Shu-Ling flips through the pages, as if looking for something in particular. The three of us wait, while she pierces another piece of apple with the tiny fork, until Delia rolls her eyes.

“Typical Shu-Ling behavior—always telling everyone to be patient, but operating on an entirely different plane than the rest of us,” she comments, more for my benefit, I think. “We’re here, you see.” Delia holds one hand up and then raises her other hand a foot above it. “She’s here. Our high priestess.” But she’s obviously joking.

“Hush,” Shu-Ling says absentmindedly, unbothered by Delia’s impatience, until she stops on one page. “Here.” She spins the binder around so that it’s the right side up for me, pointing at it with her fork.

“This is a map of Chinatown, a few years ago,” Shu-Ling explains. “All of these pages that follow are articles, interviews, transcripts that Delia collected about strange occurrences that have happened here. In this three-block radius.”

The end of her fork touches a shoe store. “The owner of this shop was a father of five. He won a lottery, said it was thanks to a temple that he made an offering to so he could continue running his store. Business was pretty good after that because of the publicity. A few months later, he took his whole family on a lake vacation. Something he had promised them for years. His entire family died in a boat accident, and he was the sole survivor.”

The next shop she points out is a bakery. “This store opened because a young baker won a prestigious competition. With the winnings and community support, she was able to open a shop.”

She flips to a page where there is an article of a darkened husk of a building. She reads the headline aloud: “‘A dream gone up in flames. Tragedy strikes over Thanksgiving weekend as an accidental fire results in loss of two prominent Chinatown seniors and heartbreak for Vancouver bakery.’”

Then another, the initial happy headline of “‘Talented student wins prestigious international dance competition, accepts scholarship to renowned university.’” Followed by the grim headline in black capital letters: “‘Murder-suicide of beloved family doctor rocks tight-knit Taiwanese community.’” This one I’ve heard of, because of how horrified my parents were, since the doctor was a friend of a friend who treated many people they know.

I’m dreading the next one as Shu-Ling returns to the map, listing shops again and again. Telling their stories of success that end with horrific headlines.

Each featured family experienced amazing luck and then terrible misfortune due to circumstances out of their control. It all seemed to happen in the span of a year. Eight stories. Eight tragedies. But other than the Chinatown connection, a few of them have one thing in common: the mention of a temple that they attributed their good fortune to. A temple that helped all their dreams come true. Shu-Ling nods at Delia, who picks up the story after that.

“I never had a chance to tell you what happened after Hope left the city. I started asking around about that temple. Interviewing those who have visited it and discovering this strange pattern. How was it possible for these people to have their dreams come true, only to have their lives crushed in the worst way?” Delia waves at the binder. “I talked about this to everyone who was willing to listen, but no one cared. They all thought I was losing it.

“But…Mr. and Mrs. Chang believed me.” Her face softens. “They found me at the hospital right after my mother’s accident. They told me they would look into it, investigate what happened. I desperately wanted their help, because even though they didn’t promise me that they would be able to bring Hope back, I knew something was wrong in Chinatown after what happened to my mother. I knew that there was evil here, hunting folks in plain sight, preying on their hopes and their wishes.”

I reach over and place my hand on her shoulder, because she looks like she is hurting.

Delia nods at me, voice trembling a little, before continuing: “Shu-Ling came and met me, not long after that. To tell me the news. The temple was stopped, but her parents gave their lives to stop them.”

“It was a demon who pretended he was a god. He called himself 壽德公, or the God of Good Deeds,” Shu-Ling informs me. The name seems to ring in the air between us, bringing with it a sense of ominous dread.

“This is the Great Balance,” she continues softly. “Where there are gods, there are forces of evil working against them. And in this case, the demon was able to grow stronger from the suffering of its victims. He was able to feed on 惡意, the darkness that cycles within human hearts. Sadness. Pain. Anger. With the power he gained, he lured malevolent spirits to work for him as his lieutenants. To bring him more victims with the promise of all that they craved: resurrection.”

“Coming back to the living from the dead? Wouldn’t that mean the realms would cross and bad things would happen?” Even with my very simplistic understanding, I know this is something forbidden.

Shu-Ling nods. “In their selfish pursuit, they do not care they are destroying the world they so desperately want to return to. That is the lure and the lie of true evil. If the realms are ever joined, restless spirits will overwhelm the living world looking for hosts. Demons will cause chaos and darkness on earth. He imagined himself as the king of this dark future.”

She flips back to that original map of Chinatown, pointing out the symbol that is formed when the eight stores are connected. Black lines are drawn throughout the streets, the location at the very center circled with a furious scribble.

“The Bagua Formation is typically used in feng shui and fortune-telling, but he used the suffering of the families as sacrifices. Blood offered and then spilled. He would absorb the yin energy that enters the doorway, becoming impossibly powerful.”

“Our parents closed the door and stopped him before he could complete his ritual. Forced him back to where he came from,” Shen says.

“But lately the rumors of unrest are growing. Something doesn’t feel right. The spirits seem to be getting bolder, influenced by whatever dark energy has been steadily building in Vancouver. That’s why I was in San Francisco, consulting with another guardian temple to see if they’re experiencing the same thing in their territories.”

“Do you think it’s another demon who wants to open that doorway again?” I ask.

“The beads you gave me confirmed it. They were broken by demonic influence.” Shu-Ling nods. “The spirit that possessed Tina must be one of the demon’s new lieutenants, and I’m hoping that by expelling it from her, we can track down its master.

“But…” She pauses. “I don’t think you’re going to like how I’m going to do it.”

“What are you going to do?” My voice quivers a little, but I still ask.

“If we are going to find answers, then we need to speak to the spirit possessing Tina,” Shu-Ling tells me. “We need to perform a similar ritual to what I performed with you, but she won’t be willing. You’ll have to get her to the mall, and we’ll have to find a way to corner her alone.”

This sounds absolutely bonkers, right? Kidnapping Tina. Forcing a ritual. Expelling whatever it is inside her. The three of them remain quiet, waiting for me to process this.

“I need to know…what happens if we leave her? If we do nothing at all?”

“A host cannot hold a spirit forever. The body will literally tear itself apart from the negative effects of the yin energy. Best-case scenario? The spirit becomes bored of her and finds another host. Worst-case scenario? They use her body until it’s too weak, and then they kill her.”

“Wow,” I exhale. “Not much of a choice.”

“We should do this sooner than later before it results in any sort of permanent damage,” Shu-Ling says. “Time is unfortunately not on our side. When is the next time she will be at Chinatown?”

“Well, tonight,” I start. Shu-Ling shakes her head. Too soon. “Oh, and Saturday night!” I reach into my bag and pull out the pamphlet for the Winter Recital, and along with it…the glossy brochure featuring Hope.

Delia takes it before I can stop her and stares down at the picture of the brightly smiling girl, color suddenly flooding into her cheeks like I just struck her.

“I…um…I heard she’s coming back this weekend too,” I tell her. Delia looks pained at the news, but it would be worse if she is in the mall that day and Hope suddenly appears. Keeping that from her so she can’t prepare herself for that possibility seems too cruel.

“Can I…can I take this?” Delia asks shakily, and starts folding it, putting it into her bag before I can even respond.

“Delia?” There’s a note of warning to Shu-Ling’s voice. “That road leads nowhere. You of all people should know it.”

“I know,” Delia says, a strange light in her eyes, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake in revealing the pamphlet.

But the rest of the discussion is about Shu-Ling’s plan. Saturday night, I’m responsible for bringing Tina to the bubble tea café after the performance. I’ll give her a drink that Shu-Ling will prep, with a talisman hidden inside, like those bottles of tea Tina has in her room.

“I’ll make sure the drink will work. You focus on getting her there.”

Saturday. A purpose. A task. To save Tina. I can do this.

Delia and Shen walk me out to the lobby, with Shen offering me a ride back to the mall to meet Tina, pretending that I’ve been at the manor all this time. But when I check my phone, I see a message from Ma. Tina’s already home. She didn’t feel well during practice, so Mrs. Tsai gave her a ride. I’m supposed to get home by myself. I no longer have to feel a twinge of my usual guilt now that our parents know what she’s actually up to, so that is one bright spot that shines through all this mess.

“Wait, you volunteer at the manor? You never told me that; you mean you know Shen’s great-aunt?” Delia’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of her head.

“I play piano for them once a week, that’s all,” I say, not knowing why this is such a big deal.

“Mrs. Sui and Mrs. Wang are elders in their own right! They were followers of the guardians ever since they moved over from Taiwan. They’re two of the few remaining elders after the temple…split.” She gives Shen a guilty look, as if she’s said something she’s not supposed to.

“After my parents died, many of the senior temple members wanted to move elsewhere,” Shen adds. “They said that too much has happened in Chinatown. A bloody history. They wanted a fresh start. But Shu-Ling refused. She said Chinatown needed us more than ever. Many of the members moved away and joined other chapters. They thought that we would collapse…but we didn’t.” He looks like how he appeared when I first met him. Serious. Determined.

“This is the prime example of 緣分,” Delia says, fervent again. “There’s a reason why all of this is happening. Why you came to Chinatown. Why your sister made the wish. Why you volunteered at the manor. Why it was Shen who came across you in the alley, and not anyone else…”

“I don’t know if I like that,” I say with a frown. “It makes me feel…helpless. Like there’s nothing I can do except wait for the inevitable to come.”

“Or you can look at it another way. Everything happens for a reason,” Delia says. “We might struggle against it, fight to go against the tide, but sometimes all we have to do is…float. Let the current take us where it will. We’ll end up where we should be in the end.”