Stolen Bloodline

by L G Rollins

  “He is a man who likes his secrets and is loath to trust anyone but himself. He will undoubtedly have something condemning in his personal chambers.”

  Jasper glanced up at the ghost. “You know him that well?”

  “Do not forget. We were once close friends.”

  Gads, what must that have been like to be murdered by a close friend? Just thinking about it made Jasper feel as though a many-legged spider crawled up and down his spine.

  Focus.

  Right, he still needed to find a way to get up to the third level of a well-guarded building. The balcony Mr. Zhi mentioned did hold promise.

  “Could you create a distraction?” Jasper asked his ghost companion.

  Mr. Zhi was silent for a minute. “I’m sure I could come up with something. These guards are well trained and won’t run from a ghost sighting. But I might be able to draw them to me.”

  That was all he asked for. “Give me twenty minutes alone with that balcony and I’ll be inside.”

  “Are you certain twenty minutes will be enough?”

  Jasper gave him an incredulous grunt. “You’re not the only one who can work fast, old man.”

  ***

  No more than twenty minutes later, Jasper reached above his head and his hand wrapped around a stone post, one of the many which made up the balcony’s waist-high railing. His arms were shaking from scaling up a rope, but the embassy’s outer wall was rough and had provided ample purchase for his feet, which had helped tremendously.

  Jasper looped an arm over the top of the railing. With a grunt, he pulled himself up and over it. Hitting the balcony floor, he rolled onto his back, careful to cradle the camera around his neck. Reaching quickly for the rope, he pulled it up and left it nicely coiled in a shadowed corner.

  Mr. Zhi had done a fine job. Jasper wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done to lure the guards away, but he hadn’t made any noise doing it. Jasper looked toward the ground three stories below him. Moving slowly, the two guards strolled out from the menagerie, where Mr. Zhi had drawn them, and back to their normal post.

  They were speaking Chinese, so Jasper wasn’t sure what they were saying, but they didn’t seem alarmed. Perfect. The goal was to get in, learn what he could, and get out without anyone knowing an infiltration had ever taken place.

  Ironic. He was doing to Leng the exact thing Leng had asked he do to Doctor Hopkins. Ironic, and extremely satisfying.

  Jasper moved to the balcony door. He jiggled the handle. Locked. But locks were metal, right?

  “Hey,” Jasper whispered softly to the air around him. “Old man. You there?”

  Mr. Zhi appeared at Jasper’s left, like blue light suddenly gathering together and forming. “You do realize I was barely older than you when I was murdered. Furthermore, ghosts don’t age.”

  “You’re Ju’s father. I don’t care how you look at it, that means you’re old compared to me.” He motioned toward the door’s handle. “Can you unlock this?”

  Mr. Zhi reached a hand forward, his fingers moving up and down, then side to side. His hand disappeared inside his wide sleeves once more and he sighed. “It seems Leng has anticipated a ghost trying to unlock his doors.”

  “But they’re metal.”

  “I cannot move all types of metal. The metal must have some magnetism within it.”

  Good thing Jasper knew how to pick a lock. Truth be told, in all of London only Tressa was better than he. Jasper knelt before the lock and pulled out two of several picks he’d brought along, just in case. He fiddled with one of the long picks, and then with the second. It had been a long time since he last did this and, wouldn’t you know it, he was slowing down.

  Cursing that he’d allowed himself to become rusty at such a vital skill, Jasper twisted the pins again and finally, the lock clicked open.

  Jasper pushed open the door and strode in, careful his boots did not make a sound. Mr. Zhi followed directly behind him.

  Jasper paused and turned to the ghost. “You didn’t need me to open that door for you to get in here, did you?”

  Mr. Zhi smiled—actually smiled—and shook his head. “No. But it was fascinating to watch you work.”

  Jasper rolled his eyes. “Just remember, you roped me into this whole mess by demanding I watch over your family.”

  “Again, I must disagree,” Mr. Zhi said, striding past Jasper and heading deeper into the large room. “Leng approached you first. I only sent Liling to you after I knew you would have a vested interest in the affairs of my family.”

  Vested interest? Immediately, Jasper’s mind went to Ju—her grace and beauty, her fire and determination. Is that what Mr. Zhi meant by vested interest? Jasper had just assumed that Mr. Zhi hadn’t realized Jasper’s growing attraction to his daughter, since the ghost couldn’t draw near Ju.

  Mr. Zhi paused in the middle of the room and turned back toward Jasper. “You didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would take a threat to his sister and her new husband lying down.”

  Oh, that kind of vested interest.

  “No,” Jasper quickly agreed. “I certainly would not.”

  He marched into the room. It was true that he felt concern for Tressa and Brox. But he was doing things as much for Ju as for anyone else, though this was probably a bad time to tell Mr. Zhi.

  Jasper kept his eyes busy scanning the room, intentionally avoiding the observant Mr. Zhi. The room was opulently decorated. Silk curtains about the bed, ornate dressers and bedside tables, more than one rug overlapping each other across the perfectly glossy wooden floor. It was like the man had far too much wealth and it was beginning to spill out over itself, layering, extending, piling, stacking until all his wealth, in the form of fabrics, statues, and paintings, had all but covered itself. How could one even begin to enjoy all of one’s wealth when it was so amassed into one gaudy mountain?

  Jasper shook his head and moved toward what looked like a writing desk. Though it had more vases of flowers atop it than any writing desk Jasper had ever seen. He pulled on a couple of the knobs, but they were locked.

  They were probably ghost proof as well. Jasper knelt, pulling out his thin wires and sticking them inside the keyhole. So much for Leng’s paranoia. The lock clicked open. If he didn’t want his stuff broken into, the ambassador should have more fully realized what type of man Jasper was before threatening him, his family, and the woman he was falling in love with.

  Jasper grabbed hold of the top document and lifted it to eye level, but he couldn’t seem to convince his brainbox to read the words in front of him.

  Instead, all he could see was the way Ju danced, all he could hear was her laugh, all he could feel was her hand against his arm, her body pressed up close to his. Even with their acquaintance being short, she had somehow slipped into his life and become the very heart of it.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re holding?” Mr. Zhi’s voice jolted Jasper back to reality. The old ghost tsked. “Of course you don’t.”

  Jasper blinked and looked at the document again. Oh—it was written in Chinese. That’s why Mr. Zhi assumed he didn’t know what he was holding.

  “How about you enlighten me, then, old man?” Jasper cringed at his own words. If he was serious about Ju, about making their relationship something permanent, then he probably needed to stop calling her father ‘old man’ and find some way to get on his good side.

  Mr. Zhi’s brow raised nearly up to his hairline. “Call me old man one more time, you reckless pup, and I will haunt you until the day you join me in the afterlife.”

  Then again, getting on his good side was probably overrated. “It’s not like you could have broken in here and picked up these not metal documents all on your own.” Jasper placed the paper down on the desk and began pulling out other sheets and laying them down next to the first. “Anything interesting among these?” Of a truth, Jasper should have realized any papers of interest would be written in Chinese. He was simply glad Mr. Zhi had shown up and agreed to help him.<
br />
  “Very interesting,” Mr. Zhi said, leaning over the half a dozen documents. “Take your pictures quickly and let us leave before the blackguard returns.”

  Jasper rearranged a few of the documents so that they were in better light. Then he pulled his camera up to his eye.

  “I think we’ve just found the nails to Leng’s coffin.” Mr. Zhi’s tone was far more optimistic than Jasper had ever heard coming from the ghost.

  “Good,” Jasper said, shooting several more pictures. “We’ll get these pictures developed, translated, and then we’ll take Leng’s war to his own doorstep.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ju sat with her legs up and knees bent, tucked into a corner of Wei shu’s dance school, one of Mama’s leather-bound books open in her hands.

  Ju’s great-grandmother had helped saved her family from famine through grit and ingenuity. Ju’s grandmother had lifted her family from poverty to wealth in less than two decades thanks to a brilliant business mind.

  Ju had known none of this.

  Add to it that Ju’s own Mama had saved herself and Ju from a power-hungry, lying usurper by fleeing China, on foot, and escaping to England without help from family or friends.

  Ju closed the book. She’d finished the first one and was now halfway through this one. Gads—how had she not known these stories? Not known her own history? For her whole life, Ju had shrugged off Mama’s attempts to rope her into spending hours praying to her ancestors. She’d ignored most of Mama’s insistence that they honor those who had passed. Ju had been so concerned about her life, now, in England. She’d always just assumed those past, those from a different time and a different country, need not hold her down.

  But these stories didn’t hold her down. They lifted her up. They taught her where she came from and showed her who she could be.

  “Miss Zhi,” someone called.

  Who would be calling her “Miss Zhi” here? Everyone at the dance school always called her “Ju”. Moreover, she didn’t recognize the voice. Ju stood and turned around until she spotted the individual who didn’t belong in the sea of dancers and their family members, stopping to chat at the end of a long day.

  With the intruder’s solitary streak of white hair, it was a wonder she didn’t spot him the minute he entered. Ju hurried over and gave him a polite curtsy. “Master Chandler.”

  “I was hopeful to find you here,” he said. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve had a few dancers fail to make the cut at Ginevra’s.”

  Oh blast, with all that had been happening with the ambassador and her constant worry for Mama, Ju hadn’t been back to Ginevra’s in over four weeks.

  “There will be another very small round of auditions next Thursday,” he continued. “I hadn’t seen you about, so I wasn’t sure if you had heard.”

  “No, I hadn’t. Thank you so much for coming to find me and let me know.” Was he here to tell her because he had been serious about seeing promise in the way she danced? Or was it because he thought she would thank him with “sweet favors” as the other women at the school had not so subtly told her? Ju watched him closely. He wasn’t trying to stand too close to her and didn’t seem to be hedging around the idea of her repaying him in any way. Still, he had gone out searching for her. Did he want her favors that much? Or did he truly think she would make a good addition to Ginevra’s?

  Ju kept a close eye on him as she spoke. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you find me?”

  “I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous, but I assumed you were Chinese and it was made clear the night you tried out that you’d had formal training. It was only a matter of finding out where most other Chinese girls were trained in dance.” He gave her an easy smile, but certainly not one that made her feel edgy or unsafe. Mostly, he just looked kind.

  More than that, he didn’t seem too keen on looking at her, at all. In fact, his gaze kept drifting off to something behind her.

  Ju glanced over at her shoulder. Wei shu was watching her and Master Chandler with an intense scowl on her face. It seemed Wei shu didn’t trust Master Chandler’s sudden appearance at her school.

  “Forgive me, I must be feeling rather brazen today,” Master Chandler said. “But who is that lovely woman over there?”

  Ju blinked back her surprise. Then again, there were a few wrinkles around Master Chandler’s eyes and Ju was growing more and more convinced that his white hair was not dyed. Master Chandler and Wei shu were probably close to the same age.

  “That is my esteemed dance instructor, Wei shu.”

  Master Chandler’s smile only grew.

  “Would you like me to introduce you to her?” Ju asked. He certainly looked like he wanted an introduction. Wei shu wasn’t involved with any man and never had been, as far as Ju ever knew. Was that by choice or situation? Ju had never questioned before; it had just always been that way.

  “Yes, if it wouldn’t be putting you or her out.” Master Chandler suddenly very much reminded Ju of a schoolboy, excited and all sunshine.

  Well, if he wanted to meet her that much, then she certainly didn’t think there was any harm in providing an introduction. “It wouldn’t be putting me out at all. After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do in return.”

  Master Chandler’s smile dropped, and his form instantly went ridged. Ju paused. What had she said that affected such a change in him?

  “That is quite all right, Miss Ju,” he said. While he had been all smiles and sunshine before, now he seemed . . . well, now he only seemed tired and—dare she think it—old.

  “I only came to make sure you had a fair shake at getting into Ginevra’s,” he said. “You owe me nothing.” The last sentence was stated in clipped tones.

  So that was it. She should have known. Master Chandler must be aware that some of his dancers were prone to gossip about him and his supposed requests for “favors”. It was clear now it wasn’t something he shrugged off or left him unaffected.

  Ju opened her mouth to apologize. She hadn’t meant that introducing him to Wei shu was payment-in-kind for giving her a second chance at Ginevra’s. It had only been a turn of phrase. He seemed so sad now, Ju couldn’t help but feel bad for the master teacher.

  Before she could explain as much, Master Chandler inclined his head in a farewell bow. “Please excuse me. It is time I return to where I belong.”

  ***

  Ju still felt weighed down as she strode down the street, her hand on Jasper’s arm and Tom running out in front of them hitting anything and everything with a stick he’d found somewhere. The sadness which had tugged down Master Chandler’s features the evening before would not leave her mind.

  Jasper squeezed her hand. “Are you feeling quite well today, Miss Zhi?”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little despondent today.”

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I’m puzzling over a certain man and whether or not I can trust him.”

  That must have meant something to Jasper, for he slowed his step and turned so that he nearly faced her fully even as they continued to walk.

  “Oh, it’s no one of your acquaintance.” Then again, Jasper was heavily involved in art, and ballet was one form of art. Perhaps they did know each other? She would desperately like to know Jasper’s take on the man. “You don’t happen to know Maître de ballet Chandler at Ginevra’s, do you?”

  Jasper let out a low whistle. “Can’t say that I do. My art has propelled me up in society somewhat, but not that far.”

  Oh well. It was worth asking about.

  “And he’s the one you’re puzzling over?” Jasper asked.

  Ju nodded. “He’s offered to help me, only I don’t know if I should accept his help.” She didn’t have to show up for the secondary auditions if she didn’t feel it was safe to do so. But the thought of knowingly missing out on her chance to get into Ginevra’s felt like tying a wire around her own neck. “I’m just n
ot sure if he’s a true gentleman, or, if in accepting his help, he’ll expect favors from me later.”

  “Favors?” Jasper blurted, his indignation at the idea not at all hidden.

  “I know it’s terribly unladylike for me to say so,” Ju said. “Only, you’re such a good friend and I need to talk to someone about it.” Jasper didn’t smile at her calling him a good friend, as she hoped he would. But, no doubt, he was too busy puzzling with her to smile at what they both already knew.

  Ju launched into a detailed recounting of her conversation with Master Chandler the previous day. “He just seemed so sad,” she finished up. “I couldn’t help but think the dancers I’d spoken to at Ginevra’s were wrong.”

  “Or misguided,” Jasper added.

  “Or catty.”

  Jasper chuckled and tucked her closer to him. “I do love that you don’t mince words, Miss Zhi.”

  Ju smiled. It was so easy to speak her mind with Jasper. Truth was, she loved everything about being with Jasper. The way she felt safe, the way he listened to her and valued her opinion. His handsome face and broad shoulders weren’t bad company either. Ju glanced over at Jasper, but his gaze was on Tom ahead of them. It was clear from his expression how much he cared for the boy, and that only made her heart speed up and wish all the more fervently that, just once, he’d consider the two of them becoming more than friends.

  But no, she would not pine away.

  Up ahead, Tom stopped hitting his stick against a short fence for a moment and looked over at them. No doubt, he was eager to be moving toward their destination at a faster pace than she and Jasper were taking.

  Ju purposely kept her tone lighthearted; she wouldn’t for anything let Jasper know what she had been thinking. “You know you can call me Ju. All my dear friends do.”

  Jasper let out a long, loud sigh. “Have I finally risen high enough in your esteem to be a ‘dear friend’?”

  Ju thought he was teasing, but there was a slight edge in his tone as he said “dear friend” that made her uncertain.