Hidden: A Crossroads Tale

by Lori Saltis

  He takes a sip of his Arrogant Bastard. "Seattle's cool, but it's hard to be part of a scene and in the Two Dragon Clan at the same time. I had to sneak out to see shows. Then my dad caught me and that was the end of the grunge scene for me."

  "Do you think you're going to take over from your dad someday?"

  "I'm supposed to, but, I dunno." He gives a sideways grin. "I have this dream."

  "Tell it!"

  "You can't tell anyone. Not even Mike."

  "On my honor,” I lift my hand.

  He lifts an eyebrow. "It's not that serious. Anyway, you know how Portland doesn't have any Two Dragon Clan presence?"

  I don't, but I nod anyway.

  "I thought I'd offer to set up shop there. Open a kongsi and be the Big Brother. Except the kongsi would be fronted by a blues bar and I'd be the owner, and book all the bands. The perfect cover." He tips his beer through his grin.

  "That's a great idea! You should totally do it.” And I would totally join him.

  Wait.

  Where did that come from? I have feelings for Roy, but not strong enough for that, right? I munch on my pizza, trying to chew those thoughts away.

  Roy sets down his bottle and does another of those casual sweeping glances of the place. Then he leans toward me, but as he starts to speak, the servers behind the bar begin whooping it up. They crank up the volume and House of Pain’s “Jump Around” blasts from the speakers. A rowdy bunch at the front of the restaurant slide off their stools and start jumping and shouting as they punch their fists in the air. I start moving in time to the beat. This place is so much better than some ritzy bar. I could spend the whole night here.

  Roy cups his hand to my ear. I stiffen as I feel breath soft on my cheek. He still has to almost shout. “We’re being watched.”

  I spin around so we’re facing each other. Did I hear that right? I almost-shout back, “Watched? By who?” I start looking around.

  He touches my shoulder to stop me before cupping my ear again. “There’s a guy in a black and gold tracksuit near the door. He’s been following us since Chinatown. He came in, bought a slice, and left, so I thought maybe I was wrong. Then he came back about ten minutes ago. He’s been standing there watching us ever since.”

  “Are you sure? Why would anyone be following us?"

  "I don't know." He pauses. "Would your stepmother hire someone to follow you and see where you go?"

  "She's not my stepmother and no, she doesn't give a damn what I do." Or does she? Maybe she’s trying to find something damaging on me so she can kick me out of the clan. A shiver runs down my spine. I need to know. “What should we do?”

  “Turn the tables. Follow him and see where he goes.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Roy’s mouth crimps. He gets this look in his eyes, like a hunter about to go after prey. “Easy. We look at him.”

  4

  I crane my neck to peer around the gyrating bodies and spot the guy. He’s Asian, but that doesn’t mean he’s with the Two Dragon Clan. San Francisco is a Crossroads fulcrum and there are lots of clans in the city. They tend to be separated by race and culture, but not all of them. He could be with the Beggar Clan, except they seldom discard their rags. He’s definitely not a Shinobi. You can’t see them unless they want you to.

  He sees me looking at him. Our eyes meet. He looks away, His expression remains neutral as he sets down his beer and slides out the front entrance. Roy and I squeeze through the crowd in pursuit. We stand on the sidewalk and look up and down Green Street. It’s twilight and the streetlights and neon signs have begun to glow, which actually makes it more difficult to see at a distance. Then I spot him in the crosswalk on Columbus Avenue. I nudge Roy and we take off running. We make it to the crosswalk as the light turns red and we sprint across to the honking of irate drivers.

  As we follow him up Columbus, I’m having to trot to keep up with Roy’s long legs. Should we be so obvious? It’s dark enough that we can use the Shadow Skill. I need to slow him down so we can talk. This would be so much easier if we shared the Silent Speech.

  Did I really just think that? I feel heat rush to my face and it’s not from physical exertion.

  The Silent Speech is Two Dragon Clan skill that allows for silent communication between two people. You have to let down your barriers and open your consciousness to allow this kind of speech. It's an intimate art and involves absolute trust. Parents train their children, so I've used it with both my parents. I've also practiced it with Mike, but not George. We're not close enough for that. Close friends use Silent Speech as well, but those are usually of the same gender, like Mike and Roy. It's rare for unrelated men and women to use it, unless they're engaged or married.

  Which we’re not, despite whatever Mike has in mind.

  We get to another crosswalk with a red light and stand well back from Tracksuit Guy, who hasn’t yet turned around. That’s odd. Does he really think we just sat there after we spotted him? Maybe he knows we’re following him, but doesn’t want us to know he knows. We need the upper hand in this.

  I turn to Roy and whisper, “Shadow Skill.”

  He nods and juts his chin toward a closed deli with a dark awning. After we cross the street, we duck under the awning. Then he reaches out his hand. The only way we can see each other while using the Shadow Skill is if we’re touching. It also involves sharing some chi, but not nearly as intimate as Silent Speech. This is no time to be shy. I take his hand and feel a little tremor as his calloused fingers wrap around mine. I take a deep breath and feel the flow of my chi, willing it to mingle with the shadows surrounding us. My hand tingles and becomes warmer as our chi meets and mingles at the contact point. I feel a sort of weightlessness as our bodies fade from view.

  We slink away from the deli and stick to the shadows as we continue our pursuit, keeping the Tracksuit Guy about a block ahead of us. It’s difficult having to weave and bob while holding hands past the heavy foot traffic. It isn’t long before he’s almost two blocks ahead. We have to use Swift Steps to follow him across Broadway without being seen. This involves accelerating our chi and our movement. We almost catch up to him and have to drop back. Using both these skills together expends a lot of energy. I’m not sure how much longer we can keep it up.

  We’re in Chinatown now, which is less crowded, but more brightly lit. We only have to use the Shadow Skill, but need to keep our hands clasped tight and allow the flow of chi between us to strengthen us both. The touch of his hand, the strong, steady flow of his energy is giving me feelings, like I want to be even closer to him and share even more. I wonder if he feels the same way. This isn’t good. Emotions play havoc with chi abilities. I need to push these feelings away or we’ll become visible.

  We follow him up Clay Street at a steady pace until he turns into Hang Ah Alley. Interesting choice. By one accord, Roy and I slow down and creep toward the alley entrance. It’s dark and empty save for a few dumpsters and laundry fluttering from the fire escapes. The only sounds we hear are the shuffle of mahjong tiles and singsong cadence of Cantonese opera coming from behind the closed doors of the family association halls. We stand completely still and wait. Tracksuit Guy steps out of a doorway and seems to be staring at us. Then he turns and continues on his way. Roy and I glance at each other. Could he see us? Are we heading for a trap? Only one way to find out. We creep along behind him, moving even more cautiously when we reach brightly-lit Chinese Playground at the end of the alley.

  Tracksuit Guy turns onto Sacramento Street. We wait a few moments befoe taking off after him. He’s running now and is almost a block away. He sprints across the street and runs into another alley.

  Roy and I let go and become visible as we run after him. I’m starting to pant because this has been uphill all the way. In fact, we’re close to the Mark Hopkins Hotel at the top of Nob Hill. We turn into the alley and I can see Tracksuit Guy running past a car parked at the halfway point. Even in the dark, I can tell it's a red Camaro. We st
op.

  "Is that Mike's car?" I whisper.

  "Looks like it," Roy replies.

  My heart starts racing. Why did Tracksuit Guy lead us here? Did he do something to Mike and he wants us to see? What if my brother is lying dead behind the wheel? With Swift Steps, I hurry to the car and am upon almost at once.

  The first thing I notice is that its rocking in rhythmic motion. The windows are steamy, but the one of the back windows is rolled down and I can hear high-pitched female moaning and male grunting. The front passenger chair is tipped down and through that window I see Mike grinding on top of Sylvia.

  My mouth drops open. I kick the car while shrieking, "You fucking asshole!"

  Roy has caught up with me by now. He goes around to the passenger door, yanks it open, grabs Mike by his collar and hauls him off Sylvia.

  Pain shoots through my foot. Okay, so kicking the car was stupid. I turn to hide my wince and suck in deep breaths to keep my pounding heart from exploding. At my core comes a little voice asking if I'm really that surprised. The answer is no, of course not. Mike is an asshole. A dishonorable asshole. That thought is a punch in the gut and the disappointment flooding through me hurts worse than my foot.

  I turn and see the dent I made in the Camaro. Good. Roy has Mike up against the wall, demanding answers. Sylvia is leaning against the hood of the car. She straightens her skirt before bowing her head and placing a hand over her eyes. Maybe it's a trick of the shadows, but her mouth seems to twitch as if containing a smirk.

  My mind starts racing. It's pretty convenient that Roy and I wound up here at just this time. What if Tracksuit Guy had been paid to lure us here? Sylvia wants to marry Mike. What better way to trap him?

  Mike's defiant face shifts to concern as he glances at me. He breaks away from Roy and strides past Sylvia as if she doesn't exist. He reaches out as if he wants to hug me, but his steps slow to a halt. It must be my expression because I'm looking at him like he's the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen.

  He inhales and his breath shakes out of him. "Cat. I'm... I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to... I mean, yeah, I'm..." He runs a hand through his sticky spiky hair. "This is my fault."

  "Ha!" bursts from my lips. "This isn't a broken glass, you idiot."

  His eyes zigzag as he blusters, "You can't tell anyone. Promise me, on your honor, you won't tell anyone."

  Really? My hands go to my hips and I shake my head. He wants me to be honorable after he's been so dishonorable. I wonder what he would do to keep my silence. I become very still, because I know exactly what he would do. Would it be dishonorable of me to require it? Probably, but at this point, I don't care.

  I share the Silent Speech with Mike, but I don't want to use it. I don't want to touch his asshole mind. I whisper so Sylvia can't hear. "I won't say anything, but you have to tell me what happened to my mother."

  His face stiffens. He takes a step back. "I can't. You know I can't. "

  I take a step forward. "You tell me or I tell Dad. And your mother."

  He rears back his head as I'd slapped him. His eyes narrow in a hard glare. "Your room. Half an hour."

  I nod.

  He turns abruptly and strides toward Sylvia, barking, "Get in the car." She folds her arms and glares at him. He leans closer and says something that makes her eyes widen. Her heels click as she skitters around to the passenger side. She shoots me a pleading gaze before climbing inside.

  Mike guns the engine and I jump aside as he roars out of the alley. I stare at his taillights, shaking my head. I'm trembling, my head is pounding, and my foot aches, but the worst pain is in my heart. I have no family. No one cares about me. They only care about their horrible, selfish needs.

  Roy peels himself off the wall. "Hey."

  I brace myself, afraid of whose side he'll take. "What'd Mike say to you?"

  "Bunch of bullshit about how Sylvia seduced him. I told him that was bullshit and he needs to man up."

  "What did he say?"

  Roy's full lips press thin. I can see the disappointment in his eyes. "He said it would cause chaos in the clan. I told him it would cause worse chaos if this gets out without damage control. Then he said..." He takes a hesitant breath.

  "What?"

  "He said he's fucking Sylvia because he wants George to marry his sloppy seconds."

  I feel like I’m going to puke out my pizza. Any lingering guilt I feel over forcing Mike to break his word disappears. I start limping down the alley in the direction we came in.

  Roy strides ahead of me and puts his hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off, but I stop. "What?"

  "How's your foot?"

  "I'll live."

  "You kicked the car pretty hard."

  "Wish I'd kicked it harder."

  A sideways smile appears briefly before he becomes serious again. "It's not worth hurting yourself. They don't deserve your pain."

  That's true. I shrug. "Yeah, well, I'll suck it up."

  "You shouldn't walk the hills when you're hurt. Let me help you."

  "Help?" Even as I say the word, I know what he means. I don't want to let him because, at this point, I don't trust men at all. At the same time, I do want to trust one man: him. I need to because if I don't, hate and anger will poison my soul. "Yeah. Okay."

  Roy kneels on the asphalt and I place my hand on his shoulder as he unties my shoe. Then he wraps his hand around my foot. It feels nice, like someone cares. Then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. As he exhales, his chi flows through his hands and into my foot. Warmth and healing energy spreads from my ankle to my toes. Our healing skills can't mend broken bones, but they can ease pain and open channels that have been blocked by emotion and violence. As Roy's chi flows from my foot through the rest of my body, some of my rage starts to ease as well.

  That’s when I feel the touch of his consciousness, and how weary and discouraged he is. It isn’t fair that he’s giving all his strength to me. I want to help him, too. I press my palm into his back and channel the flow of my chi into him.

  He gives a little gasp. “Cat.”

  I shake my head. I want to do this, use my strength to strengthen him.

  As I think this, my mind open, reaches out, and touches his. We establish contact as he says my name again using the Silent Speech, Cat.

  Roy.

  As we both stand, I can't stop myself from hugging him. His arms wrap around me and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my chest.

  I touch his mind again. Don't hate me for what I'm about to do.

  I could never hate you.

  Don't be so sure.

  5

  When we get to my room, I sit on my bed and Roy swings my desk chair around before sitting with his long arms resting on the back. Is he trying to shield himself from me? On the way home, I told him what I required of Mike for my silence. He went silent and stayed that way until we got here.

  I cross my legs and rub my foot, which is still a bit tender. "You think I'm wrong?"

  A deep sigh splits his grim lips. "It's not just you, Cat. I'm really disappointed in Mike. He's compromised his honor in the worst way possible. I don't think what you're asking of him will make it any worse."

  That's for damn sure.

  There's a short, sharp knock on the door. Before I can say anything, Mike comes striding in. He closes the door softly, though I can tell he'd rather slam it shut. He stands in the middle of the room with his arms folded, glaring at both of us. Then he takes a deep breath, exhales, and collapses beside me like a broken puppet. He rubs his palms into his eyes and moans, “Can you get some coffee? I’m still drunk.”

  I want to push him off my bed, but that won’t help, so I stomp off to the kitchen. I use instant coffee and a chipped mug. The good stuff isn’t for assholes. When I get back to my room, Mike is sitting up and facing Roy, who’s talking to him in a low voice. Whatever he said has had some kind of sobering effect on Mike, who thanks me for the coffee. Then he takes a sip.

  �
��Jesus, Cat, what’d you make this with? Tar?” He takes another sip and grimaces. "It wasn't my idea not to tell you what happened to Meghan. You can blame Dad and George for that."

  I take a deep breath, bracing myself. "Go on."

  "Okay, so, we went to London because Sydney Lee was promoted from Big Brother to Head Elder of the kongsi and Dad had to appoint his replacement. That involves a bunch of ceremonies and banquets. One of those banquets was for the leaders of the other Crossroads clans. Mad Maud of the Beggar Clan was there. Bunch of other clans, too. I don't remember them all, except I could tell they were all sizing Dad up. Finally, the head of one of the Pakistani clans asked Dad to demonstrate the Dragon Shout. Dad said, sure, and used his power to lift the guy out of his seat and hold him against the wall before dropping him to the floor. That shut everyone down, except this one guy, the Grandmaster of the Templars. He challenged Dad to a bout."

  My brow knits. Bouts are pre-challenges, a way to test strength without binding results or fatalities. I don't know much about the Templars, but they seem too small and secretive to want to take over leadership of the Crossroads.

  "Dad agreed and chose swords as the weapon."

  I shudder from a sudden chill because I think I know where this is going. One of Dad's favorite tricks when challenged is to accept and choose swords as the weapon. On the day of the bout, he always claims to be sick and presents Mom as his substitute. He loves sitting back and watching her take out rivals twice her size.

  “The next day, we went to Temple Church to meet the Grandmaster. It was the headquarters of the Knights Templar back in the Crusader days. They were supposedly kicked out, but they actually moved their operation into the secret chambers beneath the church, and that's where we went." Mike shrugs. "It was all pretty cool at first. The Grandmaster took us on a tour and told us some of the history, like how most of the original medieval church was destroyed in the blitz during World War Two, but their chambers were deep enough to survive the bombings. Then he took us into their sacred relics room, which includes all kinds of weapons from vanquished enemies throughout the centuries. That's when George saw it." He pauses and rubs his forehead.