"There were extenuating circumstances."
"Of course there were," he said.
"Merihem, I have to find her."
"I should say so."
"I kind of called you here to help me."
"That's funny — I thought you called me here so I could report on the last favor you asked of me. It seems our friendship is a costly one, Collector. Costly and dangerous."
I ignored the jibe. "Are you gonna help me or not?"
"Do you truly mean to take her?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
"That's simply not good enough."
"Damn it, Merihem, what if I'm right? What if this girl isn't meant to be taken? Am I supposed to just ignore what I've seen? To collect the girl like nothing ever happened and go on about my merry way?"
"What's the alternative? The balance must be maintained. If you're wrong, then this girl's fate is sealed. Refusing to take her would be seen as an act of war. Are you really willing to risk all that because Sam fucking Thornton had an idea?"
"I guess I am."
"Such hubris your species suffers from. No matter — if you fail to collect the girl, I'm sure they'll send another."
At that, I bristled. "Let them."
"Ah, yes — ever the protector. Good to see you haven't changed. And who knows? Perhaps you'll get lucky and dispatch the first they send her way. The second, even. But the third? The tenth? The thousandth? This game can't last forever. In the end, they'll get what they came for, and you'll get what you deserve."
"Then I guess we're done here." I turned on my heel and headed back toward the open gate.
"Sam, wait." I hesitated, not turning around. Merihem continued. "There's a man in Chinatown named Wai-Sun. He runs an antique shop on Eldridge."
"And?"
"Wai-Sun specializes in arcane objects — items of singular power. Weapons, talismans, and the like. He may be able to help you find what you're looking for."
"Thank you, Merihem."
"You understand the position you're putting me in by even meeting with you — I can't be seen as party to your sedition. If I see you again, I'll kill you myself. And Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Be certain that I don't."
13
The bell above the door jangled as I stepped inside Shangdi Antiques on Eldridge. My sinuses prickled with the spicy scent of old wood and the dust of times gone by. The shop itself was tiny, and its wares were stacked atop each other at random, creating an accidental labyrinth whose walls remained standing in sheer defiance of the laws of physics and common sense. The sign in the window read "Rare Objects Our Specialty!" I hoped that it was true. Eldridge, it turned out, had no shortage of antique shops. This was the third place I'd visited today, and so far, I hadn't found any Wai-Sun. I couldn't help but think that Kate was running out of time.
"Can I help you?"
The call came from somewhere deep within the stacks, the English unaccented but nevertheless spoken with the melodic tones of one for whom Mandarin is his native tongue. I traced the voice back through the narrow winding aisle, nearly toppling an ancient bamboo birdcage in the process. I emerged to find a man standing behind the cluttered antique desk that served as the store's counter and polishing a small lacquered box with an oiled rag. He was short and stout, clad in a worn blue button-down and a dusty pair of suit pants. Thin wisps of white hair lay across his pate in a halfhearted comb-over. As I approached, he set aside the box and smiled.
"I hope so," I replied. "I'm looking for a man named Wai-Sun."
His smile faltered. "And what, pray tell, do you want of this Wai-Sun?"
"I've lost something, and I was hoping he could help me find it."
He gestured toward the piles of antiques surrounding us. "As you can see, we carry here a great many things — I am certain whatever it is you're looking for, we can find for you a suitable replacement."
"What I'm looking for is a girl."
Something flickered in his eyes. Fear? Suspicion? "I don't understand," he said.
"I think you do."
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" His hand crept toward the register. His eyes never left mine. If this was indeed my guy, I didn't want any part in whatever he was reaching for.
I raised my hands in what I hoped was a placating gesture. "My name is Sam Thornton. I'm here because a girl has gone missing, and it's important that I find her. I spoke to Merihem, and he told me you may be able to help."
The man broke into a smile, his hand no longer creeping toward the register. "Merihem sent you, did he? That bastard owes me fifty bucks. Sorry about all the subterfuge, but when one deals in items such as mine, one must be careful of the company one keeps. So you say you've lost a girl, eh? Let's see if we can find her, shall we?"
He removed from a desk drawer a worn wooden top and a creased map of the city, setting both on the desktop. I eyed them with suspicion. "That's what's going to help me find her?"
Again, Wai-Sun smiled. "Mystical objects need not be as elaborate as one might think. After all, appearances can be deceiving. So your girl — do you have anything of hers? A lock of hair, perhaps, or an article of clothing?"
I shook my head, and he frowned.
"No matter," he said. "I think I have something in the back that might do the trick."
He brushed aside the curtain that separated the front room from the back, and disappeared into the murk beyond. "So, this girl, she is of some importance, is she not?"
"She's my mother's sister's girl," I lied. "I was supposed to have her for the week, and she ditched me so she could meet up with her boyfriend. If I don't find her, Mom's gonna have a fit."
"Come now," he said, "there's no need to bore me with your falsehoods — I am merely making conversation. Your secrets are your own." Behind the curtain, something clattered to the floor, and Wai-Sun cursed softly under his breath.
"You need a hand back there?"
"No cause for alarm — I'll be out in a moment!"
There was something about his tone that didn't ring true. It was too cheery. Too earnest. Too at odds with the whispered epithet I'd heard him utter mere seconds before.
Something wasn't right here.
Silent as death, I ducked behind the desk and approached the curtain. The racket in the back room continued. Gingerly, I pushed the curtain aside.
Wai-Sun lay in the center of the storeroom, glassy eyes staring upward toward the ceiling. The floor around him was thick with congealing blood, glistening in the lamplight. His face was twisted into a rictus of pain, and he looked as if his throat had been ripped clean from his body. Well, anything but clean — tattered shreds of flesh clung to the ruined remains of his neck, exposing pink-white glimmers of bone beneath.
My Wai-Sun was standing, his back to me, in the far corner of the room, ransacking a set of small wooden drawers mounted above a rough-hewn workbench. His clothes, his hair, his everything, were identical to the man who lay lifeless on the floor beside him.
Too late, I realized what happened: that piece of shit Merihem had set me up.
Suddenly, my Wai-Sun straightened and turned.
"I really wish you hadn't done that," he said. Seeing him there, hearing him speak while two feet away he lay dead in a pool of his own blood, set my head and stomach reeling. "If you'd simply given us the girl's location, I might have let you live." His eyes flickered with black fire, and his features became suddenly vague — a mere suggestion of the Wai-Sun that lay ravaged at my feet. He seemed somehow to expand, his small frame suddenly filling the room. All around him was a halo of shimmering, liquid blackness, like silk fluttering weightless in an underwater current.
"No," I said. "You wouldn't have."
"Sounds nice, though, doesn't it? Merciful. Of course, I've never been much for mercy." The darkness pressed against my mind, obliterating all thought. I tried to tell my legs to run. They weren't listening.