Chasing Moonflowers, page 23
“I have the same one.” Ling pulled up the right sleeve of her cardigan and lifted her arm. “It was from when I was small, from a traveler on my father’s boat. He… you have one too.”
They both looked at each other stunned.
Wai lifted his chin. “What does this mean?”
“It means….” Ling didn’t care that she was jumping to conclusions. His tattoo was in the exact location as hers. This wasn’t a coincidence. “It means you are my father.”
They stared at one another.
“This cannot be.” Wai studied the shapes on Ling’s arm.
“How many people do you know with the exact markings as you?”
“None,” he admitted. “Although, I never really searched for them. I thought… I was once a sailor. Every seafarer has some ink, even the proper ones. I don’t remember where….” He scratched his head as his voice trailed off.
Ling remembered, as clearly as if it were yesterday, an enchanted woman poking their skins with a sharped sting ray barb. The mixture of squid ink and tar tingled on her skin. Bonding daughter and father together with the signs of protection.
She could tell Wai was overwhelmed. “The person who gifted these markings to us said it would help us find each other.” Joy burst through her heart. While this wasn’t the reunion she had imagined, it was enough. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Wai, accepting that he must be her father.
Wai cleared his throat. “If you are my daughter, then that means the missing twins are my sons?”
Ling let go and stepped back. In a matter of hours, she had gained a father, but risked losing her brothers. The facts were sobering. She nodded silently.
He bit his lip. “I am sorry, I do not remember,” he said, sobbing into his hands.
Their relationship required more time. Like growing apples from a seed, warmth and nurture were keys. Ling felt the distress from her father’s cries. “Father. I mean, Wai. Let’s take our time. We can ask my mother, too.”
Wai wiped his sleeve across his face. He smiled and nodded to the proposal. “We will be reunited. And your mother, my wife, is still alive?”
“She is.” Although Ling wondered what Ahma might think. Would she be furious at her for defying Dabak? If she was mad about redeeming the wage money, then her father’s return was a death sentence for Dabak. However, right now, they needed to get to the twins.
Wai spread out the moonflower petals and filled separate satchels. “We will both need these to stop Wupo.”
“I saw the creature push flowers into Lady Tun’s mouth.” Ling only cared to dictate facts. The things she had witnessed with her own eyes. “What does it do?”
Wai found the entry in the secret book. “Death is elusive for those bound to the spell. One must disinfect their physical energy.”
Over his shoulder, Ling read the long list of natural sources purported to snuff out the curse’s hold: garlic, oregano, and saliva of fruit bats. The solution, however, ended abruptly. Pages had been torn out.
Ling stared out of a clear pane of glass. She looked out into the nothingness of the ocean. Lights on ships dotted the dark horizon. If only Langley had been able to stay and teach her about the ancient ways. To be prepared for this moment, she needed time to study. A glimpse of the power that lingered in Ling’s mind. Of course, two men counseled against her seeking unlimited powers. What could she do? She would still be a struggling healer with the responsibility of caring for her family.
“If the flowers do not cure, then why bother to dampen the powers?” Ling had seen the spectrum of the effects of the blood disease. Langley had ability beyond her imagination. Aunt Marcella, in comparison, had voluntarily become a sad and feeble version of her former self. Ling thirsted for the bolder of the two options.
Wai sighed. “Death is the only cure, and as we read, even that is hard to come by. You say power or li. Power by the curse has no comparison to what you know. It requires deep and dark suffering. By the end, you will rip out your own eyes. Pardon the analogy. I learned to appreciate my humanity, and this is what I want.”
“Can you still pass it on?” Ling studied the stem of the rose. Every plant protected themselves, especially the most beautiful ones. Yet, the sharp thorns couldn’t prevent it from being plucked from its bush.
“By rite, bite, or blood. R’lyehsan, Xh’algh, Vhul’tak.” Wai shook his head. “Not every bite turns someone into a beast. Vampires were once human. Their bite infects a person with a bacterium, which then must be re-activated by drinking the host’s blood. To turn into a beast yourself, a victim must allow the evil to flourish willingly.” He closed his eyes. “The curse’s full effects will give you anything you wanted. You will also gain everything you did not want.”
It was obvious Wai was trying to warn Ling. She recalled the famous quote: Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men. But what would power do for a woman?
Ling dipped her nose inside the head of the rose. Breathing in its sweetness, she recalled the soda shop and her best friend’s smile. She walked into the most shadowy corner of the hall. Crushing the velvety petals between her fingers, she forced the stem deep into her wrist. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the thorns cut through layers into her soul. The twisting motion slashed deep valleys along the underside of her forearms.
The earthy tinge of copper spiced the air. Instantly, Wai’s eyes shut. “I don’t want to do this.”
“If I turn, then I can save my brothers. And you can regain your memories.” Ling pleaded. “Don’t you want to know your home again? After I rescue the twins, I can take the moonflowers and attend medical school.” Warm blood dripped down Ling’s arm and pooled on the floor.
A longing flashed across his face as he bowed his head, still for a moment. Then there was a horrible blur of motion. In an instant, everything turned black.
Thirty-Eight
Wai drank with a tortured expression. Ling’s head went back as her veins pulsed. She felt her body become jelly and then concrete. Her eyes fluttered and closed. She sank into her regrets. Her goals were modest, to live on the island and become a doctor. She didn’t accept gentlemen callers, hadn’t concluded her studies, and never strayed too far from her mother’s advice. She was a flower collapsing into its center, like the millions that fade at the end of each spring. Beautiful colors wilting into decay. Her mind suspended over her roots as darkness swept over.
Wai released her. “What have I done?” He wiped his lips. “I am sorry, Ling. My… my… neoiji.” Her body convulsed, and he held her head. “You were correct.”
Wai stirred. A part of her stayed with him in the unlit corridor, while another part was plunged into nothingness. She could see him from her mind’s eye on another plane. Yet, she had no way to respond right then.
Wai ran back to the room and returned with garden shears. He sliced into his own wrists with the muddy blades, then wrung the bitter drops into Ling’s mouth. The thick liquid collected on her tongue. Her heartbeat quickened; each pulse carried in new sensations and otherworldly memories. Pieces of bones and broken flesh came apart inside multiple lives. Her sluggishness metamorphosed into weightlessness.
In her mind, she saw a boy. He cried over a pile of ashes. Only a brick fireplace remained of a once two-story building. Was this a dream? This boy transformed into a skinny teen who ran barefoot through the nine-dragon mountain range with all the courage in the world. Not once being scared, not once calling out to his dead mother. Longing replaced the happiness on young boy’s face as he morphed into a man. She realized that the child was her father.
Her father grilled catches from the Pearl River Delta coastline. The memories this time brought her face-to-face with a little girl in pigtails. With a detached surprise, she realized that this was her. Sometimes Ling had accompanied her father on his voyages. His captain’s quarters were clad with oak panels. Intricate stories were carved into pictures telling of heroes who sailed into storms and wrestled monsters. Ling shifted through more memories. The pigtailed girl hugged her pregnant Ahma while her father grilled shrimp and sardines. The girl played with Enlai, still innocent then.
Turning to a specific feeling or thoughts was like skimming the pages of a book. The index was intuitive. She changed scenes on command, moving between people and time.
Where had her father been for so long?
The rips on her wrist burned. Heat radiated from them, transmitting the tactile and ephemeral. Like her father, her body was unwilling to die. She forced her mind onto the hull of a ship. One she had never seen. The name K. Hooper was painted on the ship’s bow. Trepidation filled this memory. Her father was peering through an opening under the deck. In the distance a verdant coastline came into view. Would they land here?
Tension crowded the hull. Battered and bruised, the men’s hands were bound; they were squatting next to a pile of rotting corpses. An oily stench of spoiled meat lingered in the tight quarters. She was looking at this horrific scene through her father’s frantic eyes. She was seeing him and feeling his fear. He had wanted to go home. He had longed for his family. She felt awful for him, but a part of her was also secretly elated. Ling hadn’t been discarded.
This wasn’t the end of the story.
Anger seethed inside Ling. To the soldiers, sailors, and captors, her and her father’s lives didn’t matter. They were cattle. These were her foes. He had not returned because a slaver had held him against his will.
Now, Ling had the same ailment that coursed through Aunt Marcella and her father. The idea of turning into a monster had once scared her. With her new knowledge, she realized these were childish fears.
“I know you are in there.” Her father patted her face.
His touch radiated warmth on her skin. It grounded her. The gentleness of his words exuded care. Most of her life had been borne from his absence.
He tested her breath and pulse. “Find your brothers. Your mind can take you anywhere. Do not be hasty. Remember that the protective herbs can hurt you now. To stop Wupo, drain her blood and remove the stolen eyes from her sockets.” He gritted his teeth. “I believe in you, Ling. I saw how you have kept our family strong.”
Sensation returned to Ling’s fingers. She wiggled her pinky and opened her eyes. Her mouth and cheeks were still numb, but she could see his face clearly in the dark. His face was now a composite of all the ones in her memory. From the little boy to the sullen prisoner on an island, he was much more than her father.
“Cut her throat with the golden knife. Not your bite. You must not drink her blood.” Her father placed a sheathed dagger in her bag. “Wupo’s blood will only bind you deeper to the curse. You will inherit her entanglement.”
Once again, she heard Dabak call out their names. “I am sorry.” Footsteps vibrated against the floor. Ling pulled herself against the wall.
Dabak turned the corner and yelped. “Ling, what’s wrong?” He pressed two fingers against her neck. He turned to Wai. “Did you slip?”
There was a long pause.
“Her lips are pale.” He stood up in an aggressive stance. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was my daughter?” Her father’s voice shook. “Brother.”
“I couldn’t… you were… How did…? What happened?” Dabak turned to face Wai. They embraced. “You couldn’t even recall your birth name in the morning.” Her uncle cried into Ba’s shoulder.
Away with you. Ba mouthed the words while holding onto Dabak. I’ll explain it all to him and your mother.
Ling slid to an open window. She concentrated on Aunt Marcella. She was at Queen’s pier. Ling chose there. Her body floated, every muscle and hair enlivened by the change. She couldn’t believe it until her feet left the ground. She hovered over the two men. Being untethered to the floor took her a few seconds to comprehend. It felt like climbing swiftly up on a ladder, forever.
The higher she lifted, the easier it became. She elevated herself and slipped outside. Under the dark sky, the stars and night enveloped her. Winds from every direction carried secrets from other lands. She drifted over the tops of buildings, first the school and then the foreign mansions. Even from Kowloon, she could see across the bay.
Aunt Marcella sat on a bench with gas lamps flickering. She flinched as Ling touched her feet to the ground.
I came to see you. Ling said nothing aloud, projecting the thought.
Aunt Marcella craned her neck. Her head darted from one direction to another. She was aghast. “What have you done?” Their minds connected, seamlessly sharing their histories.
Ling touched her aunt’s quivering hand. She heard blood pumping from Aunt Marcella’s heart to her fingertips. Between them, different paths were illuminated. Why did you ever give up this power? Ling was certain now; her destiny would no longer be forged by others.
“Love. I was young and foolish.” Aunt Marcella spoke to the wind. A forlornness spread across her face. “Where are your brothers?”
Her brothers were nearby.
Smells from the sea engulfed Ling. With her new senses, she observed creatures moving under the waves. Past the salt and seaweed, she inhaled the fragrant turmeric, ginger, and pepper inside the passing ships. A mosquito buzzed over flowers. Ling focused on the bug’s wings and then further into its belly full of blood. She caught a faint scent of Kit.
Where have you been, little mosquito?
Aunt Marcella pulled a blanket across her chest. “Be cautious of the sun.”
Ling kissed her aunt’s cheek and then launched from the pier toward the mountains. Her feet grazed the cresting waves, tickling a poem in her.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls.
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
She first stopped at the medicine stand, smelling the twins sitting under Banyan trees. Kit’s and Gou’s location was miles away, more than halfway up the side of the highest cliff. The brigade would never have found them. At least not before their captor mutilated and gutted their bodies.
Ling was cautious when projecting near the twins; she knew that Wupo was near. She must be subtle and not allow her presence to be detected. Dirt clung to their sweaty skin swollen from mosquito bites. They were alive. Wupo sat on the other side of a fire, digging into the belly of a calf. She had plucked out the poor cow’s eyes. Mixing with the raw intestines and burning of manure in the center of the fire, the oracle’s physical form rotted.
As quiet as she could, Ling sang the rhyme:
Three Blind Mice.
You will have your eyes.
First, run away from the soldier’s wife.
Who stole two boys from their bed.
Did you ever hear a snake in the woods save the little ones?
Her brothers’ ears perked up. They were bound to a tree at the edge of a clearing. As tears fell down their cheeks, Ling crossed her fingers.
They have no eyes. They have no eyes. The boys gazed into the dark forest, waiting for a creature to pounce.
They all ran away from the cow-eating witch. The brothers looked at each other in surprise.
“Help?” Gou whispered. His eyes puffy from crying.
Yet, a bird will pluck out the wretched eyes.
Kit and Gou bit their lips.
What else is to gather about the fire site?
Kit covered his face with his hands. “Water hurts her,” he mumbled into his palms.
The bird will be there. Chirp Chirp.
Ling quieted her mind just as Wupo started to listen.
“Shoo birds,” Wupo yelled toward the trees. Innards clung to the side of her face. “Or I’ll barbecue you for breakfast.” She cackled, shaking tree branches. The sound grated Ling to the bone. But Wupo had only caught the very end of her message, and did not understand it.
Every fiber in Ling’s body wanted to race into the forest. But she paused. Consulting the book of secrets, she read the pages in lightning speed, no longer struggling with the obscure meanings. She learned that smoke from bay and mugwort leaves weakened the entanglement’s hold. Then, she gathered ingredients, pulverizing them to a fine powder, careful not to touch the herbs herself. Her training served her well here. She poured the mixture into a glass jar.
Passing Emma’s house, she couldn’t resist peeking inside her friend’s bedroom. She had only intended to check in on her, take a moment to quell a curiosity burning inside of her. Make sure her best friend was safe.
From the window, moonlight reflected off Emma’s porcelain skin. Ling’s heart fluttered. Ling leaned against the opened windowsill, observing Emma’s gentle breaths behind a set of chiffon curtains. An unfamiliar passion stirred inside. She yearned to caress her friend’s parted lips. The sudden urge to burst through the window scared her. Her finger reached out to touch the drapes, but a barrier held her back. Her fingers dissolved upon touching the barricade, searing a warning into her blood. Even in such a powerful form, Ling couldn’t go everywhere. She realized it was because she hadn’t been invited.
Emma rolled over, away from Ling’s desperation. Her thirst for blood scared her. Knowing the effects of a bite, the hunger frightened Ling. Voices compelled her to feast. The desire burned with a greater intensity than she had ever felt. The disease regressed her to a carnal state. Her father had resisted, hunting only a few animals; he had taken the moonflowers before tasting human flesh. The beast that bit her father had acted many times more wicked.
She had witnessed its memories too; On an island in the middle of the ocean, a cadre of blood eaters tore out the throats of babies, hung a wreath of human fingers in the trees, and engaged in bodily pleasures even the devil would question. The curse, without keepers, could destroy the entire world.
Thirty-Nine
Ling rubbed the burn scar where Wupo had tried to first capture her soul. Following the fading scent of the mosquito, she also used the stars to point her toward the clearing. A flame dancing at the top of the next mountain range beckoned Ling deeper into the jungle.
They both looked at each other stunned.
Wai lifted his chin. “What does this mean?”
“It means….” Ling didn’t care that she was jumping to conclusions. His tattoo was in the exact location as hers. This wasn’t a coincidence. “It means you are my father.”
They stared at one another.
“This cannot be.” Wai studied the shapes on Ling’s arm.
“How many people do you know with the exact markings as you?”
“None,” he admitted. “Although, I never really searched for them. I thought… I was once a sailor. Every seafarer has some ink, even the proper ones. I don’t remember where….” He scratched his head as his voice trailed off.
Ling remembered, as clearly as if it were yesterday, an enchanted woman poking their skins with a sharped sting ray barb. The mixture of squid ink and tar tingled on her skin. Bonding daughter and father together with the signs of protection.
She could tell Wai was overwhelmed. “The person who gifted these markings to us said it would help us find each other.” Joy burst through her heart. While this wasn’t the reunion she had imagined, it was enough. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Wai, accepting that he must be her father.
Wai cleared his throat. “If you are my daughter, then that means the missing twins are my sons?”
Ling let go and stepped back. In a matter of hours, she had gained a father, but risked losing her brothers. The facts were sobering. She nodded silently.
He bit his lip. “I am sorry, I do not remember,” he said, sobbing into his hands.
Their relationship required more time. Like growing apples from a seed, warmth and nurture were keys. Ling felt the distress from her father’s cries. “Father. I mean, Wai. Let’s take our time. We can ask my mother, too.”
Wai wiped his sleeve across his face. He smiled and nodded to the proposal. “We will be reunited. And your mother, my wife, is still alive?”
“She is.” Although Ling wondered what Ahma might think. Would she be furious at her for defying Dabak? If she was mad about redeeming the wage money, then her father’s return was a death sentence for Dabak. However, right now, they needed to get to the twins.
Wai spread out the moonflower petals and filled separate satchels. “We will both need these to stop Wupo.”
“I saw the creature push flowers into Lady Tun’s mouth.” Ling only cared to dictate facts. The things she had witnessed with her own eyes. “What does it do?”
Wai found the entry in the secret book. “Death is elusive for those bound to the spell. One must disinfect their physical energy.”
Over his shoulder, Ling read the long list of natural sources purported to snuff out the curse’s hold: garlic, oregano, and saliva of fruit bats. The solution, however, ended abruptly. Pages had been torn out.
Ling stared out of a clear pane of glass. She looked out into the nothingness of the ocean. Lights on ships dotted the dark horizon. If only Langley had been able to stay and teach her about the ancient ways. To be prepared for this moment, she needed time to study. A glimpse of the power that lingered in Ling’s mind. Of course, two men counseled against her seeking unlimited powers. What could she do? She would still be a struggling healer with the responsibility of caring for her family.
“If the flowers do not cure, then why bother to dampen the powers?” Ling had seen the spectrum of the effects of the blood disease. Langley had ability beyond her imagination. Aunt Marcella, in comparison, had voluntarily become a sad and feeble version of her former self. Ling thirsted for the bolder of the two options.
Wai sighed. “Death is the only cure, and as we read, even that is hard to come by. You say power or li. Power by the curse has no comparison to what you know. It requires deep and dark suffering. By the end, you will rip out your own eyes. Pardon the analogy. I learned to appreciate my humanity, and this is what I want.”
“Can you still pass it on?” Ling studied the stem of the rose. Every plant protected themselves, especially the most beautiful ones. Yet, the sharp thorns couldn’t prevent it from being plucked from its bush.
“By rite, bite, or blood. R’lyehsan, Xh’algh, Vhul’tak.” Wai shook his head. “Not every bite turns someone into a beast. Vampires were once human. Their bite infects a person with a bacterium, which then must be re-activated by drinking the host’s blood. To turn into a beast yourself, a victim must allow the evil to flourish willingly.” He closed his eyes. “The curse’s full effects will give you anything you wanted. You will also gain everything you did not want.”
It was obvious Wai was trying to warn Ling. She recalled the famous quote: Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men. But what would power do for a woman?
Ling dipped her nose inside the head of the rose. Breathing in its sweetness, she recalled the soda shop and her best friend’s smile. She walked into the most shadowy corner of the hall. Crushing the velvety petals between her fingers, she forced the stem deep into her wrist. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the thorns cut through layers into her soul. The twisting motion slashed deep valleys along the underside of her forearms.
The earthy tinge of copper spiced the air. Instantly, Wai’s eyes shut. “I don’t want to do this.”
“If I turn, then I can save my brothers. And you can regain your memories.” Ling pleaded. “Don’t you want to know your home again? After I rescue the twins, I can take the moonflowers and attend medical school.” Warm blood dripped down Ling’s arm and pooled on the floor.
A longing flashed across his face as he bowed his head, still for a moment. Then there was a horrible blur of motion. In an instant, everything turned black.
Thirty-Eight
Wai drank with a tortured expression. Ling’s head went back as her veins pulsed. She felt her body become jelly and then concrete. Her eyes fluttered and closed. She sank into her regrets. Her goals were modest, to live on the island and become a doctor. She didn’t accept gentlemen callers, hadn’t concluded her studies, and never strayed too far from her mother’s advice. She was a flower collapsing into its center, like the millions that fade at the end of each spring. Beautiful colors wilting into decay. Her mind suspended over her roots as darkness swept over.
Wai released her. “What have I done?” He wiped his lips. “I am sorry, Ling. My… my… neoiji.” Her body convulsed, and he held her head. “You were correct.”
Wai stirred. A part of her stayed with him in the unlit corridor, while another part was plunged into nothingness. She could see him from her mind’s eye on another plane. Yet, she had no way to respond right then.
Wai ran back to the room and returned with garden shears. He sliced into his own wrists with the muddy blades, then wrung the bitter drops into Ling’s mouth. The thick liquid collected on her tongue. Her heartbeat quickened; each pulse carried in new sensations and otherworldly memories. Pieces of bones and broken flesh came apart inside multiple lives. Her sluggishness metamorphosed into weightlessness.
In her mind, she saw a boy. He cried over a pile of ashes. Only a brick fireplace remained of a once two-story building. Was this a dream? This boy transformed into a skinny teen who ran barefoot through the nine-dragon mountain range with all the courage in the world. Not once being scared, not once calling out to his dead mother. Longing replaced the happiness on young boy’s face as he morphed into a man. She realized that the child was her father.
Her father grilled catches from the Pearl River Delta coastline. The memories this time brought her face-to-face with a little girl in pigtails. With a detached surprise, she realized that this was her. Sometimes Ling had accompanied her father on his voyages. His captain’s quarters were clad with oak panels. Intricate stories were carved into pictures telling of heroes who sailed into storms and wrestled monsters. Ling shifted through more memories. The pigtailed girl hugged her pregnant Ahma while her father grilled shrimp and sardines. The girl played with Enlai, still innocent then.
Turning to a specific feeling or thoughts was like skimming the pages of a book. The index was intuitive. She changed scenes on command, moving between people and time.
Where had her father been for so long?
The rips on her wrist burned. Heat radiated from them, transmitting the tactile and ephemeral. Like her father, her body was unwilling to die. She forced her mind onto the hull of a ship. One she had never seen. The name K. Hooper was painted on the ship’s bow. Trepidation filled this memory. Her father was peering through an opening under the deck. In the distance a verdant coastline came into view. Would they land here?
Tension crowded the hull. Battered and bruised, the men’s hands were bound; they were squatting next to a pile of rotting corpses. An oily stench of spoiled meat lingered in the tight quarters. She was looking at this horrific scene through her father’s frantic eyes. She was seeing him and feeling his fear. He had wanted to go home. He had longed for his family. She felt awful for him, but a part of her was also secretly elated. Ling hadn’t been discarded.
This wasn’t the end of the story.
Anger seethed inside Ling. To the soldiers, sailors, and captors, her and her father’s lives didn’t matter. They were cattle. These were her foes. He had not returned because a slaver had held him against his will.
Now, Ling had the same ailment that coursed through Aunt Marcella and her father. The idea of turning into a monster had once scared her. With her new knowledge, she realized these were childish fears.
“I know you are in there.” Her father patted her face.
His touch radiated warmth on her skin. It grounded her. The gentleness of his words exuded care. Most of her life had been borne from his absence.
He tested her breath and pulse. “Find your brothers. Your mind can take you anywhere. Do not be hasty. Remember that the protective herbs can hurt you now. To stop Wupo, drain her blood and remove the stolen eyes from her sockets.” He gritted his teeth. “I believe in you, Ling. I saw how you have kept our family strong.”
Sensation returned to Ling’s fingers. She wiggled her pinky and opened her eyes. Her mouth and cheeks were still numb, but she could see his face clearly in the dark. His face was now a composite of all the ones in her memory. From the little boy to the sullen prisoner on an island, he was much more than her father.
“Cut her throat with the golden knife. Not your bite. You must not drink her blood.” Her father placed a sheathed dagger in her bag. “Wupo’s blood will only bind you deeper to the curse. You will inherit her entanglement.”
Once again, she heard Dabak call out their names. “I am sorry.” Footsteps vibrated against the floor. Ling pulled herself against the wall.
Dabak turned the corner and yelped. “Ling, what’s wrong?” He pressed two fingers against her neck. He turned to Wai. “Did you slip?”
There was a long pause.
“Her lips are pale.” He stood up in an aggressive stance. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was my daughter?” Her father’s voice shook. “Brother.”
“I couldn’t… you were… How did…? What happened?” Dabak turned to face Wai. They embraced. “You couldn’t even recall your birth name in the morning.” Her uncle cried into Ba’s shoulder.
Away with you. Ba mouthed the words while holding onto Dabak. I’ll explain it all to him and your mother.
Ling slid to an open window. She concentrated on Aunt Marcella. She was at Queen’s pier. Ling chose there. Her body floated, every muscle and hair enlivened by the change. She couldn’t believe it until her feet left the ground. She hovered over the two men. Being untethered to the floor took her a few seconds to comprehend. It felt like climbing swiftly up on a ladder, forever.
The higher she lifted, the easier it became. She elevated herself and slipped outside. Under the dark sky, the stars and night enveloped her. Winds from every direction carried secrets from other lands. She drifted over the tops of buildings, first the school and then the foreign mansions. Even from Kowloon, she could see across the bay.
Aunt Marcella sat on a bench with gas lamps flickering. She flinched as Ling touched her feet to the ground.
I came to see you. Ling said nothing aloud, projecting the thought.
Aunt Marcella craned her neck. Her head darted from one direction to another. She was aghast. “What have you done?” Their minds connected, seamlessly sharing their histories.
Ling touched her aunt’s quivering hand. She heard blood pumping from Aunt Marcella’s heart to her fingertips. Between them, different paths were illuminated. Why did you ever give up this power? Ling was certain now; her destiny would no longer be forged by others.
“Love. I was young and foolish.” Aunt Marcella spoke to the wind. A forlornness spread across her face. “Where are your brothers?”
Her brothers were nearby.
Smells from the sea engulfed Ling. With her new senses, she observed creatures moving under the waves. Past the salt and seaweed, she inhaled the fragrant turmeric, ginger, and pepper inside the passing ships. A mosquito buzzed over flowers. Ling focused on the bug’s wings and then further into its belly full of blood. She caught a faint scent of Kit.
Where have you been, little mosquito?
Aunt Marcella pulled a blanket across her chest. “Be cautious of the sun.”
Ling kissed her aunt’s cheek and then launched from the pier toward the mountains. Her feet grazed the cresting waves, tickling a poem in her.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls.
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
She first stopped at the medicine stand, smelling the twins sitting under Banyan trees. Kit’s and Gou’s location was miles away, more than halfway up the side of the highest cliff. The brigade would never have found them. At least not before their captor mutilated and gutted their bodies.
Ling was cautious when projecting near the twins; she knew that Wupo was near. She must be subtle and not allow her presence to be detected. Dirt clung to their sweaty skin swollen from mosquito bites. They were alive. Wupo sat on the other side of a fire, digging into the belly of a calf. She had plucked out the poor cow’s eyes. Mixing with the raw intestines and burning of manure in the center of the fire, the oracle’s physical form rotted.
As quiet as she could, Ling sang the rhyme:
Three Blind Mice.
You will have your eyes.
First, run away from the soldier’s wife.
Who stole two boys from their bed.
Did you ever hear a snake in the woods save the little ones?
Her brothers’ ears perked up. They were bound to a tree at the edge of a clearing. As tears fell down their cheeks, Ling crossed her fingers.
They have no eyes. They have no eyes. The boys gazed into the dark forest, waiting for a creature to pounce.
They all ran away from the cow-eating witch. The brothers looked at each other in surprise.
“Help?” Gou whispered. His eyes puffy from crying.
Yet, a bird will pluck out the wretched eyes.
Kit and Gou bit their lips.
What else is to gather about the fire site?
Kit covered his face with his hands. “Water hurts her,” he mumbled into his palms.
The bird will be there. Chirp Chirp.
Ling quieted her mind just as Wupo started to listen.
“Shoo birds,” Wupo yelled toward the trees. Innards clung to the side of her face. “Or I’ll barbecue you for breakfast.” She cackled, shaking tree branches. The sound grated Ling to the bone. But Wupo had only caught the very end of her message, and did not understand it.
Every fiber in Ling’s body wanted to race into the forest. But she paused. Consulting the book of secrets, she read the pages in lightning speed, no longer struggling with the obscure meanings. She learned that smoke from bay and mugwort leaves weakened the entanglement’s hold. Then, she gathered ingredients, pulverizing them to a fine powder, careful not to touch the herbs herself. Her training served her well here. She poured the mixture into a glass jar.
Passing Emma’s house, she couldn’t resist peeking inside her friend’s bedroom. She had only intended to check in on her, take a moment to quell a curiosity burning inside of her. Make sure her best friend was safe.
From the window, moonlight reflected off Emma’s porcelain skin. Ling’s heart fluttered. Ling leaned against the opened windowsill, observing Emma’s gentle breaths behind a set of chiffon curtains. An unfamiliar passion stirred inside. She yearned to caress her friend’s parted lips. The sudden urge to burst through the window scared her. Her finger reached out to touch the drapes, but a barrier held her back. Her fingers dissolved upon touching the barricade, searing a warning into her blood. Even in such a powerful form, Ling couldn’t go everywhere. She realized it was because she hadn’t been invited.
Emma rolled over, away from Ling’s desperation. Her thirst for blood scared her. Knowing the effects of a bite, the hunger frightened Ling. Voices compelled her to feast. The desire burned with a greater intensity than she had ever felt. The disease regressed her to a carnal state. Her father had resisted, hunting only a few animals; he had taken the moonflowers before tasting human flesh. The beast that bit her father had acted many times more wicked.
She had witnessed its memories too; On an island in the middle of the ocean, a cadre of blood eaters tore out the throats of babies, hung a wreath of human fingers in the trees, and engaged in bodily pleasures even the devil would question. The curse, without keepers, could destroy the entire world.
Thirty-Nine
Ling rubbed the burn scar where Wupo had tried to first capture her soul. Following the fading scent of the mosquito, she also used the stars to point her toward the clearing. A flame dancing at the top of the next mountain range beckoned Ling deeper into the jungle.
