Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Twenty-nine

Hong Kong, 11 years ago

It had been almost a week since Sally had thrown a man off a roof.

The return to Hong Kong took longer than expected, an extra two days while the Japanese freighter waited out a tropical storm. She arrived in the middle of the night, but Master Xan was waiting in his office, fully awake and dressed, as if he’d known the precise moment she would return.

Sally wondered, not for the first time, if Xan ever slept.

“Welcome home, little dragon.” His dark eyes studied her as she bowed. Sally met his gaze, her green eyes hard and clear as she extended her right hand and dropped a roll of undeveloped film on his desk.

“Here are your pictures,” she said.

Xan took the film in his left hand but kept his eyes on her the whole time. “Thank you.”

Sally turned to leave, but Xan raised his hand.

“Is there anything else?”

Sally hesitated before answering. “No, Master Xan. I would like to go to my room.”

Xan nodded. “Jun will be happy to see you,” he said. “She has also been away.”

At the mention of Jun’s name Sally felt a surge of something-excitement? Fear? She caught herself and blinked before answering.

“I’m just very tired.”

“Of course,” said Xan. “We can talk in the morning.”

As Sally turned toward the door, Xan spoke again, his voice so soft that Sally wondered if she were hearing his thoughts.

“You went to Japan looking for something, little dragon,” he said.

Sally turned to face him, her green eyes going gray, dark storms clouding deep green seas. She nodded, her jaw muscles tight as she spoke.

“Justice.”

Xan nodded. “And what did you find?”

Sally held his gaze for a minute, then looked down at her hands.

“Revenge.”

Xan nodded again as she looked up at him. “Sometimes, little dragon, the two are not so different.”

“But they’re not the same,” said Sally diffidently.

“No,” replied Xan. “They’re not.”

Sally remained silent.

“Tell me,” asked Xan, “if I asked you to travel to Tokyo again tomorrow for the same reason, would you still go?”

“Yes,” replied Sally unhesitatingly.

“Would you do anything differently?”

“No.”

Xan smiled, his features softening. “Then you should sleep well, little dragon.”

But Sally didn’t sleep well.

She had gone to bed without waking Jun, who slept ten feet away on a simple bed against the far wall of their room. A small part of Sally wanted to tell her everything, but the rest of Sally didn’t want to speak of Tokyo, or her parents, ever again. She was different now, and as she closed her eyes, she made a silent wish that Jun would still recognize her in the morning.

An hour later, the nightmare came for her.

If you want to kill this man, you will first have to get close to him.

Xan’s words rolled across thunderheads on the horizon as Sally, her arms heavy and useless, struggled in Kano’s embrace. She could feel him stir as he pressed his hips forward, his right knee forcing her legs apart. His scent was a cloying mixture of musk, booze, and sweat that filled her nostrils, his unshaven cheek sandpaper against her skin. As his right hand grabbed her breast and his left pulled her closer, her arms grew heavier, and Sally realized she wasn’t strong enough. She wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

Kano could take her, and there was nothing Sally could do about it.

As his mouth pressed against hers, she saw the horror on her parents’ faces and knew that she had failed. From beyond the grave they called out to her, their voices merging into a single, plaintive wail of despair.

“Sally! Sally, wake up!”

Light from under the door and Jun shaking her, the darkness retreating to the corners of the room.

Sally shuddered as her eyes focused, her body slick with sweat, suddenly cold in the night air. Jun held her at arm’s length, watching her eyes to see if the dream still possessed her. Sally exhaled and forced a smile.

“Sorry I woke you.”

Jun smiled back, her hands still resting on Sally’s shoulders. Wordlessly, she leaned across the bed and hugged Sally. After a long moment she pulled back enough to kiss Sally lightly on the cheek.

“Welcome home,” she said.

Tears started pouring down Sally’s cheeks. Tears she had never found. Tears for her parents. Tears for the last remnant of innocence she threw over the balcony in Tokyo. All the tears that she couldn’t find for more than a decade.

Jun held her and they both cried silently, the tears running down their faces and chests, flowing together on the bed between them, pooling their sorrows. The two girls sat crying for what seemed like a year, the sheets soaking up all the pain and doubt the world had given them.

When there were no more tears left between them, Sally and Jun looked at each other. Their eyes were red but they both smiled, neither shy nor embarrassed.

Without saying anything more, Jun leaned forward and kissed Sally again, this time on the mouth.

Sally gasped briefly, then returned the kiss. Jun tasted of salt and something else, tears mixed with emotions too subtle and complex to put into words.

Sally closed her eyes and felt Kano’s coarse hands fade away. His scent dissipated in the night air, and his twisted mask of lust and hate shrank to nothingness as he fell, plummeting endlessly from her consciousness into oblivion.

The rest of the night until the dawn Sally stayed in Jun’s arms. Looking back, years later, Sally would remember that night as the last time she had a nightmare.

She knew Death would be her constant companion, but she no longer feared or hated him for what he brought and what he took away. She considered Death an ally, if not a friend, the only one she could count on besides Jun.