Glass cases lined the walls, filled with handmade jewelry-pearl necklaces, gold rings set with precious stones, and jade figurines ranging from a beetle the size of her thumbnail to a reclining ox, nearly as long as her forearm. She passed them by. The lion in the front window called to Auntie Bai Wei's coin like a lodestone.
Jin reached the window and picked up the lion. It felt warm. The wild edges of its mane dug into her palm. Gently, she reminded herself. Jade was strong, but not unbreakable. She placed it at the bottom of her jacket pocket, then returned the way she came.
As she slipped out of the showroom, a floorboard squealed under her weight. Jin froze. An electric light flashed on at the top of a flight of stairs leading up to the next floor. Without a backward glance, Jin fled through the workroom and launched herself at the window.
Footsteps shuffled down the stairs. Jin struggled to wriggle through the open window without putting her weight on the pocket that held the precious figurine. Her other pocket caught on the handle that turned to open and close the pane. With a silent curse, Jin backed up and freed herself, then slithered out and dropped to the ground in a clumsy roll.
Jin stumbled to her feet, and the workshop light went on. She sprinted into the darkened alleyway, despite a sharp pain in her hip where she'd hit the ground.
****
Jin burst clear of the alleyway and into the night market's busy crush. Neon signs advertising beer, cigarettes, and spirit cleansings hung from brick facades, illuminating the patchwork quilt of shacks and tarp-draped booths at the bases of the buildings. With a few quick motions, she lost herself among the milling mass of people.
She pulled her cap lower on her head, making sure her hair was safely tucked, then stuffed her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders, curling in on herself. With the collar of her jacket raised, her face was nothing more than a shadow in the neon haze. Her diminutive height and stick-thin body hidden behind loose-fitting clothes made her look more like a young boy than a teenage girl.
A pair of spinsters haggled over pickled eggs while a klatch of young men huddled at the corner warming their hands over a brazier and smoking cigarettes. They looked straight past her. Good. If no one noticed her, no one would connect her to the theft.
The figurine seemed to throb in her hand. Jin released it and pressed ahead. She could hear the river now-the slosh of the water sliding through its concrete banks, the thrum of motors struggling to press boats upstream, the shouting and cursing of cargo men working to unload a supply ship. She moved towards the market street's edge and ducked behind the stalls. Auntie Bai Wei's shop was close, but easy to miss.
Jin ran her hand along the rough brick wall. Hot chili sauce perfumed the air by a noodle seller's cart. A low growl rumbled up from her center. It had been months since she'd tasted something other than the nutritional bars provided by the Orphan Care Authority or the remnants of discarded fish, too poor a quality to can.
Jin's fingers slipped into a nearly invisible seam running up the mortar. She pressed against the next brick and the wall slid inward, releasing a haze of smoke, reeking of opium, that obscured the entryway to Auntie Bai Wei's domain. You only found Auntie's shop if she wanted you to.
After ducking through the entry, Jin pushed the wall back into place, leaving her in near-total darkness. Time to close her eyes and wait until she could see again. A steady throb of heat pulsed in her pocket. Jin reached inside with a tentative hand and touched the jade lion. It felt like a dying ember. Her eyes flashed open and she pulled it out.
An amber glow radiated from its belly, illuminating the stone from deep inside. Dark veins shot through the jade, where small impurities gave it texture. The red edges pulsed. Jin stared, transfixed, for a moment, then stuffed the thing back in her pocket. This was no simple piece of jade, she realized. There was a spirit trapped in its depths. She needed to be rid of it.
Afterimages danced across her vision while she inched her way through the storeroom in a carefully precise straight line. If she veered even a little she'd stumble over barrels and crates, and Auntie Bai Wei would deduct any damage she caused from the purchase price. It didn't matter that she wasn't there in the storeroom to see it. She always knew. You either waited until you could see, or risked breaking spirits-knew-what. There were folks who were indebted to Auntie so deeply they'd be working off the damage for years.
It didn't matter that it had been Auntie Bai Wei who found Jin at the O. C. A.'s employment fair and coerced the cannery into hiring her, although Jin had already been passed over for being too small. Nor did it matter that she had gone on to recruit Jin into her band of "collectors," and occasionally slipped a new textbook for Yao, full of technical details Jin couldn't begin to comprehend, into the payment. If you broke Auntie's stock, you paid for it.
Jin had learned the lesson early, and she'd been lucky. All she'd broken was an old teapot that had already been cracked and glued once before. Auntie Bai Wei took the bronze medallion Jin had just snatched from her neighbor-an old blind soldier who had stumbled into Yao in the hallway, then started bellowing that Yao was a spirit host-and called it even.
It was the only time Jin hadn't felt a moment of remorse when she stole. Anyone foolish enough to accuse a small boy of being a spirit host deserved what came to him. It was only luck no one else had been home and come to investigate the shouting. She'd seen what happened when the government workers came to take away suspected hosts. The protective gear as if they were entering a quarantine ward, syringes full of "medicine" to keep the spirit at bay when they dragged the host off to the black prison perched at the river's edge.
If they had come for Yao, the old soldier might have found himself dead rather than short one small medallion. Even Jin's mother's perpetually disapproving voice in her mind didn't say a word.
Jin found the inner door by walking straight into it. The purple-rimmed, lion-shaped holes in her vision refused to clear. Wincing at the sharp pain where her knee hit the door, Jin opened it and stepped into the cluttered chaos of Auntie Bai Wei's shop.
Thick incense hung in the air and tickled the back of Jin's throat. A brilliant riot of colored paper lanterns hung from the exposed rafters, their flickering light illuminating the room. Cases with sagging shelves lined the walls and mapped a maze through the center. An ancient guqin stood in a corner, quietly playing itself, a haunting, traditional melody. The counter stood on the far wall behind a row of carved wooden chests.
Jin descended the two steps to the shop floor. There were no customers and no Auntie Bai Wei. Aside from the guqin, nothing made a sound. Jin had never been there without at least one other person browsing the knick-knacks, jewelry, antiques, and benevolent-spirit-occupied objects like the guqin, or waiting to haggle with Auntie over the price of a new offering.
"Auntie Bai Wei?" Jin called. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud as it bounced off the cinder-block walls.
There was no reply. Jin crossed the shop, picking her way past the row of vases lining the ends of the shelves, exactly where everyone would have to walk by to reach the counter. Perfect for someone clumsy to brush against and topple, with luck starting a domino wave of destruction they would then have to pay for.
When she reached the counter, Jin picked up a mallet resting on a porcelain platter and banged the gong that stood on the shelf. The clangor reverberated through the shop, temporarily overwhelming the guqin's song. When the noise dissipated, Jin listened for any sign of Auntie's response.
Nothing.
A sense of unease sank into Jin's bones. It was too early for the shop to be closed, and Auntie Bai Wei wouldn't have left the outer door unlocked if she'd stepped out. Besides, she had to have been there to light the lanterns.
"Auntie?" she called again.
A gust of wind swirled through the shop. The lanterns flared, then died, plunging the shop into blackness. Jin's cap flew from her head and the wind pressed her back against the counter. The gong vibrated, sending up a low din, and
the guqin went silent.
Heavy footsteps clomped down the stairs. When they reached the cement floor, a sound like bone on rock scraped into the shop.
Jin dropped into a crouch. Whoever, or whatever, was coming, she had no desire to meet it. She inched backwards along the counter's edge, grateful for her hand-me-down trainers that made no sound.
The footsteps drew closer accompanied by heavy wheezing breaths.
Jin found the corner and slipped behind, into Auntie Bai Wei's personal sanctum. Her pocket surged with heat and the scent of scalding fabric assailed her nostrils. She grabbed the figurine and tossed the burning jade away, realizing a moment too late that the sound of its clatter would alert whatever was in the shop that it wasn't alone.
The lion flew. Brilliant light exploded.
Jin threw her arm across her eyes, too late to escape the glare's full brunt.
Instead of the crack of jade hitting cement, a roar rolled like thunder off the walls, shook the counter, and set the gong reverberating again.
The approaching person/thing, Jin still couldn't be certain which, howled. Once more, the gale-force winds ripped past. Crashes sounded among the shelves. The roar rang out again and the footsteps retreated, back up the stairs. The door slammed shut.
Abruptly, the wind dropped into nothingness. Jin slowly lowered her arm. Golden light illuminated the shop, though the lanterns remained unlit. She raised herself until she could peek over the edge of the counter. A massive white lion stood on widespread paws on the far side, shaking its ruddy mane, red-tipped tail lashing, emanating light.
Jin dropped back down and leaned against the drawers, not caring that the handles dug into her back. Her breath came in shallow pants.
A spirit-lion, newly released from its jade prison.
She was trapped.
Jin pressed down on the cold cement floor, wishing she could become a part of it, or turn invisible, like the heroes in the old tales. She bit down on her tongue, and fought the urge to scream. Instead, she forced herself to focus. There were ways to send an escaped spirit back, if only she could remember. The heroes always spoke words of power, lost now in the dim recesses of her memory.
Besides, she was no hero.
She didn't know what to say, but she clasped her hands in front of her and moved her lips silently, afraid to make a sound. Go back, lion.The danger is gone.You've frightened it away, and you can go back home now.
So slowly that at first Jin didn't notice, the shop dimmed until she sat in blackness. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She stood up and squinted into the shop.
Nothing. No lion. No strange, scraping creature that tossed winds like weapons.
She blew out a whooshing breath and leaned on the counter, her arms trembling.
"Are you here to help us?"
Jin jolted so hard she knocked the mallet and its platter off the counter. The porcelain crashed in a burst of shards. "Who's there?"
"I'm sorry," came the voice again, with a strange, lilting cadence. "I didn't mean to startle you. But you brought the guardian, so I ask again, are you here to help us?"
A hiss like a match sounded overhead and a lantern lit. The single flame cast the room into deep amber light. Shadows danced among the shelves as the lantern flickered. The lion figurine stood in front of the counter, its paw once again raised and muzzle roaring wide.
"Who are you?" Jin asked.
A tiny woman, no taller than Jin's thigh, stepped out from behind a carved box. Two blue sticks inlaid with mother-of-pearl caught her ebony hair in a sleek twist. Her eyes glowed a soft cerulean that matched her traditional silk robe. "I am Liu, Spirit of the Guqin." She steepled her hands in front of her and bowed. "Greetings to you, and thank you for protecting us."
Jin returned the bow reflexively. She stepped out from behind the counter, accidentally grinding porcelain shards underfoot. A voice in the back of her mind wondered how much the platter had been worth and how she would pay it off when Auntie Bai Wei returned.
"My name's Jin," she said.
A smile spread Liu's red lips. "We know. Auntie Bai Wei tells us all about you."
"I need to sit."
"Please," Liu gestured to the box she'd come from behind. "Rest yourself."
Jin settled herself gingerly on the carved lid. The contours impressed themselves into her bottom, but she didn't dare sit anywhere else. "Where is Auntie Bai Wei?"
Liu frowned, the corners of her painted-on eyebrows crinkling down towards her nose. "They took her."
"Who took her?" Jin tried not to think about the fact that she was having a conversation with a spirit.
Everyone knew spirits existed, of course, but nobody ever actually saw one, despite the show the spirit cleansers put on, tricking gullible folks into spending their hard-earned yuan to rid their home of "evil spirits." Some drifted harmlessly on the breeze, with nothing to ground them. Others took up residence in objects. Still other spirits, the most dangerous of all, took human hosts.
"We don't know," Liu said. "Two men came last night to trade. When Auntie Bai Wei took the statue they offered, she went stiff. They led her away, and she didn't struggle, but I saw her eyes. She was afraid, Jin. Terrified."
Jin tried to wrap her mind around the image of Auntie Bai Wei frightened. She was a giant of a woman, taller than most men, and broad-shouldered. In her youth, she'd trained in wushu, and while she'd put on weight in the years since, she could still lift objects Jin wouldn't have been able to budge, and her reflexes were tiger-sharp. She wore her silvering black hair spiky and was never without a set of heavy knuckle rings that she could use with power and skill. If ever there was a woman less likely to be afraid, Jin had never met her.
"Were they like that. thing. that was just here?"
"No. They were men like you, or at least they appeared to be. One never really knows if they're a spirit wearing someone else's skin."
Jin rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes. She shouldn't be involved in this. She should walk out the door, go back to the apartment and Yao and pretend this night had never happened. Leave the lion and the guqin and all the strangeness behind.
But she wasn't going to leave Auntie Bai Wei to the mercy of whoever it was who had taken her. Not after feeling the power of the thing that had entered the shop that night. Besides, after a year of coming to trade at least once a month, Jin had come to consider Auntie Bai Wei a friend. A strange sort of friend, perhaps, but outside of Yao, Jin had no one else.
"How can I help?"
The rest of the lanterns flared into life and shouts of joy rose from all over the shop. Tiny people appeared from beneath teacups, out of vases, dropping down from the lanterns. Larger spirits hid in the shadows, nearly as tall as the shelves. Some looked human. Others were animals: rabbits, dogs, monkeys; and yet others were some motley combination of both.
The spirits swarmed towards her.
Jin pulled her feet up onto the box.
"Find her!" they cried. "Find Auntie Bai Wei and bring her home to us."
"I don't know how," Jin whispered, awed at the sheer number of spirits crowding close.
There must be a spirit for every item in the shop. Was that what Auntie Bai Wei did? Collect spirit-occupied items? Was that what called to her coin?
White-hot pain flared in her temples and Jin grasped her head tight, overwhelmed at the revelation.
Liu picked up the jade figurine in both hands. "You must take the guardian." She lifted it towards Jin.
Jin flinched away.
"Don't be afraid," Liu said. "It answers to its keeper. You."
Jin didn't want to take it-the beast it unleashed was terrifying-but she leaned down and let Liu drop it into her palm. The jade was cool now. No hint of light glowed within, but a warm feeling of comfort and safety wrapped Jin in its heavy paws. She pocketed the lion.
"We cannot leave this place," Liu continued. "We're bound to our hosts. But you can find her, Jin, and you must, soon, before they find you.
"
Jin's heart skipped a beat and she stared at the miniature woman. "What do you mean?"
"We heard them talking. They're hunting down the sensitives. They'll find you."
A spirit with the face of a dog, the body of a man, and the tail of a monkey pressed through the crowd carrying Jin's hat. He handed it up to her.
"Thank you," she said.
The spirit yipped and turned in a circle, chasing its tail.
Jin shoved the cap back onto her head, once again tucking her hair underneath.
Liu reached up and laid a dainty hand on Jin's foot. "I can give you little help, but this-they smelled of the river."
"All right," Jin said. "I'll lock the door on my way out. Hopefully it will help to keep you safe."
"Just bring Auntie back to us," Liu said.
The sea of spirits parted, leaving a clear path of concrete to the stairs.
Jin stepped down from the box, took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to ignore her throbbing headache. She strode towards the door.
"Good luck," Liu called out. "Bring her home."
Outside the false wall, the market went on as if everything in the world hadn't just changed. The noodle-seller shouted his wares, but the last thing Jin could think of was food, no matter that it had been hours since the nutrition bars she'd shared with Yao at dinner-time. Setting one foot in front of the other, she followed the sounds of the river.
The jade lion lay quiescent in her pocket, but she couldn't forget the image of it standing so proudly against the intruder, its muscles flexing beneath its pale pelt, nor the sense of comfort she felt when she once again held it in her hand. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have, after all. If she hadn't stolen it, she wouldn't have gone to Auntie's shop. Whatever that thing was would have done whatever it came to do, and Jin couldn't believe it had good intentions. Was it chance that brought the lion to her attention, or was she meant to find it?
Her mind whirled. These weren't the sorts of thoughts she was used to. She was a simple cannery girl. Her brother was the smart one, the one destined to make a mark on the world. How could she entertain the idea that something as powerful as the guardian wanted her enough to put itself in her path?
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