It takes me a moment to respond. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“We’re coming to the end of this thing, you and I. I thought it was about time you knew how much I admire you. Always have.”
He squeezes my shoulder, then smiles, sad and reminiscent, and leans back, smoke clouding his face. I flip through the pages of the book on my lap, trying not to smear them with tears.
As much as my trust in Porter has wavered, I’m going to miss him. I know that once I’m reborn, he’ll raise me up, and I’ll get to know him all over again. But not as Alex. As someone totally different. I’m going to miss him as I see him now.
Through these eyes.
For Audrey
In the room below, I settle myself in the center dentist chair. Levi and Micki rest on either side of me. Porter hooks us to the same machine while we sip the runner’s-feet-flavored tea.
I scrunch my nose after downing mine in two gulps. “Dare I ask what gives this such a lovely aftertaste?”
Porter takes my mug away. “That would be the sedative.”
“So, you’ve been drugging me. Fabulous.”
Micki makes a face similar to mine as she swallows. “Best not to ask which drug.”
I draw in a few deep breaths, steadying my nerves.
Levi notices. “You’ll do great. We’ll be with you the whole time.”
My smile is a small, sad thing, and I wonder why I smile at all. What I really want to do is confess that I’m scared out of my mind. I’m so afraid I’ll fail. I’m not sure it makes me feel any better knowing they’ll be with me.
I want to say all of that, but instead I just smile.
I smile, and I don’t know what the hell for.
Until Levi reaches for my hand, and Micki reaches for the other.
“You’re not going to fail,” Micki says, like she can read my mind. Like she’s already connected to my soulmark.
“I’m not prepared. I should’ve studied more. Maybe we should wait a few more days.”
“Audrey may not have a few more days,” she says. “And I did my research. I’m prepared. This is what I was trained for. To be your guide so you don’t have to shoulder it all on your own. I’ll walk you through, every step of the way. Porter will bring the muscle and keep you safe. Levi will keep you focused. We’re all in this together. We want to save your sister as much as you do.”
Her tiger eyes are soft and sincere, but there’s a hesitation in my heart. Always a hesitation.
“For Audrey,” Porter says with a nod.
“For Audrey,” say Micki and Levi.
I want to say it too, but I can’t form the words. I’m too emotional from it all. Every fiber of my body is conflicted, twisted up between suspicion and belief, between hope and defeat. God, I want to trust these people at my side. I want to believe them when they say we’ll triumph. I want to, but I won’t, not until I cross the finish line. Not until I come home a hero.
Porter hands us our headphones. I slip mine on, letting the humming sound waves lull me into a stupor. I feel heavy, my eyes unable to open. My soul wriggles, restless, ready to ascend. The Black spins a web around me.
Porter rests a hand on my shoulder. “Here we go.”
And just like slipping into a dream, we slip into Limbo, into my garden. The soulmark that leads to China sways and dances before us, its light reflecting across our faces. We all reach out at the same time.
Here we go, capturing the flag.
For Audrey.
Chapter 17
Tunnel to China
When I landed, images, colors, and sounds emerged from the light, but I couldn’t get a clear picture of my surrounding like usual. Everything was blurry, streaked, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
What’s wrong? Why can’t I focus? I asked Porter, our minds linked through my soulmark, but before he could answer, I figured it out. I was running, full tilt, racing through the streets of Beijing.
I put on the brakes. Pulled myself to a stop. Gulped deep breaths, hands on my knees. Sweat beaded and rolled down my spine. I had to get accustomed to my host body before I went any further. I had to know where I was, who I was, and what I was dealing with.
My shoes were lightweight, made of soft material, the tips pointed upwards. My pants were black, flowing and soft, gathered at my ankles and tucked into socks. My gray jacket was fastened at my neck and collarbone with strips of fabric, like laces, and it had loose sleeves so long they hid my fists. It was midday, blisteringly hot, but my clothes were surprisingly cool, breathable and comfortable even though they were ragged and threadbare. Two daggers were slung at my hips like pistols. The handles felt familiar, well worn with use. I ran my hands over my head—a tight cap, and a long black braid that snaked down my back.
All males wore their hair this way. Micki’s voice sounded inside my head, and unlike the first time Porter communicated with me this way in Chicago, I welcomed her information. A shaved forehead to show allegiance to the Qing rule, and a long braid down the back.
I pulled off my cap, black with gold trim, wanting to run my fingers across my shaved forehead, to feel fingertips against scalp, like Audrey does every day. But I had a full head of hair. Not one strand cut.
Keep that cap on, Micki warned. It’s part of your disguise. As long as you wear it, you should be able to pass as a boy.
I resituated it, tucking any loose strands beneath the rim, and glanced around. A narrow stone alley stretched out before me, sunlight bathing the path. Brick walls reached high above on either side. As I looked around, I noticed something heavy slung across my back, a pack held tight by a purple fabric strap tied across my chest. Unfurling it revealed a thick porcelain vase, bright yellows, reds, and oranges flashing in the sun. Intricate lotus carvings and delicate paintings of dragons and koi fish.
Are you seeing this? I asked Micki.
Jackpot, she said. What’s on the medallion?
I turned the vase over in my palms. Two carp danced and wound together in waves of blue and jade.
Didn’t I tell you this was going to be cake? Micki says. Your past self already did the thieving for you. A vase like that just sold at Sotheby’s for over eighty million.
Relief flooded my veins. This would save me days of preparation.
What’s that inside the vase? Micki asked.
Wrapped in red silk was a tiny bowl, the deepest vermilion, rimmed in gold, with yellow flowers and white scallops painted along the face.
Perfect, said Micki. Hock the bowl—it’s red porcelain, not as valuable, but it should buy you passage to the healer. Bury the eighty mill for us in Base Life.
“Jie, what are you doing?”
A young man ran toward me, shouting my name. “Jie. Hurry.” He wore the same kind of clothes as I did, the same cap, only slightly different in design and color, and had a long braid down his back as well.
As quick as a whip, I wrapped the bowl and vase and tied them snugly against my back. My reflexes were so fast, my movements fluid and nimble. I felt light but strong. Stronger than I’d ever felt.
As the boy approached, my body tensed, my fists clenched. He seemed to know me, but my instinct to protect the stolen goods took precedence. They were my ticket to see the healer, to fund the cure for Audrey, and I wouldn’t let anyone take them from me. My stance shifted wide into a deep squat, my feet planted firmly on the stone pavement, my fists held above my thighs, my daggers within reach, preparing for an attack. The horse stance. I knew what it was called. It was automatic. I felt a rush of power flow through my arms to my palms.
I was ready to fight. And more importantly, I had the ability.
Holy shit, I said to my team. I know kung fu?
I could feel Micki’s laughter in my head, tinkling almost. Damn straight you do.
“Jie,” the boy shouted again when he reached me, panting. “They are coming.”
My host body’s memory translated the Chinese language for me without hesitation. It was one of the
perks of descending. I could take the fluency of the language back with me to Base Life as a residual, having learned an entire language in less than a millisecond like I had with Danish. But as amazing as that was, it paled in comparison to what stood before me. The energy in my palms evaporated and I relaxed my stance.
This was no ordinary boy.
“Blue?” The nickname slipped out before I could stop myself.
No, no, Micki warned. Her laughter was gone now. His name is Tao Jin. Don’t call him Blue.
Damn. Only a few minutes into the mission and I’d already made my first mistake. Calling him Blue would cause suspicion if he didn’t remember me, if he was only Tao Jin, a stranger to me in this life. I could make an impact on him.
But he flashed me a grin, and suddenly my Blue was there, in the flesh, standing before me. There was his cheery, mischievous smile and intense, unabashed gaze. There were his hands, the hands I’d memorized, smudged with dirt, but shaped the same way. His nose was a bit thinner, his skin deeper in color, his eyes rounder and darker, almost black. I thought his eyes would be the same shade of blue-green in every lifetime, but here he was, proving that theory wrong. It didn’t matter, though. It was him. His stance, his gait, his broad shoulders, everything was the same, but so very different too, his features stolen and worn like a glove in every time period. But it didn’t matter which one he wore. He was always beautiful to me. Achingly so.
“Blue?” he said, smiling from ear to ear, his eyes dancing. “Don’t let anyone else hear you call me that, Sousa.”
Be careful what you say to him. It was Levi this time. I could feel his suspicion, his frown, filtering down into my soul from Limbo. I didn’t let it affect me, though. I let Levi stay cozied up inside my head, along with Micki and Porter. They could be as suspicious as they wanted, but I knew Blue would be an asset. Having his help would only make this mission easier.
The cure was in sight. I felt it, tasted it. Saw Audrey up and dancing again. I was going to save her life. I was shivering with the possibility.
A shout from behind me made Blue’s eyes flit over my shoulder. “You’ll have to fill me in on why we’re in China later. They’re here. Are you ready to fight? Or do you want to run?”
I whirled around. Three men in black uniforms and red caps poured into the alley and charged us, weapons held high. Spears. Swords. They shouted for us to stop. Called us thieves.
As much confidence as I had in my past-life body and her skill with the daggers, I was too chicken to test it out right then. And I was desperate to protect the eighty million on my back, so I said, “Run.”
My Team’s Better
We ran like we did through the back alleys in Chicago. I didn’t slow down; I let my body lead me where it wanted to go.
The alley opened up into a sprawling plaza packed with villagers. It was some kind of festival, or a street market, with booths and tents packed in tight rows, the din of the crowd so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I thought I would lose sight of Blue, but I never did. We snaked and scurried through the crowd as deftly and swiftly as mice, as though connected by an unseen thread.
We ducked beneath a camel lumbering along, loaded down with wooden trunks and woven bags. We slipped past merchants selling silks, colorful pinwheels and umbrellas, delicate birdcages, and wooden wind chimes. We skidded around a portly man selling a rich-smelling stew, which bubbled and steamed from an equally portly pot. We leaped over creaking wooden wheelbarrows laden with burlap bags of rice. Villagers balancing carrying poles across their shoulders, with hanging baskets of leafy vegetables, stumbled to stay out of our way.
We passed archery demonstrations, children performing acrobatics, and a woman painting faces. The sights, the smells, the sounds overwhelmed my senses. Sweat stung my eyes. But I let my muscle memory guide me, let my body do what it was trained to do. This body was used to all the senses, even though they were all new to me. I had to give Lo Jie the reins, and not let my Americanness get in the way.
As we moved farther from the market, the noise died and the crowds thinned. The streets wound around buildings, some with wooden walls, some with brick, and all with tiles on the roofs. We paused behind a statue of a Shi Shi lion, peering around to see if we’d lost the guards.
We hadn’t.
They were on our tails, charging down the street. They weren’t even winded.
“We’re not going to make it,” said Blue.
“Then we fight.” Lo Jie wouldn’t let me chicken out this time. She was prepared to defend the stolen goods on her back.
I stepped out into the street to meet the guards, and squatted into the horse stance again, this time with my daggers in my fists. I breathed in through my nose, focusing all my energy into my palms.
Be careful, Porter said. You must fight clean. Fighting is not out of the ordinary for your past life, but remember, you cannot kill anyone.
I nodded, just once, even though Porter wasn’t there to see me. I understood. The guards charged at me in a flurry, and I met them head on, giving in to Lo Jie’s instincts. I couldn’t let my fear get in the way. If they captured me, I’d have to redo the mission. So I let Lo Jie do her thing.
I spun, I kicked, I blocked, I sliced my daggers through the air. My blades tasted sunlight. We were a blur of black and gray, of fists and steel. I paid no attention to their weapons like I would have expected. Instead, I focused on their elbows. I could tell exactly where their hits would land or what moves they were about to use by the direction and lift of their elbows. I counteracted each time, without thinking. It was like driving the Mustang. Once I had it mastered, the movements came naturally.
A kick to the neck. A spin in the air. A chop to the side of the head. A twist of the arm. A heel to the back of the knee. My body leaping into the air. Two feet planted squarely in the lower back. I was mighty. I was winning. Three against one. Until I realized Blue wasn’t fighting with me. He was nowhere to be seen.
Had he left me to fight these men on my own?
I faltered, only slowed down for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for one of them to crack a blow to my ribs with the long wooden handle of his spear.
Down I went, twisting so I landed on my side instead of crushing the pack on my back. The man with the spear stood over me, wearing a small smirk behind a thin mustache so long it reached his collarbones. I nicknamed him Mustachio.
On Mustachio’s left was a short man with a round belly and his front teeth missing. I named him Toothless. The third was built like an oak tree, stocky, thick, tall. His shaved head glistened with sweat and made him look like a bouncer standing outside a club, so that’s what I named him. Bouncer yanked me to my feet, held my arms behind my back, and twisted my daggers from my hands.
Mustachio looked me up and down with a sneer. “You have much skill. You have been trained well in the Seven Star Fist. But you are no match for the Royal Guard.”
Showed how much they knew. I wasn’t done yet.
Pushing back against the solid tree trunk that was Bouncer and using him as leverage, I swung my feet into the air, striking a kick to Mustachio’s jaw. He stumbled to the ground, clutching his chin. I twisted free from Bouncer, turning to face him.
He came at me with a yell, wielding my daggers, but I deflected every hit, as though I stood behind an invisible shield. Our arms waved like windmills, chopping and churning, until I found a chink in his armor, a hole in his defense. His arms couldn’t move as fast as mine—his massive biceps restricted his range of motion, but my skinny arms flew like hummingbird wings. When his elbows were spread wide, exposing his chest, I pulled my energy from my gut and pushed it into my hands. With a mighty shout, I struck his chest with my palms. I felt the energy leave me and explode into him. He flew backwards, hit the ground, and didn’t get back up. My daggers went skittering across the stone pavement.
The faint swish of a blade grazed the back of my neck, the soft tendrils of hair behind my ear, and I spun to face Toothless.
He swung at me with his sword, slicing and swooping and jabbing as I pivoted and contorted my body. I had no weapon to deflect the blade, I couldn’t reach my daggers, and I grew weary of bending and ducking and spinning out of the way. I had to get in close, between his hands and his shoulders, where the blade couldn’t reach me, but he was too quick. He kept his body protected, kept me at arm’s length under a barrage of flashing steel. I was wearing thin. Too tired from running, too tired from fighting.
He swung at me, aiming to cut me in half, and I used all the remaining strength I had to curl backwards into a flip. I arced through the air. The sword swept beneath my shoes, but by the time I landed on my feet his blade was back, sweeping up from my thigh to my ribs, the point slicing through my pants and jacket.
My hands fumbled at my torn clothes, then the tip of his blade tapped the bottom of my chin.
“You have been trained well, that is certain,” said Toothless between shallow breaths. “But not well enough. Your partner deserted you. You did not have a chance against me and my team, a young child fighting alone.”
“That may be,” I said, my gaze flicking over his shoulder. A silent shadow crept behind him, stepping between the dazed Mustachio and Bouncer on soft feet. “You do have a great team,” I continued, “The only thing is…”
Toothless furrowed his brow, waiting for me to finish.
Blue lifted a wide stone bowl above Toothless’s head. Crash. Down it came onto his skull, shattering to pieces. Toothless’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground with the other two, his sword clattering at my feet.
Blue and I stood over the three of them as they lay there, moaning in pain, and I grinned to myself. “The only thing is, my team’s better.”
Chapter 18
The Western Gate
“Sorry I was late,” Blue said as we hurried away, leaving the guards where they lay. “I’m not as skilled, and I needed to find a weapon. I knew you could handle them.”
The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare Page 14
