Bitter Spirits
Page 68
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Wu shook his head, a look of defeat, maybe even commiseration behind his eyes. “I truly do not know. This temple isn’t under tong protection, and my work is the only thing that holds my interest. I am uninterested in politics and would prefer to be left alone. I only helped the man who requested the Gu because I needed the money.”
Winter stared at him for a long moment. The man finally held out his hands and made an appeal to Bo in Cantonese.
“He says that’s everything he knows,” Bo translated.
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but Winter suspected he wouldn’t get anything more out of the man by threatening him. He’d have the old man monitored night and day, find out who he visited, who visited him. And in the meantime, they now had the name of the secret tong. Something small, to be sure, but hope is often kindled by small things.
Winter leaned closer. “If anyone else comes to you asking for any more of these kinds of favors, I’d appreciate if you’d get word to me at Pier 26 before accepting the work. Whatever they pay, I’ll pay more. I can be a good friend for a temple like this. I can even ensure that you are left alone to live out the rest of your hopeless, depressing life in peace and quiet.”
The man laughed. “Now that’s something. Much more motivating than a bullet.”
“Then we have an understanding?”
“Yes, Mr. Magnusson. I believe we do.”
“One more thing,” Aida said, surprising Winter. “Can you really see the future?”
Mr. Wu gave her a tight smile. “If I could, I very much doubt I’d be wasting my talents in a place like this.”
TWENTY-THREE
WINTER CLAIMED HE WAS TOO BUSY TO SEE HER THE FOLLOWING day, chasing down this Hive tong, and talking to the last remaining bootlegger in the Big Three. Even so, she suspected part of the reason for his busy schedule had to do with punishing her for the news about New Orleans. Maybe some time apart would help him come to his senses, so she didn’t protest. Just went to work the next night, a little sad, a little anxious, and took the midnight streetcar home to an empty apartment.
After getting ready for bed, she opened her locket and thought of her brother. Before he’d left for training camp, Sam told her about something he’d once read: that people could fall in love with anyone, given the right circumstances. This meant that there was no such thing as soul mates or a One True Love for anyone, he said. Love was something people used to prop themselves up. It created dependency and distracted from learning and personal growth. It also inevitably led to loss. Therefore, one’s goal in life should be to remain single, he theorized; avoid love, avoid a lifetime of pain and suffering. The world was falling apart anyway—why would anyone want to get married and, heaven forbid, bring another child into such a mess?
For once in her adult life, Aida heard Sam’s words in her head and had doubt. This upset her on a couple of levels. It upended her world to even consider for a moment Sam might’ve been wrong. And yet, at the same time, it felt as though she was defacing his memory, wronging him from the beyond. Not for the first time, she wished she could discuss it with him. Ironic that she was a medium but couldn’t channel him. Couldn’t even find another medium to help her, because she had nothing of his to use for memento mori; the photograph she owned wasn’t in his possession long enough to act as a magnet. He would probably say this proved something about the absurdity of life.
Setting the locket on her nightstand, she slipped beneath the bedcovers and tried to block out Sam’s words. It took a long while to fall asleep, and when she did, she dreamed of Winter standing outside the incense-filled temple from the day before. Then the scene changed, and she was watching his hand slipping away from hers as she reached out the window of a departing train. When he was just a speck on the receding landscape, she sat down in an empty train car and unwrapped candy with a beehive printed on the wrapper. It tasted of honey, only far too sweet and bitter. She tried to spit it out when she saw a shadow moving across the window. Just as she turned to study it, the train burst into flames.
Even inside her sleeping mind, she distantly recognized the recurring dream. It was like an old enemy that she’d held at an arm’s length for so long, they were almost friends by default. The earthquake. The Great Fire. Holding on to Sam while the city burned to smoldering ash. Her parents out of reach.
She tried to wake herself up, but the dream was so vivid.
So real.
She came awake with a start to find that it was real! She was not dreaming.
Yellow and orange flames leapt from her apartment door, quickly spreading across the floor and over the inner wall. Aida lurched from her bed and spied movement outside her window.
Someone was racing down the fire escape.
Billows of black smoke rose from the flames. She coughed and stumbled. Her vision wavered. She tried to walk, but her knees buckled.
What was wrong with her?
“Help!” she shouted, again and again.
It was her absolute worst nightmare. The fire was consuming the small apartment. Already, the door to her bathroom was blocked by flames. The only way out was the window.
Dizzy and confused, she glanced around and despaired. She was going to lose everything.
This couldn’t be happening.
She crawled to the open closet and pulled herself up by the door handle. Her handbag was here on the back of the door, thank God, along with the the fox coat. Tearing it from its hanger, she coughed against her forearm and waved away smoke, desperately looking for Ju’s dress, but it was impossible. She couldn’t see her bed anymore, the smoke was so thick.
Winter stared at him for a long moment. The man finally held out his hands and made an appeal to Bo in Cantonese.
“He says that’s everything he knows,” Bo translated.
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but Winter suspected he wouldn’t get anything more out of the man by threatening him. He’d have the old man monitored night and day, find out who he visited, who visited him. And in the meantime, they now had the name of the secret tong. Something small, to be sure, but hope is often kindled by small things.
Winter leaned closer. “If anyone else comes to you asking for any more of these kinds of favors, I’d appreciate if you’d get word to me at Pier 26 before accepting the work. Whatever they pay, I’ll pay more. I can be a good friend for a temple like this. I can even ensure that you are left alone to live out the rest of your hopeless, depressing life in peace and quiet.”
The man laughed. “Now that’s something. Much more motivating than a bullet.”
“Then we have an understanding?”
“Yes, Mr. Magnusson. I believe we do.”
“One more thing,” Aida said, surprising Winter. “Can you really see the future?”
Mr. Wu gave her a tight smile. “If I could, I very much doubt I’d be wasting my talents in a place like this.”
TWENTY-THREE
WINTER CLAIMED HE WAS TOO BUSY TO SEE HER THE FOLLOWING day, chasing down this Hive tong, and talking to the last remaining bootlegger in the Big Three. Even so, she suspected part of the reason for his busy schedule had to do with punishing her for the news about New Orleans. Maybe some time apart would help him come to his senses, so she didn’t protest. Just went to work the next night, a little sad, a little anxious, and took the midnight streetcar home to an empty apartment.
After getting ready for bed, she opened her locket and thought of her brother. Before he’d left for training camp, Sam told her about something he’d once read: that people could fall in love with anyone, given the right circumstances. This meant that there was no such thing as soul mates or a One True Love for anyone, he said. Love was something people used to prop themselves up. It created dependency and distracted from learning and personal growth. It also inevitably led to loss. Therefore, one’s goal in life should be to remain single, he theorized; avoid love, avoid a lifetime of pain and suffering. The world was falling apart anyway—why would anyone want to get married and, heaven forbid, bring another child into such a mess?
For once in her adult life, Aida heard Sam’s words in her head and had doubt. This upset her on a couple of levels. It upended her world to even consider for a moment Sam might’ve been wrong. And yet, at the same time, it felt as though she was defacing his memory, wronging him from the beyond. Not for the first time, she wished she could discuss it with him. Ironic that she was a medium but couldn’t channel him. Couldn’t even find another medium to help her, because she had nothing of his to use for memento mori; the photograph she owned wasn’t in his possession long enough to act as a magnet. He would probably say this proved something about the absurdity of life.
Setting the locket on her nightstand, she slipped beneath the bedcovers and tried to block out Sam’s words. It took a long while to fall asleep, and when she did, she dreamed of Winter standing outside the incense-filled temple from the day before. Then the scene changed, and she was watching his hand slipping away from hers as she reached out the window of a departing train. When he was just a speck on the receding landscape, she sat down in an empty train car and unwrapped candy with a beehive printed on the wrapper. It tasted of honey, only far too sweet and bitter. She tried to spit it out when she saw a shadow moving across the window. Just as she turned to study it, the train burst into flames.
Even inside her sleeping mind, she distantly recognized the recurring dream. It was like an old enemy that she’d held at an arm’s length for so long, they were almost friends by default. The earthquake. The Great Fire. Holding on to Sam while the city burned to smoldering ash. Her parents out of reach.
She tried to wake herself up, but the dream was so vivid.
So real.
She came awake with a start to find that it was real! She was not dreaming.
Yellow and orange flames leapt from her apartment door, quickly spreading across the floor and over the inner wall. Aida lurched from her bed and spied movement outside her window.
Someone was racing down the fire escape.
Billows of black smoke rose from the flames. She coughed and stumbled. Her vision wavered. She tried to walk, but her knees buckled.
What was wrong with her?
“Help!” she shouted, again and again.
It was her absolute worst nightmare. The fire was consuming the small apartment. Already, the door to her bathroom was blocked by flames. The only way out was the window.
Dizzy and confused, she glanced around and despaired. She was going to lose everything.
This couldn’t be happening.
She crawled to the open closet and pulled herself up by the door handle. Her handbag was here on the back of the door, thank God, along with the the fox coat. Tearing it from its hanger, she coughed against her forearm and waved away smoke, desperately looking for Ju’s dress, but it was impossible. She couldn’t see her bed anymore, the smoke was so thick.
