“Aah!” a seagull cried from a lamppost. The sound of its caw was like laughter and mourning intermingled. “Aah! Aah!” It cocked its head in my direction, opening its third eye. “Xian Li-lin!”
I took a deep breath. “Jiujiu,” I said. Of all the ghosts and goblins that inhabit the world of spirits, Jiujiu was the one I’d known the longest. She was one of the Haiou Shen, the spirit-gulls. Her flock had been slaughtered long ago. She had come to Chinatown somehow and found a new flock to join.
Many spirits are invisible to ordinary people, but the Haiou Shen are visible. They simply look and sound like normal seagulls. Regular people don’t see the third eye in a spirit gull’s forehead, beady and black in a vertical slit. Regular people hear their human speech as the inarticulate cry of gulls. It is the blessing of regular people; they do not witness the monstrous, and thus they can live normal lives.
“There will be pain, Xian Li-lin!” the seagull cried. “There will be loss!”
I sighed. “Life as usual, in other words,” I said, but the warning made me tense. Spirit gulls sense each change in weather. Over the years Jiujiu has warned me about many hazards, but she never gave me enough information to avoid them.
It worried me that Jiujiu was paying me a visit now, when I was out of body, vulnerable.
Something bad was going to happen, and I had no way to know where it was coming from. Girding myself, I checked the red cord on my wrist. It was secure. A line of red string stretched back to my body.
The passport tugged me toward a bulky man standing in the shadows at the end of the street, where Dupont met Jackson. He must have been a big man in life, and his spirit body was no different. Strong shoulders filled out his threadbare robes. His face looked hard behind an unkempt black beard. His eyes had the half-mad look of someone who has spent many years alone.
I hesitated. This might not be as simple as Mr. Liu had led me to believe. Was this rabid-looking ghost what the spirit gull just warned me about? I bit my lip in frustration. Trying to sidestep Jiujiu’s warning could cause the suffering she’d foretold.
But a man needed my help, and it didn’t matter if he was dead, or if death had driven him mad. I had sworn my oath a long time ago. I would never hide from monsters. Never again.
For reassurance I let my fingers stray to the hilt of my peachwood sword, and I walked up to the ghost’s place in the shadows.
His hair was wild. Dark and tangled into knots, it sprawled over a forehead that had not been shaved in a long time. Wandering through death, he had neglected his queue. I winced. The braided hair was a symbol of a man’s service to the Emperor; it comprised one third of a man’s higher soul. It was no wonder Shi Jin was lost. He had abandoned one of his strongest connections to the world of the living.
There was an odd feeling in my spirit body. It took a moment to identify it. My stomach was itching. I found it odd that even here, between the lands of the living and the dead, travelling far from my body, I felt an itch, as though insects were crawling along my stomach.
The man turned to face me as I approached him. His eyes were bloodshot, and under his beard a long scar ran from his cheek to
his neck.
“Shi Jin?” I said. “Here is your passport to the lands of the dead.” I reached out both hands to offer him the passport, as young people are supposed to do. One uses both hands to show undivided attention.
Shi Jin grabbed my elbow and yanked me down to the ground. I toppled, off-balance and disoriented. Then he stepped behind me and snapped my red string.
2
Falling is a chaotic feeling. A coordinated body turns into a mess of arms, legs, and hips moving in their own directions when it falls. I sprawled forward. My knees and hands took the brunt of the impact, and then my chest thudded down against the cobblestone, and my chin landed on my forearm.
The burly ghost grabbed my red string. My eyes widened. This was a trap, that much was clear, but I needed a chance to think. Then Shi Jin attacked with a bellowing war-cry, leading with a spinning kick that had enough force behind it to collapse a ribcage.
Fifteen years of training took over. Father’s voice, telling me to repeat that move again, again, again, again. Two hundred more times, Li-lin. Someday your life might depend on this. Rolling up into a crouch, I slammed my elbow into the ghost’s ankle. It hit with a sharp sound, interrupting the momentum of his kick.
Pain and surprise registered on the ghost’s scarred face. He looked at me, saw I had taken a warrior stance, and hesitated. I took that moment and leaped for my red string.
He stepped back and away, holding onto the string, appraising me. There was a stark, tense moment as we each sized up our opponent. The itching on my stomach grew worse, and a sick feeling rose from my gut. I knew what the itch was.
Someone was cutting my flesh. Carving a talisman into the soft skin on my belly. Probably Mr. Liu. He was engraving some kind of spell in my skin. I felt exposed, powerless. Violated.
The ghost spoke, and his voice creaked as though it hadn’t shaped words in a generation. “Give me the passport,” he said.
My pulses raced, and I felt all control slipping away. My body was defenseless. I felt small and afraid. And I didn’t understand why any of this was happening.
“The string will lead you back to my body,” I said. “But you won’t be able to do anything to me. Not without—”
He snorted. “Give me the passport.”
So that was it. I had made the passport myself, sealed it with my name and lineage. It could grant him passage to the city of the dead, but it would also grant him control over my body. Permanent control.
“You’re going to possess me,” I said.
We faced each other, our stances closed, defensive. He was bigger than me, much bigger, but I could draw my peachwood sword before he reached me. I could chop him to pieces.
I was angry. Like a fool, I walked right into their trap. I was powerless to stop Mr. Liu from carving a talisman into my skin. The talisman could make Shi Jin undetectable inside me.
I felt heat rush up to my head. I was seething with anger. I wanted to cut this ghost to ribbons. And he wasn’t even my biggest problem. My body was unconscious and vulnerable, and if the one-armed man was carving talismans into me, it meant he had power. If he was ordained past the Second, I couldn’t hope to defeat him with magic.
Their plan was solid. If I hadn’t dodged Shi Jin’s kick, I would have been trapped in the spirit world already, and a ghost would be walking in my skin. Their plan only missed one thing. They had underestimated my martial arts training.
Shi Jin advanced a half-step. I took a half-step back.
Anger, fear, and shame tried to take hold of me, but I resisted. I needed to resist. I couldn’t let myself be impaired by emotion, not now, with men attacking me in two worlds. I needed clarity of mind. First I needed to defeat Shi Jin and recover the red string. Once I’d done that, I’d return to my body, find Mr. Liu, and make him pay. He had cut my skin. It was a violation, and he was going to suffer for it.
I drew my peachwood sword.
Shi Jin snorted, a wet sound moving out through his beard. “A practice sword? You brought a child’s wooden toy, girl.”
I flicked the sword forward, a quick stroke—Dragonfly Skims the Water—and left a clean slice on his arm. His eyes bulged in surprise and a red stain began to spread from his cut.
“This wood came from a peach tree that grew at Mount Longhu,” I said, “in the shadow of the Hanging Coffins. My husband cut the wood himself. He was a Daoshi of the Seventh Ordination. Do you understand? He carved the Seven Stars into its blade, and danced their power. The simple fact that it is made from peachwood means it will be enough to harm a dead man like you. But endowed with the power of the Seven Stars? My sword can slice you apart as easily as steel cuts flesh, you dead ghost.”
I aimed the sword and shot into motion.
Shi Jin stumbled away in panic. I lunged at him, striking out with a for
ward thrust of the sword that left a deep red gash along his shoulder. Blood sprang from his wound. He cried out and I saw victory close by. In a thrill I pushed my advantage, driving forward. It was time to finish this. I dropped into a side-bow and swung my peachwood sword in a horizontal chop.
The sword turned to smoke.
I blinked. My sword had vanished. That should have been a finishing blow. It should have disemboweled him. But my hand was empty.
Shi Jin’s beefy fist caught me in the sternum with a thud. I staggered back, dizzy and confused, then stumbled and fell to my back, landing with a thud on the cobbled street.
The ghost laughed. “Where’s your magic sword, girl? Without it you’re just a slab of meat ready to be hung in the butcher shop.”
Amid the pain, the dizziness, and the disorientation, it was reflex and reflex alone that started me rolling away before the big ghost was on me again. Rolling on cobblestones took its toll on my hips, but I managed to stay just outside the range of the kicks and stomps he aimed at me. Then I sprang up to my feet and faced him in a horse stance, fists ready.
The ghost was twice my size but fury contorted my face so much that he looked into my eyes and hesitated. I must have looked like a mad dog, nostrils flaring, teeth gnashing. I wanted to rip the ghost to shreds, and Mr. Liu after him.
Shi Jin came down on me like thunder, like a rainstorm. He weighed at least twice as much as I did. His fists hailed down and found only wind. I stepped to the side and hammered a kick into his knee. He gulped in surprise and took a step back.
“A slab of meat, am I, you dead ghost?” I said.
The big man’s face registered determination, and something else. Was it regret? He said, “Yes, meat. I’m a ghost and you’re still alive, but which of us is being carved like roast pork?”
The thought of Mr. Liu cutting my stomach was sobering. In the world of the living, Mr. Liu must have broken the spell on my sword. That would explain why it vanished. And if he broke my spell, it meant he had power. At least the Third Ordination.
I cursed. I was unarmed in the spirit world, facing a dangerous opponent, and if I defeated him I’d still have to face a man whose magic was stronger than mine.
It made no sense. No one would bring so much force to defeat me. I had some skill with kung fu and magic, but the ghost was big and well trained, and Mr. Liu had more powerful magic than I did. Either of them could have beaten me on his own, yet they still felt the need to ambush and disarm me. I wasn’t being underestimated. I was being overestimated.
“You aren’t after me,” I said. “You want to possess me and murder my father when he isn’t expecting it.”
An affirmative snort moved the ghost’s black beard.
“Why?” I asked. “Father protects Chinatown from evil.”
The ghost circled, saying nothing. If I lost this fight, Father would die in shame, murdered by his own child’s hand.
My hand.
Cutting my stomach and possessing me were violation enough, but they were going to use me as a weapon against my father, and I would never let that happen.
A quiet anger found me. I wanted to punch the ghost until his spirit blood dripped from my knuckles. I wanted to pin him face down on the street and bash his brains out on the cobblestones. With the right strategy, I could even do it. But if I lost, Shi Jin would take the passport and murder my father. There was only one proper way to act.
I turned and ran.
Behind me I heard a startled huff of breath. Shi Jin ran too, giving chase. He pursued, relentless, angry, huge. His heavy steps smashed down on the cobblestones. But I ran faster, and every second put him farther behind me.
Through streets of Chinatown lit smoky and golden by the moon of the spirit world, I ran.
In blurs of dreaming light, Chinatown’s spirit world shifted around me. I had never spent so long out of body before. How long had it been—hours? Days? No, not days, not yet. The passage of time was my friend now. If I kept the soul passport out of Shi Jin’s hands long enough, Father would come home. He would go to the temple and find me unconscious, out of body. He wouldn’t be able to wake me, so he would examine me to find out what was wrong. He would find the one-armed man’s talisman carved into my skin.
If I could do that, if I could just keep the passport away from Shi Jin for enough time, then Mr. Liu’s plan would be thwarted. With enough time, Father wouldn’t be taken by surprise, even if the ghost managed to possess me. He’d have talismans and weapons ready for the ghost. There would be no stabbing him in the back or poisoning his tea.
I just needed to stall long enough and I would save my father.
Saving myself was another matter. Somehow I needed to get back. Back to my body, back to Father. He might need my help. Mr. Liu was trying to kill him. And he would be alone without me. No one would braise his pork, fry his vegetables, or prepare his tea.
I thought about the passport. I could destroy it, and then Shi Jin would never be able to possess me. But then he might smear my red string with his spirit blood, destroying it. So long as he thought he might be able to succeed, I would still have a chance. So long as I held the passport, he would continue hunting me. I needed to delay that for a while, but he would find me eventually. And then there would be a reckoning.
I found my way to Dupont, to Father’s temple. We lived in a small apartment in the basement. I approached the temple, and something like a slight wind began to blow. A force pushed me away. It felt like an ocean current. Looking up, I saw Father’s cloth talismans. They hung over the door, shifting in a slight wind. Father’s talismans barred all spirits from entry, with all the authority of a Maoshan Daoshi of the Seventh Ordination. Nothing short of a deity could force its way past the talismans. My red string would have granted me entry. Without the string, I couldn’t cross the threshold and enter my home.
My father’s talismans, his power and his magic, forced me out. Staring at my home, I felt helpless. I had no home, no place of safety anywhere. It was nearly enough to make me give up. Frustration and despair took over, and I felt tears begin. I forced the tears down. I refused to cry.
To be so near and yet so far. My body was inside, but even if I stood next to it, it would be impossibly far away. My body and I were worlds apart. Without the red string, I would never be able to retrace the passage across the fields of life and death. I could stand next to myself and still be lost.
If I manifested myself to Father, would he save me? Or would he exorcise me? I couldn’t truly say.
I curled up in the shadows of the painted balconies along Tian Hou Temple Street and slept.
Dreams have never been my friend. A feverish mixture of images swirled in my mind, and there was never a way to distinguish memory from prophecy. In dreams I ran down an endless road. I did not know what I was running from, but I knew I needed to keep running. I ran for hours, until my throat was dry and my feet were raw and bloody.
“Aah!” a gull cried, sad and laughing. “Aah! Aah! Xian Li-lin!”
That was no dream. Waking, I shot to my feet. Across the street, Shi Jin hulked, staring at the gull, open-mouthed. He must have been hunting me in my sleep when he heard it say my name.
I smiled. For once Jiujiu’s warning had been helpful. I wondered what offering I could burn for the spirit gull, if I made it back to my body.
Shi Jin turned his attention back to me. He’d lost the element of surprise, but he still held too many advantages. I was faster, but his long arms and legs still made it unlikely for me to defeat him. There’s a reason I prefer to fight with a weapon in my hand.
I turned and ran again.
*
In the afternoon I strolled down to Fish Alley. The smell of the fish was strong and rank, but somehow it came to me from a distance, almost more a memory than a smell. Eternal moonlight was shining in the world of the spirits, but I could tell the time of day by watching the men haggling for better prices at the stalls. “That’s been sitting out here all day,�
�� a buyer would say, and the fishmonger would reply, “Only the freshest fish, morning and afternoon.” Like actors in an opera, everyone knew their lines, their cues, and they knew how the story would end.
Dead fish hung along every stall, their scales glistening. Fish bones littered the alleyway.
I turned to see Shi Jin walking toward me. Bones crunched under his heavy footsteps. His posture was aggressive, arrogant, perhaps a bit mad.
I stood my ground, facing the ghost. “Give up,” I said.
His beard puffed out as he snorted. “Surrender?” he said. “To you?”
“You’re trying to possess my body, Shi Jin. It was supposed to happen last night. My father was supposed to come home and find his daughter waiting for him. He wouldn’t be on guard. And you were supposed to be in control of my body, planning to kill him. But that’s not what happened, is it?”
Shi Jin’s eyes were sharp and thorough, not missing anything. “I am listening,” he said.
“My father came home and found me unconscious. Next he checked to see what was wrong with me, and he found a talisman carved into my stomach. From there he figured out your plan. So now, even if you possess me, you won’t be able to take him by surprise. Your plan has failed,” I said, “so you might as well return my string.”
A slow smile spread behind the ghost’s black beard. “That was their plan,” he told me. “My plan hasn’t failed.”
There was too much in his words for me to respond. Whose plan was it? Their plan, he said. But even that wasn’t my immediate concern. I began inching away. “So what is your plan?”
“To leave here. To get out of the land of spirits.”
“In my body.”
“Yes.”
“Give me back the red string,” I said. “You don’t want to be a woman, do you, Shi Jin?”
He looked away for a moment, ashamed. “Even that would be better than this. This place is wrong, girl. There is no daylight. There are things here out of the nightmares of men.”
“I know,” I told him. “There are fox-spirits, walls that move to block your path, and eel-women who lurk beneath bridges. Hungry things drool in the shadows. And tonight is the Bai Gui Yexing, the Night Parade of a Hundred Devils.”
The Girl with Ghost Eyes Page 2