Burning Tigress (3 page)

He donned his white-man's shoes and left the room. Oddly, his dragon had not shrunk away, but remained a thick and heavy presence that he felt with every step down the stairs to the first floor. Ken Jin smiled, pleased with the sensation even though he strove to hide it. How wonderful to feel young and vital again.

"Kin Jin! Ken Jin!" The young master was hopping up and down with eagerness. "Do you have your shoes on?"

"I do, Master William. I will take you and your sister to the park now."

Master William rushed to the door. His sister appeared a moment later, her bonnet appropriately arranged to hide her golden hair. The surging yang in Ken Jin's blood noted that her skin was still flushed, that her eyes kept darting down to his dragon before shying guiltily away. Yin curiosity and a virgin's embarrassment—how his dragon loved the combination.

"Was there a particular park you wished to visit, Miss Charlotte?" he asked, pleased that his voice betrayed none of the thoughts her pert breasts summoned. She had full, ripe mangoes, perfectly weighted for a man's hands, firm enough not to bruise, soft enough to suckle, and juicy enough to yield warm, luscious yin.

"Actually, Ken Jin, I would like you to drop me at the Crane household. I understand Joanna has returned. If you and William stay for an hour at the park, you can return for me directly." Her tone did not disguise the excitement in her voice.

"Miss Joanna has returned home?" he asked stupidly, a sudden fear tightening his vitals.

Miss Charlotte's eyes flashed in excitement. "I heard it from Susan, who learned it from Thomas, who knows the Chinese man who delivers the vegetables to the Crane chef. Joanna returned yesterday afternoon." Her voice dropped so that it wouldn't carry to William. "With her Chinese husband."

Ken Jin flinched. It couldn't possibly be true. He knew what Charlotte's friend had been doing and where she'd done it. Miss Joanna's activities had nothing to do with marriage. And even if holy unions sometimes did occur between partners, Miss Joanna couldn't possibly marry a Manchurian prince turned Shaolin monk. The idea was unthinkable. Repulsive. And yet, he had discovered the whites' servant network to be eerily reliable.

With sudden inspiration, he turned to the nearest footman. "Go and fetch Mei Li and her son," he ordered. "Tell her she is to escort Master William to the park."

Down the hallway, William spun, his brown eyes liquid with happiness. "Is He Be coming? Can He Be come to the park?"

Ken Jin bowed slightly. "Of course, Master William." That had been his plan all along. At six years old, little He Be was just the right age to play with Master William. The two would have a delightful time, with the added advantage that any onlookers would think William was simply entertaining the child. Meanwhile, Ken Jin would be free to learn all he could at the Crane household.

Miss Charlotte was surprised, of course, but she made no demur. As long as William was happy and she got to visit her longtime friend, she would trust him to accomplish the details. How gullible these ghost people were. Or perhaps her mind was elsewhere, Ken Jin realized with a flush of pleasure. He caught her looking at his pants again, and hastily turning her reddened face away.

All was accomplished quickly enough, and soon he and Miss Charlotte were climbing the steps of the Crane household. Old Mr. Yi met them at the door. In the manner of all whites' butlers, the man bowed politely, then spoke in slow, heavily accented English. "Mistress Joanna is not at home."

Miss Charlotte visibly sagged, but her perception was keen.
"Mistress
Joanna?" she asked, stressing the first word. "Then, she is married?"

"Dai-ge."
A formal "yes" spoken in Shanghainese. The sound was more of a grunt than an agreement, but it answered the question well enough. Joanna had married—or at least claimed to have. But where was the girl now?

That was apparently the first thing on Miss Charlotte's mind as well, because she pushed into the house, stripping off her bonnet as she went. "I suppose I shall just have to wait for her, then. I'll be in her room. No need to send tea." She was halfway to the stairs before Mr. Yi stopped her. He rushed around to stand before her, his arthritic body amazingly fast.

"Aie,
no, Miss Charlotte! She is gone."

Charlotte stopped. Even her golden hair tumbling out of its pins seemed to still. "Gone?"

"Dai-ge.
She and her husband left on horses this morning." Disapproval filled the old man's tone.

"But where could they be going?"

Mr. Li didn't answer. Still, Ken Jin could see that there was more. If only Miss Charlotte would leave them alone, he could find out the truth. Instead, she remained absolutely still, looking at Mr. Yi as if he had sprouted horns.

Abruptly, all changed. Charlotte nodded and more of her hair slipped free to dance about her face. "Very well. Then I shall have to leave her a message for when she returns."

Mr. Yi nodded, gesturing to the library. Charlotte shook her head.

"No, I shall leave my message as I did when we were children. Yes," she went on, more to herself than to Mr. Yi, "just like when we were little." And with that, she dashed upstairs.

Ken Jin longed to follow. He suspected the two women each had a secret cache somewhere in their rooms. The location would be hidden from parents and servants alike, known only to the two girls who had been best friends since Joanna's arrival in Shanghai ten years ago.

Had Joanna—Shanghai's newest Tigress cub—already left a message for her best friend? What secrets might she reveal? Ken Jin could only pray that the white girl showed some sense and kept private things private. Though when had the ghost people ever been able to restrain their passions? Especially young women? Ken Jin shook his head, fearing the worst, especially since old Mr. Yi was obviously bursting with news.

Taking a cue from the aged butler, Ken Jin accepted an invitation to tea. Charlotte would not take long, he knew. She was not a woman to linger over letters, even one to her closest friend, so he had little time to learn everything.

Like all white monstrosities, the Crane home was built and run in the way of a great English house; so Ken Jin was surprised when Mr. Yi did not lead him to a private butler's sitting room. Instead, they went to the kitchen to sit at a large wooden table while water heated on the great stove. There were servants all around: the English cook, two Shanghai footmen flirting with a scullery maid clearly just in from a country farm. Two parlor maids flitted in and out, their easy manners marking them as low-class Shanghai, barely one step up from nail-shack whores.

All went silent upon Ken Jin's entrance—but only for a minute. Mr. Yi called for tea and then sat down, looking as much like a reclining mandarin as one could while sitting in a hard wooden chair in the middle of an English kitchen.

The water heated while he dropped tea leaves into a teapot on the table, and the gossip began to flow with special animation as soon as the English chef left for the wine cellar.

"I would never take my wife to Peking," said a footman. "It's too dangerous—"

"Too far away," interrupted the other footman as he rearranged the candles on the kitchen altar. "You like things quick and close. And quick."

It was a sexual joke, and it got a predictable response. The maids laughed, while the scullery girl blushed a bright red even as she shooed the two away from the altar.

"These white people are crazy," complained the first man. "Why would any father leave? Simply throw the man out—"

"He's her
husband,"
snapped the scullery girl in her thick accent. "A father has no say anymore."

"A man has a say in his own house," replied the footman hotly. "He should have thrown them both out. Any daughter who thinks she can choose her own husband deserves no better."

One of the parlor maids moved close, tweaking the argumentative footman on the cheek. "A smart father opens the doors and learns about his new son-in-law's connections,
then
decides what to do. That's what the master's doing. He may be white, but he isn't stupid. The barbarians know how to use their friends."

"The whites know how to use anything and everything," muttered the second footman, clearly voicing a regular complaint.

The hot water was ready, and Mr. Yi poured according to custom. He said nothing and neither did Ken Jin. They were pretending to have a quiet tea. Obviously, the man wanted to share the newest house gossip, but as butler he couldn't give the information outright. So Ken Jin had to infer what was going on from the talk around him.

Fortunately, he had an advantage. He already knew from where Miss Crane had come, and with whom. He already knew that she had become a Tigress student, and that her partner was a former Shaolin monk. What he gathered now was that the young miss had returned home and claimed the monk as her husband. Then her father had walked out, disowning them both. Such was hardly a surprise, and certainly what the girl deserved for her disobedient actions. But where were the two lovers now?

"Think the master'll catch them?" the scullery girl asked, her voice quavering with fear. "Will he kill them and eat them?"

The others burst into mocking laughter. They had been around whites long enough to know that the English didn't eat their young as was commonly thought.

"Hai,"
chortled the first footman. "Mr. Crane'll find them. But it's General Kang who'll feast on their vitals." He widened his eyes and dropped his voice. "The Qing Empire has no pity on its enemies."

The girl was appropriately terrified. "But the master... What if General Kang catches
him?"

The footman's answer was as clear as it was graphic. He bared his teeth and pantomimed ripping out a heart and eating it. "The master is as good as dead. Just be grateful the General was too rushed to bother with us."

The room fell into a mournful silence. Apparently, the Crane household had fallen afoul of General Kang, a powerful Manchurian officer. Which meant, of course, that the Cranes would not live long in China. Which meant the servants were all about to be unemployed.

Reality descended hard upon the poor scullery maid. "But I don't have another job!" she wailed.

Neither, apparently, did Mr. Yi, for that was the moment he began to speak, asking after the Wicks family butler. "Tell me, how is the health of Mr. Tseng? I understand he had a terrible cough last month."

Ken Jin nodded sadly. In truth, Mr. Tseng was twenty years younger than Mr. Yi and in excellent health. But who was he to brag about the Wicks family's good fortune? Or to dash Mr. Yi's hopes of a job?

"Ah," he said, "you are correct that Mr. Tseng is not as young as he once was. That cough was terrible and still lingers. The young master hides whenever he hears the hacking sound, and guests shun the house." Ken Jin paused, trying to deliver the truth in his most delicate manner. "But you have worked for the ghost people for years, Mr. Yi. You understand that they are ignorant of the true nature of things. Mr. Wicks cannot comprehend the bad fortune that comes from an ill butler."

"Of course, of course." Mr. Yi nodded, his drawn expression showing he had received the message: There would be no job opening for him in the Wicks household. "The whites are indeed a barbarian people," he rasped. Then he pushed up from his chair. "Perhaps we should see if Miss Charlotte has finished her letter. You would not want to leave her too long. Women should not have so much time alone. It damages their minds."

Ken Jin could not agree more. In his opinion, whites spent too little time controlling their daughters; but it was not his place to comment. It wasn't Mr. Yi's place either, but the old man could be forgiven his grumbling considering that he was about to lose his livelihood. Ken Jin could only pray the man had adequate savings. It would not be easy to find a new job at his age.

They returned to the front parlor, where Miss Charlotte was slowly descending the stairs. Ken Jin waited silently, his head slightly bowed, his manner completely reserved as was appropriate to his position. But he had long since mastered the ability to observe all while keeping his demeanor subservient, and what he saw was nerve-racking. The young miss had obviously figured something out.

* * *

(A letter delivered by special courier.)

July 9, 1881

With respect, to Tigress Tan Shi Po:

Honored Tigress, I write in courtesy and with deep shame. I regret to inform you that a great evil has been sent to your home. I did not send it; it comes to you from my mother-in-law, whose age has dulled her mind. It will arrive soon: a demon in the form of a boy. His name is Ken Jin. He will tell you a sad tale with great weeping and gnashing of teeth.

He lies!

I say again, whatever words the demon speaks are ugly lies! Ken Jin is an unnatural demon of no kin to this house. Throw him from you! He carries terrible fortune. Do not under any circumstances send him back to us.

In apology,

Wen Qui Xiu