Dragon Bones: a Nia Rivers Novel (Nia Rivers Adventures Book 1)

by Jasmine Walt

  “But in the bone my father copied, there were other symbols around it,” she said. “No one could decipher them. They’d never seen characters like them before.”

  I’d only heard the story of Dr. Van Alst and his fake bone. I’d never actually seen what he’d faked. “Loren, do you have a picture of the bone your father … found?”

  “I do.” She pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen.

  After a few seconds, Loren handed over her phone. I stared at the grainy picture of a turtle shell with etchings at the center. Again, I made out my name, which meant whatever Dr. Van Alst had copied this from had been the real deal. What were the odds? And why, again, hadn’t he simply taken the artifact with him instead of making a copy? I asked Loren that very question.

  “He said he tried.” She toyed with her phone, running her thumb across the face of the image. “But he was stopped.”

  “By who?”

  “Locals.” She met my eyes this time. There was sorrow there. Dr. Van Alst had died only a few years ago, and the pain was still fresh in his daughter’s heart.

  The glistening in Loren’s eyes told me she wanted to talk about it, but her stiff upper lip told me I’d have to ask. I had lost more friends than I cared to count over the centuries. It was why I avoided making new ones. I decided to stop my prodding of Loren and turned my attention back to the bone.

  With a new focus, I saw that the etchings on Dr. Van Alst’s copy weren’t exactly my name. The character for my name looked like a modern-day U with a slash at the top. But there was a line slashed at an odd angle that wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t tell if it was dust on the celluloid, or a mistake I may have made when I etched it, or maybe Dr. Van Alst had simply copied it wrong. Also on this bone were the same two characters that I couldn’t make out on Loren’s bone.

  “I can’t tell what these two characters are,” I said, holding up the picture of the first bone next to Loren’s cell phone. “They’re unknown to me.”

  “My father looked up every symbol known to man, but he couldn’t determine them either. It looks like a mix of ancient Chinese and Aramaic, but how could that be? The Chinese had no contact with people from the Middle East at that time.”

  I shut my eyes and slowly inhaled as the light of truth shone before me. Loren was wrong. The ancient Chinese did have contact with people who wrote and spoke Aramaic. When I opened my eyes again, it was all crystal clear. If I looked at the characters again with a new perspective, I could see that I did know them. Loren was observant. She just didn’t know what she was looking at.

  Mixed in with the ancient Chinese script were Aramaic numbers. There were the characters for the number five and number six, which were Epsilon and Vau. The two Immortal lovers who hadn’t been seen for nearly two millennia.

  20

  The dream gripped me hard. But this time, I wasn’t on a cold, stone table with a jade blade hanging over my chest. There were no men in black surrounding me, crowding in on me like parasites hungry for my blood. There were no bones breaking or cries of children or wails of women. No, in this dream there was laughter.

  In my mind, I opened my eyes to a bright, sunny day. Greenery enveloped me as far as the eye could see. I was in a forest. Off in the horizon, I saw mountains covered in foliage. I smelled the water in the wind, as well as on the fertile ground.

  The tinkling of laughter came nearer, followed by a deep-bellied laugh. I wanted to run to greet the joy in the air, but I knew I had to hold still and watch.

  Soon, figures made their way out of the forest. A woman dressed in colorful robes ran out of the trees. Her long, dark hair moved like a curtain of water as she ran. She kept looking over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled as she caught sight of the large man who gave chase. In a matter of two steps, he ate up the distance between them.

  The man swept her up in his huge arms and spun her around. The woman threw her head back and laughed. She slid slowly down his body and, when she was close enough, latched her smiling lips onto his grinning ones.

  My chest hurt as I watched the happy couple. I knew these two. Had known them for most of a life that I now couldn’t remember. They were Epsilon and Vau.

  Vau broke the kiss, smiling down with pure love and joy at Epsilon. Her light eyes looked up and caught mine. Smile spreading, her hand waved at me.

  “Come, Tisa,” she called.

  Epsilon looked over his shoulder. When his gaze found mine, he gave me a sheepish grin. He set Vau’s feet down on the ground and motioned with his head for me to follow them. They took off into the forest.

  “Come, Tisa,” I heard Vau call again.

  But I couldn’t move to follow them. My body shook with the effort of trying to pick up my feet. I felt moisture on my cheek. When I reached to my face, my fingers came away wet. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes.

  An arm came around me, followed by another. I didn’t struggle. I felt safe, surrounded by a mountain of warmth. I snuggled back into a broad chest, turning to Tres.

  But this wasn’t the Tresor Mohandis I knew. This was someone else. This man looked down at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face. It was a look I didn’t know his face was capable of. It was tender. It was open. He was smiling.

  He looked younger, if that made sense. His eyes were still obsidian black, but bright. His lips weren’t cruel. They looked lush and kissable. His gaze dipped to my lips as though he saw the trajectory of my thoughts. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine before he pulled away with a wince. Taking in a shaky breath, he laughed.

  “I told you,” he said, shaking his head. “Love makes you weak.”

  He released his arms from around me and took a step back. The openness in his eyes shuttered. His soft lips formed a hard line. I stood immobile, still unable to move my feet. I felt tethered to something hard and cold. My chest ached, and then I heard the screams.

  “Love makes you weak,” Tres repeated as he picked up his retreat. His face transformed into the hard veneer I now knew. His eyes hardened. He looked away from me.

  I woke tangled in the sheets of the bed at the hotel room. The room was warm, but my body felt chilled. There was a slight sheen of sweat on my skin. My eyes were itchy and the tip of my nose was cold. My limbs were exhausted, as though I had been in a real struggle. We’d arrived in the Gongyi late last night, and I’d immediately come to the hotel and collapsed into the bed.

  I wrapped my arms around myself now, but I couldn’t get warm. I reached for my phone and dialed Zane’s number, hoping for a connection. It went straight to voicemail. His voice spoke in that lilting French accent. When I reached the end of the message, I hung up, and then hit redial to hear his voice again. I repeated the pattern a few more times, cradling the phone against my cheek.

  I’d been apart from Zane for twenty-four hours, but it still felt like I was in the throes of a month-long exposure to the allergy. But we’d only spent a few days together. Even when we did spend a few weeks or more together, I’d never felt more than fatigue and restlessness. I was usually on the mend by the time we’d been apart for a day. But my body was not mending like it should.

  I shut down the phone and began to dress. The sun was high in the sky of a mild, late afternoon. Looking off into the distance, I spied a mountain range. I squinted, trying to determine if it was the same range as the one I’d seen in my dream. The same mountains where Epsilon and Vau had run off toward. The same mountains that I looked upon in horror as I heard the screams.

  I wondered if I should turn back. My death might be possible in this place. I knew the men in black were here, hiding out, waiting for the right time to strike me down … and do what? Kill me? Was it even possible? I didn’t know.

  But I couldn’t turn away. The archaeologist in me wouldn’t allow it. It was my voice that was lost this time. I needed to find out what I was trying to say on those bones, whether my mind wanted to give up the information or not. The dirt would tell my truth and I would fa
ce it, whatever might come. I just needed another day to get over the allergy, then I would go down into the forests. At my full strength, I stood a fighting chance at whatever I would face.

  I started at the knock on the door. When I opened it, I found Loren leaning on the doorjamb at the other side. She grimaced when she saw me. Her pretty, well-rested face contorted into a look of horror as she met my gaze.

  “You look like shit,” she said as she walked past me and into the room. “I brought soup.”

  She held up the covered platter. The smell of congee, a thick, hot rice porridge akin to chicken noodle soup, wafted to my nose. I realized how hungry I was as I snatched the dish from her and dug into the broth with a vengeance.

  “Are you gonna be able to make this trek down onto the site?” Loren eyed me with real concern. “We can’t get there by ATV. The only way through is on horseback, and it’s a two-day journey.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just—”

  “Allergies, you said.” Loren studied me with those observant eyes. I knew she wasn’t buying my excuse, but she had nothing else to go on. And I was telling the truth, even if I wasn’t sneezing up a fit or hacking up my lungs.

  “You know,” I said after another gulp of soup, “there’s nothing stopping you from going down without me.”

  I put the bowl to my mouth and slurped so she couldn’t read any expression on my face. Still, she studied me quietly for a moment.

  “There was really no reason for you to come in the first place,” she said. “I don’t buy that whole truth must be told mumbo jumbo.”

  I wiped at my mouth. “Why do you think I came, then?”

  The bowl was empty. I had no cover. We stared each other down. After only a week of knowing each other, we let our guards down and took in a true assessment.

  “I think you’re insatiably curious and you want to know more about this lost civilization,” Loren said. “And I think you might be one of those rare people who believes in justice.”

  Wow, she really was observant. I had totally pegged this woman all wrong. My initial view of Loren Van Alst was that she was a raider looking to make a quick buck. Then I’d recalculated my assessment that she was on the noble cause of righting her father’s name. It looked like she was actually a good person. Someone I could possibly trust with a little more of the truth. Who might understand the real gravity behind the situation I found myself in.

  And then she ruined it by opening her mouth. “Also, I think you have a girl crush on me.”

  I rolled my eyes, but Loren turned serious.

  “It’s nice having someone believe me instead of thinking I’m trying to run a scam or pass off a forgery because of my family’s past.” Loren didn’t meet my eyes as the words rolled off her tongue.

  I wanted to make a quip, but I felt the shift happening in our relationship from wary strangers to something like friendship.

  “You’re a cool chick, Nia Rivers.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Loren Van Alst.”

  “It’s nice to know someone has my back. That hasn’t been true for me since my dad died.” Her smile was awkward and her blue eyes brimmed with sincerity. Then she gave her body a shake, like a dog shaking off the sudsy waters of a bath. She plopped onto the bed and grabbed for the remote.

  “Anyway, enough sap,” she said. “I’ve been dying to watch really bad Chinese TV.”

  She clicked a button on the remote. A news show popped up. Loren made a face and kept going until a martial arts movie with ninjas flying high filled the screen. My body turned stiff. Beside me, Loren, who had been sitting cross-legged peering at the screen, leaned away from the action.

  “Ninjas.” She grimaced.

  “Not a fan?” I asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “Me neither.”

  She clicked a couple more times. “Oh, The Usual Suspects dubbed in Chinese! Score.”

  Loren patted the empty space on my bed. I came over and sat down beside her. On the screen, I saw Kevin Spacey’s smirk as he spun a fantastical tale to Chazz Palminteri.

  “That movie drives me crazy,” I said. “What detective would believe such a farcical story?”

  Palminteri continued to interrogate Spacey, the only survivor in a crime gone wrong. In the film, the detective digs for the truth in an increasingly complex murder-heist-mystery story. The brash detective never once guessed that the unassuming, weak, disabled man telling the tale was the mastermind behind the whole crime, until the last moment of the film when it was too late.

  “All the detective has to do is turn around and the writing is clearly on the wall,” I said. “Literally.” All the clues to the whodunit were posted on a tack board at the cop’s back. Keyser Söze, which translates to Mr. Talk Too Much, simply wove his tale from the wanted posters and announcements posted on the wall.

  “You’re probably one of those people who spends the movie trying to figure out who did it instead of enjoying the ride,” Loren said. “The fun is in the twist. So sit back and let’s just enjoy the movie while it lasts.”

  21

  After an afternoon of cheesy American movies dubbed in Chinese, and then a night of thankfully dreamless sleep, I felt like myself again. The fatigue was gone from my bones. The bags under my eyes had packed up and left. But my heart was still heavy from the absence of Zane, and my spirit was still weary from the residue of the dreams of Epsilon and Vau.

  I refused to remember the safety and security I’d felt from the other man in my dreams. After all, his arrival in the dream was what had turned it into a nightmare. It wasn’t until his strong arms were holding me tight that I heard the screams. Whatever we’d had in the past, I’d forgotten it for a reason and I needed to remember that.

  Loren and I spent the morning trudging around the main street of the city. There wasn’t much to see. When we’d gotten off the train, it had been easy to debark as we were the only ones getting off. The other passengers either slept through the stop or took one look out the window and turned their gaze back to their phones and travel books.

  Walking down the rundown streets, it was evident the people didn’t get many tourists down here. They openly stared at the blonde woman and the darker-skinned woman who could have been one of their own, or something else entirely. Though they stared, no one approached us. They gave us a wide berth.

  There were a few shops along the thoroughfare and a handful of restaurants. In the center of the town was its crowning jewel—a tomb. The tomb of the River Queen sat amid an otherwise unassuming park. Children ran about the grass. Older men and women went through the slow, meditative movements of Tai Chi. A few twenty-somethings pressed buttons on their outdated cell phones. No one paid too much attention to the tomb other than me.

  The structure was modeled after the tombs of the Forbidden City with sloping roofs that resembled the brim of a cowboy’s hat. Large stone animals sat before the tomb, presumably guarding the sleeping queen within—the mystical queen who had saved the city and its people from the devastating floods of the Yellow River so many centuries ago.

  And now, centuries later, the tomb sat locked. There was no way in. I studied the barred door.

  “Don’t bother,” Loren said. “There’s nothing in there.”

  I turned to her with a brow raised. She shrugged in that way I was coming to know that meant Don’t ask me how I know the answer unless you want to be tried as an accomplice. And so, I didn’t.

  But it was curious. If this place had been ruled by an actual queen, that would be noteworthy. Loren was right. China was not known for its female leadership in the past. In the present, that was starting to change. This temple and the stories of the River Queen put her at nearly two thousand years old. If their queen could’ve been a claim to fame, why weren’t the people of Gongyi shouting about her presence?

  It was a question I hoped to answer when we began our journey into the forest tomorrow. I’d just pile this question on top of the many others I had. We
turned from the temple and headed back to the hotel to change for dinner.

  Mr. Xu lived very well for a city councilman in a small, sleepy province. His home was filled with relics and pictures of his ancestors in photographs and paintings at different points in history. The men in each rendering could’ve been the same man cut out and placed in a different time period. These were the Xia of history. And, to my woe, there was a resemblance to the ninja I’d unmasked back at the reflecting pool in Washington, D.C.

  I shut my eyes and sighed. When I opened them, another painting stood out and grabbed my attention. It was of a woman floating above the waters. She was dressed in a deep, sea-colored blue. Her arms were outstretched. There were children on either side of the riverbank below her. They smiled up at her adoringly, and she gazed down at them with benevolence.

  “That painting has your face,” Loren said. She turned and peered at my features. “That seems to happen to you a lot.”

  She was right, kind of. The woman in the painting did have an uncanny resemblance to me. But her features were lacking in detail. The cheekbones weren’t quite right. The shape of the lips was off. The eyes didn’t have the cat-like uptilt. I looked for the signature. When I found it, I noted that it was not one of Zane’s aliases.

  A chill ran up my spine even though the evening air and the interior of the house were warm. I had to blink a couple of times as my vision went a bit hazy. I felt a cough coming on.

  A group of children ran through the hall, laughing and giggling. They came to a comedic stop, digging their heels into the ground and windmilling their arms to slow their motion, when they saw me. They gaped in awe, looking from me to the painting.

  “Is that any way to treat an honored guest?”

  Mr. Xu entered the receiving room. He walked slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. He seemed to have aged another decade since the last time I’d seen him only a week ago.

  “Go on,” he shooed them. “Up the stairs and into bed with the lot of you.”