“I have a master’s degree in fine art, specializing in Chinese porcelain. I wrote my thesis on the art of the Ming dynasty.” She pulled out a pair of glasses from a case in her apron pocket and slipped them on her face.
I set the dragon on the table. Mary’s expression shifted, and the bright friendliness changed to intense curiosity. I could tell that she was in her element. She picked up the dragon and turned it over, examining the etched marks that circled the statue. After a moment, she set it down again and told me she’d be right back. When she returned to the table, she carried with her a couple of oversized books and a notepad.
Not wanting to interrupt her, I glanced around the kitchen. On the surface, it was as homey and cozy as Mary seemed to be, but when I looked closely at the art on the wall, I realized that the prints were actually originals. What I’d thought were replicas of Depression glass also proved authentic when I cautiously lifted one piece and glanced at the markings on the bottom.
Mary flashed me a quick smile. “You like my collection? Everything here is authentic except the art on the walls. That painting up there—the one that looks like Norman Rockwell—that’s my latest attempt at a re-creation.”
Her attempt? “You painted that? You’re talented!”
She laughed. “No, but I’m good at copying. My originals are about as eye-catching as a wet cat.” She turned her attention back to the books she’d brought with her and jotted down a note on her tablet. A second cup of tea later, she sat back, tapping the page with satisfaction. “Got it!”
“You found something?” I straightened up. So far, all I knew was that Daniel had led an unhappy and tragic life.
“I don’t know where you got hold of this statue, but the dragon’s markings coincide with the description of a piece that was created during the time of the Emperor Wan-Li, who ruled during the decline of the Ming dynasty. A young sculptor made it for the emperor’s birthday. He was supposedly one of the emperor’s favorite artists.”
Young sculptor? Emperor? Deja vu. My vision. I had the sinking feeling I already knew the rest of the story.
She skimmed the page. “It says here that Huang Fu was an artist of rising fame who the Emperor Wan-Li had taken under his wing. Unfortunately, Huang Fu was caught with his fingers in the royal cookie jar, so to speak. That alone warranted a death sentence.”
I looked at the little dragon. “You’ve got quite a history, bud. So Huang Fu was killed?”
“Well, yes, in the end,” Mary said. “But before he was sentenced, Wan-Li discovered that Huang had been carrying on with one of his nieces and had gotten her pregnant. During interrogation, Huang admitted that he’d stolen the money so he could sneak off before he was caught.”
“I can imagine,” I said. If the sentence for thievery was death, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the punishment would be for knocking up a royal niece.
‘The emperor ordered Huang beheaded and imprisoned his niece. Before Huang Fu’s execution, Wan-Li forbade priests from praying for the young artist, ensuring Huang would then wander forever as a ghost, lost and without direction.”
“Good grief, he really wanted to punish him, didn’t he?”
“Well, understand that Huang was supposed to be a friend of the court; he wasn’t just some common thief. When he betrayed the emperor, it was a matter of honor.”
I could see that. Betrayal was hard to bear; the emperor would have had to regain his pride in the eyes of his court. Cruel, yes, but par for the course as far as egos went.
“Right before Huang was beheaded, he was informed that the niece had been forced to miscarry. Huang called down a demon and invoked a curse on the statue. Any family possessing it would suffer grave misfortune. After Huang died, it wasn’t long before the reign of Wan-Li fell into an abyss of corruption, and the Ming dynasty was tottering on its last legs by the time the emperor died. The statue disappeared at some point during the last years of his rule.”
Good God! So that’s what I was dealing with? A cursed statue? I stared at the dragon. Curses were usually just tricks of the mind, but both Kip and I had seen the dragon move, and I knew, I knew in my gut, that the story was true.
Somehow, Daniel had come across the artifact. His father had been murdered, his mother struck by lightning, Daniel had died in a tragic accident, as had his wife and twin boys. The hex was active, and now the damned dragon belonged to me. I sighed, letting my breath trickle out between my teeth. “Okay, so it’s cursed. Do your books say anything about getting rid of the hex?”
Mary lifted one eyebrow but went back to poring over the book. After a moment, she glanced back at me. “No, but it does say that the curse will affect the entire family of the person who possesses it, and that getting rid of the dragon won’t lift the curse. Apparently it just extends it to include the next owner.”
I inhaled sharply. Wonderful. How many families had been destroyed by the bad luck this little statue seemed to magnetize? I toyed with the dragon. “And you’re sure this is the same jade dragon?”
Mary closed her books and pushed them aside. As she removed her glasses, her gaze was troubled. “I wish I could say no, but I think they’re one and the same. I don’t know if I believe in curses or not, but I sure wouldn’t want to own that little piece of jade, I’ll tell you that.”
Great. Now to find a way to break the curse on a jade dragon that was almost five hundred years old before it destroyed my family and me. And in the meantime, I’d have to protect it with my life, because if it disappeared, I’d never have a chance to break the curse, and we’d be doomed for sure. I slid the statue back in its envelope and spent another few minutes chatting with Mary before I thanked her and headed back to the cabin.
BY LATE AFTERNOON Miranda and Lori were arguing. I broke up their squabble and marched Randa down to the creek. We sat on a granite boulder, watching the current burble along as the whitecaps crested against the shore.
After she’d had a moment to cool down, I asked, “What’s the matter with you? Why are you being so bitchy? I thought you were having fun.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, we were, but then Lori told me she wants to run for secretary of the astronomy club. I wanted that job. It’s the only one that they’ll consider a teenager for, and I’ve been in the club a lot longer than she has.”
“Verging on whiny, miss ” I tapped her on the knee. “So you think that because you want the same job, she should bow out and not run.”
“Well… yeah. She wouldn’t even know about the astronomy club if I hadn’t introduced her there.”
Ah, self-righteous and possessive. My delightful daughter. I tried to help her find a way to deal with her anger. “You know, that’s a big job. Why don’t the two of you take it on as a joint project?” Her look told me just what she thought about that idea. “Did you ever tell her that you want the job?”
Randa squirmed. “Well, no, it hasn’t come up.”
“So you’re mad because she wants a job that she doesn’t even know you’re interested in?” Good, we were getting somewhere.
Tossing a pebble in the stream, she sighed and crossed her legs, balancing on the boulder. “I guess that does sound stupid. Maybe we could do it together. That way it wouldn’t interfere with homework.”
Her logical nature was taking over, just as I’d hoped. “That’s a good idea and will make it easier for you both to handle the job. You’re a smart kid, you know that? Now, why don’t you go find her and apologize? Talk things out.”
She unfolded her legs and stood, giving me a quasi-apologetic smile before she went lithely bouncing across the river rocks that had been left behind when the glaciers swept through the area, great sheets of ice inching across the land, leaving massive alluvial deposits in their wake.
I leaned back against the boulder, staring at the sky. A hawk hovered in the distance, searching for dinner. Ancient energies haunted these mountains, reverberating through the canyons and rivers and streams, down into the valleys through wh
ich they had roamed for thousands of years. It was as if I could hear whispers from the past echoing in the breeze. I wondered if the spirits bound to this place could help me break the dragon’s curse but shook off the thought. The statue belonged to a different land, a different culture.
Not wanting to leave but suddenly feeling in need of human contact, I made my way back to our cabin and joined the sing-along White Deer had started around the fire. Afterward, she told us legends about the volcanoes along the Cascade Range from the lore of her people.
After a dinner of pan-fried chicken and corn on the cob, I linked my arm through Murray’s, and we strolled around the perimeter of the meadow, stopping to examine the early wildflowers that dotted the lea. “White Deer’s really wonderful. She must have had quite an impact on your life.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty impressive, isn’t she? I wish she lived here. I could use some guidance now, with the job and my lack of a personal life.” She sighed, frustration tingeing the edge of her words. I kept my mouth shut; she just needed to vent.
We returned to the cabin, where I made hot chocolate before we turned in. Randa begged me to let Lori and her stay up late to stargaze. Barely able to hold my eyes open, I dragged a promise out of her that they would keep bundled up, stay by the picnic table, and be back in the cabin by midnight. I crawled in bed next to Murray and fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.
“Mom, Mom.” Somebody was shaking me; muffled whispers woke me up. As I shook off the layers of sleep-induced fog, I realized that Randa and Lori were trying to rouse me. Murray and I sat up at the same time, waking White Deer, who was curled up in her sleeping bag on an air mattress. Kip wandered into the room, rubbing his eyes.
I pushed myself into a sitting position. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a bear outside. Near the picnic table.”
Bear? A bear was prowling around outside our cabin? I glanced around; everybody was accounted for. “What time is it?”
Randa held up her watch. “Almost midnight. We were on our way in when we saw it over by the car.”
We all headed for the living room. White Deer beat me to the window; she pulled back the curtain and peered out into the darkness. “Oh yes,” she said. “That’s a bear all right, and it’s near your car. Don’t turn on the light yet, I want to see what it’s up to.”
Murray was fumbling with something. I realized she was checking her gun. “The car? What’s it doing near my car?”
White Deer suddenly opened the window and started shouting. Everybody stared at her. She yelled, ‘Turn on the lights. We need to chase it away, it’s doing something to your SUV!”
I flipped on the lights and leaned out the window next to her. The bear was pawing at the tailgate on my Cherokee. The creature was huge. No way in hell was I gonna go outside to try to stop whatever destructive frenzy Big Boy had worked himself into. “You goober! You’d better not break my back window! Go away, you damn grizzly!”
White Deer looked at me, amusement playing over her face. “Black bear.”
Black bear, brown bear, grizzly, or polar, I didn’t care. The beast was four-legged, had long claws, and stood way too tall for my comfort. In the pale light of the stars, we could see its silhouette as it lumbered around the camp. Oh yeah, right at home. The wilderness belonged to bears and mountain lions, and I suddenly felt like an intruder, but intruder or not, I didn’t want it messing up my wheels.
Kip shoved in between us and peered out the window. “Wow! He’s huge! Is he going to tear up the Jeep?”
“I hope not, honey. The last thing I need right now is a car repair bill.”
The bear raised its head and sniffed the air, snuffling as it tested the scents floating on the breeze. Then, with a grace I never thought possible for such a big animal, it turned and glided out of the meadow, heading for the woods. I slumped back on the bed. Beautiful, yes, but also dangerous. I hadn’t seen any cubs nearby, so I assumed it was either a male or a lone female.
Murray found a battery-operated lantern and, once it was clear that the bear was gone, went out to check my car. When she returned, her face was set in stone, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Okay, we thought we bagged all our garbage, but I found a package of marshmallows out there, and a handful of candy wrappers. That’s what attracted it.”
“And the car?”
“You’d better go have a look.” She handed me the lantern and guided me out to the Jeep.
“I just hope Mr. Fuzzypants is gone for the night,” I muttered.
We stopped in front of my car, where Winnie-the-Pooh’s big brother had decided to gouge a long scratch along the side. I was looking at one expensive paint job, unless I decided to leave it as a conversation piece. I supposed I could use it as a great icebreaker. “What’dyou do last weekend?” “Watched a bear tear up my car, wanna see the scratch?”
I returned to the cabin. “Okay, show’s over. Everybody get back to bed.” The girls headed into their bedroom, whispering about their close encounter. Kip trailed behind, grumbling that he wished he’d been outside with them. When the kids were tucked in, I slumped at the table, resting my chin on my hands. “When I think of the girls out there alone … they could have been killed.”
White Deer put her hand on my shoulder. “No harm was done, except for your car. Be grateful for the blessings instead of focusing on the negative, Emerald.”
“I know,” I said. “Believe me, I am grateful. I’m just— we came up here to relax, and now the girls get into a tangle with a bear.”
“You’re exaggerating,” White Deer cautioned me. She was about to say more but then stopped as Murray shot back inside. She’d been out gathering an armful of wood and now she dumped it in the wood box and stoked the fire.
“Em…”
“What? Don’t tell me the bear damaged anything else?”
“Not the bear, no. Do you have a spare tire?”
“Why?” I didn’t want to hear the answer.
“You’ve got a flat; looks like you drove over a nail or something and developed a slow leak. We’ll have to change the tire.”
I flounced over to the bed. “It can wait until morning.”
White Deer crawled back in her sleeping bag, and Murray stretched out after making sure the door was firmly latched. I shoved my feet under the covers, flopped over on my side, and pulled the covers up to my chin. If only I could sleep for a week, maybe then things would start getting back to normal.
Ten
IT WAS STILL early by the time we reached Chiqetaw, not quite nine-thirty. On the way through town, we dropped Lori off before heading home. We’d pick up the cats in a little while. Murray and White Deer had a busy day ahead of them; they just gathered their gear out of the back of the Cherokee and, with a hail of hugs, said good-bye. I asked the kids to unload the car while I took a bath.
As I trudged up the stairs, all I could think about was soaking in a mound of lavender-scented bubbles until every muscle in my body quivered like jelly. I was soft, I admitted it. Soft and cushy. No hard body here. But when I opened my bedroom door, all thoughts of a bath disappeared. My room had been ransacked; domes were scattered all over my bed and the floor.
“Holy Hell—”
A trail of splinters led to my jewelry box, which had been smashed across the top of my vanity, splinters of wood gouging the top. Next to the bed, Nanna’s trunk stood open, the padlock and one of the hinges broken. My heart in my throat, I peeked inside. Thank heavens! Though the contents were strewn on the floor, the false bottom and Nanna’s journal were intact. That meant the thief hadn’t found my heirloom dagger.
Kip’s voice filtered up the stairs, startling me. Oh crap, the kids! The thief might still be in the house! I bolted down to the foyer, yelling for them to stay outside, but they had already inched into the living room. “Mom! Your treasures! They’re gone!” Randa waggled her finger at the etagere. The glass doors had been shattered in an effort to reach my crystal col
lection. All my beautiful Faberge eggs were missing, along with a number of other expensive figurines.
Randa looked up at me, comprehension dawning. “We’ve been robbed?”
Numb, I hustled them out of the door. “I want you to get in the car, lock the doors, and wait for me.” They obeyed without a word, edging out of the room while I took one last look before joining them. The front window was still intact, but the desk drawers had been tossed on the sofa. A bottle of ink stained the carpet next to the remains of the rolltop box in which I kept my fine pens. I had little doubt that the pens were gone, along with everything else. Thank God we’d gone camping; who knows what would have happened if we’d been home when the thief showed up.
Once I was standing next to the car, I fumbled with my cell phone and managed to reach Murray just as she walked through the door of her house. “He’s been here, Murray. He’s been in the house.”
Yasmine Galenorn - Chintz 'n China 02 Page 17
