Skybright

 

 

Skybright sat with Stone for hours. No one else magically entered the palace hall. The song bird began its trilling again after the goddess left, singing its song of loss. Of betrayal. She knew it was the song of Stone’s heart. She studied his face to her contentment, curious over his transformation. Was he something in between now, as she was, not immortal but not fully mortal?

The planes of his face had softened, his jawline and cheekbones less chiseled. A sprinkling of freckles dabbled across his cheeks, and there were faint lines near the edges of his eyes that had never been there before. She picked up his hand, feeling the rough calluses near the top of his palm. The nails were cut short with a hint of dirt beneath. His skin was tanned golden, dark against her own pale complexion. Stone had been attiring himself as a regal warrior from the past, when he was instead a farm boy who had been plucked from the fields by some god on a whim. Why had he been chosen? Because he was handsome? Or simply because he was there?

He let out a low moan, and she leaned in close. His breathing was steady, as was the thrumming of his heart. She could gauge it all with her heightened serpentine senses. He still smelled of forest and earth, but it was muted, like fragrance that had been worn on the skin an entire day. She drew nearer, breathing him in, enjoying this freedom while he was knocked out. Stone had always been the one in control, who had the upper hand in all their interactions. How would it be now?

“What are you doing?” Stone croaked.

She had had her face pressed near his neck and jerked back in surprise. “Nothing. I was making sure you hadn’t died.” She winced at the monstrous grating sound of her voice.

He let out a small breath that might have been a laugh, then grimaced. “Have you finally sunk your fangs into me, then?”

“The goddess did say my venom can kill you now,” she ground out.

“Is that why my head hurts so much?” He winced in pain, then closed his eyes again.

“I did not use my venom on you—”

“Why not?” He opened one eye to peer at her, looking so boyish she was taken aback. “You can be rid of me once and for all.”

“I cushioned your head when you fell. It’d probably be split open like a melon otherwise.” Skybright arched her back and hissed deep. “I do not kill people for sport.”

“Thank you, Skybright, for saving my skull.” He shifted his head and seemed to realize that he was resting against her thick serpentine body. Stone then lifted his gaze, his eyes following the curve of her hip covered in crimson scales, then lingered at her bare breasts. He blushed a deep red, something she had never seen him do, as he scrambled to rise. Her nudity had never elicited any reaction from him before. “Ah!” Stone touched his temple with a hand. “My head. It certainly feels like a split melon.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t suffering more.”

He doubled over, his hands pressed against his thighs, and swayed like a drunkard.

She gathered her coils. “Perhaps you need more rest.”

“Water,” he replied.

“There is the creek behind you.” The waters had calmed since the goddess’s dramatic entrance, and the creek flowed smoothly now, its surface glimmering.

He gave a shake of his head and muttered under his breath. A ceramic jug of water appeared at his feet. Stone drank deep from it before drying his mouth with the swipe of a hand. “I have not thirsted in over two thousand years.” He gazed into the empty jug, then held his arm out in front of him, before glancing down at himself. “I look like a peasant.”

“I think you were one.”

Stone ran his hands over the dusty tunic in disbelief. “Goddess,” he said again, then considered her. “Why are you still here?”

“Where am I to go? There’s no exit, and I have no notion as to how to get off this Immortals’ peak. Besides, I couldn’t leave without you.”

“You couldn’t?” He half smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It made him look entirely different than the Stone she had known a few hours before.

Skybright snorted. “Don’t be foolish. I don’t know the way back.”

“You’re magnificent in serpent form, you realize?”

She didn’t respond. Only Stone could ever think her demonic representation was magnificent.

He said another incantation in a low voice and slashed his arm to open a portal. Nothing happened. He tried again, then a third time. He cursed, loud enough that the jeweled bird shrilled in complaint. “I cannot summon the portal any longer.” But despite the statement, he kept trying, uttering the ancient spell loudly now, making the motion of his arm more emphatic, his dark brows drawn together in frustration. “Damn the gods,” he finally muttered beneath his breath.

“Stop, Stone,” she said. His feelings of anger and impotence tasted like bitter medicine against her tongue. “We’re trapped here then?”

“No. Not unless the goddess willed it. And I don’t think she intended for us to remain here.” He bowed his head. “You place your fingertips on the wall and command it to open for you.”

“Let’s go then,” she rasped.

But instead, Stone slouched to the floor. His sense of desolation was so acute, it felt like something physical was shrouded over him.

“I thought you told the goddess you would fix this,” Skybright said.

His broad shoulders shook, and for one terrible moment, she thought he was sobbing. But he lifted his face and she realized he had actually been laughing. “How? I can’t even make portals any longer.” He continued to laugh, verging on hysteria.

She crossed her arms, human skin brushing against the smooth scales of her torso, and tried to reconcile this young man so full of angst with the powerful and assured one she’d been forced to accompany. It was almost as startling as seeing a goddess with her own eyes. “You begin by returning to the mortal realm. You cannot close the breach from the heavens.”

His mouth twisted, and he wiped his eyes. “That seems practical.” He rose unsteadily to his feet. “Have you always been so practical, Skybright?”

“Yes,” she replied and touched her fingers against the gold wall, which again appeared to be normal and solid after the goddess’s departure. “Come. There’s no time for this.”

The wall undulated like water, as the goddess’s flowing dress had; then all four walls disappeared. The grand jade columns remained, holding up the arched roof, but spectacular views of The Mountain of Heavenly Peace spanned before them. From this higher vantage point, they appeared to be floating in the sky. Cloud wisps drifted by, so near it felt as if she could rise on her serpent coil and touch them. The small stream that had curved its way through the palace continued on, growing wider into the lush gardens beyond.

A grand six-story pagoda glinted in the distance, its roof tiles golden in the sunlight. Several pavilions dotted the expansive garden; the closest had an eruption of wisteria hanging from its eaves. Its peppery fragrance carried to her on a gentle breeze, potent even from a distance.

She slithered down the steps and cast a backward glance. Stone remained at the top, taking in the unearthly views, his expression uncertain. She could read him as easily now as she had Zhen Ni. “Do I need to drag you from this place?” she asked, then shifted back into a girl.

He ran down the steps, speaking a spell. “At least I can still clothe you.” His tone was sarcastic as he thrust out his hand to offer her the beautiful pale peach paneled dress he had conjured, head turned so he could not look at her.

Stone’s new discomfort with her naked body made Skybright feel modest, and she quickly pulled her clothes on.

“I had not seen you change into serpent form,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “You were already falling to the ground by then.” She had an alarming thought. “Am I safe here in my demonic form?”

“You are safe.” He glanced at her; then his eyes flicked away, as if unable to hold her gaze. “You are a creation of the gods, after all.” Stone gave her a sardonic smile, one that conflicted with his tangible grief. She felt it strongly even in her mortal form. “We all are,” he said in a low voice. “They give, and they can take away.”

She almost felt sorry for him. “Do you know how to fix this—close the breach?”

“I will fix it. I have no choice.” He walked past her, giving wide berth as if afraid over the notion that their sleeves might touch. “I want to live.”

Skybright walked beside him but with much more space between them. She sensed that she made Stone uncomfortable in a way he had never felt before. It was puzzling, but she didn’t dwell on it, as she concentrated on keeping up with his long strides.

As they walked, Stone kept conjuring various objects: apples, a wine jug, tunics, a dagger, and inexplicably a duck. The duck stared at Stone for a moment before flapping from his hands and waddling off. Skybright burst into laughter.

“Just testing my magic—what’s left of it,” Stone said, looking sheepish.

“Your conjuring ability is impressive.”

He shook his head in frustration. “It’s mostly useless to me in a fight.” He manifested a painted silk fan and a ruby necklace, then let those drop along the path. Zhen Ni would have loved both items, Skybright thought with a faint smile.

He paused and seemed to be staring at a large rock beneath a cherry tree in the distance. It tumbled a few times toward them, as if light enough to be stirred by the wind. Stone let out a low whistle. “Earth,” he said.

She gave him a questioning look.

“My ability was always strongest with the earth element; Stone was the name given to me by the Immortals. I still feel it, the earth magic, all around me. Not as potent as before, but—” He narrowed his eyes, and the large rock rolled several rotations before actually jumping straight into the air, then crashing to the dirt again.

“Do you think the Goddess of Accord intended it—for you to have kept your earth magic?”

Stone chuckled, his wry amusement a sharp scent in the Immortals’ fragrant garden. “It’s impossible to try and guess a goddess’s intentions. She does want me to close the breach. I’d be useless without some magic to aid me.”

They walked on, and he continued to gauge his power, so a rubble of rocks in various sizes trailed them, like strange pets. Finally, they reached the wall of the garden. A nondescript wooden door was set in its side, no taller than Stone himself. He pulled the dull brass circle in the middle, and the door creaked open.

They stepped through, and the door thudded shut behind them. Skybright stopped short, letting out a cry. They were on a narrow ledge high in the sky; pale blue stone steps led down into a blanket of white clouds below. She wrapped her arms around herself, deathly afraid of plunging over the edge. “We are not jumping like we did into the lake,” she said. “I’ll knock you unconscious first.”

Stone smiled. “No jumping this time.” He paused, his face becoming thoughtful. “Besides, I’m not certain I’d survive that any longer. We simply need to walk down the steps.”

“Where do they lead? We are in the heavens!” The steps had no railing on either side and were just wide enough for one person to descend at a time. She really would plunge to her death.

“They lead to where you’d like to go,” he replied. “Trust me.”

She laughed, and it was harsh in her ears. “I have no choice but to believe what you say, Stone. But I will never trust you.”

He spun around so they faced each other. She almost jerked her hands forward to steady him. Quickly, she clasped them in front of her, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Because she stood one step above him, they were almost eye level. Still, Stone was taller.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

He spoke in earnest, lacking the detached arrogance that had become so familiar. And in truth, she had never known him to tell her a lie. Until today. “You said you would take me as the sacrifice to close the breach to the underworld. You deceived all of us.”

He turned to go down the steps but not before she saw him blanch, so obvious now in his tanned face and very human tells. “I did not lie. The breach closed. We both saw it with our eyes. Something else is going on—and I’ll find the cause behind it.” Stone continued down the steps, assured in his stride, and she trailed behind him with care into the opaque clouds below.

 

 

 

 

Zhen Ni

 

Rose finally returned to Zhen Ni’s quarters as she was finishing off her orange slices. She had eaten everything on the lacquered tray, having had very little at the wedding banquet the night before. She’d been too anxious and felt ill the entire evening. Ah, the glamorous banquet night of a new bride, she thought, and snorted beneath her breath.

“Lady,” Rose said, interrupting her thoughts. “I came earlier this morning but your quarters were empty.”

She smiled at her handmaid, fifteen years and very kind and devoted. But not at all fun as Skybright had been, willing to conspire with her and break rules. “I was out for an early morning walk and became lost. But Master Bei found me and led me back.”

Rose actually blushed. Zhen Ni knew what the girl was thinking and how far off from the truth she was. “Can you dress me? I’d like to begin interviewing and hiring for new staff today.” As Lady Bei, it was up to Zhen Ni to see to the smooth running of an entire household, as her mother had done all these years at Yuan manor.

“Of course, lady. The notices have been posted around town, but everyone already knows that the new Lady Bei is hiring for the most opulent manor in Chang He!” Rose led her back into her bedchamber, throwing a glance at the barely rumpled marriage bed. “Shall it be the deep pink dress today, lady? It complements your complexion so.”

Zhen Ni waved her hand, not really caring. Then as an afterthought, “Do we have guards securing the manor, Rose? The estate is so large.”

“Yes. I have seen some guards on the grounds, lady,” Rose said as she undressed Zhen Ni. The handmaid carefully bound Zhen Ni’s breasts with a white silk binder, and Zhen Ni had to resist fidgeting before Rose slipped the tunic over her head. The silk whispered over Zhen Ni’s skin, cool as a spring morning. “Oafish looking men.” Rose shivered as she helped Zhen Ni into her skirt. “I came across one lurking in the outer garden. He said that Master Bei had asked them to make certain you are safe in the manor as he is away for business.”

“Thank you, Rose,” Zhen Ni said. “It is good to know that we are protected. It wouldn’t do if there were just a cook, two handmaids, and me, would it?”

Her husband had not bothered to tell her that he would be away, only that he would not be coming to the marriage bed. Bless the goddess for brutish guards who loved to divulge household gossip to pretty handmaids in an attempt to impress them.

Rose began drawing her hair up in elaborate loops, as befitting a wealthy lady of the manor instead of the more modest hairstyles for an unmarried maiden.

“No,” Zhen Ni said. “Plait my hair and pin it close to my head. There is much to accomplish today, better to keep it more practical.”

“Of course, lady.”

It was only an excuse. Zhen Ni was glad she had kept the gray tunic and trousers she had stolen from one of the handmaids for her excursion with Kai Sen. It would be perfect for exploring what was beneath the secret door in her husband’s unfurnished study before his return. Was it simply a place for him to hide things, or did it actually lead somewhere beneath the manor?

Rose had just rubbed gardenia perfume into Zhen Ni’s wrists and at the hollow of her throat when Oriole tapped on the lattice door before peering into the bedchamber. “A Master Jin is here to see you, Lady Bei.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “I know no Master Jin.”

“He says he is the master carpenter of the manor and wished to speak with you privately. He said it was of matters most urgent.”

Zhen Ni gave her reflection one last quick inspection in the bronzed mirror. “Very well, Oriole. Please show him into the main hall and bring some tea and sliced fruit. I’ll be there shortly.”

Oriole inclined her head. “Yes, lady.”

“Rose, the jade and ruby hairpin, please. I was not expecting a guest today.”

Her handmaid stuck the expensive pin into her locks, making it look like a light green bird nestled among winterberries. Zhen Ni pinched her cheeks and nodded. “I believe I am ready to receive my first guest as the lady of the manor.”

Rose led her from one courtyard to the next until they reached the main hall. The lattice doors carved with fish for good fortune had been drawn open, letting in the fresh air and sunshine of a beautiful spring morning. The main hall had been furnished in impeccable style, with six carved chairs placed in pairs of twos—one set facing the open courtyard, and the other two sets facing each other to create an intimate space for conversation.

The master carpenter sat in a chair facing the courtyard, and he twisted a cap in his large hands, obviously nervous. A long ancestor table was pushed against the back wall and was curiously empty. No paintings of ancestors adorned it; no offerings of fruit—not even a stick of incense to light for her husband’s loved ones who had died.

Zhen Ni glided into the room, holding up the panels of her dark pink skirt, before sitting down in the chair beside Master Jin. Oriole had already brought and poured the tea. A plate of sliced oranges and a large bowl of peeled lychees were set on the square inlaid table between them. “Master Jin, it is a pleasure to meet the man who helped to construct such a beautiful manor. I am indebted to you.”

The man jumped to his feet, gaping at her. He was probably near forty years, with a thick head of hair and a bushy beard peppered with gray to match. Not as broad as her husband, yet Zhen Ni could tell he was muscular beneath his dark tan tunic. “The honor and pleasure are mine, Lady Bei.” He looked as if he were ready to drop to his knees, and Zhen Ni suppressed a smile, gesturing toward the chair.

“Please do sit, Master Jin.” She took a sip of her tea. This was the first time in her life she’d ever met a man so publically in the main hall before. But she was the lady of the house now, and it was her duty to receive guests when necessary. “Would you like anything besides fruit? We are not operating as a full kitchen yet, but I’m certain that our cook could make you something if you desired it.”

“Ah, no. Thank you for your generosity, lady. I couldn’t eat.” He clamped his mouth shut, wrenching the cap in his hands even more. It would be ruined. “I heard that Master Bei would be out of town and came to speak with you alone today. I know it’s forward but—”

Curiosity piqued, Zhen Ni smiled into her teacup and demurely lowered her lashes in the hopes that she was the picture of femininity. “You may speak to me openly, Master Jin. What is troubling you?”

“The manor, your husband will not allow us to bless it,” he blurted, then drew out a handkerchief, dabbing it against his forehead, before tucking it away again. “It is unseemly. I don’t want to appear ungrateful, lady, this is the most expansive project I have ever led. The manor is magnificent, and it has been a pleasure to help build it. But you have to understand—” He held up his large hands, as if beseeching her. “When we break ground to build a new home, it is a great disturbance to nature, to the environment where the home is built. It’s essential that we placate the gods and discourage … unwanted spirits.”

Zhen Ni knew that rituals and ceremony were involved with building a new home, as with any major event, be it birth, death, or wedding. “And my husband didn’t allow you to bless Bei manor?”

The master carpenter shook his head emphatically. “He was quite adamant against it. We weren’t allowed to set off fireworks or use chicken blood to ward off evil spirits, nor offer fruit and burn incense to the Earth God. A ridgepole wasn’t even raised for the manor!” Master Jin’s lower lip actually quivered. “I didn’t want to go against Master Bei’s wishes, but I had to do something to bless this home.” The large man reached into a hidden pocket in his tunic and drew out two coins. “I buried these coins in the location where the main door of the manor was to be positioned, as tradition dictated. They were above ground again the next day, as if spat out.”

Zhen Ni stared at the two silver coins in the man’s hand, their carvings edged in dirt.

“So I buried them again. Deeper this time. And the next morning …” He drew a long breath.

“I see, Master Jin,” she whispered.

“I’d never seen the like. So I tried again. I used calligraphic charms, the best kind, mind, written on peach wood slips and stuck them in a bowl with a handful of earth from where we would break ground.” He gulped, then wiped at his forehead again with the plain handkerchief from his pocket.

Zhen Ni nodded and placed her hand on his armrest to encourage him to speak on.

“They erupted into flames, lady. The moment I planted the charms into the earth, they burned.”

She straightened and stared out into the courtyard. Her husband had filled it with orange trees, the scent of their sweet blossoms drifted into the main hall, and she breathed deep. Cursed then. This home was cursed somehow, and her husband knew it. Perhaps welcomed it. “I understand, Master Jin. Thank you for informing me.”

He reached out, almost as if to grab her hand, then jerked his arm back. “You are the new lady of the manor. Certainly, you can talk to your husband on my behalf, yes? Bring in a monk to bless the house? It is not too late to complete the rituals, lady.”

He rose, jittery. He had not touched his tea or the fruit.

“I did my best, lady. I took into account the lay of the land and the small stream that wends through the manor. The buildings are constructed to welcome good fortune and avert disaster. I built a small shrine amid the grove of banyan trees near the back of the manor, lady. And found the best rocks to place around the estate. Your quarters, I set the tigers on the eaves as protection.”

“You did that? I thought my husband had thought of it.”

“He wanted something. And I asked what sign you were, and when he told me, I suggested we use it. Tiger couldn’t have been a better symbol, lady.”

Zhen Ni stood as well and smiled up at the master carpenter, then inclined her head. “I am truly grateful for your attention to such details, Master Jin. My husband did say that he hires the best.”

He grinned, and his cheeks were red above his rough beard.

“Be assured that I will speak to my husband on the matter.”

Master Jin bobbed his head and retreated from the main hall walking backward, as if she were an empress he could not turn his back on. Amazingly, he navigated the steps without a hitch. He had built them, she supposed, watching him lope off toward the main entrance.

Zhen Ni sat back down and drooped against the curved back chair, feeling as if all strength had been sapped from her. She had wondered if this marriage was too good to be true; now she wondered how bad it could become. Was her new husband one who dabbled in the dark arts, who consorted with demons?

The flesh of her arms pimpled as if a cold wind had swept through the main hall. She had wanted to explore her husband’s study due to her usual curious nature, but now she knew she had no choice.

It might be a matter of survival.

 

 

 

 

Zhen Ni postponed further interviews for the day, feigning a headache. She had Oriole tell everyone who was waiting outside the manor in hopes of securing a job to come back early the next morning. “We had a late start today, and I’m still weary from the wedding banquet.”

Oriole grinned. She was eighteen and much better versed in what happens between a man and a woman on their wedding night. Zhen Ni had glimpsed the handmaid once on her day off at the town market, lips locked with some boy in the shadows of an alleyway. Let Oriole make her presumptions—it was the safest way for now.

She dismissed both handmaids, giving them the day off, saying that they would be very busy beginning tomorrow when they started to select the new staff for the manor. The two girls ambled away, each clutching a gold coin Zhen Ni had given them, looking as pleased as newly groomed kittens. She waited awhile to be certain they had left the manor before changing into her stolen tunic and trousers. It took a long time of rummaging through the rosewood cupboards to find a smaller lantern to take with her, as the lotus ones set on either side of her bed were too cumbersome. She made certain that it was filled with oil and lit it, hoping she wouldn’t come across any of the guards Rose had mentioned. Zhen Ni had glimpsed two loitering in the main courtyard after her meeting with the master builder.

The guards were not normally allowed within the women’s inner quarters where her building was located, but her husband’s study and its surroundings were not off limits to them. She would say she was exploring her new home if she ran across a guard, and that she knew not all the quarters had been furnished yet and some were quite dark. The ruse would have to suffice, and she prayed to the Goddess of Mercy she wouldn’t have to use it.

Zhen Ni slid her reception hall door open and peered into the lush courtyard. Her husband had filled it with crabapple and persimmon trees. The deep pinks of the crabapple blossoms mingled against the crisp green leaves of the persimmon trees. It truly was a gorgeous estate, and she could almost imagine herself leading a normal, fulfilled life here, but the prickling at the back of her mind prevented it. She only had to remember the fear in Master Jin’s broad face, and the hundreds of centuries-old gold and silver coins her strange, awkward husband had given her. Coins so old they should have shown their age but instead looked almost brand-new.

She hurried along the covered path. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the geometric lattice framing the top of the walkway and the low railings below, casting odd shadows upon her slippered feet. Although her stolen outfit was worn and modest, her shoes were befitting a lady of her rank: they were made of silk in the lightest green and embroidered with lavender and gold butterflies. Zhen Ni wasn’t certain of the way back to the study and turned around at various corners, trying to recollect landmarks such as ponds, benches, and pavilions. The grounds were completely void of the sounds of human occupants. It was like living somewhere abandoned. She was actually grateful when she heard the distant thunk of cleaver against board as the cook prepared her dinner in the kitchen Zhen Ni hadn’t visited yet, but she soon passed out of earshot.

She was terrified of running across an oafish guard each time she turned a corner but never did. When she glimpsed a stone bridge arched over the small rushing stream that meandered throughout the estate, she at last had her bearings. She ran up the steps of the study and closed the door behind her. Dust motes swirled in the dim sunlight, and the demon hounds (for she was certain that was what they were now) stared at her with glittering ruby eyes.

Zhen Ni skittered past the stone beasts, breath held, until she was in the empty study, shutting the door as to not feel the hounds’ gazes. The chamber was quite dim without the lattice windows drawn, and the air smelled of an unfamiliar musk and fresh-cut wood. Setting down her lantern, she then dropped to her knees and tugged at the small ring on the floor. The stone grated and groaned but barely budged. She hooked both index fingers and clasped her hands so she could use both arms. This time, the ledge lifted, and she pushed it aside. The stone piece matching the floor was a facade, set against a square wooden door beneath, and it hinged open all the way, revealing a dark hole below.

She lowered the small lantern. A rope ladder swung into the darkness—she couldn’t see the bottom. Goddess, she thought. Could she do this? If not now, she might never have another chance. Zhen Ni touched her waist, grateful for the dagger stolen from Nanny Bai that she had strapped there, then lowered herself down, clinging to the bronze lantern handle even as she clutched at the swinging ropes of the ladder.

Wobbling precariously, she lowered one foot down to the next rung. It was farther than she had expected, probably accommodating a much larger frame, like her husband’s. She squeezed her eyes shut and drew a deep breath, whispering a mantra and gathering courage before she lowered the other foot and shifted her hands down one rung. Her arms already felt sore, but she kept going, one foot then the next, one rung at a time. The more frightened she was, the more the ladder shuddered, writhing like a snake in the air. She had no choice but to keep as calm as she could, minimizing the rhythmic swinging as she crept lower and lower into the darkness.

When her foot finally hit hard ground, she let out a soft sob, wiping the dust from her eyes and mouth. The square opening above her was so dim it might have been a figment of her imagination. Goddess, help me to survive this. If Skybright had been here, she would have told Zhen Ni to leave it alone, that her husband obviously kept secrets that were never meant to be found out. But Zhen Ni was certain that in the end, the old Skybright would have accompanied her into this tunnel—leading the way to ensure her mistress’s safety. She half smiled, remembering all their misadventures together.

Would Skybright help her now, knowing that her former mistress was in trouble? Her chest felt tight as she held the lantern before her, pretending her old handmaid, her beloved childhood friend and companion, was walking the tunnel beside her, whispering assurances and admonitions, both comforting in their own ways. Not the new Skybright, the one she didn’t truly know, the demonic one with the frightening voice, long serpent coil instead of legs, and forked tongue.

She shivered to remember it.

The tunnel she walked was long and deep, high enough for Master Bei to traverse without having to stoop. It curved downward, as if leading her into the mouth of the underworld itself. Did it? The lantern’s small cone of light offered her little comfort, and her arm wobbled from tiredness and fear, causing shadows to jump along the walls. This was a stupid, dangerous thing she was doing. But how could she not investigate and learn the truth about her new husband?

The air was dry and stale and grew colder the farther she went. She heard no sound except for her own hitched breathing and the scraping of her slippers as she plodded on. After walking for what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened into a large cavern, too massive for her light to show her the entirety of it.

She stopped at the opening when the smell hit her. It reminded her of the butchered animals Cook would chop and slice with expertise in their family kitchen. But beneath the scent of blood and flesh was rot and decay. Like the undead smelled when they weren’t so fresh from their graves. Had she stumbled upon dead bodies? Some lost cemetery? Heartbeat hammering hard in her throat, she shuffled forward.

She heard a squelching noise.

Followed then by wet suckling.

She unsheathed her long dagger, clenching it so hard the carved hilt bit into her skin. Her lantern wavered in her hand, as if she were drunk, and she tried to will her arm steady. A few more steps. She had to see.

A slippered foot. The shoe was not as richly decorated as her own but still pretty. The owner of the shoe had a thick, white ankle.

Zhen Ni suppressed a moan.

The dead woman had probably been five years older than Zhen Ni. She lay on the stone floor with her arms flung out, legs splayed wide. She wore a plain peach dress that had been slit open down the middle, revealing her naked chest. It seemed to bulge unnaturally. Zhen Ni bit her lip hard to keep from crying out as she crept closer, letting the dim lantern light reveal more. The dead woman’s chest had been split open, the flesh peeled back. Her chest cavity and torso were empty of organs. The stench of rancid flesh overwhelmed Zhen Ni’s senses, and she swallowed hard against the strong impulse to retch.

Zhen Ni stumbled back, her lantern swinging wildly. She caught glimpses of other dark bodies lying close. Sobbing silently now, she forced herself to walk farther into the cavern, to see how many corpses there were. Six, she counted, as she pressed her knuckle into her mouth, her hand still clutching her dagger. The dead people were both men and women, of different ages and stations. She didn’t know which was worse, the visual of what was taking place in front of her, or the stomach turning smells. Had Master Bei done this? Had she married some sadistic, ritualistic murderer?

Then she saw something even more unbelievable and horrifying. A baby of about one year sat near the head of one of the corpses. It leaned over the body, making soft suckling noises with its mouth. Zhen Ni walked toward the baby, a sense of dread rising within her—darker than the discoveries of the massacred.

She stopped when she was close enough to see the details of the child. It was a girl. Naked and plump. Beautiful. Perfect. The baby had a chubby fist thrust into the socket of the corpse, gouging an eyeball out with a wet sound. Contentedly, it lifted it to its mouth and began eating.

The thing had a full set of sharp, little teeth.

Zhen Ni stuttered incoherent gibberish, horror smothering her.

The baby noticed her and stopped mid-chew. It cooed. Its wide set eyes were dark brown and expressive. It smiled at Zhen Ni, revealing a dimple in its left cheek. Its arms and legs were so chubby they were ringed with folds of pudgy baby fat. This thing had grown plump from feeding off corpses. Zhen Ni jabbed her dagger at it, her skin crawling with terror, so much so her scalp itched. The thing blinked, looking exactly as a sweet infant would, except for the remnants of an eyeball clutched between dimpled fingers.

She should kill it.

She didn’t know if she had it in her to slash its throat with her dagger or plunge it into its tiny chest—but surely she could set fire to the thing. She couldn’t be certain if it would work, if the monster could be killed, but it was obvious it was evil and could not be allowed to grow. Allowed to be let loose into their world. Zhen Ni shook violently.

But she couldn’t do anything without her husband finding out. If Master Bei knew that she knew, Zhen Ni was certain he would kill her. If she ran to her family, he would kill them too.

The baby had finished eating the eyeball and had two fingers shoved into its mouth, suckling them. It tilted its head, then began crawling toward her, babbling baby talk all the while. Zhen Ni thrust her dagger forward again, crying out. The thing stopped, then raised both chubby arms toward her, fingers opening and closing in supplication. As if it only wanted to be picked up and held. Only wanted to be cuddled.

Scrambling past the dead bodies, Zhen Ni ran back toward the tunnel entrance. She had wanted to know the secret that her husband kept, and now she did. And she could do nothing to help herself, to help protect her town from what was breeding deep beneath her beautiful new manor.

She raced up the tunnel, losing her breath, but not caring, desperate to be above ground, away from that perverted creature. Her mind ran as wildly as her feet did, but it spun in circles, unable to come up with any solution. When she reached the rope ladder, she collapsed against the hard stone wall, tears streaking down her face, her limbs weak with terror.

Zhen Ni had never felt so impotent or so utterly alone.