First Born (13 page)

“Is that a phoenix?” she queried.

“No. Different. It is two birds. One male, feng and one female, huang. They are often shown together facing each other, representing the balance of yang and yin.”

“Fenghuang. Isn’t that the city where Waipo lives?”

“Fenghuang Cheng is the name of your grandmother’s village along the Tuojiang River. The legend tells that two of these birds flew over it and found the town so beautiful that they hovered there, reluctant to leave.”

“I remember seeing gardens.”

“Yes, and mountains,” said Mr. Liu wistfully. He poured more of the reddish-brown tea that filled Lily’s senses with smoky malt and roses before focusing back on the story. “Chinese tradition says that the fenghuang nests far away from humans in the Kunlun Mountains, in wutong trees. It only comes out during times of peace and prosperity. Unlike the West’s version of the phoenix that dies and is reborn, the fenghuang doesn’t die, but is immortal. Pictures depicting the male and female together are symbolic of eternal love.”

Waiting patiently for the punch line, Lily rolled her head and shoulders to pop her neck. The tingling continued to radiate from the crucible into her chest, spreading warm rushes through every cell of her body. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, just foreign.

“Modern times have merged the bird into one female who is paired with a dragon, which represents yang.”

Thinking of her wings, she asked, “Do you think I’m like this.”

“No, Lily. You are something different. Perhaps a hybrid of some kind due to your father’s genes.”

“What kind of bird am I?”

He shrugged. “You are a protector, almost like a warrior. That is why you had the reaction when you touched the necklace. The fenghuang is, well, a myth. A good story. I don’t know that such a shapeshifter exists. But it symbolizes so much. That’s why it’s engraved on this powerful...necklace.”

Swell.

“Will the necklace blow me up every time I touch it?” she asked staring cross-eyed down her nose. Was she wearing a live grenade around her neck?

“No, it knows you now and has established balance.” At that moment, the locket emitted a red glow. “Ooooh.” He looked surprised by the light.

“Uh, what’s it doing, Mr. Liu?”

“Interesting,” he responded.

“I—I think there’s something inside this locket.”

“It’s impossible,” he said.

“What’s impossible? Mr. Liu, I’m trying to keep it together here. Am I going to explode again?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“What does the red mean?”

“Red? Why red means happiness and good fortune.”

“Really. ’Cuz my thought is that red can be seen as anger,” Lily said, her voice trembling.

“Oh, no. Even in ancient times, red was used to drive off evil spirits. It’s okay.”

“No, no,” Lily said shaking her head. “Darth Vader had the red light saber. Hello, he was evil.” The pulsing sped up, vibrating her breastbone.

“Hmmmm.”

Lily looked to Li Liu in utter astonishment.
Is he going to just sit here and let us explode?
She couldn’t take it any longer; she grabbed the locket and closed her eyes. A jolt hit her, followed by a warm rush that flowed through her veins.

The red light went out.

“Im-poss-ible,” Liu said.

“What the hell is going on!?”

Mr. Liu reached across the table to the worn wooden box with the combination lock. He slid it in front of Lily. She hadn’t paid attention to the top of it before.

“Fucanglong, the dragon of hidden treasure,” he said.

Lily glanced down at the painted dragon. Something in her stirred.

“Your grandmother sent you a priceless gift. Guard it with your life.”

Lily exhaled. Now she wanted to open the locket. She turned it over in her hand, studying the crease.

“I wouldn’t try that just yet,” he said.

Now you finally look scared!
“What happens if others touch it?” she asked.

“According to the letter, regular humans won’t have any problem, but shapeshifters with the wrong essence could be blown to bits.”

Silently outraged that he had risked her life for his sheer curiosity, she grimaced at him.

He patted her hand. “I knew it would be okay Lily, before I gave it to you.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. How did you know?”

“Gut feeling,” he said jovially. His black reading glasses remained slightly askew.

She let it go. He was her elder and he seemed so pleased with himself that she would feel like a scoundrel if she protested. “Do you have a picture of what I am?”

“Oh no, no Lily,” he said, brusquely closing the book. “No pictures for you. We will have to wait and see.”

“Mr. Liu, you said that I am in danger. What kind of danger?”

“I thought we established this. Someone is obviously trying to kill you.”

“Well, people around me. No one has specifically targeted me.”

He waited.

She told herself to breathe. She had come to him for comfort, protection, reassurance.

“Sorry Lily, but people are terrified of the unknown. They will want to destroy you out of fear. Second, you have power. There will always be corrupt individuals that want to exploit it then kill you. Finally, there are those who are competitive and threatened by your abilities. They will kill you for this.”

“Swell.”
Thanks for the pep talk.
Looking down at the crucible, she had a strong desire to remove it.

“You must not take it off Lily.”

“Even when I sleep and shower?”

“If you don’t wear it, keep it close.”

“What’s happening, Mr. Liu?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. It appears someone is attacking people close to you. It is imperative that you stay hidden.”

“You think Peter and Mona were killed because of me?” she asked.

“There is a strong possibility, but I don’t have the answers.”

“Do the police?”

He shook his head, his dark eyes sad. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe this is something they are equipped to handle.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Train with me.”

“So I should stay here?”

“Sorry Lily, but that would be putting us both at risk. Stay where you are.”

After everything she had been through, this final blow to her fragile ego was almost too much. Nobody wanted her near; she was a liability. She didn’t mention the Manor or the hounds sniffing around her hideout.

He handed her his card. “Tomorrow you come back here to train.”

“I’m not sure that I can keep sneaking out with the motorcycle I borrowed.”

“I can pick you up at ten in the morning,” he said. “You name the place.”

“The children’s playground at Piedmont Park.”

“Perfect,” said Mr. Liu.

Lily wrote down her dog alias and new cell phone number for him. He walked partway down the driveway with her. Tonka and Spike darted to and fro trying to entice her into a game of chase. Apparently, to them, she was a dog whether walking on two legs or four.

Mr. Liu insisted she keep her Shaolin uniform. It would be her uniform during training. He looked down at the ground as if struggling with something. “Take care of your brother, Lily. He needs your help.”

“Seth?”

“Yes. Go now.” He gestured with his hand. She felt like a dog that had been shooed away.

Numb, she obeyed. Still in her Kung Fu pajamas, she donned her wig, leather jacket, helmet, and backpack. Her journey home on the bike wasn’t as eventful as her visit with Mr. Liu, except for losing Frank’s other loafer.

At 3:30 in the afternoon, she canvassed Ansley Park Manor to see if the coast was clear. After waiting for some neighborhood children to go into their backyard, she pulled into the driveway and parked the bike. She ran around to the back door, unlocked it with her new key, then opened the garage door. Her strength was growing each day. She had no difficulty maneuvering the bike back into its designated spot and pulling the tarp back in place.

After returning the backpack to its hiding spot behind the dryer, she shifted back to Tashi and waited for the boys to return. Seth came to mind several times, but she wasn’t ready to talk to him. Now she understood his misgivings about Li Liu. He was a puzzle. She had never been good at puzzles.

Lily fretted over her ill grandmother’s gift. Necklace was really a misnomer; it was a kickass tazer. If only she knew how it worked and what the heck was inside it.

July 21, 2010

Subject T is experiencing limited response to oral Inderal and Dr. H. suggested a trial of injections to improve the response. I adamantly disagreed and let her know. I also let Subject T know that I thought this was dangerous. She is so desperate for some relief from her condition that she would do anything. She is such a sweet lady, I just want to help her.

Subject C is doing well on Inderal although he complains of periods of blackouts. This concerns me—again, I’m questioning the efficacy of its use in these shifters. We don’t know the long-term effects.

—Peter

The first thing he noticed was her pretty smile. The second thing he noticed was that she was naked. Okay maybe he noticed the nudity first. Lily sat on the bleachers of Grady High School’s football stadium. She reached out to touch his cheek, but he felt a scratch.

She looked at him in distress as she pulled her hand away. Caldwell noticed something wrong with her fingers—they were longer with claws.

“Sorry,” she said. Her cheeks flushed pink.

When he looked again, her hands were normal. A tear travelled down her cheek.

“He hurt me.”

He followed her gaze down the field to see a crumpled Phil Miller in the end zone.

“I know,” he said.

She jumped up then, and she was wearing the clothes they found torn to pieces at the crime scene—a black skirt, sandals, and a green knit top. “He’s here. Make him go away.”

Caldwell bolted to his feet in time to see a tall man in a black ball cap, black shirt and pants dart around the end of the bleachers. Caldwell sprinted down the stairs, but when he got to the bottom, the man was gone and so was Lily Moore.

Caldwell looked in the mirror. He had nicked himself twice shaving. He was having fantasies about a woman who he feared was dead.

“What kinda shit is this?”

His reflection didn’t answer. At least he wasn’t completely delusional. Nightmares and exotic dreams had plagued his sleep. Nightmares were not unusual since he worked homicide, but the exotic dreams—

He shuddered. The dreams had been explicit. At thirty-two years of age, he took most things in stride. He was well-seasoned in remaining collected, methodical and analytical. So why was his heart racing?

Struggling to focus, Caldwell took several deep breaths. His conversation with Maggie Moore the other night ran through his head. Ms. Moore kept her married name purely because she liked the Americanized sound of it. The Moores had shared joint custody of their children until Seth turned eighteen. Emanuel Aaronson kept her preoccupied travelling the world, spending his inherited family money.

Caldwell hoped today’s interviews would shed even more light on the players involved. In pouring through Ms. Sinclair’s phone records, he had found Professor Hitomi’s number.

Dr. Hitomi currently headed up the Laboratory of Neuropsycopharmacology at Emory University. She had held the position for the last seven years in addition to teaching undergraduate and graduate psychiatry course work. He had spoken with her briefly after Marx’s death, but at the time the nature of her work didn’t come in to play as Marx’s accidental overdose of insulin didn’t seem to relate.

Now, Caldwell held an intense interest in her work. In one particular study, her team of researchers was comparing the effectiveness of three classes of drugs in treating PTSD: monoamine oxidase inhibitors, anti-anxiety drugs, and beta-blockers. The MAOI was selegiline, Emsam, in a patch form, proving to have less severe side effects than previous oral MAOIs. The anti-anxiety drug was lorazepam, brand name, Ativan. The beta blocker they were using was propranolol hydrochloride—known by its brand name as Inderal, the same drug Ms. Sinclair allegedly used to kill herself, whether it was intentional or by accident.

The other link he found between the two women was their membership in the Southern Writer’s Association. Hitomi’s profile in the group indicated that she was a published poet. Hitomi intrigued him. She presented as a complex individual with varied interests and behaviors.
And Lieutenant Lake thinks she took advantage of a young Seth Moore. Interesting dossier.

Caldwell finished up and hustled to his silver Toyota Camry. He and the lieutenant were meeting at 7:30 at the office in downtown Atlanta then heading northwest to the town of Vinings to catch Hitomi in her home.

Twenty minutes later Caldwell sat in the driver’s seat of the unmarked car when Lake yanked open the passenger door, clutching a cup of coffee in his other hand. He nodded to Caldwell as he climbed into the car and continued his cell phone conversation. The scent of stale coffee hit Caldwell.

He pulled out into traffic and headed toward the interstate passing the MARTA train station on Brotherton Street. A homeless man stood next to his shopping cart on the edge of the parking lot facing into the street. He smiled and stood like he was waiting for something. Men of all ages walked the lot, some waiting for rides after their release from the men’s detention center connected to the APD campus.

The lieutenant finished his conversation as Simms pulled on to the interstate. “That was Tiny,” Lake said. “He got some results back on the hooded sweatshirt found on Seventeenth Street. DNA from the long hair is Lily Moore’s. Pulled a short strand of chemically-treated dark hair off as well. No tissue attached to test DNA. We still want to obtain hair samples from suspects involved to see if there is a match, at least we can narrow down whose hair is dyed and see if the chemicals match.