Raven Page 8

  My arm is back to normal and seems to have no permanent nerve damage. I’m still avoiding putting too much weight on it, though. The guys get on my case for favoring it, but I know they don’t blame me.

  After practice, I’m about to get a ride home with Rambo when Zin asks if I’ll stay for a while. “We’ve got a few things to sort out,” he explains. “I’ll get you a cab.”

  I agree, and the guys are off. When the door closes, Zin turns to me and smiles. “Privacy, finally. I’ve missed you.”

  I feel a rush of excitement. But I remind myself that Zin always speaks this way to me, like I’m the special guest at the party.

  “There are no secrets between us anymore, Nic. I can tell you anything you want to know. Or I could tell you nothing. Whatever you want.”

  “I have some questions.”

  He cocks a brow. “I have the feeling that’s an understatement.”

  “I was on the Internet today and looked up Jiang Shi.”

  His eyes widen. “Damn it, I should have warned you. All that stuff is—”

  “Bullshit. I know.”

  He looks relieved. “We’re depicted as back-from-the-dead zombies or blood-sucking vampires, but we’re nothing like that. We’re flesh-and-blood humans like anyone else.”

  “I have a question, and I can’t believe I never asked you this before.”

  “Go for it.”

  “On the dance floor, you have to hold back, right? You can’t show us everything you can actually do, because it wouldn’t seem human?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I can’t fly or anything. I just have extra strength and speed. It’s generated from the fact that I’m carrying several souls inside me besides my own.”

  “Show me.”

  “Show you?”

  “How high can you really jump?”

  “The ceiling’s too low to show you.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” He puts on the music.

  “Shouldn’t we move the furniture?”

  “No need.” He grins. “I’m light on my feet when I need to be.”

  The next track is k-os’s latest hip-hop beat. Zin does a couple of slides before dropping into eight steps. He works a couple of circles, going faster and faster until my eyes can hardly keep up with him.

  But he’s just getting started. He’s doing headspins so fast my vision literally blurs. He jumps out of it. Although he’s sweating, he doesn’t look winded. He seems to enjoy my awestruck expression. “Have you seen the movie The Matrix?”

  “Yeah.” I blink. He just ran up the wall and bounced off the ceiling. “Could you do that again?”

  He does, running up the wall, hitting two feet on the ceiling before dropping to his feet.

  He’s standing in front of me, grinning. “That move’s good cardio.”

  “Wow. Are you sure you’re human?”

  “I’m sweating, aren’t I? I didn’t do anything supernatural. That was all speed.”

  “You’d win Dance America in a heartbeat.”

  “I know. It wouldn’t be fair. I’m not even sure if battling is fair, but I try very hard to keep my moves within the normal range. I don’t let myself do anything that I wouldn’t have done in my days as an acrobat.”

  “If I could do things like that, I’d show the world and make tons of money.”

  He laughs. “You wouldn’t cheat in competition, Nic.”

  “Wouldn’t I? Dance America’s a hundred grand. I could donate half of it to charity. That would satisfy my conscience.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. Your soul is too pure. It’s one of the amazing things about you.”

  Amazing things about me? It’s so ridiculous, I have to laugh.

  He laughs too, but I’m not sure if we’re laughing at the same thing.

  “What now? I’m not working tonight.” He reaches out his hand. “Want to roam?”

  “Sure.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The streets of the Village are Monday-night quiet, with the occasional homeless person huddling in a corner or disaffected spouse smoking on a balcony. I like this neighborhood, but only because Zin’s presence lends it safety. With Zin by my side, I could go anywhere.

  The lyrics of an old song come into my head. I can go where no one else can go. I know what no one else knows.

  Walking next to Zin lends a different aura to the darkened streets and shadowy old buildings. An aura of magic.

  “I love New York.” He manages to say it without sounding cliché. “I wouldn’t want to stay forever, but I love it.”

  It’s hard not to let my New Yorker pride come up. “You’ve lived in all different parts of the world. Have you found a better city than this?”

  “It’s not about better. Every city has a different energy, a different pulse. New York is the perfect city to be involved in the club business. The perfect place to breakdance. Its pulse is fast and frenetic. But I’ve loved other places for different reasons. I love towns that connect waterways and mountain ranges. Their pulse is the steady pulse of the land, the heartbeat of nature. I can spend years in those places.”

  I’m afraid to ask, but I force myself. “How long do you think you’ll be in New York?”

  “We do ten years in every place. It’s easiest that way. We’ve been here for six.”

  Four more years. The idea of knowing Zin for only four more years is unbearable. Where will the light come from then?

  “Does the thought of leaving . . . ” make you sad, I want to ask. But he’ll know why I’m asking, so I don’t say it. “Where will you go next?”

  “We don’t decide until very soon before we leave.”

  “Does it have to be every ten years like clockwork? I’m sure people wouldn’t notice you’re not aging. People can stay looking so young these days.”

  He smiles. “We feel it’s best. It’s not always easy, though, if we have attachments.” But he’s not looking at me as he says it. He’s looking straight up at the sky, where his gaze inevitably strays. “And there are places in this world that need us more than New York City. Coming here was an indulgence, and we never indulge ourselves for long.”

  “So after this, you might go become aid workers or something?”

  “We go where we’re needed. The last few places . . . burned us out pretty badly.”

  “I had no idea you used your immortality that way—to help people. I just thought . . . I guess I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  “Running a club is great for a few years, but it wouldn’t give us any lasting satisfaction. And when you’ve lived a long time, satisfaction is hard to come by. Especially considering the way we survive.”

  “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He kicks a pebble.

  “Obviously you and the Jiang Shi are giving back to the world, though. It should balance out, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find out one day.”

  We’re walking through a depressed area, with boarded-up buildings and graffiti. Normally I’d be looking over my shoulder, but not now. It’s freeing.

  “Must be wonderful to go wherever you like without being scared of anything,” I say.

  “It is, but the newness of it wears off. For you, I bet it would be a rush, especially being a girl.”

  “Yeah, there’s that part. My girl-strength didn’t exactly come to my rescue a few weeks ago.”

  “I didn’t mean to get you thinking about that.”

  “I was already thinking about it.” I look at him. “So what happens if an immortal gets hurt? Can you get hurt?”

  “We can, but the energy inside us allows us to regenerate. The combined light of the souls inside us is powerful—the more souls we have inside us, the more powerful we are. So if Carlo were to get hurt, he’d heal more quickly than I would. He’s the oldest of us, with the most souls.”

  “Even diseased souls have this energy that can heal you?”

&nb
sp; “All human souls do. You see that guy over there?”

  His vision is sharp. I might not have spotted the guy. He’s a few yards down, a gray figure against a gray doorway.

  “Yeah, I see him.”

  “His soul is a mess. But it still has light. I can see it from here.”

  “Looks like he’s talking to himself.”

  “You would think so. But his soul has been taken over by an entity—a negative energy that feeds on broken souls.”

  “You’re saying he’s possessed?”

  He nods. “There are worse things than Jiang Shi out there, trust me.” At my look of alarm, he says, “But your soul is strong, so you’ll never have to know them.”

  “Is there anything that can be done for him?”

  “He can push the entity out if he wants to. But he might not know the difference between himself and the entity anymore.” As we pass the guy, Zin drops a couple of dollars into the can in front of him.

  “Every dollar’s a choice,” I quote him.

  “Every moment is a choice. For the record, I’ve seen guys on Wall Street with worse souls than his.”

  “Can you switch it off so you don’t have to see souls all the time?”

  “No. But it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it used to. You get desensitized. It’s not what’s outside me that’s the hard part.”

  We come to a small fenced-in park. He climbs over the short fence; I do too. It’s a little oasis of snow and icy-limbed trees, a winter paradise in the middle of the city.

  “What’s the hard part?” I ask.

  “The souls inside me. It’s a constant mental fight to keep them down. Pesky ones can bother the hell out of you.”

  I look up at him, the moonlight icing his hair. A shiver comes over me. “But they can’t take you over, right?”

  His teeth glint white in the darkness. “No. Carlo trains us to fortify our minds and souls so we can control the souls we’ve absorbed.”

  “Good, because . . . ”

  “Chris Harris will never take me over, I promise you. Persistent guy, but weak.”

  “Chris Harris—was that his name?”

  “That’s what he was called. Souls don’t usually identify themselves by name.”

  “This is creeping me out.”

  “You have no reason to be scared. I would protect you with my soul.” He cups my face. His hands are warm despite the cold. “You remind me of how precious life is.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I call in an anonymous tip, naming Chris Harris as my attacker.

  It’s the right thing to do. He must have a family somewhere. A family that deserves to know.

  Two days later a cop calls me with details. Chris Harris was known on the streets as Main—like maniac, not Main Street. He had a long rap sheet with arrests for drug possession, assault, and B and E.

  He was from Colorado. Land of mountains and streams and postcards. I wonder if he grew up in a city or a small town. I wonder when his trouble started. I wonder when his soul began to deteriorate.

  I wonder if Zin’s soul can save his, at least for a while.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I’m having a last-minute freak-out. I thought I was ready to return to Evermore, but now I’m not sure. Zin is one thing. I trust him. A whole group of soul-stealing Jiang Shi is another. Maybe I should’ve thought about this more.

  Zin tugs my hand as we round the corner toward Evermore. “C’mon, Nic. They’re all just like me. There’s no reason to get upset.”

  “I’m not upset. I’m just sweating profusely.”

  He has the nerve to laugh.

  “H-hey guys,” I greet Mig and Richard. Mig gives me a big smile, followed by a wink. My eyes widen, and he bursts out laughing. Richard nods his head formally.

  Viola greets me with the usual air kisses. It hits me that she’s probably old enough to be my great-great-grandmother. She begins to chatter like she always does. Her warmth calms me. I try not to think about what I saw her do last week.

  It was survival, I remind myself, nothing more.

  Then I see Carlo approach, and my whole body stiffens. Carlo the magician, the oh-so-powerful one, He Who Screws with Life and Death.

  “Hello, Raven.”

  There’s that name again.

  “Hi.”

  I don’t stick around to chat. I spot customers who need attending to, and I hurry to take their orders.

  When I bring my first order up to Zin, he’s still got the annoying smirk on his face. I decide to ignore it.

  “Are the guys coming tonight?” I ask.

  “I talked to Rambo a couple of hours ago. He said they might stop by later. They’re going to a club in midtown to make money off tourists.”

  “What if the Spinheads or the Double You’s show up?”

  “We’re not ready to battle yet. We’re worried you might mess up the arm. A few more weeks and we’ll be good to go.” He loads up my tray.

  By one a.m. I’m exhausted, and even though I told myself I’d do some dancing on my break, I decide to go up to the balcony for a breather. I lean on the banister overlooking the dance floor.

  A voice emerges from the darkness. “You don’t have to fear us, Raven.”

  Carlo walks up, leaning on the banister beside me. “I know it’s a lot to take in. The universe as you know it has shifted. The impossible has become possible. Zin trusts you, and so do I.” His gaze sweeps the club below. “I want you to know that there is no need for fear. You are safe with us. As safe as if you were one of us.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t know. But you will, in time. I hope Zinadin has given you no reason to fear me.”

  “He said you were powerful . . . but not in a bad way.”

  At that, he smiles. “Zinadin may have described me as a magician. Most people have over the years. It seems to be a term that fits with popular culture. But I can’t say I’ve ever made magic. I’m just acquainted with the science of the soul. I’ve learned that many things are possible if the universe cooperates.”

  I have no clue what to say, so I choose lame humor. “So you can turn me into a rabbit?”

  “No, but I can turn you into a Jiang Shi.”

  I flinch.

  “That was a miserable attempt to tease you. Obviously humor is not my forte. I came up here because I wanted to put you at ease, believe it or not. I want you to be happy working here.”

  It’s true that he could be saying this because I know his secret now, but I think his caring is genuine.

  “Evermore isn’t what I thought it was, but I’m still in love with this place. It still feels like home.”

  “Good. I am pleased that you know about us, Raven. It feels right, does it not?”

  I nod. I feel privileged to be the one mortal they trust.

  We both gaze down at the action below, the dancers winding up to a frenzied pace. His sleeve brushes mine, and I have no need to move away. I feel close to him.

  “I understand our Zinadin is introducing you to how we live. I extend you that same invitation. Ask me anything, and I will tell you.”

  “Thanks.” I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but I’m glad. “I always want to know more.”

  A ghost of a smile. “I thought you might.”

  MYSTERY

  EXPLORE

  Nothing ever goes back to normal. All that happens is your concept of normal changes.

  Like with Zin and the Jiang Shi. As weeks go by, the new reality sinks in, and they seem normal to me, just as normal as anyone else. They just happen to be older and wiser. Zin says you don’t live hundreds of years without gaining wisdom, even if you were a dumbass to begin with—not that any of them were. Far from it, it seems.

  Which makes me wonder why Carlo changed the people he did. It’s hard to believe that he changed people randomly. The more I hear, the more I’m convinced he chose special people. Viola mentioned that Zin had been an acrobat famous “all over the Middle East.
” That’s rather more than the carnival act he mentioned.

  But Zin’s background is humble compared to the others: Gabriel led a black regiment during the French Revolution; Mig was a Spanish explorer; Richard was a knight in Elizabethan times; Viola was an accomplished poet in Georgian England who wrote under a male pseudonym. And Daniella, well, she’s Carlo’s sister. Changing her was a no-brainer.

  I ask Viola about all of this one night as we’re getting changed for our shift.

  “Carlo favors strong people, physically and mentally. All of the men in our group could defend us if need be. And they have.”

  “What about you? He must value literature, too.”

  She laughs. “You could say that. I certainly wasn’t the typical female of my day. People used to call me an original, and it wasn’t a compliment. Society didn’t exactly approve of me.”

  “Because you were a poet?”

  “No, that came later. Initially it was because I refused to marry one of my many suitors, and my mother, bless her heart, wouldn’t force me to marry someone I didn’t love. And then, when I was nineteen, I got caught in a compromising situation with one of my brother’s friends . . . it ruined me. I was shunned by society, and my prospects for marrying well were dashed.” She grins. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yes. I withdrew from all the games of London high society and focused on my dreams of writing and traveling the Continent. During my travels in Italy, I met Carlo. He was an Italian count, incredibly dashing.” Her expression goes dreamy. “We fell in love.”

  “You and Carlo? I had no idea.”

  “Being with Carlo was . . . bliss. There was no doubt in my mind that we would marry and be together forever. But on the night I expected him to propose, he ended the relationship.”

  “I guess he had no choice.”

  “Right, but of course, he didn’t tell me the real reason he couldn’t marry me. I thought it was because I’d made the mistake of telling him about my reputation; I was a fool. I left Italy, devastated. A year later, when I became very ill, I wrote him a letter of farewell. He came to me immediately. And when I was near death, he changed me.”