“You all look adorable in those frocks,” Emily said.
“I hope you have one for me.”
Maggie would have found it almost impossible to describe the look on Emily’s face when she heard that familiar, beloved voice.
“Aimee?” said Emily, and they all watched as Aimee materialized, like a character out of Star Trek, right in front of the icebox.
“Mom!”
They ran to each other and Aimee fell into her mother’s arms. In an avalanche of tears and laughter they hugged, pulled back to look at each other, and hugged again. Maggie was almost overcome with emotion herself, and she looked around at Miss Pembrook, Dalton, and Kate. They were having the same reaction.
When at last their joy subsided enough for them to speak, Emily said, “How did you do that, Aimee—and how did you get here?”
“Mom, since you left, a lot of weird things have been happening in Middleburg. What you just saw—me teleporting—is one of them. I call it slipping. That’s what got us here and that’s what will get us home. But how did you get here?”
“I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”
“Dad said you left us, that you didn’t love us, and you didn’t want us anymore. But then, when Dalton and I were helping Miss Pembrook with some research, I found an old photo of you here in Middleburg—taken over a hundred years ago. Trust me. I’ll believe you.”
“Well, first, you know that I’d never leave you and your brother and just go away.”
“I know. But after what happened with Tyler—”
Emily held a hand up to stop her. “I should have been stronger,” she said. “I should have stood up to your father. He told me that sending you to Mountain High Academy was the only way we could keep the police out of our lives and make sure you’d never go to trial.”
“Mom, I didn’t kill Tyler.”
“Sweetheart, I know that. And after we sent you to that . . . school . . . I was trying to figure out how it happened, which is why I ended up here.”
“I don’t understand,” said Aimee.
“I went to the tunnel. I wanted to see for myself where they found his body.”
“Why?” Maggie asked.
“I don’t know,” Emily replied. “I was just trying to understand.”
“What happened in the tunnel?” asked Aimee. “Did you go inside?”
“I was about to when I saw one of your father’s business associates coming out of it. You remember Oberon Morrow?”
“Do I ever,” said Aimee. “Go on.”
“Well—and I know this will sound strange—but something was happening to him. Something weird. He was becoming someone else. He was changing.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen that act,” Aimee told her. “I had a front-row seat, in fact. He morphed into his true self—a fallen angel.”
“That’s right,” Emily said. “I knew right away what he was. You remember all those books I’d read about angels—and I believed in them, both the good and the bad kind, but I never thought I’d actually see one. I gasped. I’d never seen anything so beautiful and so frightening.”
“And he heard you,” Dalton surmised.
Emily nodded. “Yes. I’d seen what he was and there was no way he was going to let me tell anyone. I tried to get away. I ran but these great black wings came out of his back and he flew right over me and landed in front of me to block my way. He could have killed me, but he sent me here instead. He said it was better than killing me. It would be a living death, knowing that I’d never see you and Rick again.”
“Ah . . . Mom?” Aimee said. “About Rick. He’s . . . he’s not himself these days. He’s changed—and not in a good way.”
“Yeah,” Maggie interjected. She looked at Aimee. “You’ve seen it too?”
Aimee nodded.
“Mrs. Banfield, I don’t mean to be rude,” Dalton said. “But I never could figure out how a nice person like you could have two such different kids.”
Emily smiled. “Yes. Aimee was always so sweet, cooperative, cheerful—until Tyler died. But Rick—I could never reach him. I saw a cruel streak in him when he was just a toddler. I tried to stop it but over the years he became such a bully.”
“It’s more than that,” said Aimee. “It’s like something dark has seeped into him somehow.”
“Oh, God,” Emily whispered. “My poor boy.”
“He’s not your boy anymore, Mrs. Banfield,” Maggie told her sadly. “I know it sounds weird, but he’s turned into some kind of demon or something.”
“All the more reason to get home as soon as possible,” said Emily. “Aimee, are you sure you can do it?”
“Yes, I can,” Aimee assured her. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get you home.”
Emily hugged Aimee close again and then caught her up on what was going on in 1877 Middleburg, what the outlaws wanted and how much they were all in danger.
“Okay,” Aimee said. “So . . . we have to make a plan. We’ve got to figure out how I’m going to teleport us all back to our Middleburg without those outlaws noticing you’re gone and starting to shoot everybody.”
“Not just your mom,” said Anne Pembrook. “They know we’re here now, too.”
“We’ve got to take them out,” Maggie said. “We’ve got no other choice.”
Before any of them could react to that, the church bells started ringing. “They’re starting the counting. Come with me, darling. I’ll get you a dress to wear. We have to hurry.”
“Wait,” said Aimee. “They don’t know I’m here. That could work to our advantage.”
Chapter 25
The moment he opened the box and found the ring shards missing, the neurons in Zhai’s brain started firing overtime. The shards were gone, taken from his house despite Hilltop Haven’s robust security detail, despite the community’s cameras, despite the state-of-the-art security system that supposedly protected the Shao house, and despite the endless array of house staff and family members who were constantly parading in and out of the place. Was it possible that the Obies or government agents had somehow been able to enter the house undetected and take the shards from Zhai’s hiding place?
Maybe. But there was a simpler explanation.
Since his father had always been reliable and honest, Zhai had somehow failed to fully comprehend that he really belonged to the Obies. They held sway over his father’s life or his death—and they could get him to do anything. Why had Zhai thought the ring shards would be safe in his house?
“My father,” he said grimly. “If he doesn’t have them he may know where they are. Wait here,” he told Chin and Nass and hurried across the lawn toward the back entrance of the main house. He charged up the steps and down the hall, calling for his father, and blasting through the study door almost hard enough to knock it off its hinges.
Cheung Shao was standing by the window and he turned, surprised when Zhai ran in.
“Zhai, what is it?”
Zhai grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shook him. “The shards,” he demanded. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know. What shards?” Cheung Shao asked. “What are you talking about?” He was either baffled by the question, Zhai thought, or pretending to be.
“Don’t lie to me!” Zhai yelled. “You’ve lied about everything. Why we came to America, how we got here, where your money came from. All of it—lies! I’m warning you, Father. If you lie to me about this, I’m done with you!”
Sadness crossed Cheung’s face. “You do not understand,” he said. “I have nothing to do with the shards or the treasure. I have nothing to do with any of it. I am a businessman, Zhai, not a fighter. I conducted the Order’s businesses—their legitimate businesses—not their dirty work.”
“Then who took the shards?” Zhai demanded.
“I took them,” a voice behind Zhai said, and he turned around.
It was Li.
* * *
As Nass and Chin followed Zhai toward the back door of the main house, Chin warned him, “It’s slipping away, Nass. We’re running out of time.”
“It’ll be okay,” Nass said hopefully. “We just have to get the shards back. Zhai will talk to his dad. He’ll—”
Chin was still recovering from his illness and was moving a little slower than usual, but they were almost to the back door when it opened. Lotus Shao, wearing a jade-colored turtleneck sweater, black pants, and tall black riding boots stood there, blocking their path. Her hair was tied back into a sleek black ponytail that reached halfway down her back. If there was an award for hot moms of Middleburg, Nass figured, she’d win it hands down. If there was an award for scary moms, she’d win that, too.
“Let us pass,” Chin said.
Lotus shook her head slowly, and she was smiling. “Not this time, Chin,” she said. “It’s over.”
They eyed each other silently, and then Nass spoke up. “Look, we don’t want to make any problems,” he said quickly. “We’re with Zhai. He just went inside.” He tried to slip past her, but she stopped him with one small hand pushing firmly against his chest.
“No,” she said.
“Well,” Chin said mildly. “I always wondered why the Order would send Cheung on such an important mission without a handler. That’s your job, Lotus—isn’t it?”
She bowed slightly, giving Chin an icy smile. “How clever of you to finally figure it out,” she said. “But I’m afraid it’s a little too late for it to do you any good.”
Chin nodded. “Your husband’s trust—and his heart—were misplaced,” he said.
“My husband is a fool whose mind is distorted by love.”
“I’m afraid I must disagree with you,” retorted Chin. “Love cannot distort. Even the most misguided love is more productive than a rational hatred.”
“Ever the philosopher.” Lotus’s voice was low and sarcastic. “Go now. Leave—at once,” she commanded.
“Not without Zhai,” said Nass.
It all happened in a split second. Nass decided to bolt past Lotus and charge into the house to get Zhai. He even lifted his foot to take the first step. Lotus reacted in a blur of motion, and suddenly Nass was upended, his body parallel to the ground, legs in the air, hands windmilling. He hit the stone patio in a back-smacker of epic proportions, and at the moment of bone-jarring impact, his whole world went black.
* * *
As Zhai stood staring at his sister, Weston entered the room behind her—and he seemed completely befuddled. He was looking at Li as if hoping her actions would give him some clue about what was going on.
Zhai released his father and quickly stepped away from him. It was an unwritten rule in the Shao household to keep Li away from anything ugly or unpleasant, and this situation certainly qualified. But he was still having trouble processing what she’d just said.
“Li, this is a private conversation,” Cheung Shao said as he smoothed his shirt, but Li continued to walk purposefully toward Zhai.
“I’ll need those ring shards you’ve been collecting,” she said evenly, as if she were asking to look at his homework assignment.
“What?” Zhai said.
“The shards. You still have one. Give it to me,” she said.
Zhai stared at her, confused. Behind her, Weston said, “Li, thanks—but you don’t have to do this for me. It’s really not necessary. I mean, unless you want to give it to us, Zhai?”
Zhai glanced at Weston, then back to Li. “What’s he talking about?”
She merely held out her hand. Neither sibling moved.
“Okay, look, so . . . here’s the deal,” Weston began with a heavy, confessional sigh. “I’ve been working for the federal government. I know, I don’t seem like the secret-agent type, but you know what they say. You can’t always judge a book by its cover, right? I mean look at you, Zhai. You look like a normal kid, and you’re a martial arts master. Which I respect. Which is why I would never demand that you give us the shards. But we’re acting on behalf of the United States government so we’re requesting, respectfully, that you—”
“No, you’re not,” Zhai said, still looking at his sister.
“Um . . . what?” Weston said.
“You’re not working for the government,” he said. “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”
Li smiled, but it was not her normal schoolgirl grin; it looked eerily like her mother’s smile—tight and frigid.
“I’m sorry, Zhai, but yes we are,” Weston assured him. “Aren’t we, Li? Tell him.”
Zhai and Li stood facing each other, their eyes locked. A thousand childhood scenes flashed through his mind: playing on the backyard swing set, riding bikes together in the afternoons, back and forth to music lessons, playing endless childhood games like Go Fish, War, Monopoly—and Li’s favorite, Risk.
“I should have known,” Zhai said.
“Yes, you should have,” Li said simply. “But you’ve always been so . . . inside yourself. I bet you didn’t even know that I’m an expert at Venom of the Fang, did you?” She laughed at his surprise. “You can’t possibly beat me in a fight, and I don’t really want to hurt you, Brother. Just hand over the shard and everything can still be okay.”
“Venom of the what?” Weston asked, and Zhai felt sorry for the kid.
He felt sorry for his father, too. He could see Cheung Shao’s reflection in the mirror on the wall behind Li. He had gone completely pale, like he was about to faint. But he was telling the truth. He hadn’t taken the shards. He had no idea what was happening. He really was just a lackey, a glorified accountant. It was Li—and if Li worked for the Obies, then so did her mother.
Suddenly, Weston seemed to get it. “You weren’t helping me,” he said to Li. “You were working for them. For the Chinese agents! Oh, God, I’ve been such an idiot. My dad is gonna kill me.”
“Don’t feel so bad, Weston,” Zhai said. “She tricked me, too. She doesn’t even seem to remember that in the last few months, I saved her life—twice.”
“Oh—didn’t I remember to thank you?” Li said with a sarcastic little smirk, and Zhai understood that there was nothing he could say, nothing born of logic or of love, that would change her course now. Her mother had been grooming her, brainwashing her for as long as Zhai could remember. He had always dismissed it as the love of a devoted, overbearing parent. Now he saw it for what it was: the conditioning of a soldier.
Still watching Li, Zhai reached into his pocket, took out the shard, and held it up in front of his face. Perhaps ten feet separated him and his sister now. “Okay, Li,” he said. “If you want the shard that badly you’ll have to come and take it from me.”
The girlish grin that had been missing earlier rose to her face now. She sprang forward with the grace of a young puma, and attacked.
* * *
As they left the boarding house, Maggie went over the plan again in her head. It would utilize every skill they had, but it would also require a bit of luck. Dalton nudged her and nodded at the man on horseback posted on the corner.
“That’s Crawford,” said Aimee’s mom. “He’s in charge of this street. He escorts us over to the town hall, and after the count, he brings us all back.”
When they passed him, Maggie saw his eyes following them. His hand rested on the six-shooter on his hip and his gaze shifted as one by one the townspeople—men, women, and children—came out of their shops and homes and joined the line. They all looked so tired and anxious, Maggie thought, and she knew they wouldn’t be able to depend on them for much help. The stress they were under showed in their faces. She wondered how much longer they could take it. She couldn’t help noticing that i
n their old-fashioned clothes they all looked like extras in some amazing period movie—but she had more urgent concerns at the moment. The number of men keeping guard over them had grown from a couple to about a dozen, and they were all heavily armed.
“Get in line!” one of the outlaws barked, planting a boot in the back of a man wearing dingy work clothes and shoving him into place as the last few stragglers came out to join them. By now they were in front of the town hall, lined up before a long watering trough.
The desperado who seemed to be their leader dismounted and stalked down the column of frightened people. “Which are the new arrivals?” he asked.
“Right here, boss,” said Crawford. He walked to where Emily was standing with Anne and the girls.
“I’ve seen pictures of him,” Anne Pembrook whispered excitedly, staring at the leader of the gang. “That’s the outlaw Sam Bass!”
“Shut up,” Crawford ordered. “Step out. The boss wants to have a look at you.”
Calmly, Anne and her students did as they were told. The boss was taller, more broad-shouldered, and uglier than the rest of them, and Maggie didn’t like the look he was giving them, especially the one directed at her.
“Well, ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he said when he stopped in front of her. There was a lecherous gleam in his eye. “I think I could have some fun with you.”
“Not really,” she said and pointed at Dalton. “She’s a lot more fun than I am.”
“Oh, yeah?” he replied and sauntered over to where Dalton was standing. “Why do you say that?”
“She’s an entertainer,” said Maggie. “She sings like an angel. Really—you ought to hear her.”
He chuckled. “Been a while since we had any entertainment,” he said. “Go ahead. Show me what you can do.”
“Right now?” asked Dalton.
“Sure,” he said. “Go on—give us a song.”
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