The Empress's Tomb

by Kirsten Miller

  “They say that as the tomb was closed, the girl’s barbarian servant placed a curse on the Emperor and his court. One day, she said, the Traitor Empress would awaken and have her revenge.”

  Oona spoke at last. “Don’t you think it’s a little sick to keep stuff like this in your house?” It was as if the story had broken a spell. While Lester Liu’s eyes were on his daughter, I saw Kiki slip a bug inside a wall sconce. “Mummies, severed heads, what else do you have in here? Jimmy Hoffa?”

  “I’m pleased to see you’ve recovered from your shyness, my dear. As a matter of fact, I don’t intend to keep the Empress. The treasures from her tomb have been donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and an exhibit will open next month. It will be the most impressive collection of ancient Chinese artifacts ever seen outside of China. The mummy is too fragile to move at the moment, but she will be the centerpiece of the show.

  “Of course the opening gala will be spectacular. And nothing would please me more than to have my only child by my side.”

  Oona’s short, obscene response was interrupted by another loud crash and a faint moan. The three of us whipped around, expecting someone to emerge from the dark room we had only recently exited. Oona and I were content to peer into the gloom from a safe distance, but Kiki again decided to investigate.

  A minute later she returned with a puzzled look. “One of the paintings fell from the wall.”

  “Please do not concern yourself, Miss Strike,” Lester Liu advised calmly, brushing invisible dust from the Empress’s glass coffin. “The butler will see to it.”

  “What’s going on?” Oona tried to disguise her fear, but the diamonds on her wrist flashed as her hands trembled. “What the hell are you trying to pull?”

  Her handsome father offered an infuriating smile. “How amusing. One rarely hears such colorful language issue from the mouth of a lovely young girl. It’s much like watching a monkey sing opera. I assure you that I am not pulling anything, my dear.”

  “Stop calling me that,” Oona snarled. “I’m not your anything.”

  The butler entered from the far side of the room and stood as still as stone.

  “Ah,” said Lester Liu. “Dinner is served.”

  • • •

  The wood-paneled dining room was dimly lit. A fire flickered at the end of the room and a single candelabrum glowed in the center of a long mahogany table. The butler guided me to a chair that seemed miles away from my friends. Across the room, Lester Liu’s face was hidden in shadows. From where I sat, I could see little but the white of his shirt.

  I felt the butler at my side and looked up to see him dipping a ladle into a deep tureen. The dancing dragons painted on the bottom of the bowl in front of me were drowned in a dark orange liquid. I stirred the soup with the tip of a silver spoon and a row of sharp, black spines broke the surface. My head snapped up in astonishment, and Lester Liu chuckled from across the table.

  “It isn’t an assassination attempt, Miss Fisher,” he said. “It’s sea urchin. I think you’ll find it’s delicious.”

  I blushed and brought a spoonful of the liquid to my lips. It tasted like a murky tidal pool. I thought I saw the butler smirk when he passed by on his way to the kitchen with the empty tureen. When the kitchen door closed behind him, we heard the sound of china shattering, as if he’d thrown the dish against the wall. The spoon dropped from my hand and splattered soup across the front of my dress.

  “Oh dear,” sighed Lester Liu. “I hope that wasn’t the second course. It’s a rare Chinese delicacy—baby cobras in chili sauce.”

  “Is your butler always so clumsy?” sneered Oona.

  “That wasn’t the butler.” Lester Liu paused to sip his disgusting soup. “That was my ghost.”

  HOW TO KNOW IF YOUR HOUSE IS HAUNTED

  Just because you haven’t seen a ghost doesn’t mean that there isn’t one watching you. According to parapsychologists, not all ghosts reveal themselves as readily as a poltergeist. Some spirits simply lurk in the shadows, content to inspire goose bumps and a creeping sense of unease in their human housemates. Others make strange noises in the dead of the night or shift objects when no one is looking. But if you suspect that you’re sharing your home with the dead, there are some steps you can take to find out for sure.

  Catch Your Ghost on Film

  Experts agree that ghosts are more active at night (surprise, surprise). So when your house is suitably dark and eerie, take multiple pictures of the rooms you believe to be haunted. When examining the photos, don’t discard any bad pictures. Cameras can record things that the human eye can’t detect, and any professional ghost hunter will tell you that those strange glowing orbs, inexplicable mists, or shafts of light that ruined your photos may in fact be ghosts.

  Log Your Observations

  Whenever you hear, see, or feel something strange, jot down the time and a description of your experience. This will allow you to spot patterns to your visitations and may help you discover that the creepy hissing noise you hear every day at four o’clock is only the sound of sprinklers turning on in your neighbor’s front yard.

  Consult Your Compass

  Apparently, most compasses fail to work in the presence of ghosts. When you’re near a spirit, the needle may be unable to fix on a point. Instead, it will spin around the dial or simply refuse to give an accurate reading.

  Set Up a Video Recorder

  Ghosts have an annoying tendency to avoid anyone who’s looking for them. So instead of sitting up all night with your camera in hand, set up a video recorder and get a good night’s rest. If possible, switch your camera to infrared mode, which can capture heat signatures. In the morning, watch the tape while you’re eating your cereal and see what all that thumping around in the dark was about.

  Keep Track of the Temperature

  Many residents of haunted houses report unexplained temperature fluctuations. One spot in their otherwise toasty home may feel like Antarctica on a winter’s day. Another may be unbearably hot. So keep a few indoor thermometers in key places. If nothing else, weird cold or hot spots may help you figure out where best to set up your video recorders.

  Monitor Any Movements

  Do you hear mysterious footsteps at midnight or wonder why the refrigerator door is always standing open in the morning? Set up a few cheap motion detectors around your home. They’ll alert you to any movement and help you determine whether your house is haunted—or your sister just enjoys a forbidden midnight snack.

  Invest in an EMF

  Most professional ghost hunters turn to an Electromagnetic Field Detector (EMF) to help them detect unusual energy sources. Higher than normal readings may indicate the presence of a ghost (or a refrigerator, so be careful). EMFs can be purchased for as little as twenty dollars, but a compass (see above) may work just as well.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Hungry Ghost

  Most people, when they want to get to know someone better, rely on the same set of boring questions. “What do you do for a living?” they’ll ask. “Where do you go to school?” “What were you doing at 9:45 p.m. on August the fifth?” While the answers to these questions may shed some light on a person’s financial status, educational prowess, or homicidal tendencies, they can’t really tell you what makes her tick. So whenever I meet a person for the very first time, I like to wait for the right moment and then ask if she believes in ghosts. It’s a little odd, I’ll admit, but that one simple question has spared me from untold hours of mind-numbing chitchat. If my new acquaintance laughs at such a silly thought or offers a condescending shake of her head, I’ll soon invent an excuse to go my own way. But I’ll know I’m in luck if she answers with a resounding “Yes.” It makes no difference if she seems mousey, morose, or mentally unhinged. Any person who believes in ghosts has at least one good story to share.

  That evening, I took one look across the table at Oona Wong and knew she was a believer. She didn’t snicker at her father’s assertion. Like the rest of u
s, she simply lowered her spoon to the table and prepared for the story she knew would follow. Lester Liu slid his soup to one side and leaned in to the candlelight. His charming smile had vanished. He wore a somber expression—a mixture of dread, grief, and fear that added years to his face.

  “Cecelia Varney must not like strangers living in her house,” Kiki Strike said casually, as though a haunted mansion were no more unusual than a bad bed-and-breakfast.

  Lester Liu shook his head slowly. “Ms. Varney is resting in peace. The mansion didn’t come with any ghosts. I’m afraid that I’m the one who is haunted. That’s why I invited you to dinner this evening. I am hoping Oona will agree to help me.”

  Oona’s tongue was tied so Kiki spoke for her. “Why Oona? What you need is an exorcist.”

  Lester Liu ignored her advice and addressed his daughter instead. “My dear,” he said softly, as if preparing her for difficult news. “Have you ever heard of a hungry ghost?” Oona’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and a little gasp passed between them. She seemed to know the story he was about to tell. Even Kiki was temporarily silenced.

  “What’s a hungry ghost?” I asked, not certain I was ready for the answer.

  Across the table, Lester Liu’s eyes disappeared beneath the shadow of his brow. “In China,” he began, “it is said that when a person dies in a state of great anger, her soul remains on earth, trapped by a hunger for vengeance. The angrier the soul, the more powerful the ghost. Of course, the problem can grow worse if the dead person has not been provided with the things she needs in afterlife. It is under such conditions that a soul may become a hungry ghost.”

  A series of muffled crashes and bangs came from beyond the kitchen door.

  “I have seen my ghost countless times. Her face is still beautiful, but the rest of her is nothing but bones, skin, and hair. Over the years her power has grown, and now she follows wherever I go. That is why I rarely leave this house. It is why none of the servants will stay. I find I have no choice now but to give my ghost what she desires.”

  Oona’s face was white with terror, and even Kiki looked stricken. I was still confused. “Why is she so angry? What did you do?”

  “I abandoned her child. I gave it away because it wasn’t the boy I wanted. I have not been a good husband or father, Miss Fisher. Nor have I been a good man. But that must change. It is time to make amends to the people I have injured. That is what Oona’s mother has been trying to tell me.”

  The butler emerged from the kitchen, holding a silver tray. As he made his way toward Lester Liu, I noticed that the back of his suit was dripping with slime, as if he’d been attacked by a giant slug. He whispered softly in his boss’s ear.

  “I’m sorry to report that we must skip directly to the third course,” Lester Liu announced. “The second has not survived. It’s a pity. Baby cobras are so difficult to come by in New York. Americans possess such pedestrian palates, and I am forced to import them directly from Thailand.”

  The butler circled the table, dropping two deep-fried crabs onto each of our plates. Mine were locked together in an embrace, as if they’d been consoling each other as they prepared to meet their fate. As soon as the servant had returned to the kitchen, Oona shoved her plate away and glared at her father. I was pleased to see the anger in her eyes.

  “You want me to get rid of your ghost? Why should I help you? While you lived like some third-world dictator, with your creepy servants and your baby snakes, I lived in a run-down apartment with four women who could barely afford to feed me. They had to steal fabric from your sweatshops to make my clothes. We shared a bathroom with thirty other people and lived without heat in the winter. I had to teach myself English. I didn’t even go to school until I was eight. All because I was a girl?” Oona was screaming now, her face ugly with rage. “You expect me to feel sorry for you now, you pathetic old man? Trapped in a mansion on Fifth Avenue with a hungry ghost? How many people have died because of you? How many people are still slaving away in your factories? It’s your turn to suffer.”

  I wondered if Oona had gone too far. Lester Liu remained calm, but his nostrils were flared and his teeth clenched. We hadn’t planted all of our bugs or uncovered any clues about the missing Taiwanese children, and if Lester Liu gave us the boot, we might never have another chance. I knew the same thought was passing through Kiki’s mind. She politely excused herself and left the dining room, presumably headed for the powder room. That left me alone to witness the battle between Oona and her father.

  Lester Liu addressed his daughter coolly. “In China, a child would never say such things to her father. Respect for one’s parents is the most important virtue.”

  “Does this look like China to you?” asked Oona. “I was born here. I’m an American. And you’re just a criminal.”

  “Oona,” I whispered, trying to calm her.

  “It’s all right, Miss Fisher,” said Lester Liu with a weary sigh. “My daughter has spoken the truth, I’m afraid. As you’re no doubt aware, I have done terrible things. However, I am not the only criminal in our family.” He turned to Oona. “I know how you afford to live as you do, my dear. I know about the forgery and the nail salon. I am sorry you were forced to abandon your morals. Your mother must be heartbroken. She was a simple woman with strong principles. That is why I have invited you here. To ask if you would, in honor of your mother, renounce the criminal life. I have already done so myself. Since you and your friends destroyed the Fu-Tsang, I have been living the life of a legitimate businessman.”

  “Do legitimate businessmen kidnap Taiwanese school kids?” I wanted to kick her when she said it. Leave it to Oona to put our plans in jeopardy just so she could make a point.

  Lester Liu looked confused. “I’m at a loss for words, my dear. This isn’t a Dickens novel. What use would I have for schoolchildren? You must know that there are many men left in Chinatown who have not made the resolutions I have made. Crime did not stop when I stopped committing it.

  “I have earned more money than I could possibly spend, Oona. The factories will be closed. Debts will be forgotten. I purchased the Varney Mansion with the intention of donating most of her treasures to museums. Marie Antoinette’s room will be sent back to France. The paintings will be displayed where others can see them. I will become one of the most important philanthropists in the city. A man who is admired, rather than feared. I want you to be with me. As my daughter you will finally receive the attention you deserve. New York’s rich and famous will line up to meet you.”

  Suddenly I felt a frigid breeze on my bare shoulders. The flames of the candles were blown from their wicks, and the blaze in the fireplace surged and then vanished as if it had been sucked up through the chimney. The room went black, and a wail that might not have been wind made me faint with fear. We were not alone in the room. I fumbled blindly for the knife I had seen sitting next to my plate. Gripping it like a dagger, I waited for something to happen. I heard footsteps approaching from behind. A hand suddenly gripped my wrist, and a breathy whisper filled my ear.

  “I finished upstairs. Go do the ground floor.” A quick scratch and a single flame lit a ghostly face. Kiki Strike held her match to one of the candles and then used it to light the others.

  “Maybe you prefer to dine in the dark, but I like to see what I’m not eating,” she said, sitting down in front of her untouched plate.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled, rising from the table and practically running for the door.

  • • •

  Outside the dining room, I took a tiny crystal bottle from my pocket and refreshed my Fille Fiable just as a large hand gripped my shoulder.

  “Allow me to show you to the powder room,” the butler droned in a deep, flat voice.

  “Thanks, but I’ve been going to the bathroom by myself for years now.” I leaned toward him and hoped the perfume would work its wonders. “If you could just point me in the right direction.”

  The butler paused in midbreath as if his brain were at w
ar with itself.

  “It is the third door on the right.” He pointed down an unlit hallway and returned to the kitchen. I began to breathe a sigh of relief until I remembered I was in a strange mansion with a ghost on the loose.

  Even in phantom-free environments, I don’t care much for the dark. Like anyone with an imagination, I see shapes in the shadows and figures crouching in corners. A midnight trip to the bathroom will leave me trembling in terror, and a power outage can be practically life threatening. So while I was fairly certain that Lester Liu’s ghost had no bones to pick with me, I knew if I looked I would see her everywhere. I rushed blindly through the six rooms on the hall. I vaguely remember a library, a study, a few bedrooms and a bathroom. I left bugs behind books, under chairs, and behind a toilet. (Probably not the best idea, I realized later.) In ten minutes, I was finished. I straightened my dress, refreshed my Fille Fiable, and walked back to the dining room. It was empty, but for the butler who was cleaning up the remains of a roast duck that were strewn across the room and oozing down the legs of the table. I thought for a moment that I’d seen him smiling.

  “Your friends have decided to leave, miss. They are waiting for you in the foyer.” He set down the tray of mangled meat and led me to Oona and Kiki. Oona’s beautiful dress had been splattered with sauce and Kiki was removing grains of rice that clung like lice to her long black hair. Lester Liu stood with Oona’s stole in his hand, an embarrassed look on his face.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The butler claims he was pushed,” said Kiki. “The fourth course landed on Oona.”