“But we’re veering off-topic.” She released him, sitting back. “Why, exactly, do you think you can’t be a counselor? Because so far, I haven’t seen any evidence to support that position.”
“Leonie,” he said with a touch of exasperation. He held up his hand, light gleaming from his claws. Goodness, they really were impressive. “I do not look like this by choice.”
“I didn’t think you did.” She shrugged. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your appearance.”
And boy, was that the understatement of the century. She’d already been having a hard enough time not flat-out ogling him. As a fellow feline herself, she could appreciate a fine set of claws.
Down, girl, she told her inner lioness firmly. Out loud, she continued, “If anything, this makes you even more perfect for the role. A lot of kids come here because they’re having trouble with their shifting, or their animals. It would be goodfor them to be able to talk to a counselor who can relate to their issues.”
Shan made a harsh sound, deep in his throat. It might have been a laugh. “You think I would be a good role model for children? Leonie, do you have the slightest idea what I am?”
“No, I don’t. Sotellme, Shan. What is it about you that’s so terrible?”
Shan didn’t answer for a moment. He picked up his glove, turning his attention to the fiddly process of fitting it back over his hand-paw. Now that she knew what was hidden underneath, she could see the telltale signs of his difference; the stiffness of the joints, the care he took to avoid tearing the leather with his claws.
“In China, some of the oldest stories tell of the Four Perils,” he said, apparently to his glove. “Four evil creatures, born of wickedness, standing in opposition to all that is good and right. The taotie. The hundun. The taowu. And the qiongqi.”
The word he used was unfamiliar to her—something likechee-yon-chee. She would have asked Shan to repeat it, but she knew better than to interrupt him now that he’d finally started talking.
“Out of all the Four Perils, the qiongqi is the most vicious.” He said it without emotion, as if relating a simple fact. “Wherever there is argument, it can tell who speaks truth and who lies. It knows those of pure heart from those motivated by malice or greed. The qiongqi chooses who to help, and who to hunt. Who will go free, and who will be its prey.”
She’d asked him earlier, in innocent curiosity:What does truth taste like?
And his reply, curt and harsh:Delicious.
“Okay,” she said, carefully not letting any reaction showin her expression. “Let me check I’ve got this right. Are you saying your animal wants to, uh…”
“Eat people?” Shan finished dryly, while she was still trying to think of a polite way of asking whether he battled an unfortunate inclination toward cannibalism. “No. Meat does nothing to satisfy the qiongqi. It hungers fortruth.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is,” he said grimly. “Leonie, is there truly no secret that you keep locked in your heart? Nothing you do not want to admit, even to yourself?”
She wanted to say no, of course not. Protest that she had nothing to hide.
But he could taste lies.
Shan nodded, taking her silence as the answer it was. “You see now. We all have things we would rather die than say out loud.Thoseare the truths the qiongqi craves. The ones that hurt.”
“So…lies taste bad to your animal,” Leonie said, still trying to figure out where he was going with this. “Which means it doesn’t have any interest in people who aren’t sincere. But people whodousually tell the truth…attract it?”
Shan nodded again. “Like a wasp to honey. But the sweetness of harmless truths is ultimately unsatisfying to the qiongqi. Like a diet of nothing but candy. It craves more. To strip away all the comforting illusions, all the little lies we tell ourselves. It longs to rip open its prey and feast on the deepest truths, raw and bleeding. That is the only thing that makes it content.”
She digested that. “Have you ever tasted a truth like that?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Once. When I was ten years old.”
“What happened?”
“I revealed a truth best left unspoken.” His voice was tight,clipped. “My father left. It broke my mother. She never recovered.”
It was like she’d walked face first into a concrete wall. “Oh. Shan, I’m so sorry.”
“It was notyourfault.” The bitter emphasis he put on the word made it clear exactly who he blamed. He held up his hand, claws now hidden. “After that, I learned to repress my nature. But a qiongqi is not easily caged.”
“Your animal is fighting you? Trying to take control?”
“Yes. I keep the qiongqi starved and imprisoned. In retaliation, it twists my body.” He paused, and although he didn’t move his head, she somehow had the impression of his gaze sliding away from her. “It has become… harder to contain recently. That is why I was given this assignment. Here, it does not matter that I cannot pass as human.”
