"I am Shiro, and I told you what I want. Whatever you call yourself now, whatever flesh you wear, it makes no difference to me. What I want," he said, "is you."
Jin just stared at him. "I'm the mortal incarnation of Guan Shi Yin! What am I to you?"
"The same thing you are as Guan Shi Yin in all her glory. My love," Shiro said. "My wife."
Jin just stared at him for several long moments. "Don't you dare move," she said finally, and reached out and touched Shiro on the shoulder. To her surprise he didn't attempt to escape. He didn't so much as flinch.
"It's about time," he said just as her fingers brushed his shoulder, but by then it was too late.
Jin had a vision. Or perhaps the vision had her. There didn't seem to be any difference. Jin was no longer in her old bedroom. She was now at a place totally new to her and yet somehow totally familiar. She was in a dream. She was not in a dream. She was the one who acted. She was the one who watched, all her selves present and immersed in what was happening, had happened, would happen. All caught, for now, in time's net.
The temple was dark despite the lamp glow and the man's face was in shadow. That didn't matter; Jin knew him. He kneeled before the gilded statue of Kannon that Jin knew to be herself; flesh of stone and jeweled eyes notwithstanding. All of what was happening made perfect sense, because it was all part of the dream that Jin was a part of, too. He was praying to himself or to the statue. Jin heard a phrase over and over. She understood it and that understanding made her feel very sad. Was that a memory too? Part of the dream? She didn't know. She only knew that she could no longer endure his prayers.
"Stop praying," she heard herself say, but it was the statue speaking.
The kneeling man was clearly stunned. Perhaps that's why he shut up. He finally looked up at the statue and Jin got her first good look at him. It was Shiro, of course. Not the same as the Jonathan she knew, but recognizable enough as a slim young man in robes of silk. "Have -- have I displeased you?" he finally managed.
"You have mistook me," Kannon and Jin said together. One and the same. Jin did not think this was strange. She was Kannon. She was Jin. If she were more Kannon than Jin at the moment, did it matter? This was Shiro. He was a problem. Nothing had changed at all.
"How? I will atone," Shiro said.
"You do not pray to me," Kannon said. "You're praying for me. Your prayers are snares. Admit it."
"I love you," Shiro said.
"I love you," Kannon said. "I love all who suffer. You are suffering, Shiro. You are confused, that is all. I am the gate, not the goal."
"You are my goal," Shiro said. "You are all that I want, all that I can imagine. There is nothing that is not Kannon. I am nothing. Though I linger a thousand years or die and am reborn a thousand thousand lifetimes, I will love you."
"Yes," Kannon said, and her voice was sadness distilled. Jin wept. Kannon wept. The look on Shiro's face was beyond rapture.
"I love you," he repeated. "I always will. Cast me into any hell of your choosing and block the way forever, I will always love you."
"Yes you will," Kannon said. "And no you won't. This ends, Minamoto no Shiro, and here is the beginning of it."
"What will you do?"
The statue disappeared. In its place was a living, breathing woman that Jin knew was Kannon, Guan Yin, GuanShiYin, Jin Hannigan, hair long and glossy black, her face at once luminous and no more than mortal. She wore the white kimono of a bride. She stood before the man who loved her in the flesh, because flesh was required.
"I will marry you, Minamoto no Shiro. I will be yours. That is what I will do."
I WILL SHOW YOU THE REST.
The voice was Shiro's, and Jonathan's, but it was outside the dream. Jin was having trouble listening. The dream moved from one scene to another with no interval at all, which was the way of dreams. Jin as Kannon as Guan Yin and as a mortal girl who was not Jin at all but called herself Mei accompanied Shiro home as his bride. She found herself blushing. She felt a strangeness in the pit of her stomach, a rush of blood to her face and belly. She felt something that she had never felt before, for anyone.
Shiro... did I... love him?
YOU LOVED ME. YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE.
Jin frowned. That sounded like Shiro, but it could not be Shiro. Shiro was on her arm, leading her to where the sleeping mats had been prepared and where she went, willingly, joyfully. Almost eagerly. Part of her was screaming that this could not be true, but the loudest voice within her, that was her, stood firm: it was true. This is almost how it happened.
"Almost?" she wondered aloud, and Shiro the groom smiled at her.
"What are you whispering?" he asked.
"Nothing," Jin said, blushing again. The thoughts were unbidden and confusing. She was where she needed to be, where she wanted to be. A new life was starting for her, a life with the man she loved. She wanted to embrace it just as she embraced him. They kneeled together. Flesh called to flesh and would not be denied.
IMMANENCE, PLEASE WAKE UP.
A new voice. Jin frowned. There was a little green dragon wound around her wrist. She could have sworn it spoke to her. But there was no little green dragon in this dream. She banished it with a thought, but it returned as soon as her attention wandered to her groom.
I HUMBLY SUGGEST THAT YOU WAKE UP NOW, the dragon said. Jin made to slap at it like a pestering fly, but the thing merely turned to smoke and then reformed.
AS YOU REQUIRE...
It bit her on the thumb. Jin shouted and flung it away from her and in that instant she was standing back in her own bedroom, in the now that she understood to be now. The image and the feelings of that other Jin, and that other Kannon long ago retreated to memory, all save one. Jin stood looking into Jonathan's handsome face, and she blushed again.
It had all been Jonathan...Shiro's, vision. Perhaps not a true vision in the way of a mortals ready to graduate from their current hell, but was any of it true at all? Did she... love him? Jin looked hard at the man in front of her, and there it was: the feeling that, until now, she had not believed herself capable of feeling. It was so much like what she had felt when she had been Mariko meeting her Saburo for the first time. Was it the same? She didn't know. It was so close. She asked herself what, she feared, might be the real question:
Do I love him?
"You know who I am, what we shared," Shiro said, gently. "You can't deny it. For now, that's enough."
(())
Chapter 12
Shiro smiled at her and left without saying anything else. When he was gone, Jin sat down on the edge of the bed. Or rather her knees buckled and the bed happened to be there, fortunately. Otherwise she would have sat down on the floor. Hard.
"What the hell just happened?" she asked, in a small and frightened voice.
Ling appeared first in her green dragon form, then as the mortal girl Jin had come to know. In a moment there was a shimmer of light and Frank appeared as well. "What happened?" was Frank's question as well.
"She was almost trapped into sharing Shiro's delusion," Ling said. "An artifact of the flesh, I think, so I attacked the flesh in response. I apologize for the bite, Immanence. Does it hurt?"
Jin looked at them as if she didn't quite understand the question. Hurt? Of course it hurt! But the pain in her thumb was the least of it. She felt as if she'd been punched hard in the stomach by someone with very good extension who knew how to rock the fist forward into the gut at just the right moment. She looked from one to the other for a few moments before she could trust herself to speak again. "He was telling the truth, wasn't he?"
Now Ling and Frank looked at each other, and that was all the answer Jin needed. "Son of a bitch...you were both in on it!"
Ling frowned. "'In on it?' What do you mean?"
"Guan Yin's plan. Teacher's plan. Hell, everybody's fucking plan!"
Even then, shaking in shock and confusion, Jin realized how silly she sounded. Of course they were in on Guan Yin's plan. After all, they w
ere there on the other Guan Yin's command, not hers. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Could you be more specific?" Ling asked. "What should we have told you?"
"That you knew who Shiro was, for a start! I mean, I knew there was more to the story but... married? I mean, Shiro and Guan Yin? Goddess of goddam Mercy?"
"There's a legend in Japanese folklore concerning this marriage," Frank said calmly. "We're not privy to most of the details, but there's a seed of truth in it."
"We serve and obey," Ling said primly. "We do not anticipate. In all fairness to us we never told you this part of the story because you never asked."
"Get out," Jin said.
Frank nodded. "You're upset. We understand. If you would like to take a moment -- "
"Get out!!!"
Frank looked shocked, Ling just shrugged, but they both immediately disappeared in separate flashes of light. Jin wanted nothing much more than to get out of that room, that house, that reality, but she still didn't trust her legs to hold her. There was a knock on the door.
"Jin? Honey, are you all right? Who are you shouting at?"
"No...no one. I'm... I'm all right. Just let the past catch up with me, I guess."
"Happens to me all the time," Margaret said, as she opened the door. "Are you sure you're all right? You look pale." She suddenly frowned, and sat down beside Jin on the narrow bed. "I was joking earlier, but did Jonathan...?" She didn't finish.
It took Jin a moment to understand what her mother was asking, then she almost laughed. "No, nothing like that. We just talked."
Her mother looked relieved. "Ok, so I didn't think he was like that, but then you know my judgment in men isn't always the best. Still, I knew I was right about Jonathan. He's a good man."
Tell her.
For a moment Jin thought she'd spoken aloud but no, the thought was still confined inside her skull, though it was clamoring to get out.
Tell her what? That I really am the incarnation of Guan Shi Yin and that man she's dating was my husband a thousand years ago? Jin shuddered. No, now was not the time. Not until Jin finally pulled herself out of the dark that everyone from Teacher and the Guan Yin That Was on down to Ling and Frank seemed determined to keep her in.
"Is Jonathan still here?" Jin asked.
"He had to eat and run. Always some excuse or other when it gets serious, but he's probably afraid of commitment."
Jin frowned. Something in the way her mother said this sounded like a hint. "Mom...pardon me for asking this and I'm not even sure why I want to know, but I do -- are you sleeping with Jonathan? I mean, before I just kind of assumed you were. Are you?"
Margaret looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure that's appropriate -- "
Jin put her hand on her mother's shoulder. "I really do need to know. I can't explain why, but I think it might be important." Her mother just looked at her for a few moments, but finally shrugged. "No, we haven't been intimate. Jonathan says he's old-fashioned and doesn't want to rush. I'm beginning to think it's me."
"Couldn't be." Jin leaned closed and kissed her mother on the cheek. "I need to go now." Jin stood up carefully, feeling brittle and weak, but her knees held this time. She stretched and yawned, feeling as wrung out as a bar dishrag. "Listen, I'll try and bring some of my things over tomorrow, ok?"
"Looking forward to it." Jin's mother looked around. "I guess it's silly to keep all this if you're going to be here yourself. Just pack up what you don't want and we'll put it all in the attic. I'm not quite ready to purge your childhood just yet. Uneven as it was."
"I wasn't always the center of your universe at the time I wanted to be," Jin said. "But I know you were going through some rough times, too. I'm sorry I didn't make it as easy for you as I could have."
Her mother just smiled wistfully. "Ditto."
Jin let herself out and headed back toward downtown. She glanced at her apartment building but, weary as she was, she didn't stop to rest. She didn't think this was the sort of weariness that sleep might relieve and, even if it proved possible, she wasn't ready to speak to the Guan Yin That Was just yet. She stalked the streets of downtown Medias. She remembered it was Friday night. Here and there were couples walking, but Jin knew those were locals who had little more than their own company, else they wouldn't be downtown in the first place. Now and then she would hear a whisper on the wind, a voice of pain. It was not pleasant to hear, but she could manage. She had to hear them, even when there was nothing she could do to help them yet. She was Guan Yin.
The crowds thinned and Jin moved into areas she knew weren't safe. Jin didn't think she had a choice. She had to find Teacher, no matter where he was, and she wasn't about to summon Frank or Ling to do it for her. It was only when she had covered all his known haunts that she was satisfied that he was not in Medias.
Jin turned a corner and there was a young man there in a shiny new leather jacket. "Frank?"
"Maybe next time. You're out of your place, Jin."
Jin got a better look and knew she'd been mistaken. This young man was about four inches taller than Frank, and heavier-set. He had a scraggly beard and goatee, and what Jin supposed was meant to pass as a knowing smirk. She knew him through the legal aid office. His real name was Marshall Simmons. His street name was Baby. After his tenth arrest and fourth conviction, mostly minor stuff, Joyce was just about ready to give up on him. Jin hadn't made up her mind yet.
"Place? I was born here, Marshall."
"'Baby' to you, sweet cheeks. Or you can just call me 'lover,'" he said, moving to block her path.
"I don't have time for this," Jin said, but that wasn't exactly true. She had time. What she lacked at that moment was patience.
"Don't tell me what you got and don't got," Baby said. "You're in my world now. You gotta pay the toll."
Jin blinked. "Don't you think mugging part of your legal aid team is just a little stupid? I mean, even for you?"
He scowled. "I ain't playing, Jin. I'll take it out of your purse or that sweet pussy of yours. Makes no difference to me."
Jin looked around. They were alone of course, on a seedy street that saw little enough traffic during the day and almost none this time of the evening. "Why hang out here, Baby? The big boys won't let you play with them?"
Baby actually flushed red, though whether from mere anger or because she'd nailed him with the truth, she didn't know. She didn't care. "Look, Baby. I'm sorry I dissed you. I've had a rough few days, ok? Now let me by and I'll forget this nonsense you've been talking."
Baby pulled a knife. It was a long, shiny and new. He reached out and grabbed Jin's wrist. "Don't tell me what you will or won't do, bitch! I own your ass -- "
Jin pulled him in. She didn't want to. It wasn't his time and she wasn't here for him, but there was a vision when the fool touched her. He was too unaware to make that vision into anything but the truth and Jin saw it plain -- Marshall Simmons was no street kid, nor was he an orphan as he had always claimed. His parents were solidly middle class, stable and boring. Marshall Simmons fell in love with an idea, an image that, to him, promised excitement, and danger, and all the things he thought he wanted. They called him "Baby" on the street because that's what he was. The real gangs laughed at him. He was a wannabee, a poseur, but he was heading for deep trouble and it had been coming for a long time.
Marshall staggered back. "What the hell did you do?"
Jin shrugged. "Think of this as your wake-up call."
"What are you talking about, bitch?"
"Your manners, for a start." Jin faced Marshall squarely and assumed her demon form. "Baby needs a spanking."
Then, before he had time to scream even once, Jin beat the living crap out of him. When she was done with him she left Marshall slumped against an alley wall, bruised and barely conscious but alive, with his fancy new knife shoved into the dirt inches from his crotch. Jin resumed her human form and kept walking.
I didn't kill him. How's that for mercy, Teacher?
She
found the guardians in their usual place, flanking the entrance as she emerged into the central sanctuary. The huge golden statue of Guan Yin with her assistants/servants smiled at all as always, but Jin ignored it. "Where is he?" she asked the guardians.
HE? YOU MEAN SHIRO?
"I know where Shiro is, thanks. Tell me where the King of the First Hell is. That was not a request."
The guardians reluctantly moved to flank a new door. NOW MAY NOT BE THE BEST TIME, they said as one. HE IS IN JUDGMENT.
"I don't care if he's in the john," Jin said, and walked right past the two huge stone figures and into a passageway to another hell.
Jin walked down a corridor that seemed, if anything, longer than usual, and she wondered what hell it led to. She'd learned better than to open her Third Eye while in transit, but she couldn't help but wonder what the reality of this corridor looked like. For one thing, instead of the silent carved monsters and demons in their niches, this corridor had what looked at first like thousands of tiny circles carved into the stone. At one point Jin hesitated, then actually stopped, plucked one of the ubiquitous flickering torches from the wall, and moved closer to examine the niches.
Scrolls. The walls were full of regularly spaced niches stacked with carved stone scrolls. Jin reached out and touched one, gingerly, then immediately drew her hand back, startled. The scroll looked like stone, but it didn't feel like stone. It felt a lot like parchment. Jin reached out slowly once more into the niche and pulled out a long roll of parchment.
"Here now, put that back!"
Jin almost dropped the parchment. She whirled around just in time to see a brown hooded blur flash past her. She looked down and realized she wasn't holding the parchment any more.
"...took me ages to find the right place to file that. Honestly, some people..."
What looked like a short, squat little man in a plain brown robe stood in the front of the niche, muttering. He let out one "Hah!" of triumph as he apparently found the hole he was looking for and slid the parchment back into place. Then he very carefully removed two other parchments which were, so far as Jin could tell, identical to the one he'd just put back, and turned around.
All the Gates of Hell Page 12
