Stealing the Dragon

Chapter Thirty-three

Hong Kong, 10 years ago

“You lied to me.”

Sally’s tone betrayed her impatience. Dismissed from the meeting with the Dragon Head two hours earlier, she had waited in the shadows of the courtyard for Xan to emerge. An hour ago she watched as Zhang Hong’s two sons cut across the courtyard toward the guest houses-she assumed they lived in Hong Kong but were both staying the night.

But still Xan lagged behind, so Sally remained invisible and counted down the minutes. She wanted to confront her teacher far from any rooms, lights, or listening devices.

Xan didn’t flinch when she stepped out of the darkness. “You are mistaken,” he said in a tired voice. He looked nonchalantly over his shoulder toward the great house, his massive frame backlit by the moon.

“If you recall, you never knew what happened to the film,” said Xan, his voice low but firm. “I kept you in the dark.”

“As always.”

“To keep you safe, little dragon,” replied Xan. “But let us be clear with one another. The only person I lied to was shan chu.”

Sally stared at him but said nothing.

“An act punishable by death,” Xan added.

Sally’s eyes remained hard but her expression softened slightly. “Why?”

Xan sighed. “Tell me, now that you’ve met the Dragon Head, what do you think?”

Sally shrugged. “He seems…” she hesitated. “He seems different than I expected.”

Xan smiled without warmth. “Perhaps he seems more human?”

Sally nodded.

“More so each year,” muttered Xan. “Some men harden their hearts as they grow older, but shan chu is softening like an overripe pear. In his youth, he was fearless. Ruthless, even.” Xan clenched his fists, the knuckles cracking loudly in the empty space. “But now he dotes on his sons, getting himself ready for the next life. What did you think of his sons, by the way?”

“The eldest is formidable,” replied Sally, remembering the black eyes and the stillness of the man. “He walks without fear, and there is no life in his eyes. No hesitation.” She paused, thinking of the younger brother, the man she’d seen in Tokyo. His weak posture and impatient gestures. A small man acting big. “Wen is a coward,” she said simply.

“He is a traitor,” hissed Xan. “He sleeps with the yakuza.”

Sally visualized that day in the park, Wen and Kano on the bridge, talking like old acquaintances. As her thoughts turned to Kano, the tidal wave of emotions from that night in Tokyo washed over her, and she felt the muscles in her jaw tighten. She looked at Xan, her eyes shining with moonlight.

She said, “Tell his father.”

Xan shook his head, a cynical laugh under his breath. “Years ago, yes, that’s exactly what I would do. But now? Shan chu would be heartbroken, but I fear he lacks the will to do what is necessary.”

“Does his brother know?”

Xan frowned. “I doubt it. I’m told the two don’t get along-Wen resents his older brother’s power in the society. And while I can’t say I have much fondness for Hui, I don’t believe he would betray our clan.”

“Would you follow him?” asked Sally. “If Hui became shan chu?”

Xan blinked, surprised at the question. “One day I may have to,” he said, his tone resigned. “That is the life I chose.”

Sally wanted to say something but only nodded.

“But I won’t tell Hui, either,” said Xan. “He might tell his father, and then I’ve not only lied to shan chu, I’ll have shamed him before his firstborn.”

Sally studied Xan’s face in the moonlight, the ragged scar twisting like a night crawler as he frowned, his eyes turning back toward the great house. Sally realized Xan could have returned to his quarters unseen, even by her. He knew she would be waiting, and he wanted to tell her something-something he wasn’t quite ready to say.

Sally waited until his gaze had returned to her before she spoke. “Then you really don’t have any choice about Wen.”

Xan nodded slowly, his face flat as a rock.

“You have to kill him,” said Sally, her tone matter-of-fact.

Xan looked away again. “Shan chu would look to me,” he said, his voice like the rustling of the leaves. “If not for the son’s death, then for his protection.” He shook his head. “No, I realized Wen must be killed while I am with his father, so any suspicion would turn toward our enemies. The hand of a yakuza must be seen, a single blow with a sword.”

This time Sally nodded. “Then I will kill him. Tonight.”

Xan met Sally’s gaze as he shook his head again. “No, little dragon, too risky. He might have recognized you from Tokyo.”

“He didn’t,” replied Sally. “You saw him tonight.”

“He might be a very good actor,” said Xan. “I couldn’t take the chance.”

A chill ran up Sally’s spine as she asked her next question.

“Master Xan, why are you speaking in the past tense?”

Xan looked at her a long moment without responding, shattered moonlight shifting in his dark eyes.

“I couldn’t send you, little dragon,” he said, his voice suddenly ragged. “So I sent Jun.”

Sally stared at Xan as the ground fell from under her feet and his voice echoed through the night air, suddenly sounding like he was very far away.

“With any luck,” he was saying, “she will already be in bed when you get home.”

Xan saw the expression on Sally’s face and started to say something else, but he never got the chance. They froze at the sound tearing across the courtyard.

It was a scream, followed by an explosion. And as they turned together toward the guest house, the night erupted into flames.