Holidays Are Hell

by Kim Harrison

  Six hit the electric lock on the key chain. An Audi beeped back. She and Joseph ran for the car. She put him in the backseat.

  They drove out without being stopped. The guards at the gate took one look at her face and waved her on. Six pulled into traffic, hit the accelerator, and there—gone.

  “We have only an hour,” she said to Joseph, and was stunned to hear her voice shake. She gripped the wheel harder. “Maybe less. Xiu will wake up eventually. I do not know if anyone will hear her shouts, but I would prefer to assume the worst.”

  “I know someplace we can go,” Joseph said. “It’s in Suzhou. No one will be able to find a connection to me there.”

  “You forget, no one knows who you are.”

  “You think.”

  “Fine,” she said, and then, “We need a plan.”

  “We,” Joseph said. “I like the sound of that.”

  “You should not,” she snapped. “All it means is trouble. I have just ruined my life for you.”

  Joseph was silent for a long time. The car engine hummed; fireworks crackled against the road. Six had to swerve to avoid hitting some children playing with sparklers.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said, softly. “I am, truly. And I am grateful. But Six…” He stopped, and sighed. “Was it a life you really wanted?”

  “It was the life I had,” she replied flatly. “What more is there?”

  A strong hand reached from the shadows to touch her shoulder. “You know the answer to that. I can feel it in your heart.”

  Her eyes burned. “People forget how to choose.”

  “Not you,” he murmured. “Not you.”

  Maybe not, she thought. But choosing right was another matter entirely.

  Chapter 5

  At four o’clock in the morning the road to Suzhou was mostly empty, and Six gunned the Audi’s A6 engine into a high-speed chase of nothing but ghosts. Just outside the city, though, she took an exit to a rest area and parked the car. Cabs idled on the other end of the lot. She could see the drivers playing mahjong on a makeshift table.

  “There are some bottles of water back there,” she said to Joseph. “You should wash off the worst of the blood. Maybe take off that shirt you’re wearing, too.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that we’re dumping this fine piece of machinery?”

  “Because we are,” she replied, and got out of the car. Inside the trunk she found some spare clothes, money, and a tool kit. All standard issue. She dug around for a screwdriver, and, after making certain no one was watching, removed the car’s plates. She tucked them inside a plastic sack that had very recently contained maps, and then went around to take Joseph’s bloody shirt. She tossed him a new one and stuffed the old inside the sack with the plates. There was a garbage can nearby. Six dumped everything inside. It would not stay there long. Someone would dig through eventually for scrap and find the contents of the bag, but hopefully the discoverer would keep his or her mouth shut—and if not—then she and Joseph would be long gone. Or as gone as finding that terrorist cell would take her.

  She and Joseph. Six shuddered. She really was thinking of them as a team. And him, still a stranger. She knew nothing about Joseph. Nothing but what her instincts were telling her. It should not have been enough. And yet, here she was, breaking the law.

  Not just for him, she reminded herself. There is a lot at stake here. Too much. Sometimes you must do the wrong thing in order to make right.

  Six thought of her debriefing. The commander had not listened to her warnings about the terrorist cell. Not truly. Intelligence officers had already said that an attack might be imminent. And Six was saying nothing new. Nothing they could use. Nothing she thought she could share. Not without sounding crazy—or ruining Joseph’s life.

  So she had ruined her own instead.

  Joseph approached. His hair was scruffy, his eyes hooded, but the blood was gone and the shirt strained quite nicely over his shoulders. The rough voices of the cab drivers and the rumble of engines drifted close.

  “I was thinking,” he said slowly. “Xiu only could have been possessed during a moment of close contact. Touching, even. Not only that, but her possessor wouldn’t have been able to stay in her body for more than a day. Any longer would be dangerous. Lingering increases the possibilities of becoming…stuck.”

  “Xiu has been in Shanghai all this time. Her…possessor might be there, as well.” Six’s cheek hurt. She touched it, lightly, and felt dizzy. Joseph took hold of her arm.

  “We need to take care of that,” he said.

  “The rest first,” she replied.

  “It can’t wait,” Joseph told her.

  Six pulled away. “Xiu would not have logged her movements, though I can tell you that she was supposed to question some bankers who work with Chenglei. Their office is near the Bund.”

  “It’s a start,” he said. “But it can wait until morning. Right now, all that matters is taking care of you. Unless you want to end up like those creatures.”

  “No,” she said, trying to ignore the pure fear that accompanied that thought. Talking helped. “I still do not understand what they are or what they do. It resembles magic, but I know it must be science.”

  Joseph looked at her as though he knew exactly what she was feeling. But all he said was, “Magic and science are not mutually exclusive. One looks much like the other, if you don’t know the difference. In this case, vampirism is similar to a disease. It affects the appearance, although that can be maintained by choice. It gives strength, speed…but it also makes the victims…hungry.”

  Six looked away. “Are they evil? Would I…become evil?”

  Joseph hesitated. “All your emotions, your empathy and compassion, your capacity to love, would be…suppressed. If there is a place in the human brain where those things live, it gets shut off. All that remains is something hollow.”

  “But you can stop it?” She hated the sound of her voice, the thread of fear that crept into it, but Joseph did not seem to mind, nor did he look at her with pity. All he did was squeeze her shoulder and drag her close to press his lips upon her forehead. She let him. Other men had kissed her, but it felt different with Joseph. More alive.

  They left the Audi and walked to the cab drivers. The men did not want to break up their game, but Six offered a one-hundred-dollar note, apart from the fare, to the first person up and ready.

  Joseph gave directions, and after a while their cab left the freeway for the industrial zone, a modern area of wide tree-lined roads, modern sculptures, and vast corporate headquarters—some of which seemed to have been designed in some architect’s odd dream. Closer to the city core, the scenery changed; water became the influence, canals and bridges splitting roads. The buildings, too, retained a classic charm. Unlike Shanghai, the Suzhou city planners had attempted to maintain the feel of old China in its appearance.

  The New Year’s celebration was in full swing here, as well. Even in the wee hours of morning, men were still setting off fireworks—albeit half-heartedly. Red lanterns swung gently over the roads, and all the shop doors were plastered with red banners covered in wishes for good luck in the coming year.

  Joseph had the cab driver drop them off in the middle of a tiny shopping district. No one else was out. Except for the occasional pop and bang, the air was quiet. Joseph led Six down a side street. They had to cross a bridge over one of the canals—water lapping gently against the stones—and then he guided them left into a well-worn neighborhood where the walls felt high and the streets narrow, and the air grew more still and hushed the deeper they traveled. A good place for a trap, Six thought, but she could do nothing but keep her senses open, ready, alert. It was second nature, but she paid special attention, not wanting to take anything for granted. It was odd, though; the more she concentrated, the more that came into focus. Where there had been silence, now there was noise—so much noise—building into a crescendo of men talking, pans banging, children crying, farts and coughs and pissing i
n a can. She heard sex. She heard heartbeats. She heard Joseph breathe.

  “Something’s wrong,” she murmured, and her voice sounded like a roar inside her ears. She stopped walking, and held her head. Joseph moved close. He covered her hands with his, and the warm pressure of his fingers moving across her skin, threading into her hair, felt good enough to ease the discomfort bearing down on her eardrums. When he pulled her against him, she did not resist. She pressed her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. His heartbeat was a roar of thunder.

  “It is starting,” she whispered. “Whatever it is, I can feel it.”

  “Your cheek has healed,” Joseph said.

  Her hand flew up, fingers running over skin. The scratch was gone. No pain, no flush.

  “I am afraid,” she said, and it was like hearing herself speak another language. She had never said those words, not out loud, but the crush of her fear was so full and thick, she had to express it. She had to tell someone or scream.

  I’m here, Joseph told her, speaking into her mind. Six, I’m here. You’re not alone.

  I am always alone, she told him, unable to stop the words that sprang so easily into her mind. I have always been alone.

  “Not anymore,” he promised, tugging up her chin. He kissed her, gently, lips brushing against her mouth with such sweetness, she held on to the feeling with all her strength, fighting for it, suddenly terrified it might be the last time she ever felt that way about another human being. She remembered Chenglei, those other creatures she had faced on the street. Hollow and shriveled, brittle with their hunger for another person’s life. Not the men and women they had been born to be.

  “Do not let me forget how to feel,” she said to Joseph, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I have never asked for anything from anyone, but please, make me feel.”

  A tremor ran through his body. “Six—”

  “Promise me.”

  Joseph kissed her. He dragged Six off her feet and pressed his mouth hard against her mouth, dragging from her a groan of pleasure as he kissed the fear out of her body, replacing it with a liquid heat that made her writhe and twist against him. Her leg curled around his hip, her arms snaking around his shoulders, binding him tight, and when he backed off for just a moment, she traveled with him, kissing him again, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth. Joseph shuddered. One hand trailed up her waist, sliding beneath her blouse. Her breath caught as he touched her ribs, and then the swell of her breast. A fingernail grazed her nipple. She gasped.

  Joseph set her down. She felt his hard heat press through his pants against her belly, which only made it more difficult to let go when he stepped back, breathing hard. “We should move,” he said roughly. “It’s not safe here.”

  Which should have been her line. Six swallowed a deep breath. She was losing her head. She had to be careful, or she just might lose more. She had been a survivor too long to toss it all away now.

  She followed Joseph a short distance to a small gate covered in red banners. On either side were two pots full of water and tall bamboo. A peach blossom lantern hung from the iron knob. Joseph pulled a small key from his pocket and fit it into the gate. It swung open with a tiny rasp that was met with an answering creak from inside the house. They hardly had time to walk through the gate when the door beyond the small courtyard opened. An old woman poked out her head. She peered at them both, but it was Joseph she smiled at.

  “Finally!” she said. “You’re home. But what a surprise. I thought you would be going north for Spring Festival.”

  “Change of plans,” Joseph said, pulling Six behind him. “Wenxia, this is Six. Six, my very good friend, Wenxia. She looks after this place for me when I’m away.”

  “Which is all the time,” said the old woman. She moved back into the house with a pronounced hobble. Six looked down and had to take a moment to reconcile her vision. Wenxia’s feet were terribly small, hardly the size of a fist.

  “Your feet,” she said without thinking. “They were bound?”

  Wenxia paused, and glanced over her shoulder. “I came from a traditional family. They thought it would help me find a rich husband. And it did. But not much else.”

  “I’m sorry if we woke you,” Joseph said.

  Wenxia waved him away. “I was cooking. And a good thing, too! We will eat well today, my boy. Dumplings and candy!”

  Joseph kissed the top of the old woman’s head. “Six and I have been traveling all night. We need to rest.”

  “You know where your room is.” Wenxia hesitated, her gaze flickering to Six. Joseph raised his brow, and a smile touched the old woman’s mouth. She turned around, humming, and left the room.

  Six watched her go, then looked at Joseph. “She is your family.”

  “There are many different kinds of family,” he said, leading her up the rickety stairs. “But yes, she’s mine and I’m hers, and it’s all good. I met her a long time ago through my father. She really was rich, but everything was taken from her during the Cultural Revolution. A mob killed her husband right in front of her, strung him up from a tree. Then she and her son were sent north for re-education on one of the state farms.”

  “Where is her child now?”

  “Dead. He cut his hand on something rusty. It happened early on. She’s been alone for a long time.”

  Joseph pushed open a door at the end of the hall. He stood in the entrance, unmoving, looking at his hands. “You know, if you’re not comfortable, there’s another room.”

  Six hid her smile and pushed him gently aside. The room was small and dark, filled with richly carved antiques that gleamed and smelled of lemon oil. A large window looked down over the canal they had passed over. She could see more of it now. The sun was rising.

  Joseph did not turn on any lights. He moved behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and tugging her close. He kissed the back of her neck.

  “First, we make you well,” he murmured. “Then, we see about everything else. Sound good?”

  “Yes,” she said, and allowed herself to be drawn to the bed. They sat together on the mattress. Joseph made her lie down, and then leaned over her body, his eyes dark, his mouth set in a hard line. Six did nothing but study his face. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to be in a position so vulnerable. To even be alone with a man for such an extended period of time, let alone rely on one, in any capacity outside her work.

  It was not as uncomfortable as she thought it might be. Or maybe she had been around the wrong men. Either way, Joseph made her feel safe. And that was rare, indeed.

  “This could be easy, or it could be difficult,” he told her softly. “You’ve been infected, Six. A body can reject that poison, but sometimes it doesn’t want to.”

  She struggled with her fear. “I cannot imagine that.”

  “It happens.” Joseph trailed his finger down her cheek. “But not this time.”

  “You are very confident.”

  Joseph gathered up her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Are you ready?”

  “What do I do?”

  “Just be yourself,” he said quietly. “Be yourself, Six, and do not let go of that.”

  Six closed her eyes. She felt Joseph enter her mind, like a hand dipping beneath still water. It was an odd sensation; she knew he must have done it before, but this was the first time she was aware, and it was profoundly intimate. A part of her feared the contact, wanted to censor herself, but she remembered his voice—be yourself—and she took that to heart and let herself, simply, be. And for a moment she felt the world open up inside her mind, her life spreading before her in all its infinite moments. No sadness. Just wonderment.

  But then the pain began, and Six forgot serenity.

  Joseph’s mother had always impressed upon her son the importance of telling the truth, but of course, his mother had never been able to keep any friends past the shelf life of an honest answer, and so Joseph had learned through example that the occasional white lie
was sometimes appropriate—and indeed, necessary—to keeping the people he cared about happy.

  In Six’s case, it involved a particular omission on the subject of pain. As in, vast unending quantities of pain, most definitely (as he had been told) on the level of giving birth to a baby the size of a large watermelon. And then discovering that you were having twins.

  Joseph saw no need to add to Six’s burdens.

  Unfortunately, he forgot to take into account the fact that she was an incredibly strong woman prone to committing violent acts, and that as the person she would blame for causing her pain, he might just be in for a little of it himself.

  “What are you doing to me?” she gasped.

  “This is part of the process,” he said. “Now, try to relax.”

  Six glared at him and grabbed his hand. She was not a screamer. She was a squeezer. And she refused to let go.

  It was difficult for Joseph to focus past the pain. He was quite certain she was crushing bones. He managed, however, by sinking deep enough into Six’s mind that the discomfort became a distant thing, less nagging than a mosquito bite.

  And there, held in the darkness, he began to heal her.

  The process was different for everyone, or so he had been told. In his experience, he had brought back only two from the brink—another omission he did not think Six needed to know about—and on both those occasions the trigger had been unique. For one woman, it was the remembrance of her child’s birth that made her fight the hardest—and for the man, it was nothing more than a random sunset recalled from memory. Visceral reactions—reactions beyond mere fear or desire—infusing bodies with the mental strength necessary to fight off the infection caused by vampire contact.

  The mind was more important than the body. It was always more important. Especially when dealing with vampires, whose only weakness was the mind, a lack of spirit. Bolster that, strengthen the roots of the soul, and nothing could take hold.

  But Joseph immediately ran into a problem; specifically, with himself. He could not hide from her. His thoughts were open. His memories, fair game. And though she did not search his mind, as he sank deeper he felt her presence on the periphery of his most private mental spaces, and it was an unexpected intimacy that he could not shut off.