The Geomancer's Compass (24 page)

“D
amn kids,” I heard. “Nah, they've just overturned the porta-potty. The fourth hole. Yeah. What a mess! One thing I can tell you, Bob, glad it's not me who has to clean it up! Wouldn't want to be a maintenance guy tomorrow morning!”

What would we be charged with? I lay there on my belly, with brambles poking in my face, thinking hard. Trespassing, probably. Vandalism, obviously. But trespassing and vandalism weren't so bad. We were teenagers, after all, and that is what teenagers do – go places they aren't supposed to and break a bunch of stuff. Normal teenagers, that is, unlike us, two Asian kids from out of province whose elders, living and dead, have sent them on a mission to lift the family curse by digging up a supposedly First Nations burial site and hauling the ancient bones back to B.C. This was not normal; it was
weird
. Maybe telling the truth wasn't so smart. How serious a crime was
desecrating a grave, anyway? Would we get off easy, with community service, or would we have to go to some kind of jail? That we would get caught I didn't doubt. It was only a question of time. I mean, what kind of nimrod security guard would
not
notice a person-sized hole cut in the bushes?

At that very moment, the guard was telling good old Bob, “What I can't figure out is how they broke that beam.”

OK, I thought, here it comes.

“These bushes look pretty impenetrable …”

Brace yourself, Miranda. Any second now…

There was a silence, then “Pooky!” The guard sounded surprised.

Pooky? Who was Pooky?

“What is it, girl? What's the matter?”

Of course! It was the dog he was talking to. Pooky the killing machine. Pooky, whose reply was a high-pitched yelp followed by a whimper – much to my surprise and relief.

I crept forward a little and peered out. There was the security guard, standing with his back to the mess, a sleek, pointy-eared Doberman cowering at his side. The guard was bulky and bald and had a headset hooked over one ear; he was training a big industrial flashlight on the felled porta-potty. For a second I couldn't believe my eyes. He was looking straight at, and apparently straight
through
, The Grandfather and Qianfu's hungry ghost. How could he not see them? They were so … right in front of him! Then I realized that I could
only see them – The Grandfather, at any rate – because of the I-spex. How I would experience the ghost in a non-virtual state, I had no way of knowing. None of this explained why Pooky could see them. Because it was pretty clear from her posture and her manner that she did see them, or at least sensed them.

“Hey, Pookster,” the guard said. Suddenly he appeared uncertain, even uneasy. “What's with you, anyway?” Once again the dog yelped and slunk behind him, tail between her legs, shivering. “Beats the heck out of me, Bob.” He sounded worried now. “She's scared of something, all right. Real scared.” He glanced around, shining his flashlight here and there, but in front of him, around the porta-potty, not back in our direction. “Tell you the truth, Bobby, this is making me kind of nervous. If the dog is freaked out … you know, they don't pay me enough that it's worth …” He let out an anxious “whew,” and swallowed hard. “Well, whoever done this is probably long gone. I'll file the report with maintenance. They can check on it in the morning.” Then, to Pooky, “OK, OK, we're going. Calm down, would you?”

I managed to sneak a peek around the edge of the hole cut in the brambles just long enough to get a look at Pooky's face as she dragged the guard off in the direction of the clubhouse, straining at her leash. I've never in my life seen a dog so terrified.

Somebody touched my shoulder lightly. It was Brian. “What happened?” he whispered.

“They're gone,” I whispered back. “The dog could see them – The Grandfather and the ghost. The guy couldn't, but the dog definitely could. She was scared, and that scared him. They won't come back. We're in the clear.”

Brian whistled softly. “Crazy! Maybe it's like those animals that make it to higher ground when a tsunami strikes. Somehow they just know it's coming. They feel it in their bones. Speaking of which … guess who I've found?”

A
moment later, I was kneeling beside the grave and peering into the shallow hole at a jumble of soil-stained bones piled up in its approximate center. To one side of the pile lay a grubby-looking skull, to the other a pelvic bone. “We really didn't need a suit bag, did we?” I said. “A good-sized tote would have done the trick.”

“Do the honors?” Brian offered.

I shuddered. “Are you kidding?
Eeuw!
”

Brian snorted. “What a squeamer!” Lying on his stomach, he reached into the grave and brought up Qianfu's skull. The soil had stained it ocher in places, with patches of green that looked suspiciously like mold. He pointed to a jagged break beginning just over the hole where Qianfu's left eye had been. “Old hockey injury?”

I held the suit bag open and looked away so I wouldn't
have to see the skull up close. “Duh! He was beaten, Doofus. That's how he died.”

“At least he kept all his teeth.” Brian deposited the skull inside the bag. “Although, I gotta say, they could use a good brushing.” Reaching back into the grave, he retrieved the pelvic bone. “Sorry for manhandling your privates, dude,” he apologized to the bones. He glanced in the direction of the tee and the porta-potty. “What the heck is going on out there, anyway?”

Where to start? “Do you remember that stinky ooze that came out of the porta-potty?”

“Yeah?”

“Turned out to be Qianfu's ghost, or at least some of it was. It's hard to tell what's exactly what. It's all kind of … commingled.”

“You're kidding me!” Brian was pulling out bones and placing them randomly in the bag. Fibulas? Tibias?

“And now … now The Grandfather and the ghost are locked in … I don't know what they're locked in. Some kind of slo-mo cosmic smackdown's the best way I can describe it. Not a whole lot is going on, but it looks super weird.”

“Whaddya mean?” Brian surfaced with what had to be a scapula.

“The Grandfather has the ghost all wrapped in some bizarre transparent gel or force field or something.”

“Get out of here! Force field? What the heck are these, anyway?”

“Phalanges,” I identified the bunch of small bones he held out to me. “Fingers.”

“Wicked! I have a handful of fingers!”

“Or toes.”

“A cosmic smackdown …” Brian rose up on his haunches and looked toward the opening cut in the bush. “I'm sorry, cuz, but this I gotta see.”

I had just reached out to restrain him when these two ginormous forms heaved into sight, above the bushes, silhouetted against the night sky. Both The Grandfather and the ghost had shot up to twice their already supersized height, so they were now as tall as a two-story building and towering over us. Needless to say, it was pretty startling. I gave a strangled little scream and toppled backward onto my bum, and Brian froze.

The ghost now appeared to be entirely confined within the jelly-like membrane, which had thickened and grown more opaque than when I had last seen it. This had the effect of further squashing the ghost, rendering its few features indistinct – its glittering red eyes were now pinkish smudges, and its gaping mouth a gray blur.

“How are you two doing, anyway?” The Grandfather asked, without looking away from the ghost.

“Uh, fine!” I managed.

“Almost finished!” croaked Brian.

“Well, make it snappy. This isn't exactly easy.”

“Right!” Brian fell back onto his knees and began to pull bones out of the grave with both hands, fast, like a dog digging a hole. I saw a femur fly past, and a sternum attached to a rib cage, and what might have been a clavicle.

“Uh … what exactly are you doing?” I asked the avatar.

“Isn't it obvious? I'm using the
lo p'an
to trap this evil spirit and bind it to me.”

“There,” gasped Brian, panting with the effort. “That's all of them. The bones, that is.”

“Shouldn't we count them?” I worried. “Make sure he's got two of everything he should have two of, and all his fingers and toes?”

“Not necessary,” replied the avatar. “He doesn't need all his bones, just most of them. Your job here is done. Now you must get his bones to Vancouver as quickly as possible, and bury them in the spot reserved for him. Your grandmother will have prepared your mother for this. Daisy will know what to do.”

Brian sprang to his feet and brushed himself off. He had grass stains on his knees, and his hands and arms were stained with soil. His face, where he wiped the sweat away, was streaked with dirt. He reached for the shovel.

“Leave it,” ordered The Grandfather. “The clippers too. They'll just slow you down.”

“But they're evidence!” I protested. “They've got Brian's fingerprints all over them. Mine too.”

“Your wipes!” said Brian. “Those things you haul around in your knapsack. Wouldn't they clean off fingerprints?”

My industrial wipes! “You're right! They're perfect!” I dug around in my knapsack, surfaced with the pack, and handed Brian a couple of towelettes. Then I peeled off a couple for myself and went to work on the clipper handles, while he wiped down the shovel. We set the gardening tools side by side to the right of the grave, being careful not to touch them with our fingers.

“Go now,” said the avatar. “Quickly.”

“But what about you?” Brian asked.

“My work is only beginning.”

“But what about maintaining the connection to the Web? You said that was critical.”

“Critical to the first phase of the operation,” replied the avatar. “To trapping and binding this evil spirit to me. For that a
lo p'an
is required, a
real
one. As none was available in cyberspace, I was compelled to call upon you to bring it to me. Now its work is done, and I must restore it to its proper reality, to the human realm. Brian?”

“What?”

“Catch!”

The avatar tossed the
lo p'an
lightly to him. The familiar arc, the contrail of tiny star shapes, then –
pop
– what had centuries before been an elephant's tusk crafted into something magical flowered into three dimensions and tumbled through
the air. Brian deftly caught it, backhanded, like a baseball.

“It's yours now,” the avatar told him.

“Really?” Brian looked awed. “Wow! Thanks!”

“Hey!” I objected. “A-Ma gave the compass to me!”

“For safekeeping only,” the avatar reminded me. “You have many gifts, Miranda, and they will serve you well in life. But you aren't the one destined to follow in my footsteps. Brian is.”

I could scarcely believe my ears. “
Brian?
”

“For centuries a Liu has been a great geomancer. It is Brian's karma to take up that mantle.”

“But I can't read,” Brian protested. “How can I take it over from you if I can't read? Are you saying that I'll be able to read once the curse is lifted?”

“Your dyslexia is not your curse,” the avatar said, “any more than Miranda's germaphobia is her curse. It's just the way you happen to be wired – for better or for worse. Your dyslexia has made you more compassionate, Brian, more understanding and a more creative problem solver than you would have otherwise been. Miranda's germaphobia has made her more … well … clean.”

“Thanks a million,” I grumbled.

“Then what is my curse?” Brian demanded.

“If you really must know, you are to be eaten by a shark.”

“Wait a minute,” I protested. “That's my curse!”

“Brian is to be eaten by a shark off the coast of Bermuda
while trying to rescue you
,” the avatar said pointedly. “And that's exactly what is going to happen if the two of you don't get out of here right this minute and let me finish what we've started. Now, go. I mean it.”

“But what's the second phase?” Brian insisted. “You said the first phase was trapping and binding the ghost. What's the second phase?”

“If you really must know, it's
tai chi
,” replied the avatar, sounding a little sheepish. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Tai chi?” Brian repeated. “That thing old Chinese people do in the park?”

“Ai
ya!
Did you children learn
nothing
in Chinese school?” The Grandfather sounded exasperated. “
Tai chi
is an ancient and profound spiritual practice. Didn't your A-Ma tell you that I was a student of the school of
tai chi
developed by the revered Taoist Zhang Sanfeng, whose graceful movements were as smooth as a reflection in a mirror and whose turns were as natural as pulling silk? Who was so powerful that he was easily able to banish ghosts and other evil spirits?”