by Reese, Jenn
Ian sat opposite Shan, his long legs accidentally brushing hers under the table every time he adjusted his posture. Which was surprisingly often, but still not often enough for Shan's tastes. Apparently she'd regressed back to a high school mentality when she'd met Ian, and footsy had once again become a viable distraction at the dinner table. Not that she was complaining.
"The orange chicken is good," Ian said, breaking the silence. Xia grunted but kept eating.
"Not as good as the stuff from that place in Collegetown," said Buckley, "but almost." He picked up a piece of shrimp from his plate and offered it to Lydia. She leaned forward and bit it, never taking her eyes off of her fiancé.
Fiancé.
Fiancé.
No, it just didn't sound right attached to a man like Buckley. But Ian had said Buckley had sounded sincere when they discussed it at the hospital. Buckley claimed that Lydia was just the sort of change he needed in his life. A bright star showing him a better path, or something like that. Ian seemed as shocked as Shan by the news, but was certainly hiding it better.
"Have you picked a date?" Shan asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"Well, we don't want to rush anything," Lydia said immediately, "so we're definitely going to wait until you get back from that thing next week." She beamed at Buckley. Buckley scooped another fist-sized helping of fried rice into his mouth and then smiled back.
"Speaking of that thing," Shan said, happy to change the topic, "I need to go shopping for a few items, and I was hoping you'd join me, Lydia."
"What kind of things?"
Shan ran down her mental list. "Some dressy shoes that I can either fight in or kick off quickly. Accessories for the fancy dresses I picked up in England. And a wig."
"A wig? What color?" said Buckley. "And please say red. Oh god, let it be red." His gaze roamed freely over her body. Shan was suddenly worried that she, not Xia, would leap across the table and throttle him.
One look at Ian, and Shan saw that the thought was crossing his mind, too.
"Oh, stop," grinned Lydia. "He has a thing for redheads," she told Shan, "but I'm not dying my hair. I put my foot down."
"That's right," said Ian. "Good ol' Bucks here has dated a lot of redheads in his day. Sometimes more than one at a time."
Lydia wagged a finger at Ian. "You're not going to get me that easily. Daniel told me all about his sordid past."
"He did? Then you're braver than I thought," Ian countered.
"Very funny, Dash," said Buckley. "Now pass the soy sauce and shut the hell up."
Xia grunted, but, much to Shan's delight, continued to say nothing.
Lydia turned back to Shan. "So, yes, I'd be happy to go shopping with you. And, if we go to the mall, I can show you the bridesmaid dresses I'm considering."
Shan smiled and tried not to choke on her spicy chicken.
The next day, they shopped. Shan found a medium-short blonde wig that didn't look terrible with all her black hair hidden beneath it. With her green eyes, she'd easily be able to pass as a Caucasian at the party, especially when she was draped on Ian's arm.
Mmm. Ian in a tuxedo. Shan let herself study the sleek image that suddenly sprang into her mind. She'd always been a fan of the comfortable clothing favored by the Chinese, but the inventor of the tuxedo had been a genius, Western or not.
The shoe situation proved more challenging, but ultimately resulted in an assortment of low heels and slinky boots. Shan hated wearing heels, but, with a well-placed kick to the chin, it was pretty easy to drive the two-inch spike into someone's throat. Which would be your only option, Shan thought, since you'd kill yourself if you tried to run away in the damn things.
Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.
Shan and Lydia grabbed sandwiches at a mall shop and chatted more about Buckley and the wedding. Shan's objections were definitely starting to dissolve in the wake of Lydia's enthusiasm. The girl glowed from head to foot whenever she talked about it. Shan found herself grinning and smiling and actually feeling good about the whole thing. They talked about closing the school during Lydia's honeymoon and whether or not Buckley would make a good martial artist. Neither of them mentioned Xia, which was just as well. Shan had no desire to ruin such a relaxing afternoon.
But Ian apparently did.
When Shan and Lydia returned, they found Ian at home behind the computer in the front office, busily printing out reams of pages from the Internet.
"Ashton's half Chinese," Ian said as they walked in.
"Hello to you, too," Lydia snorted.
"Really?" said Shan. She dropped her bags on the floor and pulled one of the guest chairs over to Ian's side of the desk. "What else did you find out?"
Ian frowned. "Well, not that much, actually. Ashton stays out of the media, but does a lot with his money. Like sponsoring fighters in the Ultimate Fighting Championships, and funding some research in various parts of the world."
"The UFC. Ugh." A lot of martial arts schools trained their students to fight in that blood bowl. Shan despised it. Martial arts exhibitions were great--a fun way to introduce people to the art. But no-rules fighting for sport as they did in the UFC sickened her. "Did you find any schematics of Ashton's house?"
Ian laughed. "Most people don't put stuff like that up on the Internet."
Shan grinned and shrugged. She understood the value of computers and the Web, but Lydia the tech goddess took care of all that for the school. "Well, I had to ask," she said.
"Ashton calls the island Shangri-La, according to my parents, but I can't find it on any of the maps," continued Ian. "It's not one of the main two-hundred and thirty-five islands around Hong Kong." Several browser windows were open on the computer monitor, all containing different images of China.
"I wouldn't be surprised if the buildings are all subterranean," Shan said. "The government probably thinks the island is uninhabited." The Jade Circle sanctuary had been mostly underground, too. With the advent of planes and satellite photography, keeping a secret had become a lot harder.
"That makes sense," Ian said. "It also means that if we get into trouble while we're there, there's no getting help from the authorities or calling for reinforcements. Of course, that's generally the idea with the black market antiquities trade."
Neither one of them mentioned Ian's parents, who were invited to this event every year and had yet to inform Interpol. It was hard to picture Janet Dashell as a criminal, but the treasures in Dashell Manor hadn't been cheap--or even expensive--knock-offs. They were the real deal. Everyone drew their line in the sand in a different place, Shan thought. She doubted the Dashells would consider killing someone for any of their artifacts, yet the idea had certainly been occupying Shan's mind lately.
"So even if we find the snake and the dragon," Shan said, "we don't have a good way to get off the island."
Ian shook his head. "Nope. My parents said that boats arrive Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but that no one can leave until Sunday."
"The main auction is Saturday night?"
"Yep."
"Well, we've got to either lay low until Sunday and hope to sneak the statues onto a boat," Shan said, "or blow the whole place to smithereens and cling to the debris until someone finds us."
"I vote for the former," Ian said.
"Then it's unanimous."
Ian continued to research while Shan and Lydia called all The Way of the River's students and told them that classes were canceled for at least another two weeks. Shan had briefly thought about letting Xia teach during that time, but she didn't want to put Xia and Lydia in a situation so rife with danger.
Xia and Ian had settled into the two guest rooms upstairs. For once, the school felt full of life. Shan had to wait to use one of the two bathrooms in the morning, and was forever finding crumbs on the countertops from Buckley's incessant snacking. Lydia laughed often. And, although Xia said very little, she spent most of her time in the main room practicing. Shan joined her as much as she could, plea
sed that her ribs barely ached at all, even when she back flipped or performed a spinning kick.
The downside of a full house was the lack of privacy. Shan and Ian were forever being interrupted by Lydia or Buckley, and occasionally even by Xia. When Shan dropped to sleep at night, she wanted do it with Ian. But their relationship felt like a secret. Without any sort of verbal agreement, they never touched in front of the others. They flirted, but their innuendos had taken on a new flavor. Nothing they said or hinted at could be shrugged off as idle humor. Every word held a promise, and the anticipation building in Shan's body felt like it was going to reach up and strangle her.
It was Buckley who drove them to the airport on Monday night for their two a.m. flight to Hong Kong.
"Stay out of sight for a while longer," Shan said to Buckley. "One-eye is probably working for Victor Ashton, and Ashton has plenty of money to hire more goons."
"Hey, I don't intend to leave the house, if you know what I mean." Buckley looked away from the road long enough to wink at Shan.
"Yeah," Ian said wearily, "we know what you mean." He still looked tired. Shan wondered if he'd just spent as many sleepless nights as she had.
"Listen, about Xia--"
"Don't worry about that," Buckley said. "I've got a plan for getting those two girls to bond." He grinned, and Shan felt her stomach twist.
"Would anyone but you call it a good plan?" Ian asked.
"No, you'd call it brilliant," said Buckley. "You'll see."
"Okay, now I'm definitely worried," Shan said, and not just about the volatile situation at The Way of the River, she added silently.
Shan had wanted to bring weapons--any weapons--to the island, but with airport security at LAX tighter than ever, she'd have to just make do with what she could find at Ashton's underground lair. And, even without weapons, they were bringing way too much luggage. Outfits for breakfast, outfits for afternoon tea, for fancy dinners and for late-night, black-tie soirees. Bathing suits--two!--and clothes for sleeping and lounging in their room.
Their room. Singular. As in one.
Of course the Dashells, married for almost forty years, had RSVP'd for one room. And, technically speaking, it would certainly be easier for Shan to keep an eye on Ian if things got rough.
It was limiting herself to just an eye that was the problem. Shan suspected that her hands and lips and other body parts would also want to be involved.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask something," Buckley said. He pulled the car onto the 105 and merged into the flow of traffic. "What happens if all five of the jade animals are brought together, anyway?"
Ian turned to look at Shan, clearly interested in her answer. He hadn't pressed her for any information regarding the animals, and, although she'd talked about them with him, she'd always hedged that particular question. As she was going to do now.
"Nothing, if the Circle is respected," Shan said carefully. "At the sanctuary where I grew up, we meditated on the animals and learned how to use their energy to focus our own."
Buckley shrugged. "That doesn't sound so bad."
No, Shan thought, because we were taught to treat the animals with deference, and new students were always monitored around the Circle for the first few years. But other stories were told and warnings passed from one woman to the next.
"It is possible," Shan said slowly, "that a person could try to harness all the power of the animals at once."
"And?" said Buckley.
"And he or she'd be extremely powerful," Shan said. "Speed, strength, flexibility, balance, endurance, intelligence, unpredictability..."
"And?" said Ian.
Shan frowned at him.
"Sorry," he said quickly, "it's the archaeologist talking here."
She sighed, and said, "I know. You guys deserve to know more than I've told you. But it's complicated, and every person interacts with the animals differently, as you saw with Etienne Fortier." Shan stared at the cars whizzing by them on the highway. "With all the animals at your disposal," she continued, "you can actually see chi, the energy that flows through everything in the universe. In addition to being a kick-ass fighter, you can tell truth from lie, love from hate--"
"Wait, wait," said Buckley. "Let's go back to this chi stuff. I'm a European-flavored archaeologist, remember?"
"Have you seen Star Wars?" Shan asked.
"Duh."
"Well, chi is just like the Force," Shan said, "only it's not trademarked." Buckley laughed, as had most of her students when she used that line on them. "If you add in the idea of yin and yang--that everything exists in a balance of opposites--you have the Light and Dark sides of the Force."
"Wow," said Ian, "that's surprisingly applicable."
"George Lucas knows his world cultures," Shan said. "At least for the first three movies."
With a fifteen-hour flight time and another fifteen-hour time difference, they arrived in Hong Kong on Wednesday morning around eight. Once upon a time, Shan had been a Chinese-American martial artist with long, straight black hair. Now, however, she masqueraded as a perky blonde American named Shawna. The ruse might not last, but Shan had her father's eyes in shape and color, and if it made One-eye think twice about attacking her, then it was well worth the effort.
A man in the airport held up a sign saying "Shangri-La." Shan and Ian joined another couple standing beside him. Peter and Gail Chatsworth "of the Toronto Chatsworths" were in their late fifties and clearly excited about the auction. Ian chatted amiably with them as Shan sank into her thoughts. She hadn't been back to China since she had fled the Jade Circle massacre with her father. In her mind, China had always been her home. But now, after spending so many years in America, it was difficult to picture herself ever moving back, even to the glorious beauty of the Hunan Province where the Jade Circle had once stood.
The feeling intensified as their guide drove them to the harbor and led them onto a private yacht. Hong Kong, with its gleaming steel and overcrowded streets, thrummed with life. Boats and barges clustered in the water, home to the rich and the poor and the practically destitute. Asian faces watched her, on the arm of her American, as she climbed aboard The Dragon Swift and stood at the bow.
Tainted, Xia had called it. Shan wanted to think of it as belonging to two worlds instead of one. But here, in her blonde wig, Xia's explanation seemed far more apt.
Ian continued to chat with the other guests as Hong Kong shrank behind them. Three hours later, they found themselves standing on a shaded beach of the island Ashton called Shangri-La.
Shangri-La...
Pretentious? Yes. Accurate? Possibly.
A mountain rose up from the center of the island, a mountain covered in lush greens of every shade imaginable. The smell of the ocean, the breeze that blew Shan's blonde curls around her face and whipped the hem of her dress. The sound of the trees creaking as they swayed, their branches so densely interwoven that they bobbed together like a crowd of dancers.
"Beautiful," Ian breathed, and Shan could only nod her head in agreement.
A man dressed in a simple suit of dark linen led them through the trees along a pebbly path. There were only five guests on this trip: Shan and Ian, the Chatsworths, and an older Korean gentleman. Servants followed, carrying their innumerable suitcases. They walked for almost a mile along the path before reaching the entrance to Ashton's fortress.
Two giant fu temple dogs of red lacquer sat atop two stone pillars at least ten feet in diameter. The male dog had its inside paw atop a sphere representing the world, faithfully guarding his owner's possessions and success. The female dog trapped a baby fu dog under her inside paw, protecting her owner's home and family. Together, the dogs guarded against evil and anyone who would bring harm into the house.
Light spilled off the dogs' curly manes and tails, glinting off their bulbous lacquered eyes. Shan shivered. She wished that she could walk around them instead of between their celestial gaze, but she couldn't, not without raising suspicion.
Between the dogs, set into the base of the mountain, were a pair of gold-covered doors inlaid with two dragons, one Eastern and one Western. The perfect symbols for a person caught between worlds, just like Shan.
These were doors to Victor Ashton's underground fortress, his Shangri-La.
The man leading their party walked forward and rang a gong hidden behind the left fu dog pillar. Its low, brassy tones filled the forest with an eerie calm. A few moments later, the gold-encrusted doors swung open.
They filed inside without a word. No one, including Shan, wanted to disturb the silence as they walked down a sloped passage into the belly of the mountain. Sconces hung at regular intervals on the wall, lit with electricity instead of candles. So Ashton had his own generator, Shan thought. Not surprising. It gave him even more control over his guests, especially since a cell phone would never work this far from civilization and this far underground.
After a few minutes, the hallway turned and opened into a vast chamber that soared fifty feet high and felt like the inside of a huge pagoda. Reds, blacks, golds, and flickering firelight covered the walls in intricate Chinese patterns. A gorgeous gilt dragon curled in the center of the square room, its body glistening with water that spilled from a hole far above in the room's ceiling.
Shan struggled to breathe. The room's beauty bit into her chest, and she turned in place, inviting the sensation as she tried to burn the vision into her mind from every angle. Beside her, Ian looked similarly awed as his gaze swept to the fountain, the ceiling, the walls, and back down to the fountain again. Shan swallowed and shook her head. She felt as if they had walked back in time with each step down that long corridor. It was almost too much.
"Please wait," their guide said. "The Director will be with you shortly."
Shan pulled her gaze down from the ceiling and remembered where she was.