Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Harvard?”

  “MIT.” He smiled. “Civil engineering.”

  A sensation as light as the brush of a feather tickled against the back of her neck. “And do you build bridges in China, Yu Long?” In between reading minds?

  His smile widened, but he did not respond telepathically. “My job is to provide you with an unforgettable visit to China. You’ll be staying at a Tang-dynasty-styled villa—traditional luxury enhanced with every possible modern comfort.”

  The villa was no doubt filled with surveillance equipment. She could request a hotel at the risk of offending her hosts, but the outcome would not have been different. Her hotel room would be bugged within minutes of her stepping out for a meal. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

  Yu Long escorted Xin and Ching Shih through the airport. The card he flashed transformed the sullen and suspicious expressions on the government officials’ faces into deferential respect and cleared red tape like the parting of the Red Sea. An expressionless chauffer in a black limousine met them at a side entrance and whisked them toward downtown Zhengzhou.

  Xin stared out of the window as the setting sun bathed the city in a red glow. Not nearly as large as Shanghai or Beijing, Zhengzhou, the capital of Henan province, was nevertheless one of China’s leading Economic and Technological Development Zones. It attracted foreign investment; Excelsior Advanced Research in Technology and Science, which bore the tongue-in-cheek acronym ARTS, was one of the leading employers in the city. Sir Brandon Richards was apparently even more recognized and lauded than the city’s mayor. Excelsior’s day-to-day operations and strategic direction, however, lay entirely within the control of Dr. Yi Shen.

  Xin added one more item to her mental checklist. She would have to arrange for a meeting with Dr. Shen, but her first priority was tracking down Danyael.

  “I understand that you are here for a heritage visit,” Yu Long spoke, glancing over his shoulder to address Xin and Ching Shih, who sat in the backseat. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see? I’d be happy to make the arrangements for you.”

  “Is wandering unescorted permitted?” Xin asked pointedly.

  “You are guests of the government and free to move about as you wish. It is an honor to me, however, to escort the esteemed descendants of China’s revered heroes.” He smiled. “I trust you will not entirely deprive me of that pleasure.”

  Xin concealed a smile. Oh, he had charm and words of honey to match. “I would like to visit Fu Hao’s tomb.”

  “An easy day trip. When would you like to go?”

  Xin glanced at Ching Shih, whose studied gaze out of the window had not budged. “Tomorrow.”

  Yu Long nodded, and murmured something to the chauffer in Mandarin. Xin heard and understood enough to capture the gist of the conversation. He turned back to her. “I recommend leaving tomorrow at 10 a.m. It will give you enough time to enjoy a leisurely breakfast, and the traffic gridlock would have eased somewhat.”

  “Sounds great. Thank you. I would also like to understand how China structures its economic incentives to balance foreign and domestic growth. Are there companies I can talk to?”

  “I’ll look into it and have an answer for you tomorrow.”

  “Surely you can recommend a company or two offhand.”

  “I can only speak on behalf of the government, not private entities.”

  “Not even private entities heavily subsidized by the government?”

  “There’s a fine line between influence and control.”

  Xin threw her thought out. As a telepath, you would know that.

  Yu Long’s expression did not change; neither did he respond. Silence seeped into the car until the only sound was the purr of the engines. The bright lights of the city faded into the hazy glow of the suburbs, and thinned further into the outskirts of the city.

  The car turned into an unlit and unmarked driveway, heavy foliage obscuring the path on either side. A pinprick of fear lodged in Xin’s chest, but Ching Shih’s stoic demeanor anchored her. She suppressed a smile. She had never thought she would appreciate her mother’s lack of reaction to anything.

  Ice queen indeed.

  Points of light flickered through the dense leaf cover, and the trees peeled back to reveal the distinctive sweeping curvature of a Tang-dynasty roof. The building, accentuated by spotlights at its base, glowed like a gem in the darkness. The limousine stopped in front of the entrance, and Yu Long stepped out to open the door for Xin and Ching Shih. “Your bags will be brought to your rooms. Please, come with me. I’ll show you around.”

  The red pillars, elaborate tile work, and ceramic figurines on the roof ridges leaped into focus as Yu Long ushered Xin and Ching Shih through the central entrance and into a courtyard. Shorter buildings flanked both sides of the courtyard with predictable bilateral symmetry. A small army of men and women stood in front of the buildings, their heads lowered and eyes downcast. An older woman stepped forward, and deepened her bow.

  “This is Su Lan,” Yu Long said. “She speaks English and is responsible for coordinating the staff to attend to your needs while you are here.”

  “Welcome back to China.” Su Lan’s words were clear, although her accent was foreign.

  “Thank you,” Xin murmured.

  “The staff resides here, in these outbuildings,” Yu Long said before he led Xin and Ching Shih through an eight-pointed pavilion and into a second courtyard.

  “Oh…” Xin’s gaze climbed up the nine-story pagoda. The outstretching eaves of the pagoda formed an inverse curve and narrowed in gradual tiers to culminate in a crowning spire. The pagoda was supposed to be the figurative representation of a mountain, but to Xin’s eyes, it looked like corn on the cob.

  Yu Long smiled. “In the full light of day, the pagoda would have been immediately visible from the central entrance, but at night, it emerges, a surprise to the senses.”

  “A good surprise.” She smiled.

  “Usually,” he agreed, apparently enjoying the view as much as she was.

  Water cascading from a rock waterfall half the height of the pagoda spilled into a pond. The glow from spotlights installed in the pond wavered in the water and shimmered against the scales of large koi swimming in lazy S-curves.

  Yu Long led them across the curved bridge over the pond and to the entrance of the pagoda. “The ground floor serves as a reception area. The living room and dining room is on the first floor, and your bedrooms are on the second floor. We modernized the building with hot water and air-conditioning, but couldn’t bring ourselves to put in an elevator.” He grinned. “There are libraries and studies on the higher floors, but everything essential should be within two flights of stairs. I hope you don’t mind.” For the first time, his formality slipped into a more casual style that matched his Bostonian-accent.

  Xin reserved judgment until she stepped into her bedroom. The elaborately carved rosewood furniture looked authentic, which was to say uncomfortable, until she noticed the small features that elevated the experience, including a Tempur-Pedic mattress on the rosewood bed, audio speakers discreetly built into the gold-inlaid headboard, and multiple electrical outlets concealed beneath flaps that could be raised when needed and tucked away when not.

  “Will it do?” Yu Long asked from the doorway.

  “Yes, I think it will.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll leave you to settle in.” He stepped aside as a man carried Xin’s bags into the room and set it next to the closet. “Everyone in here is at your service, and a car is available to take you anywhere you choose to go. If you’d like to let Su Lan know of your meal preferences, dinner can be ready in as little as a half hour.”

  “Thank you.”

  He inclined his head, and a smile flashed over his features. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  His footsteps faded into silence as he walked down the stairs. Xin hefted her bag onto the bed to unpack but stopped as a shadow fell over the door. She partly turned. “What is it
?”

  Ching Shih’s voice was flat. “You should not be so friendly to him.”

  “I wouldn’t have to be if I didn’t have to compensate for your cold shoulder.”

  “He is—” Ching Shih frowned and tapped the side of her head.

  Xin’s eyes narrowed. “Crazy?”

  “No. Leech.”

  “A telepath? Yes, I already know that.”

  “And still you talk to him?”

  “Talking to him isn’t dangerous. My mind is shielded.”

  Ching Shih huffed. “Always you underestimate the amount of conversation that happens without words.”

  Whatever. Xin turned her back on her mother and pulled out her smartphone. She waited for the clicks that confirmed the line was secure, routed through so many satellites and firewalls as to be untraceable and unhackable, before calling Danyael.

  Within moments, his melodic tenor replaced the ringing tone. “Xin?”

  She blinked. She had been expecting his voicemail. “When did you start picking up the phone?”

  “After Zara called and told me to add you to the ‘answer the goddamned phone’ list.”

  “You’ve spoken to her. What did she say?”

  “That you’re worried.”

  “Was she upset?”

  “Why would she be? I’m investigating…nothing in particular.” Frustration crept into his voice. “How much trouble can I get into verifying the accuracy of research findings?”

  You have no idea. “We need to talk.”

  “All right.”

  “In person.”

  “Xin, I’m in China.”

  “I know. I followed you.”

  Silence swelled into a long pause. “You did what?” Danyael asked lowly. “But you told me once you could never return to China.”

  “‘Never’ was apparently up for negotiation. Where are you staying?”

  “At the JW Marriott at Zhengzhou.”

  “I’m sending a car for you. You know my handwriting. The driver will carry a note from me. When you get the note, call me and I’ll tell you what’s on it.” Including the tiny marks on the corner of the paper. “You’ll be sure then that you’re getting into the right car.”

  “Xin, why are we playing James Bond?” He sounded confused.

  “I’m being watched, Danyael, and so are you. It wouldn’t hurt to take a few precautions.” She paused. “Danyael?”

  “Yes?”

  Xin drew a deep breath. “Remember that you’re an alpha empath—one of only three in the world. You’re rare and coveted.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Watch your back. By going to China, you may have placed yourself exactly where your enemies want you.”

  6

  A half hour later, the low purr of the car engine summoned Xin to the main entrance. The black limousine pulled to a smooth stop; the door opened, and Danyael stepped out.

  She expelled a soft sigh of relief. “Let’s talk.” Instead of inviting him into the compound, she stepped into the dense woods. In silence, they walked away from the lighted buildings and into the shadows of the trees. The darkness should have been threatening, but it was hard to work up an honest fear of her surroundings when she was with an alpha empath who could heal or kill with a touch. Xin broke the silence. “When did you get in?”

  “About twenty-four hours ago. I went to Excelsior today.”

  “What did you find out?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t understand the language, and no one tried to speak to me. Dr. Shen showed me around the lab—both their research and manufacturing facilities. If there’s a problem, nothing leaped out at me physically.”

  “And emotionally?”

  “People are afraid.” Danyael shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned into the darkness. “I sensed guilt, but mostly fear—not of me. The kind that creeps up on you. At first, you think you can live with it, but with each passing day, it digs deeper and gets colder. One day, you wake up, unable to go on, wondering how it all so quickly went to hell.”

  Xin shuddered from the icy snap of the wind that swept past her before noting that the leaves on the trees had not moved. The chill had come from Danyael—emotions breathed into life by an alpha empath, and given physical texture and tangible power. “And you saw nothing that would have made you question their research or their ethics?”

  Danyael frowned, but he shook his head. “Not on the surface, and I wouldn’t know unless I reviewed their research files.”

  “And if you had access to their documents, would you be able to figure out what they’ve done?”

  “More than likely.” He glanced at her, his eyes blacker than the night. “What you said earlier…that by coming to China, I’d placed myself exactly where my enemies want me. What did you mean by that?”

  There was no easy way to tell him. Xin braced herself. “The blood Seth Copper stole from you—”

  “It’s here?” Shock blasted across Danyael’s face, but the air did not even ripple. When he chose, his psychic shields were as impenetrable as his control was flawless.

  She nodded.

  “What kind of research did they use it in?”

  Xin shook her head. “I don’t know. If there’s more information out there, it’s on a local drive or network, not one I could hack from halfway around the world.”

  “I have to get the blood back, whatever’s left of it, and destroy their research.”

  Somehow, she had expected he would feel that way. “Not all of your blood is here. The rest of it is still somewhere out there.”

  “Damn it.” Danyael grimaced. “It’s a modern day horror story—a vampire—just in reverse. Instead of spreading my blood, I’m trying to keep it from the world.”

  “You didn’t give it up willingly. You’re not responsible for the kinds of research people do on your blood.”

  “It came from me.” A quiet sigh escaped from him, more motion than sound. “There’s no way to spin this situation without me being responsible, somehow.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. Use my empathic powers to force the truth?” The furrow in his brow confirmed his distaste for that option. “I’ll call Dr. Shen in the morning; perhaps we can have an honest conversation about the terrible implications of experimenting with an alpha empath’s blood.” He coughed into his fist—the lingering remnants of a lung infection he had picked up in prison—before turning to face Xin, his dark eyes penetrating. “Why couldn’t we have had this conversation over the phone instead of out here?”

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Come on in.” Was it a good idea, though, considering her mother’s chilly reception of Yu Long? Too late now. “Assume the house is bugged and all the servants are spies, although there’s probably little the Chinese government doesn’t already know about you and me.”

  “Great. No reason to be paranoid, is there?”

  Xin chuckled. “I’ll show you around. You’ll love the pagoda.”

  “How hard was it for you to come back here?” Danyael asked as he followed Xin into the compound.

  “Logistically, it was a nightmare, but otherwise—” She shrugged. “I was two when I left; I don’t remember China at all. I’ve no attachment to the country or the culture. On the other hand, my mother—”

  “Your mother?”

  Danyael sounded so surprised that Xin found herself irrationally offended. “I do have a mother.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. For a moment, I had trouble imagining who the mother of a clone might be. Was she your birth mother?”

  “My host? No, I’m told she’s dead. Ching Shih stole me from the Chinese government, escaped to America, and raised me, which I suppose would make her the nearest thing to a mother.”

  “That’s a widely accepted definition of mother.” Danyael’s smile warmed Xin and soothed the sting of his startled reaction. She should have expected no less from an alpha empath. Danyael
could have made Dracula feel good about his bloodlust.

  Xin led him through the outer and inner courtyards and to the pagoda. Together, they climbed the circular steps to the second floor and walked toward the dining room.

  Danyael continued quietly. “You’re fortunate—blessed to have a mother willing to risk so much for you.”

  Xin shook her head, her voice pitched low. “Don’t make it more than it is. I was a bargaining chip, at best.” She paused before entering the dining room. Through the doorway, she could see Ching Shih already seated at the table.

  Danyael followed her gaze, and a wistful smile curved his lips. “Don’t make it less than it is. You already have more than many do.”

  She stifled the snort. She should have expected Danyael’s different perspective on motherhood. Ching Shih might not have qualified for “Mother of the Year,” but Danyael’s mother was so far outside of normal, she had practically set a whole new scale for psychosis—she had tried to kill him before he turned three.

  Xin glanced at Danyael. His dark eyes were at peace. For many years, they had not been—his tormented past honed the deadly edge of his empathic powers—but it appeared that Danyael, too, had gained perspective, and more importantly, serenity.

  Somehow, that small but critical fact had failed to make it into Danyael’s psychological evaluation. Xin smoothed the frown before it could appear on her face. What else had the psychologist missed?

  She led the way into the dining room. “Ching Shih, this is Danyael Sabre. Danyael, Ching Shih.”

  “Ching Shih?” Danyael extended his hand, and a grin flashed across his face. “The Ching Shih—the woman who single-handedly advanced clone rights in America? I didn’t realize—” Danyael’s quick glance at Xin conveyed a faint rebuke for the lack of warning. “I’m glad to meet you.”

  Ching Shih’s eyes narrowed, but the brief furrow between her brow flowed into a genuinely warm smile. “It was a long time ago, Danyael. And it is good to meet you; it is always good to meet Xin’s friends. You are in time for dinner. Please, sit.” She gestured to the place setting next to her, offering Danyael the seat between her and Xin. Another glance at the unobtrusive servants standing against the wall signaled the start of the meal. One plate after another was set on the table, and Ching Shih named each delicacy as it was served. “Beef short ribs. Braised quail eggs.” The smile that lit her face was almost joyful. “This was my favorite as a child.”