Playing With Fire

by C. J. Hill

  “No, you don’t,” she muttered.

  “He was my friend too.” More than a friend. The Slayers were as close as brothers and sisters. Jesse had lost a brother.

  “You haven’t lost everyone who cares about you.” She didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I swear, if I have the chance, I’ll kill Overdrake myself.”

  He didn’t try to talk her out of her anger. Truth was, one of them really might have to kill Overdrake in a fight. That would be the quickest way to end his bid for a takeover. Instead, Jesse tried to reassure her. “You didn’t lose everyone who cares about you. All of the Slayers care about you.”

  She scoffed and went back to staring out the window. “Well, you’ll all care when fire is coming your way. I’m the only one who can extinguish it now.”

  “We care anyway. We always will. We’re on the same team.”

  She made a grumbling sound showing her doubt, but she didn’t argue the point. “When we get there, I’ll ask Shang the questions.”

  Jesse nodded in agreement.

  “And when we have to lie, let me do it,” she said. “You suck at lying.”

  He glanced at her, then returned his attention to the road. “How would you know?”

  “Please. I’ve lived with you every summer since I was twelve.”

  “Maybe I’m so good at lying that you don’t know all of the times I’ve lied to you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t even sneak off with Tori without everyone knowing. Let me handle any details we have to make up.”

  They pulled up to a white townhouse and got out. Lilly’s balloons jostled against each other, rustling with every step toward the door. She clutched the plate too tightly, holding her chocolate-chip offering as if it could ward off bad news.

  Jesse rang the bell. A minute later, a slender Asian woman answered the door and looked them over.

  “Hi.” Jesse smiled in what he hoped was a casual way. “We’re some of Shang’s friends. We heard he’d been in the hospital and thought we’d drop by to see him.”

  Lilly held out the plate of cookies. “I made these for him.”

  The woman pursed her lips, didn’t move to let them in. “How thoughtful. What are your names?”

  “I’m Jesse, and this is Lilly,” he said. “Shang knows us from camp.”

  The woman nodded, still not opening the door any wider. “How did you get our address?”

  That was trickier to answer—and one of those details Lilly wanted to handle.

  She inched forward and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “Shang gave it to me.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I know he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone where he moved, but we’ve been friends since we were twelve. He knows he can trust me.” With Shang’s memory loss, he couldn’t contradict the story about him giving Lilly his address.

  “I see,” the woman said, clearly unhappy with the answer. She still eyed them suspiciously. “I’ll ask his uncle if Shang is up to a visit.” She turned and spoke in Chinese to someone behind the door, then turned back to them. “Just a moment.”

  Jesse and Lilly awkwardly waited on the doorstep, then heard Shang’s voice from inside. “It’s okay, Mom. I know them.”

  The woman—Shang’s mother, apparently—opened the door all the way, letting them in.

  Shang seemed none the worse for his stint in the hospital. He looked the same—alert, healthy, standing straight, although Jesse wasn’t sure Shang knew how to slouch. Jesse looked for a difference in his eyes—some sign that Shang wasn’t one of them anymore. He saw nothing. It was stupid to think he would. What did he expect? A person couldn’t see that sort of thing.

  “Sorry you had to wait on the doorstep for so long,” Shang said, gesturing for them to follow him through the room. “My family is being ultra-cautious right now.”

  The group passed a man sitting on the couch watching TV. He was large, broad shouldered, and wore his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. If Jesse wasn’t mistaken, he had a gun holstered at his waist. He nodded as they walked by.

  “That’s my uncle Hong,” Shang said. “He’s staying with us for a while.”

  He led them upstairs and down a hall to his bedroom. Jesse shouldn’t have been surprised that it looked like the inside of an Ikea catalog—the bed was made, desk organized, and no clutter or dirty clothes lay anywhere. Still, Jesse couldn’t help but stare in wonder. He hadn’t known that real teenagers actually lived this way.

  Shang pulled a chair from his desk and offered it to Lilly. “How did you hear about my stint in the hospital?”

  “It was one of those weird coincidences,” Lilly said, sitting down. “Bess was at the same hospital in New York visiting a relative and she saw them bring you in. The staff wouldn’t let her see you, because, you know, she wasn’t a relative or anything, but she told us about it. She was really worried about you.”

  Jesse made his way to a window seat. “If Bess wasn’t still in New York, she would have come with us.” Despite what Lilly thought of his skills in deception, he managed the lie well enough.

  Lilly nonchalantly ran her hands across the arms of the chair. “So how did you wind up in the hospital?”

  Even though Jesse knew it wasn’t likely, he hoped Shang would say, “I know why you’re really asking. Don’t worry. I’m still a Slayer.”

  Instead, Shang sat down on his bed, shaking his head. “I don’t remember most of it, and the police weren’t that concerned about making sense of what happened. But my cousin Min and I were both drugged while we were at a family wedding. She doesn’t remember much either. She went out to the parking lot to turn off her car’s headlights, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on the pavement and people were shaking her awake. I remember less than that. I told a 911 operator that I’d been shot with a tranquilizer gun, but then they found ketamine in our systems and acted like we were some stupid kids who had OD-ed on a drug trip.”

  “That’s rough,” Jesse said. He felt like a piece of his heart had been carved out and left hollow. He’d known beforehand what to expect, but seeing Shang and hearing his explanation made it all worse—all real. He’d lost a brother, and there was nothing he or Lilly could do to reclaim him.

  Shang was just . . . gone. The same, yet utterly different.

  “I’ve never used ketamine,” Shang emphasized. “I don’t use drugs,”

  “We know,” Lilly said.

  “They didn’t find any signs of foul play,” Shang went on. “Nobody even took my wallet. None of it makes sense.”

  It actually made perfect sense. Jesse couldn’t speak, found it too hard to form words.

  Shang hesitated, perhaps deliberating whether to say more on the subject, then asked, “So how did you guys know where I live?” He seemed curious, not suspicious, although it was hard to tell with Shang. He tended to keep his thoughts guarded.

  “You told me your address,” Lilly said. “Remember? You gave it to me that time we got together at the mall.”

  Shang cocked his head. “When did we do that?”

  She blinked as though surprised he didn’t remember. “A week ago. I helped you pick out a jacket, and then we ate at Panda Express. You went on and on about how it wasn’t real Chinese food.”

  Lilly had told Jesse about the supposed mall trip, but the detail of the jacket was new. And too specific. Either Lilly wasn’t as good of a liar as she thought, or it wasn’t a lie at all. What had Lilly and Shang been doing together at a mall?

  Shang stood, went to his closet, and pulled out a black leather jacket. It looked more like something a biker guy would wear than something Shang would ever pick out.

  “This?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said brightening. “You remember?”

  “No, I just saw it in my closet and wondered where it came from.”

  Lilly deflated. “You don’t remember any of it?”

  “Sorry.” Shang hung the jacket back up. “I might have gotten a head inj
ury or something when I was drugged. A lot of my memory is gone.” He clenched and unclenched his hands, irritated. “The doctors say the memories might come back. It’s too early to tell.”

  Lilly leaned forward, her casual veneer slipping. “What do you remember about camp?”

  Shang tilted his head, seemed to think it was an odd question. “Uh, I remember going, and I remember that you guys were there.”

  “Do you remember which team you were on?” Jesse asked.

  “Team?” Shang repeated. “Oh, you mean for the camp games.” He shrugged. “It’s all kind of foggy. I just remember we went running a lot. I’m glad that part of camp is over.”

  Jesse had anticipated this answer, but it still hurt to hear Shang say it. Each word felt like a stone dropped onto his chest. They’d lost Shang.

  Shang, who had always been so thorough and dependable—as logical as Kody was hot-headed. Jesse had always counted on Shang as his next in command in Team Magnus. How would they function without him?

  Lilly took in a jagged breath, put her hand to her mouth, and broke into tears.

  Jesse had never seen her cry, not in all the years he’d known her. Whenever she was upset, she always got angry, not sad. He would have been less surprised if she’d picked up something and thrown it.

  Shang left the bed and went to her, leaning over her chair to put his arm around her. “Lilly, I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t answer, just stared at Shang as tears ran down her cheeks.

  A look of understanding flashed in his eyes. “Were we . . . dating or something?”

  She swallowed, trying to compose herself. “Yeah, something.”

  They were? When had that happened? Jesse hadn’t even suspected, although maybe he should have. At camp they’d gone off together often enough. Still, Lilly had given Jesse and Tori so much grief about breaking Dr. B’s no-dating-rule, he hadn’t expected her to be guilty of the same offense. He felt a new pang of grief for Lilly. She’d lost more than just her counterpart.

  Shang took Lilly’s hand, sat on the edge of his desk, and smiled. He didn’t seem to mind suddenly finding himself in a relationship with her. “I should have known that a girl had something to do with that jacket. I never would have chosen it myself. The tags are gone, so that means I wore it at least once, didn’t I?”

  She sniffed and nodded. “All that night. And you looked hot in it too, so don’t knock it.”

  Shang squeezed her hand, and his voice turned soothing. “Hey, I’m really sorry I don’t remember, but I’m sure it’s only temporary. I couldn’t forget something that big, could I?” He gave her hand another squeeze. “But don’t expect me ever to wear the jacket again.” He chuckled, trying to joke Lilly into a better mood. “Okay, maybe once more if it makes you happy.”

  She didn’t even crack a smile. “You can’t ever drink.”

  “Was I drunk?” He laughed again and looked over his shoulder at the closet. “Well, that would explain the jacket.”

  “No,” Lilly said. “You weren’t drinking. And you can’t ever drink or do drugs, or your brain won’t heal. You’ve got to help your memories come back.”

  “Right,” Shang said. “Don’t worry. I’ll follow the doctor’s orders.”

  Lilly turned his hand so she could see his Slayer watch. “You’re still wearing this.”

  Shang looked at the watch, then noticed she wore an identical one. “Wait, are these some sort of couples’ watches? No wonder I didn’t feel right taking it off.” He ran a finger along the face of Lilly’s watch then smiled at her. “Since we’re dating, I’m going to have to put my foot down about your fashion choices. From now on, let me pick out my stuff. No more bad-boy jackets or weird watches with a bunch of unexplained buttons.”

  While Shang was distracted, Jesse quietly slid his own matching watch higher up his arm, out of sight under his coat sleeve. No sense in having to explain why he had one too.

  Lilly tapped Shang’s watch. “Take it off and look at the back.”

  “Why?” he asked, even as he took it off. He flipped the watch over, and his eyebrows lowered in confusion. He tilted the watch to better catch the light.

  Jesse looked from Shang to Lilly and back again. “What is it?”

  “It’s inscribed,” Shang said, and then asked Lilly, “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “You engraved it in Chinese. It’s a note to yourself.”

  Shang scrutinized the inscription and grunted. “Yeah, and I should have been more specific, because this doesn’t make a lot of sense. ‘Go into your room, and pass through has you.’” He looked at them for an explanation. “Why did I write that? What’s in my room?”

  “It’s a clue.” Lilly said, her tone growing eager. “After Alyssa lost her memory, you said you weren’t going to let that happen to you. So you wrote yourself that message.”

  Shang lowered his watch. “Alyssa lost her memory too? What happened?” His gaze went back and forth between Jesse and Lilly. “Was it because of the same people who came after me?”

  Lilly nodded.

  Shang frowned and stood, looking like he wanted to leave the room. “We need to tell the FBI.”

  “They already know,” Jesse said.

  Shang’s eyes widened with understanding. “Are the two of you involved in the same case I was?”

  That was as good an explanation as any. “Yes,” Jesse said at the same time Lilly said, “No.”

  She glared at Jesse. He knew she wanted to tell Shang the truth, tell him everything. But saying things about dragons would only make the two of them lose any credibility they’d gained.

  When Alyssa lost her memory, they told her she was a Slayer, and there was a dragon lord named Overdrake who was after them. She thought they were crazy. Better to stick with the truths Shang could actually deal with.

  “You can’t tell your parents about our involvement with the case,” Jesse said. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  Shang took in the information. “I won’t.”

  “Remember Dirk from camp?” Jesse continued. “He’s not our friend anymore. You should know that. His father is bad news too.”

  Lilly stood and spoke to Jesse, her familiar frustration replacing her sadness. “Shang is different from Alyssa. He realizes he’s forgotten things.” She turned to him. “And you wrote yourself that note, so you know we’re not making things up. None of us could have written that in Chinese.”

  Lilly turned to Shang. “The inscription is telling you to look for something in your room, right? So, where should you look?”

  Shang shrugged. “Depends. What am I looking for?”

  “Another, longer message from yourself.” She glanced at Jesse, then turned away guiltily.

  She knew exactly why Shang had written the inscription on his watch. “You mean,” Jesse said addressing her, “that Shang hid some sort of account of secret things?” From the time they first became Slayers, Dr. B had forbidden them from recording anything that, if found, could prove they were Slayers. Their parents couldn’t be allowed to discover their identities, and neither should anyone else—especially people who might leak information to Overdrake. But now that he knew who each of them were, the rule didn’t seem so important. Making a record might even be a good idea, as long as their parents didn’t find it.

  “If I were to hide something,” Shang said, walking to his dresser. “I would put it . . .” He opened a drawer and removed the clothing, stacking it on top of the dresser. “Here.” He reached in and pulled out some money from the bottom of the drawer, both Chinese and American, followed by a picture of Lilly.

  He turned to her, holding the picture. “Is this what I told myself to remember? You?”

  “No,” she said, but she smiled at the picture in his hand, pleased that he had it.

  Shang replaced the clothing into the drawer then slid out the other drawers, combing through the contents. “A longer message to myself . . .”

>   Finding nothing out of the ordinary in his dresser, he opened the closet and rummaged through clothes, checking pockets. Lilly went to his bookcase, where she pulled out books and searched for any loose papers among the pages. “The message will probably be written in Chinese,” she said.

  Jesse joined the search. He checked under the bed, lifted the pictures away from the wall, and riffled through the desk drawers. Jesse even looked behind the dresser, which was hard to do because of the large mirror attached to the top. Twenty minutes later, the three of them had trashed Shang’s room, but came up empty-handed.

  Lilly sidled up beside Jesse. “We’ll just have to tell him everything.”

  “He won’t believe it if he hears it from us,” Jesse said. “Would you?”

  Lilly pressed her lips together, unable to bring herself to answer the question.

  Shang took his watch off again and flipped it over. “Jing,” he read.

  “What?” Lilly asked.

  “The Chinese symbol for ‘jing.’ I’m so stupid. The symbols have the same pronunciation, but in this case it doesn’t mean ‘pass through.’ It means ‘mirror.’ The clue isn’t in the room itself. It’s inside the room’s mirror.” He walked over to the dresser and examined the edges of the mirror. Then he grinned. “Something’s wedged back here. A paper.”

  He went to his desk, found a letter opener, and worked it into the crack, trying to budge the paper. For several minutes, he maneuvered the letter opener without success. He tried a different angle. “I still can’t get it out.”

  Lilly grumbled something unintelligible, picked up a ceramic pencil holder, and smashed it against the mirror. With an offended-sounding crack, the glass shattered, pieces plunking onto the dresser top.

  “In case you don’t remember,” Lilly told him. “I’m not all that patient. You probably should know that about me while considering my girlfriend status.”

  “Noted,” Shang said calmly, and plucked a long, white envelope from the pile of the mirror’s remains. It was addressed to Shang, postmarked with a return address from New York.