth slipped only momentarily before taking in the fact that he was in an expensive cab. He ignored the sound of the door closing behind and the jostle of the carriage as the lady sat beside the Angel.
His large slanting brown eyes came to rest on the Angel.
“You sent pretty lady to get me.” The boy’s accent was thick and smug for one so young. “You smarter than I thought.”
“I am glad to hear that, Yi,” replied the Angel, softly, the persona of the Angel enveloping him completely. “You were looking for me?”
Yi Li nodded, sending his hat down over his face. Jeanie stifled a laugh at the boy’s predicament before he managed to push it back so that he could see again and lost his grin at the sight of Noble’s scowling face.
“Why are we wasting our time with this urchin?” spat Fernando.
“You not so nice,” rounded Yi Li. “Need to laugh more.” He forced a staccato belly laugh. “You laugh like that, you won’t be so constipated.”
“Why you –” Fernando made to reach for the boy but found himself thrust onto the bench with a thud. He glared at the Angel. Was everyone under the protection of the blasted Angel?
“You were looking for me, Yi?” he repeated. Again the boy nodded, this time the smile was gone. “That is fortuitous. I need the services of your mother, or better yet, your grandfather.”
A panicked glint alighted Yi Li’s eyes. “That’s why I look for you. I went to your home. Nobody there. I had to search and search.”
He frowned beneath the hood. How could Yong Zheng Ru or Mei Li know his need? It may well be because it has been – what? – two nights since his last lesson with the old man, when he usually visited every evening, even if it were to talk for an hour. He sat quietly waiting for Yi Li to continue.
“Mama say you come quick,” implored the boy.
“What is it?” Concern needled into him. It was not Mei Li’s way to call for him.
“Grandfather needs the Angel.” Tears welled into Yi Li’s eyes, yet did not fall. “Grandfather in bad accident,” he choked back a sob. “Got hit by a runaway horse.”
The reality of the boy’s words slowly sank in and to the shock of the others, he pounded on the roof shouting new orders for the driver to turn around and drive, as fast as the horses could pull, to another destination. The carriage gave a lurch and threw Yi Li next to a bewildered Noble. Jeanie grabbed hold
of the handle hanging from the side lest she be thrown to the floor and stared at the Angel wondering what possessed him.
He ignored them, his crimson eyes echoed fear into the night beyond the carriage window.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt and gratefully the four piled out onto the sidewalk. Battered and dishevelled from the frantic ride, the Angel followed Yi Li through the unnamed blackened storefront without remembering to wait for the other two.
Through the small herb shop lined with walls stocked with hundreds of herbs and the back room they went. Only the sound of their hurried footfalls rang in the air until he threw open a door leading into a dimly lit stairwell that ascended over the shop. Voices and laughter echoed down the hall as well as a strange smell. He made one last check that his hood was in place and climbed the steep staircase, taking the steps three at a time. The sound of Jeanie’s harried breath mingled with the voices of the people lounging on cushions in a smoke filled atmosphere as they reached the top.
“You brought us to an opium den?” exclaimed Fernando, disgusted at the sight of the pitiful mortals’ futile attempts to escape reality.
Jeanie’s gasp of surprise and the Noble’s question went unanswered. Winding his way through the throng, he ignored all except that of the door at the back of the den. A few, not so deep in the effects of the drug startled at the sight of the Angel and the two strangers with him. These too did he ignore.
The door opened into a brightly lit room finely decorated with oriental art. The smell of perfumed joss sticks floated into the air from a little shrine in the corner. Fresh fruit and burning candles sat beside a tiny figurine indicated that the shrine was in active use.
“Please, come in,” said the very beautiful Chinese woman. Dressed in blue silk, she sat before the shrine. Her thick black hair sharply contrasted her pale face and richly red painted lips. She stood with the grace to shame a Chosen and Yi Li went to stand by his mother’s side.
The three did as she bade, the door closing behind.
“You come not alone,” she stated, glancing from the Angel to the others and then back again. Her small, delicate hands were clasped in front.
It took a moment to figure whom Mei Li was talking about. “This is Fernando de Sagres and Jeanie Stuart.”
“The Angel said that you are a master herbalist,” interjected the Noble, already wanting to be on their way.
Mei Li raised a brow yet her face remained impassive. “Thank you for the compliment. Xiao Gui has always been kind to us.”
A snort escaped the Noble’s lips. The name Mei gave the Angel was one he was sure the Angel did not call himself. Fernando withdrew the tiny bottle, holding it out for Yi Li’s mother. “Do you think you could find out what this is and how it works?”
Mei Li took a step and the phial disappeared into her tiny grasp. “I will try. Is this why you come? Did Yi Li not tell you?”
“Yi said that your father needed the Angel,” replied the Angel. “And that your father has been injured.”
Mei Li nodded, a frown matching the sadness in her liquid brown eyes. “Yesterday father went out for morning walk. Crossing the road, runaway horse knocked father down, trampling him. Doctor could do nothing. He say father is dying. Father knows. He’s in much pain. We send Yi Li to find you.” She bowed her head, turned around and opened the door next to the shrine before she left through another door with her son in tow.
Dim yellow light illuminated the sparse room. A dresser stood against one crumbling plastered wall. A pitcher and basin of chipped porcelain sat on top. The only other large piece of furniture was a bed with its cracked and peeling wooden headboard against the back wall. Immaculate white linen sheets covered the form of an ancient man. His white-filmed eyes stared into the room.
For a moment he believed Yong Zheng dead until he heard his laboured breathing. He took a step into the dimly lit room and remembered who was with him. “Jeanie you have to stay here,” he said, turning to face Notus’ lovely housekeeper.
Drawing her attention from the sickly old man, Jeanie stared into the darkness of his hood. “Why? I can help.” She did not know how, but she wanted to be with him and be there for him.
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“But ye take Fernando, ye can take me.”
“I’m not taking either of you. Not for this.” He closed the door on the two of them, both agape at being left out for different reasons.
Fernando fumed at having the door closed on him. He wanted to see the Angel at work and he was not going to be stopped now, and if he played his cards right, so would the girl. Testing the door handle, he opened the door enough for him to spy. A smile played along his lips as Jeanie knelt to join him in his espionage. Well, if he will not tell her… It will be interesting to see how she handles the truth.
The Angel stepped towards the bed. Pushing back his hood, he knelt beside his teacher, and gazed into Yong Zheng Ru’s milky eyes, praying that he would not have to do what he could already tell was necessary.
“I have come, Yong Zheng,” he said in perfect Cantonese. No matter how many times he had done this throughout the centuries it still pained him to see friends in need of deaths release. He had tried not to feel, or like so many of the Chosen, to relish in the deception and final kill, but it never worked. Now, with Yong Zheng, the grief of the losses welled within, threatening to break.
“Ahh,” sighed the old man, lifting his gnarled hand to be caught in the cool grip of the Angel’s. Cool familiar fingers brushed away wispy strands of grey hair from his forehead. “I knew you would come, Xiao Gui.” Yong Zheng halted, searching for breath. “I knew you were in danger, from within and without.”
“What are you saying?” he frowned. He could smell death consuming his friend.
“I taught you, Xiao Gui, the forms handed down to me and you have taught me the practices of the ancients, for this I am grateful, but they come soon.” He paused, his rasping voice threatening to break. “They came in the past. You forgot. They are coming again. They tell me to tell you.”
Dumbfounded, he could only ask, “Who?”
Yong Zheng shook his head, instigating a coughing fit. Gently lifting the old man to a sitting position helped east the violence of the fit and exposed the swollen purpled chest and abdomen where the scent of blood was the strongest. He did not need Notus’ medical knowledge to know that Yong Zheng was bleeding into his belly. He covered the old man and settled him against the headboard.
After a few harried moments Yong Zheng Ru spoke. “I know that you need chi of others to live, Xiao Gui.”
He swallowed, knowing without a doubt that his mentor in the newer martial arts knew his secret and waited.
“I cannot use it any longer. You need it more than I, Xiao Gui. I give it freely.”
This was what he dreaded. With Yong Zheng Ru’s strange talk he thought he would not be called to do the deed, but now he found he could not.
“I can’t,” he whispered, clutching Yong Zheng’s warm hand.
“You must.” Another fit took him and he continued once it was past. “They say you need it.”
“Please,” he pleaded. He did not want to do this. For the first time he did not want a mortals blood. He wanted Yong Zheng to live, to keep exchanging knowledge and stories.
The old man turned his sightless eyes onto the Angel who had become more a son than a student. “I am dying,” he explained softly. “Don’t let my chi go to waste, Xiao Gui.”
He nodded, his eyes brimming with tears and was shocked to feel a hand on his face. Looking at the old man, his eyes met ones that had once seen.
“Let me see you one last time,” whispered Yong Zheng Ru.
Slowly, gently, the old dry hands explored his face, this time, for the first and last time, he described what he looked like to his teacher and friend, all the while tears streamed down his pale face. He did not understand what was happening; all he knew was that Yong Zheng did not pull away in horror. Wh
en the old man finally withdrew his hands, he recognized the Cantonese word for beautiful.
The old man, fatigued by his explorations, his breath laboured, leaned his head against the board and the Angel knew it was time. Easing himself to sit on the edge of the bed facing Yong Zheng, he whispered, “Good-bye, dear friend.”
With the hope it would not be too painful he leaned over and sank his teeth into Yong Zheng’s neck. The taste of his tears mingled with that of his friend’s blood. At first he let the old man’s heart carry the blood to his mouth, but it did not take long for it to fail. There was no joy in the task and he despised his need for human blood even more. When he finally released his teacher, he wished only to leave the room.
Laying the body onto the bed he wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand and turned to leave. He found Fernando standing in the doorway. The Noble grinned and pulled the door fully open, revealing a terrified Jeanie quickly gaining her feet.
The world bottomed out, sending his mind lurching. All he could think of, over and over, was that she knows. She knows!
This was not what he wanted. Now he witnessed the undisguised horror of him in her face and before any could utter a word he pushed past them and fled into the night, his heart shattering.
It had gone so much better than Fernando had dared hope as he watched the Angel race into the night leaving Jeanie with him. Still smiling, he turned to the girl. “So now you know what you have involved yourself with.”
“What are ye?” Jeanie took a fearful step backwards.