Crouching Tiger, Forbidden Vampire

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Beyul-La is gone, but as long as my family lives, I have hope that someday I will have a home again. It is this hope that stops me from destroying the papers. Before, when I taped them on the wall, I was trying to show Master Han what was in my heart. Now I wish to conceal my true feelings.

  I stack the papers neatly under my cot, hidden behind some books where Master Han will not see them. If he sees my hope, he will keep me hidden forever.

  I thumb through one of the books Master Han has given me to help me learn how to write. Since my throat cannot produce words, Han wants me to write well in Chinese so we can communicate. I look for words that will please him, and I find two.

  Surrender. Submission.

  Fire simmers in my chest. I can never surrender. Nor will I submit. My hand refuses to write those words.

  I find another one that I can write and that will meet Han’s approval. With my black pen, I copy it carefully. I use a piece of the tape Wu Shen gave me to stick it on my wall.

  Gratitude.

  The man with the golden mask will think I am grateful for the bed and food I have received. He might even think I am grateful that he pretends to care for me, that he pretends to be my father.

  I am grateful for his lies so I know not to trust him.

  I take a deep breath as the lock turns in the door. I have already received my evening meal, so I know it is time for Master Han to make his nightly visit.

  The door creaks open, and he enters. The candlelight from my writing desk makes his golden mask gleam. I bow my head in greeting.

  He repeats what he says every night. “How are you today, son? Did you sleep well? Do you have enough to eat?”

  I nod and take my empty food tray to the guard at the door. I can see the stairs at the end of the hallway. It is tempting to run, but there are more soldiers upstairs. I would not get far. If only my wings would sprout. If I could make it aboveground, I could fly away.

  Is that why Master Han keeps me below ground?

  “You’ve learned a new word.” He steps closer to the wall and nods with approval. “Gratitude.”

  Angry fire simmers in my belly. Should I be grateful I am a prisoner? I could blast fire at Han and all his soldiers. I could make them writhe in agony while I escape.

  My skin grows hot with disgust. I have killed before. Sometimes I wake, drenched with sweat, for the memory seeps into my dreams and burns the brand of murderer onto my soul. I breathed fire on Lord Liao and his soldiers when they sought to bring the demon, Darafer, back from hell.

  My actions solved nothing. Darafer still came. He was the one who captured me and brought me to Han. He boasts that I will kill again but from now on, he and Han will choose my victims. I will be trained to submit, Darafer tells me. It is only a matter of time, and he has time at his command.

  I turn away from the door and the guards outside. I will not kill in order to escape. I will never kill again. For if I did, I would belong here with Han and Darafer. I would be like them. I would have surrendered to evil.

  I can never surrender. Nor will I submit.

  “I have good news for you.” Han walks up to me and pats me on the back. “It’s been quiet the last few nights, so I thought we’d resume your archery lessons.”

  Then we would go aboveground? I nod and give Master Han a smile.

  My spirits rise as he leads me up the stairs. We cross the main guardroom. The soldiers jump to attention and bow low as Master Han passes by. There are only a few officers who dare to look upon his golden mask.

  Four guards rush up the last staircase and crank open the heavily sealed door. They dash outside, then one returns to report that all is clear.

  Han selects a longbow and quiver of arrows, then hands them to a soldier. We ascend the stairs and emerge into a small cave. Five guards wait at the cave entrance, and five more surround us as we leave the cave.

  I breathe deep of the fresh night air. The moon above is half full. When it becomes full, will I shift for the first time? Will my wings burst from my back?

  I look around, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dark. We are in a semiarid region of hills and giant boulders. At the base of the hill, a dirt road extends into a dark horizon. A target has been set up across the road.

  As we descend the hill, the guards spread out, leaving Han and me centered a short distance from the target.

  “Do you remember the proper stance?” Han hands me the bow.

  I turn my left shoulder to the target and plant my feet apart. I extend my left arm straight, my hand fisted around the bow.

  “Very good.” Han hands me an arrow.

  For a second, I consider slamming the arrow point into Han’s chest. But he is wearing the thick black armor over his chest. And I will not kill again.

  I notch the arrow into the bowstring, pull back, and take aim. The arrow flies and hits the edge of the target.

  “Not bad, son!” Han pats me on the back. “You’ll get better with practice.” He hands me another arrow.

  “Master.” A soldier runs toward us and bows. “A truck is coming.”

  The guards gather around us, their swords ready. Dust swirls on the dirt road as the truck zooms toward us. It comes to a halt and two men emerge—the driver and Wu Shen.

  Han waves his hand to disperse the crowd of soldiers around us. They step back as Wu Shen dashes toward us.

  “Report,” Han says.

  Wu Shen bows quickly, then says, “I bring bad news. Camp number three failed to report in this morning. I took a unit of soldiers there, and it was empty.”

  Han stiffens. “They deserted? I will hunt them down and kill them!”

  Wu Shen shakes his head. “There were signs of a battle. Two dead soldiers and bloodstains on the ground. I believe the camp was attacked by the same group of vampires and shifters that have been plaguing us for months. Most probably, the survivors were taken prisoner.”

  Han draws in a hissing breath and clenches his fists. “Those evil bastards! How dare they attack me!”

  I step back. I have seen Master Han kill in a fit of anger. I hope he will not kill Wu Shen. The officer always looks kindly at me and asks if there is anything I need. His eyes have been sad lately. I heard the guards outside my door talk about him. He had two sons who served Master Han, and they both died at Beyul-La.

  “I also received word that another camp was attacked last night,” Wu Shen continues. “There was a skirmish outside the barricade, and two soldiers were killed.”

  “Dammit!” Han spins around, shaking his fists in the air. “Why do they keep persecuting me?”

  I step back again. Everyone is watching Han with worried faces, afraid of what he will do. No one will notice if I call the birds.

  I send out a distress signal far and wide. A hawk is first to respond. Then a pair of eagles. A host of smaller birds arrives and circles far overhead.

  I am dragon, I tell them. I am Xiao Fang. Remember my name and location. Spread the news as far as you can fly. The warrior women of Beyul-La are looking for me. They will understand you.

  I hear the birds chirping overhead. They are discussing which ones will go in different directions.

  “We should kill those bastards!” Han continues to rant. “Where are they hiding?”

  “Your vampire enemies have teamed up with the were-tigers,” a soldier says quietly.

  “Then find the were-tiger village,” Han orders. “Assemble the troops. I will give you three days to prepare. We will attack on the fourth night and destroy their village!”

  Wu Shen inhales sharply. “The were-tiger women and children live there.”

  “Good!” Han yells. “That will teach them to mess with me!”

  My skin crawls with fear. I do not want other shifters killed. And what if the warrior women are living in the were-tiger village? What if Norjee is there? I look up at the sky. Find the were-tiger village! Warn them they are in danger!

  The birds swirl in a giant circle overhead, chirping and squawkin
g.

  Then they stop. No movement. No sound.

  I blink. How can they stop in midflight? I look frantically about. Han is frozen, his fists lifted in the air. Wu Shen has stopped talking, his mouth open in the middle of a word. All the soldiers are motionless, frozen in time.

  I cringe inside. I know only one entity who can control time. I want to run, but my feet will not budge. Something is stopping me. My hands move. They clench into fists. Unlike the others, I am aware, so I know what is coming.

  I see him in the distance, strolling casually toward us. He is dressed in his usual fashion, all in black with a long black coat. His eyes gleam in an inhuman way, the green glowing in the dark.

  As much as I loathe Master Han, I know he is weak. He takes delight in causing fear and pain, for it makes him feel less weak. To him, being a villain is like a game, and his victims are little toys. He plays at being evil.

  Darafer embodies evil.

  The demon approaches me, his mouth curling up on one side with a twisted smile. “What are you doing, dragon boy?”

  I lower my head.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He steps closer. “You think I can’t hear you talking to your friends?”

  I lift my head as fear swells inside me.

  Darafer points to the sky. “You can blame yourself for this.” With a wave of his hand, every bird overhead plummets from the sky. One thud after another, the birds hit the ground till the earth is covered with death.

  A wheezing sound of pain wrenches from my throat. How many birds have died because I spoke to them?

  Darafer seizes my shirt and glares down at me. “Maybe you can fool Han, but remember this, dragon boy. You will never fool me.” He releases me with a push.

  My feet are still stuck, so I fall back on my rear. I am surrounded by dead birds.

  How will I contact the owl again? How can I let the warrior women and Norjee know where I am?

  Darafer waves his hand, and everyone jumps back to life as if time had never stopped.

  Wu Shen resumes his talking but pauses after a few words and looks around. His eyes widen at the sight of Darafer.

  “What’s with all the dead birds all of a sudden?” a soldier asks, nudging one with his boot.

  Han stiffens, turning toward Darafer. “Do you realize two of our camps were attacked last night?”

  The demon shrugs. “You’re in charge of training the soldiers. I just make them.”

  “Then make me some more!” Han yells. “My army used to be a thousand strong, and now it’s down to three hundred!”

  The demon zooms toward Han and grasps him by the throat. Han’s guards move toward him, but with a flick of his wrist, Darafer sends them all flying back a hundred feet.

  “You left me in hell for seven months,” Darafer growls. “You thought you could take over the world without me, didn’t you? You pathetic worm. While I was gone, you lost over half of your army.” He pushes Han back.

  Han stumbles, then makes a quick bow. “As your humble servant, I beg your assistance in making more supersoldiers.”

  “That’s more like it.” Darafer crosses his arms and gives Han a disdainful look. “Remember who’s the boss around here, and we’ll get along fine.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Han bows again.

  “I have grown more demon herb,” Darafer says. “And I am producing the potion. It should be ready by tomorrow night. Round up more volunteers, and I’ll mutate them.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Han bows. “I will do as you say.”

  “See that you do. And take the dragon boy below ground before he talks to more birds.” Darafer turns away from Han and smiles at me. “You will submit to me, too, Xiao Fang. It’s only a matter of time.”

  My heart sinks with despair. If I cannot reach my friends, how will they rescue me? If I cannot warn the were-tigers of an impending attack, will they and my friends die?

  “I’m watching you,” Darafer says, then vanishes.

  Fire burns in my belly, and hot tears sting my eyes. For even if I manage to get away from Master Han, how can I hope to escape a demon?

  Even as fear threatens to overwhelm me, I cling to a truth that must ever remain constant.

  I am dragon. I can never surrender. Nor will I submit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Jia awoke, the cave was dark, except for an oil lamp lit in the kitchen. She sat up, alarmed that she had slept so late. Russell was sitting at the table, quietly cleaning his guns.

  She scrambled out of bed. “You should have woken me up.”

  “You looked tired. And you had a rough time last night.” He concentrated on his work, barely glancing her way. “An hour delay isn’t the end of the world.”

  “But we don’t have any time to waste.” She reported what Rajiv had told her about Angus and his employees attacking a camp every night until they lured Han out of hiding. “We need to find Han before they do.”

  “Agreed.” Russell stood. “I’ll go topside for a few minutes so you can dress.”

  She quickly relieved herself in the stream, then dressed and braided her hair.

  Russell teleported back in and reassembled his handguns at vampire speed while she ate a breakfast bar. Then he put on his coat and armed himself.

  She sipped some water, then cleared her throat. “Do you have my knives from last night?”

  “Yes.” He retrieved them from his coat pocket and set them on the table in front of her. “Are you sure you want to do this? I can always zip through the camps alone if you need a night off.”

  She recalled his reference to the rough time she’d had last night. Was that why he’d let her sleep late? When she thought about it, she had acted terribly shaken afterward.

  “I’m all right.” She noticed he’d cleaned the knives for her. “I knew from the start that this could be dangerous. I’m still as committed as ever.” She glanced up and met his gaze. “We’re partners.”

  His eyes searched hers.

  What would it take to turn those eyes red and glowing? She shoved the thought away and quickly sheathed the knives. “We should get to work.”

  “Good.” He levitated to get his crossbow and quiver.

  “Why do you use arrows when you have so many guns?” she asked.

  “They’re quiet, so they don’t announce my presence.”

  “Do you ever use your cowboy pistols?”

  “No, they’re antiques.” He swung the crossbow and quiver over his shoulder. “I would never take them into battle.”

  “Then why do you have them? It’s not like you to keep anything unpractical around here.”

  With an annoyed look, he extended a hand to her. “I don’t explain myself. Let’s go.”

  With a sigh, she walked up to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve known you five days now, but I hardly know you at all.”

  He took hold of her waist. “That knowledge is not necessary for the completion of our mission.”

  She snorted. “You know all about me. You know how my family died. You know what kind of life I live. You even know about my fear of heights.”

  “I know you’re engaged.”

  She swallowed hard. “I never officially agreed.”

  His hands tightened on her waist. “Your cousin expects you to go through with it.”

  She frowned. “We’re not talking about me. It’s you I don’t know anything about.”

  “I don’t explain myself.”

  She swatted his shoulder. “You’re the most stubborn, exasperating man!”

  His mouth curled up. “And that’s all you need to know about me.” He teleported, taking her with him.

  After a few minutes of studying the campsite, he declared nothing was going on.

  “I can’t smell anything.” She gave him a wry look. “Other than you.”

  “Is it that bad? I shower every night.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not bad at all.”

  He gave her a dubious
look. “I don’t smell like a sack of blood?”

  “You do a bit, but you also smell like the cave and your soap.” And a gorgeous hunk of man. “So why do you want to kill Han?”

  He scoffed. “You thought you could just sneak that in?”

  “It was worth a try.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Which are?”

  “I don’t explain myself.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He grinned and took her to the next campsite. Same story there. Nothing happening.

  “So why do you have the cowboy pistols?” she asked.

  He gave her a bland look. “Are you going to nag me all night?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.” What she really wanted to ask was, why did his eyes turn red? Did he truly desire her as a woman? But since she didn’t dare ask, she was pestering him about everything else. “Are you really a cowboy? Do you know John Wayne?”

  “He’s dead.” Russell made a face. “But then, so am I.”

  “You’re not dead.”

  “Undead,” he muttered. “Whatever the hell that means. I’m dead half the time.”

  “You mean alive half the time.”

  His mouth twitched. “If you say so, Pollyanna.”

  “So why do you have the cowboy pistols?”

  With a frustrated groan, he pulled her into his arms. “How do I shut you up?”

  Kiss me. “Talk to me.”

  “I don’t explai—” He stopped when she placed a finger on his lips. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed her wrist to move her hand. “You should stay away from my mouth. I have fangs, you know.”

  “I like to live dangerously.”

  His eyes turned red. He released her abruptly and walked away.

  She’d done it! Just by touching his mouth? Her skin tingled at the thought that she could so easily affect him. Who was she kidding? He affected her, too. Her heart was pounding, and there was a strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach.

  But was it fair to torment him this way? “I’m sorry.”

  He kept his back to her. “The pistols belonged to my great-grandfather, Johann Hankelburg. They’re Colt Single Action Army revolvers, issued to him in 1873. After his service, he settled in Colorado and started a small ranch. The Big H, he called it, for he had dreams of making it big. Over the years, the ranch grew.”