‘Tie her hands, she’s more mafan than I expected,’ yellow mask mutters. ‘Here, pour the rest in her wound before it closes.’ He hands red a small glass vial full of brown liquid.
Still gasping for air, I’m helpless as green and black yank my arms behind me and secure them with rough rope. Red mask uncorks the vial and pours the contents into the gash in my side. It burns, then a numb tingling spreads from the wound site across my back. My mouth goes dry and my movements slow again.
I blink.
The tableau has rearranged itself. Green mask looks down at me. The swirls of his mask blur and the mask swells, then shrinks, wriggling and wavering as I watch.
I blink.
Rough hands grip my arms, holding me upright. Someone lights a match – the hiss of the flame echoes in my ears for an unnaturally long time.
My head lolls to the side. When I open my eyes again, we are gathered in front of my bedroom door. Somewhere nearby a joss stick burns. The smell of camphor and sandalwood overpowers everything. A hand pushes the door open. I gasp, the intake of breath slower than it should be and creaking like an ill-fitted door.
Beyond is not my hotel bedroom.
Beyond is sun-dappled forest, birdsong, the gentle lap of water against stone, and the scent of decaying leaf-fall and freshly crushed pine needles.
Beyond is Turquoise Hills. Home of the Hulijing Court.
Twenty-Four
Home Sweet Home
I struggle and fight against my captors. I do not want to cross that threshold. But the opium swirls in my veins, switching my mind on and off like electric lights. My head lolls forward and the world goes dark.
When I come to again, leaves and twigs snap and creak while distant birdsong counterpoints the low rushing of a nearby stream. I scream and try to bite my captors, earning me another backhand for my trouble.
‘Is there any more of the opium?’ green mask demands.
‘No,’ comes the curt reply. Yellow mask. ‘We used it all. Didn’t think she would be able to fight it as much.’
‘Then we need to swap. Crazy bitch has bitten me twice already. What if— What if she infects me?’
‘We’re almost there. Quit whining,’ yellow mask says.
It’s not like I enjoy biting them either. Their blood tastes all wrong, thin and bitter, but I’ll bite anyone and anything if it means I can get back to Mr Lee – I have no idea if the jade has any effect on mortals. He could die there. I can only hope Gigi finds him in time.
They drag me through a sun-dappled forest up a stone path. I can’t do much with my hands tied behind me. My head and limbs are unbearably heavy. But as we make our way up the hill, the air grows thick with the stench of hulijing – flint and ginger and honeyed rotted fish. The stink sharpens my fear which helps focus my strength. With great effort, I use green and red’s grip on me to buck forwards, and on the back swing aim a well-placed kick at black mask behind me.
Right in the virtuous peaches. He goes down with a shriek.
Green and red drop me in surprise. I scramble to my feet and try to run, but yellow mask doesn’t hesitate. He roundhouses me again, foot connecting with my jaw. I land hard on my side, scraping the side of my face on twigs and stones.
Yellow mask grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back. His face is too close to mine. The opium makes the painted swirls of his mask spin and distort. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to separate hallucination from reality.
‘You will behave, bitch,’ he snarls, ‘or I will fetch your mortal lover’s corpse and make you watch while I carve him into pieces and feed him to the hulijing. Understood?’
A sob claws its way up my throat but I clamp my lips shut. There’s a chance Gigi will turn up to berate me for disappearing. I need to keep the men away from Mr Lee. With no choice, I nod meekly.
The men curse as they drag me, arms bound, limp and defeated, closer to the home of my nightmares – the weathered blue-green rooftops of Niang Niang’s palace complex built on the edges of the Lake of Eternal Reflection.
We cross the first bridge that brings us to the Pavilion of Supreme Harmony. The strumming melody of a guzheng floats across the lake, the hulijing’s call to breakfast. Two handmaids wait on the pale wooden veranda. Their hair is partially pinned up in ornate loops held with quivering hair pins, the rest left long and loose over their shoulders. They bow to the men; their pale gauzy robes fall open as they bend, revealing an eyeful of pale, creamy ta-tas. I’d gag if I had the energy.
My captors, yaojing themselves, fall over themselves to greet the women. Rotted turd brains should know better than to fall for a hulijing’s charms. The men drop me unceremoniously to the ground. I slump, unable to right myself. I need to conserve my energy if I’m to escape. Better not to fight now, wait for an opportunity.
‘These unworthy ones bask in your fragrant beauty,’ yellow mask says, bowing to the bitches. ‘Please inform the venerable Niang Niang we have brought Lady Jing.’
I’m too weak to lift my head. One of the handmaids, I don’t know which one, speaks. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
