I was going to have to defy Sacristan Wang and take on Isiris. Stop her, somehow. There was no other option.
“I won’t have enough support,” I said weakly. “I’m not—I’ve only had the first Rite. If I try to claim VisionCrest, there’s no telling how the Ministry will react. They might try to imprison me—or worse.”
“You cannot imprison something you do not have,” she said.
“So, at this press conference, I’m supposed to claim leadership of VisionCrest instead of giving it to Sacristan Wang? And then disappear out from under everyone’s noses?” I asked, incredulous. It sounded absolutely ridiculous. Ridiculous and impossible.
Madam Wang didn’t seem to think so. She looked gravely up at me and nodded. “Mei Mei will be your guide.”
When dawn broke an hour later, an army of servant girls flooded the room to help get me ready for the press conference. Madam Wang had abandoned me after our conversation, and the moment she departed, my anxiety doubled. There was no static in my head, no sign of Isiris’s voice. All was uncharacteristically silent, and that was even more unsettling.
When we were ready to leave, I was ushered to a town car waiting in the drive. I expected to be greeted by the Sacristan’s sneer, but instead came face-to-face with Dora and Stubin’s nervous grins. Adam sat across from them, stone-faced.
Part of me was relieved and the other part horrified. Whatever was going to happen at the press conference, there was a good chance it was going to be bad. I reluctantly took the empty seat beside Adam.
“Isn’t this exciting? A private tour of Zijin Cheng—the Forbidden City!” Stubin said.
“After what happened to Mercy last night, I wouldn’t exactly call it exciting,” Dora replied. Stubin’s smile sagged.
“Where’s everyone else?” I asked.
“They left in vans this morning,” Adam said, his voice monotone.
I hoped that Sacristan Wang had been true to his bargain and sent them home; right now I desperately needed to believe that he had.
“I was so worried about you, but then they told me the good news about your father finally arriving. It’s awesome, but I didn’t think you would be gone all freakin’ night,” Dora said.
“Yeah,” I said, not sure what to say.
Dora looked at me funny. As usual, she knew something was off.
“Did you know the Ministry modeled the VisionCrest compound off the Imperial Palace design—a walled city with North, South, East, and West gates?” Stubin asked.
“Four gates and a wall. What a novel concept.” Dora’s eyes were steady on me, gauging my reaction. “We got a message from my father. According to Madam Wang, ‘the illustrious Prelate Elber is holding down the Ministry fort in Twin Falls, but he says the General’s press conference is going to be a veritable who’s who of the VisionCrest elite.’”
I thanked the universe for small favors—Dora’s father would be absent, which meant one less loved one to stress over.
“Most of the other Ministry officials will be there because of what happened to Mercy. Out of respect for her family … ” Stubin said, trailing off at the end of the sentence as he looked at the hard lines of Adam’s face.
Dora gave Stubin a conciliatory kiss on the cheek. “Or maybe just to see your adorable face,” she said.
I gave them the most enthusiastic smile I could muster, determined not to set off Dora’s friend-dar any further. Adam sat stiffly next to me, but as far as Dora knew, he was still grieving Mercy’s death and on the outs with me.
Everyone I cared about—who was still alive, that is—was in this car. Today would be a success if they all got out of China by the end of it, no matter what else happened. I needed to stay focused on that. I had no idea how Mei Mei was going to get us past the Watch, or what I planned to do if we managed to miracle up some kind of escape.
When we arrived outside the red-walled fortress of the Forbidden City, I expected to be swarmed by the usual menagerie of VisionCrest devotees. The General’s press conferences were a big deal, tirelessly promoted by the VisonCrest marketing machine and attracting thousands of people. Instead of being mobbed, however, we pulled up next to a vacant sidewalk. A massive structure towered overhead, its blood-red base topped with a crimson colonnade and two-tiered sloping roof that looked like a multicolored marzipan. Hidden at ground level were several sets of immense, weather-worn red wooden doors, twenty feet high and adorned with gold rivets. The doors on the left creaked open, revealing a phalanx of Watchers on the other side.
As the doors shut behind us, I realized that our arrival was truly unnoticed. Not even the inevitable pocket of haranguers who followed the Ministry around, accusing them of being false prophets, was present. It was eerie.
According to Sacristan Wang, most if not all of the Ministry would be in attendance today to witness his coronation. For all their sophistication, the Ministry was so self-involved that they apparently hadn’t noticed the corruption within their ranks. Just like they’d missed the fact that the Patriarch had disappeared and their children had been taken hostage. I wondered if any of them were part of the army Madam Wang had alluded to, or how many of them knew of the plot and had sided with Sacristan Wang. Either way, they considered themselves invincible.
They could think again.
The Watchers escorted us across the grounds. We wound our way along a tree-lined path, the heels of the Watchers’ boots clicking against the concrete like an ominous metronome. We came to a ramp that led to a second gate, several stories tall and even brighter red than the first we’d passed through. Another massive set of riveted double doors stood open, and waiting on the other side of them was Sacristan Wang, Madam Wang impassive at his side. When we reached them, Sacristan Wang greeted us with an expansive sweep of his arm.
“Welcome to the Forbidden City. You have just entered through the East Glorious Gate. Over there is the Meridian Gate, which marks the official entrance to the former city of the Emperors.” He nodded his head in the direction of a structure that towered to our left—if the first gate was a marzipan confection, the Meridian Gate was a many-tiered wedding cake, its sloping roofs a horizontal stairway to heaven. “The press conference will take place beyond the Meridian Gate, on the balcony of the Gate of Heavenly Peace overlooking Tiananmen Square. Some people call the Gate of Heavenly Peace the entrance to the Forbidden City, but some people
are wrong. The Meridian is the true entrance.”
“Thanks for the history lesson,” I said, smiling like I absolutely did not mean it. Wang’s eyebrows fell together in an irritated V.
“The preparations will take a bit more time,” Madam Wang said. “We invite you to take a look around. Take in the culture.” She raised an eyebrow at me as Wang hitched his cuff and glanced at his watch. “We must go. The Watch will be radioed to retrieve you when everything is ready for your announcement.”
The Wangs retreated, heading through the Meridian Gate. A pack of Watchers escorted them, and a few stayed behind to watch over us.
I surveyed the abandoned grounds—they must have closed it to tourists. I knew exactly why the Sacristan was keeping us isolated; he didn’t want me near any Ministry members until the very last moment, just in case I might betray his true intentions
“What does he mean, your announcement?” Dora looked hard at me, her suspicions suddenly raised.
No words came. I didn’t want to lie to her.
“Harlow’s introducing the Patriarch,” Adam answered, rescuing me. If I didn’t hate his guts, I might have been grateful.
“I realize I’m risking my teen-angst image by saying this, but this is actually sort of badass. Harlow’s finally getting credit for her awesomeness, against a backdrop of Forbidden City Meets Nuclear Winter,” Dora said, appraising the scene.
She was right. Slate-gray clouds tumbled over buildings so grandiose they looked fake—li
ke cardboard cutouts of ancient Imperial palaces. There wasn’t a soul in sight. It was a little Armageddony.
The Sacristan’s black-clad minions hovered near us, our inevitable shadows. It occurred to me that these might be my final moments with my friends—the last semi-normal thing to ever happen to us; or the last thing to ever happen to us, period.
“Would you guys mind if I whisked my concubine off on a private tour?” Stubin asked.
“Oh, um. Sure. Of course not,” I lied.
Dora looked at me warily. “You seem like something’s up,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“Harlow and I got in a little argument. We could use the time alone to talk,” Adam said.
I shot him a scathing glance. But I wanted Dora to have this time with Stubin; she might need something good to hold on to later.
“Nothing’s up. But listen,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “If I don’t get a chance to talk to you guys before the press conference, I just want to say how much you mean to me.”
“Okay,” Dora said hesitantly, narrowing her eyes. “Is there any particular reason you feel compelled to share that right now?”
I looked at the ground, and then back up to her. “No. Just—you know—after what happened to Mercy, I’m feeling a little shaken up. I just want you to know how much I love you.”
She grabbed me and hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“Okay, okay. We’ll see you in bit. Have fun,” I insisted.
“Twist my arm.” Dora broke into a smile. “We’ll see you in two shakes.”
She tugged at Stubin’s sleeve and they started over a limestone bridge that led up to the squat, slope-roofed buildings of the Forbidden City’s inner courtyards. They created a perfect silhouette against the sky, Dora tilting her head toward Stubin’s shoulder. Adam and I stood there in silence watching them skip off, their clasped hands swinging between them.
For the first time in my life, I did not want to be alone with Adam. I set out across the plaza—with Adam, and then the Watchers, trailing at a distance.
MIRROR, MIRROR
Two enormous jade lion statues flanked the building in front of me. The tiered, red-tiled roof made it look like a giant Asian gingerbread house with a huge, square cutout in the middle.
“It’s the Gate of Supreme Harmony,” Adam said from behind me.
I ignored him and kept walking. He could take his Supreme Harmony and shove it.
I approached the building and trudged up the steps. A pang of heartache stung me as I heard Adam’s footsteps following. Cresting the staircase, I froze. The arch I was passing through was a gateway, and stretching out before me was an immense plaza, open to the sky. The stone that once covered it was now just a worn patchwork of gray poking its way out of a mossy green sea.
On the far side of the plaza, there was another building, similar to the gateway I’d just passed through, only much more massive. It looked like a buxom Chinese mistress squatting on a stool. Her sloped, tiled red roof was ninety percent of the building, with just a bare suggestion of arching entryways peeking out from beneath her skirts.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. It just slipped out.
“Yes, it is,” Adam agreed.
“I was talking to myself, not you.” I scanned the width of the plaza and took in the dozens of smaller pavilions that matched the mother ship. It would take a month to see all there was to see.
“You hate me, Harlow. I get it. Believe me, I hate myself.” Adam tilted his head down toward me and I permitted myself a glance back up at him.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “You’re just not the person I thought you were.”
“We’re standing in the Gate of Supreme Harmony,” he said, choosing to ignore the venom in my words. “And that … ” He pointed. I hated the way my traitorous eyes still tracked the sinewy curve of his arm. “That’s the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The central axis of the Forbidden City, where the Emperors were enthroned and married.”
His stare was the same deep blue sea of mystery it always was, which contained no answers. There was no possibility of understanding what he had done, but maybe I had it in me to forgive him. Then again, maybe not.
I started out of the pavilion, crossing the plaza toward the Hall without a word. I heard Adam’s steps behind me again, and farther behind, those of the Watchers. I wished Adam would just go away, and at the same time I needed to not be alone.
I walked inside the Hall. A bronze cylinder with markings on it in a language I didn’t recognize towered before me. It looked like a giant spool on a sewing machine, except it had the aura of something mystical. Without ever having seen this before, I knew it was holy. A thick scent of burning cedar filled the room.
“This is a Tibetan prayer wheel. You put your hand on it and walk around it in a circle. And then you send your prayers up to Heaven,” Adam said.
“When did you become the expert on Chinese history?” I asked.
“I’ve been reading a lot the last few months. Anything to keep my mind off what I’ve done.”
“How’s that been working for you?” I asked.
“Not very well,” he said.
I put my hand on the wheel and walked in a circle. Adam did the same, on the opposite side. I glanced over my shoulder—the Watchers were at the bottom of the stairs, within sight but out of earshot.
“Those Watchers are on our side,” Adam said.
I looked at him. In the half-light of the pavilion, his features seemed sharper. “Our side?”
“Didn’t Madam Wang tell you about the Resistance?” he asked.
“Does Madam Wang ever speak in anything but riddles?”
He chuckled, even though there was nothing joking about my tone. “No, I guess not,” he said.
“You obviously want to tell me something, so just tell me already,” I said.
He sighed. “I don’t know that much. I was contacted by a lower-level Sacristan in Twin Falls several months ago on behalf of Madam Wang. She’d turned on Isiris once she realized it wasn’t the Inner Eye speaking through her, but something malevolent. It was too late to stop what had been set in motion. Isiris was communicating through her, and she couldn’t control it. Plotting with Sacristan Wang and a network of conspirators—people at the highest levels of the Ministry. But whenever Isiris was absent, Madam Wang worked with a shadow network, a group of believers who’d rallied to stop it. They’re underground, but according to Madam Wang, they have means. They call themselves the Resistance.”
“So you want me to believe that you’re a member of some sort of benevolent shadow organization called the Resistance, instead of a traitor?” I asked.
“No,” Adam said. “I refused to hear her emissary out. I only started to listen after what happened to Mercy.”
“Are you in love with Mercy?” I asked.
“You should know by now.”
He couldn’t have caught my heart in my throat more effectively if he’d had it on the end of a spear.
“The only girl I’ve ever loved is you,” he said.
“You have a funny definition of love.” I fixated on the letters of the prayer wheel. Somehow, slowly turning circles around this wheel with Adam was suffusing me with a gradual peace.
“I wonder what the inscription means,” I added.
“It’s Sanskrit. Om mani padme hum. If you recite it, you approach enlightenment.”
“Om mani padme hum,” I said, pressing my hand against the prayer wheel. Om mani padme hum. I was definitely feeling a resonant vibration, but it wasn’t enlightenment. The buzz was back—Isiris was near.
My breath caught in my throat. The prayer wheel shushed to a stop.
“Let me help you, Harlow.”
The weight of Adam’s words pressed down on me. I couldn’t accept his help; there was no way to
trust him. The darkness of the pavilion stood between us like a ghost. Still, I could see the blue of Adam’s eyes looking into mine.
“Did Isiris say what she intends to do with me?” I asked.
Adam looked wounded. “Just that you belonged inside the temple.”
The thought of being trapped somewhere with the person who had tormented me my entire life was unbearable.
“If it saved the people that I loved, I’d have to give it some serious thought,” I said.
“I wouldn’t let you do that,” he said.
“It’s not a matter of letting me anything, Adam,” I countered. A question sparked in my mind. “Do you think the reason she tattooed you is so you’ll always remember you belong to her?”
“I don’t belong to her,” he said, quiet but angry.
I only raised my eyebrows in response.
“I think she did it to protect me,” he said.
“Protect you from what?”
“She didn’t say, but I’ve thought about it a lot. At first, I thought Isiris meant the tattoos as a talisman. But then I thought about all her talk of purifying the world. About your bloody visions, and what happened to Mercy. I’ve been putting it all together … and I wonder if, maybe, the tattoos actually make me an inoculated carrier of whatever thing she plans to unleash … ”
“What’s an inoculated carrier?” I asked.
“Someone who’s been injected with an attenuated version of the virus, a version that’s been mutated to make it non-lethal. Basically that’s what a vaccine is. Maybe that’s what I am—a carrier.”
My knees went weak at the thought. But that couldn’t be it.
“Wang’s a virologist,” I said. “If anyone’s making a virus, it’s him. He has a lab in the basement of his house. It’s massive—he’s definitely not working alone. Whatever they’re making down there is what infected Mercy. I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe it’s only a matter of time. Or maybe it needs some kind of catalyst to set it off,” Adam said.
The Violet Hour Page 15