The Corpse Ritual, page 1
The
Corpse
Ritual
YIN LEONG
Kampung Kreepy Books
Copyright © 2022 Yin Wilczek
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7371252-4-2
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental. For narrative purposes, I’ve taken liberties in the description of feng shui and certain Washington, D.C., landmarks. Where real agencies and public figures are mentioned, their interactions with the novel’s characters are wholly imaginary, as are qi-hungry mummies.
Books 1 and 2
The Geomancer’s Apprentice
The Forgotten Guardian
Amazon Reader Reviews
— “exciting and original”
— “I'd definitely recommend it to any lover of urban fantasy”
— “captivating & a fun twist on ghost stories”
— “What a delightful, thrilling read”
— “Yin Leong takes us on a wild ride”
— “I love these characters”
— “brilliantly written plots, action scenes”
— “Totally different take on urban fantasy, can’t wait for the next one!”
Dedication
This book would not have been possible without my husband’s patience and technical know-how. Thank you honey, and love always.
This book also is dedicated to the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History. It never fails to fill me with wonder.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
This Series
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
About the Author
From the Author
Landmarks
Cover
Prologue
Carl White was surrounded by the dead. It didn’t bother him in the least.
Until now.
The security guard took great pride in the fact that he worked at one of the most popular museums in the world. Its halls and rooms were filled with all manner of animal, vegetable and mineral. There were frickin’ dinosaurs on the first floor, for crying out loud.
His footsteps were loud as he trod heavily up the stairs and stepped out on the second level. He strolled to the railing and gazed down at the rotunda floor.
He always paused at this spot during his rounds. His eyes were drawn as usual to the massive bull elephant that the museum affectionately nicknamed Henry. The stuffed pachyderm was the first thing visitors saw when they entered the octagonal rotunda, the structural feature that made the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History so recognizable.
Carl used to think that all was right with the world so long as Henry stood guard in the rotunda. If only. Unfortunately, Henry hadn’t managed to protect the United States, let alone the rest of the world, from the worst pandemic since the Spanish flu of 1918.
Carl fingered the mask covering the bottom half of his face. It was because of Covid-19 that the Smithsonian’s museums were now closed to the public. He couldn’t remember the last time the Natural History Museum had closed for such a long period. Not since he began working here, that was for sure.
He took a moment longer to enjoy the museum’s elegance. The rotunda was especially pretty at night, like right now. The entire area was suffused with a glow from the golden globes of light that hung from the ceiling at each floor.
The guard glanced at his watch. He knew he was stalling and it was time to get back to work. He sighed and pushed himself away from the railing. He had only the second floor to patrol before he could return to the security booth. The patrols normally would be conducted with a pair of guards, but he was the only one tonight because of staffing shortages due to people being out sick. The shortage extended beyond the security personnel. He hadn’t seen a single maintenance worker in the building all night.
He’d never minded patrolling the museum before, and he had done it alone plenty of times. The problem was the new anthropological collection from China. It gave him the willies, to be honest. His upper arms were breaking out in goosebumps just thinking about it now.
He started down Bone Hall. He’d traversed this route so often that he no longer noticed the parade of animal skeletons on either side of him. The Egyptian mummies were at the end of the hall. The Chinese exhibition was to the right of the mummies.
His anxiety over the Chinese artifacts was odd given that he had no qualms about the Egyptian mummies. The Egyptian mummies were mere husks of people and animals, so dried-up they would burn in a flash if there ever was a fire. There wasn’t even any corpses to be seen in the Chinese collection. It was just a row of coffins enclosed by glass. He couldn’t understand why he found the exhibits so unsettling.
Carl halted midway down Bone Hall. The museum had shut off many of its lamps to conserve electricity, but there still was enough to see by without having to use a flashlight. The sign for the Egyptian mummies was visible ahead. The entrance to the Chinese exhibition was out of sight, hidden by the turn in the corridor. He was dragging his feet again, but he couldn’t help himself. He strained his ears, listening for unusual noises.
Even without the hordes of tourists, the building was anything but quiet. The myriad machines and devices necessary to safeguard the museum’s precious collections had their individual hums, drones and clicks. His ears had become attuned to the sounds over the years.
Everything seemed fine. He was about to move forward when something drowned out the machinery’s soft whirs. It took him a second to identify the noise and its source. The banging sounds came from the exhibition space containing the Chinese artifacts. He froze, his heart beating wildly, before his training took over. He broke into a clumsy run, his hand reaching for the walkie-talkie on his hip.
He turned the corner and paused at the entrance. It was darker here than Bone Hall. The banging became louder and more urgent. His heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the dark shape hammering at the glass near the front of the large chamber. His brain slowly processed that the figure was behind the glass.
He blinked, hardly believing his eyes. Had a worker been shut in the display by accident? Or was it someone who had broken in and now was trapped?
He pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and called in the intruder. The bangs continued, loud and insistent, while he spoke with the police.
The figure was still striking the glass when he replaced his walkie-talkie. “Stop that,” he shouted. “You’re going to break the glass. The police are on their way.”
He whipped out his flashlight and approached warily. He aimed the light at the hunched shape on the other side of the glass. His jaw dropped when he saw what it was. Terror constricted his chest and his scream lodged in his throat.
The figure attacked the glass with renewed frenzy when Carl’s light fell upon it. The security guard heard a sharp crack and a line appeared in the pane. He didn’t have time to protect his face and eyes when the glass gave way, showering him with fragments. He yelled in fright and stumbled backwards. His ankle twisted sideways. He spilled to the ground.
Carl gagged at the horrible stench that enveloped him. He pulled his gun from its holster and squeezed off one shot. He couldn’t possibly have missed at such close range.
The bullet didn’t slow the figure down one bit.
Chapter 1
“Guard dead in brazen Smithsonian museum robbery,” the Washington Post headline stated. The article stood out because it was practically the only news unrelated to the coronavirus disease, better known as Covid-19.
Joe put his coffee cup down and smoothed out his newspaper. According to the report, Officer Carl White, 56, was killed in the line of duty while trying to stop a robbery at the National Museum of Natural History. The robbery occurred the night before last. The short article didn’t state what, if anything, was stolen. It didn’t even say how the security guard had died.
He was speculating that the robbers had tried to steal the Hope Diamond when his mother’s voice intruded into his thoughts.
“Mr. Chang, this is Elsie from Joseph Tham’s office. That’s right
A pause. “Sir, you cannot possibly blame us for the closure of your business,” she said, her British accent making every word crisp and clear. “You hired Mr. Tham and his associate Junie Soong to evaluate and improve the energy in your retail establishments. They’ve delivered the required services. It’s the D.C. government that shut you down.”
Joe tried to refocus his attention on the Post article. Would he ever get used to his mother working in the office? Although they now were on much better terms, he still found the sound of her voice unnerving. He had to admit, though, that she put it to good use in cowing delinquent customers.
Elsie was stabbed three months ago by Pearl, her stepdaughter and Joe’s half sister. So much had happened since then.
Elsie told him while she was in the hospital that she intended to move back to Washington, D.C. She said she wanted to be more involved in Joe’s feng shui consultancy. He had hoped at the time that she wasn’t serious.
It turned out she was. Elsie was nothing if not single-minded. After she recovered from her injury, she went apartment hunting with the help of Ch’ng Sze Ho, the retired academic Joe and Junie met while investigating their last paranormal case. After learning that the man could read traditional Chinese, Joe had hired Sze Ho to translate his father and grandfather’s journals.
Elsie found a two-bedroom unit close enough to the office that she could walk to work.
It had been a struggle at first to find something that his mother could do. Joe had started her out as a receptionist, which left her plenty of free time given they didn’t get many calls or walk-in customers. With all that free time, Elsie eventually unearthed Joe’s hoard of unpaid customer bills.
He was the first to admit he wasn’t the most organized person in the world. The firm’s finances were a mess. He forgot which customers hadn’t yet paid.
Elsie didn’t just sort out the unpaid bills—she straightened out the practice’s accounts and created a spreadsheet to keep track of expenses and customer payments. She even set up a system of late fees that she enforced with rigor. It turned out his mother was a genius at bill collecting.
Joe was more than happy to leave her to it. The office was settling into a routine when Covid-19 brought the world to its knees.
On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization declared Covid-19 a global pandemic. On the same day, D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser announced that the district was in a state of emergency. Two days later, President Donald Trump proclaimed that the entire nation was in a state of emergency.
On March 24, Bowser instructed all nonessential businesses in the district to close. Following on that, the mayor issued a stay-at-home order directing D.C. residents to remain in their homes except in limited circumstances.
Joe had suggested that Elsie work from home while the pandemic restrictions were in place. “We’re shutting down like everyone else,” he explained. “There will be little for you to do here. You might as well stay home and make whatever calls you need to from there.”
Elsie hadn’t liked the fact that Joe wanted Sze Ho to continue translating the journals at the office. “If he’s working here then I intend to be here as well,” she announced with a note of finality.
Joe’s father Tham Jing Lung, also known as the Golden Dragon, was murdered when Joe was 10 years old. His mother was determined to find out who killed him. She hoped the journals held some clues.
Elsie had found the four journals hidden among her husband’s things after his death. Only three of the books were her husband’s. The last journal belonged to Tham Tiar Lung, Joe’s grandfather, the Iron Dragon.
Joe couldn’t dissuade Elsie from her goal so both she and Sze Ho continued to work at the office. Joe tried to salve his conscience by rationalizing that the four of them—himself, Junie, Elsie and Sze Ho—formed a family pod. They ate most of their meals at Joe’s dining table. The grocery shopping fell to either Junie or Joe.
April was now almost over, but there was no end in sight for the pandemic. With the feng shui consultancy shuttered, Joe’s only income was the payments Elsie recovered and the rent he collected from the Laughing Buddha. Joe owned the three-story building in Chinatown that housed his office and apartment. The cafe occupied the building’s first and second floors. The Laughing Buddha couldn’t offer dine-in service, but luckily for its landlord, it was doing a brisk business in takeout and deliveries.
Joe also managed to make a little money from selling charms to customers who wanted to ward off ill effects from Covid-19. However, the longer the pandemic stuck around, the less faith his customers had in the amulets. He hoped none of them would demand his or her money back.
He looked up from his paper after Elsie ended her call with the customer. “Where’s Sze Ho?” he asked.
“He’ll be here after he makes an urgent phone call. It’s something to do with mummies, he said.”
“What? Whose mother?”
Elsie gave him a withering look. “Not that kind of mummy,” she said. “The dead kind. You know, King Tut.”
“Oh.” Joe couldn’t help feeling curious. It had been a boring day so far.
“Where’s Junie?” Elsie asked. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”
“She’s out on a delivery run,” he said.
* * *
Junie hastily applied the brakes when a taxi cut in front of her little scooter. Traffic was light thanks to the pandemic closures, but the D.C. roads were still a dog-eat-dog world.
She zipped under the Friendship Archway, the imposing Chinese-style gate that stood at the entrance of Chinatown. She beeped her horn at a jaywalker and turned left. The soft spring breeze lifted her hair from her face as she sped down 7th Street Northwest. She gave the finger to an SUV that honked at her as she slowed down to make a right turn onto E Street Northwest. Navigating the city streets brought out the worst in her.
She was heading for the J. Edgar Hoover Building, the headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Her scooter was loaded with cartons of food from the Laughing Buddha.
She was lucky that Noah Redmond, the cafe’s manager, needed extra help with food deliveries. She probably got the job because they were dating. She didn’t own a car, but Noah supplied her with the ancient scooter that she now was using.
He told her the bike had been left behind by one of the cafe’s former delivery people. He made her practice on the vehicle until he was satisfied that she could operate it safely.
Junie made it through the FBI’s security checkpoint and found a parking space. She took off her helmet and hung it on one of the bike’s handlebars. She slipped on her mask and adjusted her glasses over the face covering before unstrapping the tote bag that contained the food. She slung the bag on her shoulder and walked up to a side entrance.
The guards at the entrance watched her narrowly while she called the customers on her cell phone to tell them that their food had arrived. It wasn’t long before two masked men dressed in suits came to the door. She handed the cartons to them. They handed her some money.
Their business was transacted with the minimum of words exchanged. The guards kept their eyes on her until she mounted the scooter and rode away.
The Laughing Buddha paid her a flat fee for every delivery, and most of the customers were generous with their tips. Although it didn’t make up for her lost pay from the feng shui business, it was still better than nothing. Junie knew she shouldn’t complain. Many people were a lot worse off than she was.
Joe was letting her stay at the apartment rent-free, and he only asked for a nominal amount from her each month to cover food and household costs. Her biggest expense was her martial arts classes with Shifu Devon Wang.
She started the classes in February. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately given her straitened circumstances, the wushu training had to be shelved after the mayor announced D.C.’s pandemic restrictions. Still, Junie wanted to save up as much as she could for when the classes started up again.
Devon was teaching her to fight with the wooden sword and the staff. To his credit, he hadn’t asked too many questions when she approached him for one-on-one training. He also hadn’t blinked an eye when she showed him her weapons of choice. He had taken her requests in stride and devised a training schedule in which he taught her a series of offensive and defensive moves for each weapon.
