It had been a long day out on the streets after the "interview" at the police station and Peter Caine was exhausted.

With Jorgenson watching him and James, he'd had to get one of his lesser known contacts in the Tongs to pick up their most recent Chinese visitor, sending him off to one of James' other safehouses. That had taken over an hour to arrange, seeing as he wanted to avoid giving any of the other criminal groups cause to think too hard about it.

Then, on his way to bringing groceries to Mrs Yong, someone had ridden by him on a motorcycle, knocking the bag to the ground. The sticky residue of broken eggs had gotten all over his jeans and the paper bags had threatened to break for the rest of the two mile walk to the delivery.

And finally, after he'd slid into his class for PI licensing, coffee in hand, he'd found his mind wandering with every dull mention of a law that he would need to follow. He'd even managed to mutter a quote from the Dao De Ching— "The more rules and regulations, the more thieves and robbers." That had won him no brownie points from the instructor, who made clear in no uncertain terms that these rules and regulations were to keep everyone safe.

He wondered what Lo Si would say about it as he trudged back to the boarding house with its red wooden doors and white aluminum siding. Probably something about his path, or justice.

He was a block from the house when something felt... wrong. All the hairs on his body stood up simultaneously, and no matter that he'd felt like falling asleep on his feet moments before, now he was alert, an adrenaline junkie about to jump from a plane— and hell if the image that came with that terrifying thought didn't leave him ready to put his back against a wall and kill anyone that came near him like some wounded animal—

He could find no way to calm down as he headed towards the house at a jog. He stopped when he was within view, close enough to see the front door was ajar. It was not the first time that Peter Caine wished for the gun he had lost when his apartment burned.

He tried feeling the situation, as he had been taught: energy was everywhere, chi was everywhere... you just had to look for it, to feel it. Pop did it, Lo Si did it, even Jake Hudson did it. He just wasn't sure he was doing it right, because what he felt now was just wrong. So, so wrong, and he didn't have the experience to understand the why. He couldn't seem to slip past the emotions, so instead, he walked forward, pushing the door open.

He ought to have gone in stealthily, to look through every room before making a noise or turning on the lights, but the wrongness of the situation made him anxious and impatient. The hall was dark, but the vinyl tiles in the hallway looked normal as he flicked on the light switch. "Hello? Anyone here?" There was no reply. The house was empty.

The problem was that it shouldn't be empty, not at this time of night; Peter knew he should be hearing the sounds of the other residents. Old Mr Liu would be sleeping at this time of night, but he was reliably here for most of the day, only venturing out during the afternoon to discuss celebrities over badly played games of Go, but his snores could wake the dead. Ji Seng, the studious university student, should have answered with some annoyed comment about how he was trying to get some work done.

Peter swallowed. There was no one in the so-called family room, the television flickering bright and dark with some muted show. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. Peter's breath was short and fast.

It wasn't until he pushed open the door to the kitchen that he understood: what he felt was death. James Jiong, the landlord, lying on his back with a look of horror on his face. Peter crouched down next to him and shook the man, his eyes running over the mark of the snake on his head.

Not far from the scene was Mr Liu. It looked like he'd fallen down the stairs while trying to escape whoever had done this. He sat down at the table, unable to stop shaking. They were dead— dead.

A man in the shadows watched as Peter called 911 and leaned against the wall, unable to control his breathing until he could see the lights of the ambulance and the police coming down the street. Smiled as he watched the young man talk to the first responders in a dissociated monotone, as he refused their help when they tried to give him a blanket and a sedative, eyes bright and terrified. Peter Caine's fear was almost something that the Chiru could feel, touch and taste.

He always enjoyed the power he had to cause this terror, particularly when the subject deserved it. The priest's son was a criminal. Watching him squirm, watching him stammer and stutter, watching him give his statement and then run into the harsh lights of Chinatown where he would find no rest... Ah.

All criminals deserved their last days to be lived in the terror and fear they had inspired in their victims. And certainly, a Chiru inspired such things themselves, but in his mind, if it took the deaths of some innocents to inspire the wonderful sense of terror in a man like Peter Caine?

And Peter Caine himself was not just any criminal, not just any man with any fears. No, this young man was a bouquet. Perhaps the priest's spiritual powers were passed from father to son; the Chiru apprentice could think of no other reason for the heady flavor. He licked his lips and pulled some of the fear-infused chi into himself, feeling a sense of warmth in the night air.

If only his Master hadn't made his requirements clear: Peter Caine was not to be killed. It was Kwai Chang Caine that deserved their vengeance. Still, the Chiru could have whatever fun he wanted, so long as Caine didn't die.

He had to be careful. Peter was already weakened, and it would be easy to lose him to madness or death if he took too much of him. He needed to keep the man balanced on a knife's edge, which meant Peter Caine needed some time to recover after tonight's shock.

Still. He wanted more.

Peter had always been drawn to the water. It could be calm and placid one day, and tumultuous the next. On days when it was calm, it helped him to find that centered, calm place inside of himself.

After last night— and into this morning— he really needed that calm connection, more than he needed anything. He looked out over the waterfront, staring into the water and ignoring the comings and goings of the ships and the dock workers. He was terrified. He was furious.

Someone had killed four people that lived with him, just because they were there. Maybe because he wasn't there. He didn't know, not exactly, but there was not a chance in anyone's hell that he was going to sit back and let someone else deal with it.

"Heard about your housemates. You okay?"

Peter turned his head slightly. Tommy Lu Wong, known as Lu to his friends, member of the Shou Tong, guy who knew everything about everything, the man with a sideline, known as the information broker for the outlaw associations in Chinatown, mentored by Jimmy Ma himself... Even with all that, Lu had a real penchant for asking stupid questions on occasion.

"I need to know who the killer is."

"It wasn't either of the Tongs."

"I don't care who it wasn't, I care who it was," Peter growled, turning to look at his friend. Lu stepped back at the intensity and Peter closed his eyes, consciously pulling himself back a notch. He blew out a long, deep breath and looked back out at the water, trying to regain a bit of calm. "Has the Triad come back? Was it them?"

"I'm sorry," Lu licked his lips, leaned on the barrier next to Peter, and looked out at the lake. "I don't know. If they're here, they're keeping a low profile, not killing the people you live with." He flicked a bit of paint off of the metal. "If you're worried about your old friends, though, maybe you should get out of town."

"I can't," said Peter.

"Why not?" Peter glared, but Lu ignored it. "I could get you the money to get out of here. Go back to Hong Kong. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like getting out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"Come on, you've got family there." Lu put a hand on Peter shoulder. "You could see if you can make amends with your sister. Think of it as a vacation—"

"I am not going to be driven out." Peter said angrily, and Lu sighed. "Especially not by shadows and phantoms that aren't even here."

"Don't say I didn't offer." Peter looked out over the water again, wishing it had the answers that Lu did not. "I just don't want to see you dead." Lu put a hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter stared for half a second, then pulled away and started looking around wildly.

"Are you nuts? Someone's killing people around me! Mary Hart, Alex Lane, Jennifer Hso, now Liu and Seng and Jiong— and you—"

"Fine. Never mind." Lu pushed himself off of the railings abruptly. "We're not friends. We're just business."

"Lu, that's not what I meant." He started walking quickly away, and Peter followed him, anger and fear combining together in a potent mixture that, without an outlet, left him feeling helpless. "I'm sorry, okay?" Peter turned and hit a building as they walked into an old alleyway. "Damn it, I can't live like this!"

The other man stopped short and turned around, letting a breath slide through his teeth as he grabbed Peter's hand and examined the bruised knuckles. "Ma's going to have my head if I let you hurt yourself over nothing," he muttered.

"It's not nothing. Lu, I'm not the kind of guy who sits around and waits for someone to attack me," he said. "I need to figure out who's doing this."

"Aren't the police looking into it?"

"Lu. They think I killed those girls. They probably think I killed everyone at the house to cover up the human trafficking ring I'm part of!"

"Peter, you've brought over four people in the past three months. It's too small, they're not going to go after you for that." The other man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Maybe that's it. Maybe you're hurting someone's profits. You brought over someone... too high profile." Peter opened his mouth. "No, I don't know who it is, for crying out loud!"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "There's got to be something."

"Again, Peter: police exist for a reason. You're going to get yourself killed if you go after this guy."

Peter stared at him for a moment, starting to get angry. "You do know who it is."

"You're paranoid, you know that? You're as bad as the one guy who's said something about all this."

"And who's that?"

Lu paused to kick a can, the sound of metal echoing off the building walls. "He's an old homeless vet," he said reluctantly. "He lives near the end of the strip. He's still got some... issues with people in the community when he's been drinking too much, so I've been keeping an eye on him. He was ranting about one of the murders, and— look, Peter, you're going to have to take this with a mountain of salt."

"Spit it out!"

Lu scowled at him. "You owe me half a dozen favors. Be polite."

"This killer isn't going to stop. He's going to get everyone I care about, and then he's going to come after me. Do you not get that you're one of the people I'm trying to protect here?"

"I've got my own protection." Lu shook his head. "Someone wants to kill me, I'd hear about it." He looked at Peter's pinched face for a moment, then put his hands up placatingly. "Okay. So the old vet said he saw one of the girls, and a man in a trench following her. Smoke from a gutter came up and he couldn't see anything. By the time the smoke cleared, the girl was on the ground, the guy in the coat had disappeared."

Peter shook his head and scowled in disbelief. "Smoke from a gutter? That's all you've got for me? Condensation?"

"Smoke— not water, not mist, smoke. He also said that girl was terrified, saw it on her face as she ran by. Said she looked like a kid in Vietnam, but she didn't make a peep. Total silence." Lu shrugged, then shook his head. "I told you it wasn't useful, Peter. If the cops aren't working on this—"

"The cops are working on this. Kermit and Blaisdell aren't going to let them drop it on me." He headed into an alley and leaned against the wall. "It's just... they had me in for questioning. They've got some fed on things. Someone out there thinks I'm starting a new Triad, killing my rivals, witnesses—"

"That's ridiculous."

"I know." Peter looked down. "Look, just... you hear anything, get in touch with me, okay?"

"All right, Peter." Lu looked at him skeptically. "Just don't get yourself killed. With all the information I've given you, you're an investment. I need you alive so I can collect one day."

Peter offered a strained grin. "Yeah, sure. I'm gonna be real helpful one of these days."

Lu closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're a real piece of work sometimes, Peter. If someone's killing people in the community because of you, that's the community's business. And that's Tong business. You are my business."

"You mean I'm Jimmy Ma's business." Peter smiled at the other man, then shook his head. "You need to stay away from me. Being my friend is dangerous."

"That's a choice I made." He sighed and turned. "I'll see you around, Peter." A soft questioning call of his name made the information broker turn back.

"Lu... have you... heard anything about my father?"

A pitying look was his response. "You know I'd tell you."

The Ancient looked at Peter with sharp eyes. The young man wasn't sleeping, that was clear enough by the bags under his eyes, but the way his hands massaged his forehead and neck spoke to headaches as well as disturbed sleep. He considered prying... but Peter often took such questioning as an attack. Better to let him bring it up himself.

"Have some tea," he said, a standard part of the ritual that had grown between them in the months since the disappearance of Peter's father.

The young Caine sat down, or rather, collapsed into the couch beside him. The Ancient handed Peter a cup, and the young man took a sip. "Chamomile and..." he frowned, concentrating for a moment before closing his eyes and sighing. "I can't tell."

The Ancient frowned in disappointment. "Meigui hua. You have had it before."

"Right. The roses. Sorry, Lo Si, I just can't concentrate today."

The old man nodded. He could feel the disturbance in Peter's chi. "You are troubled."

Peter gave a slight nod of his head, his eyes still closed. "People are dying around me. Someone's terrifying them, following them... killing them without a trace."

"Murder," said Lo Si sadly.

"Yeah. And suddenly, it's close. It's where I live." Peter took another sip of tea. "They killed my landlord, the people who lived there. I walked into the kitchen and found two of them, dead on the floor." He sat forward and place the cup on the table with a clink. "It's not like I haven't seen dead people before, Lo Si. Even people who didn't do anything wrong, even people I... It's just... it felt so... malevolent. Like I could touch the evil in the air."

"You have... meditated on this?"

"No. The house is shut up while they investigate, and I..." Peter shook his head. "I just can't be alone with my thoughts like that. And I can't share them, because—" He sighed and leaned his head back against the deep red couch cushions. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you. What if they come after you next?"

The Ancient smiled. "Peter, I am old. Beyond the reach of hatred."

"They could go after Xiaoli." He ran a hand through his hair. "Besides, it's not hatred." The young man stood and began to pace the room. "It wasn't hatred. I've felt hatred, directed at me, directed at others... It was something else. Something sour." Yes. It was almost like he could taste the feeling, could feel it. "Something rotten."

The old man stood and walked to his cabinet. He opened it, looking at the various medicines and poisons within. "You have felt this thing before." The younger man stopped his pacing and sat, exhausted. It was unnerving how quickly he had run out of that energy he was so known for. The Ancient frowned. Yin and yang were both blocked. There would be no need for an assassin's blade if Peter wore himself away; perhaps this was his attacker's intention.

A dishonorable attack, if so.

Lo Si pulled a few ingredients from the cabinet and put a few drops in Peter's cup, handing it to him. Peter looked at it with a sort of contemplation for a few seconds before downing the contents.

The Ancient nodded at his student with approval. Now, they needed to determine who was his attacker; Peter had the information, even if he didn't understand it. It was the purpose of a teacher to help him find the answers. "This thing that you felt. This energy. You must... name it." Peter looked at him skeptically. "All things have names, except for that which cannot be named. I think you did not feel the eternal way in that house, so find its name. What did you feel?"

Peter blew air into the cup, turning it in his hands as he thought. The medicine was already taking some effect, with the young man beginning to relax. It would not be able to undo the damage of the stresses he was under, not alone, but it might allow him time to heal, so long as no additional stress was placed upon him.

"I guess it felt like what Tan gave me," he said eventually in a quiet voice. "It felt like fear. Terror. Like drowning in smoke..." Peter closed his eyes. "My Tong informant said there was smoke where one of the girls died. Smoke and shadow..." He frowned. "That's how Pop described the Chiru. Do you think it could be them? Pop fought him. But... I don't understand why he would attack people around me. He doesn't have any connection to me."

The Ancient nodded gravely. "If the tiger wants to fight the crane, he might first attack the nestlings."

"Or send them into a position where the crane is vulnerable," Peter said, uncomfortable at the implication. "So he's trying to draw my father out, using me to do it?" The Ancient nodded gravely. If it was the Chi'ru, he did not think that Peter was ready to defeat one on his own. "Well, he's going to be disappointed. My father doesn't even know what's happening here. And if he did, he probably wouldn't care."

"Do not speak of your father in that way, Peter Caine," he snapped. Peter's eyes opened briefly and the old man's reprimand was met with the guilt and pain and fear within the young Caine's soul. Lo Si tutted. "He cares deeply for you," said the Ancient.

Peter stood up. "Whether he does or doesn't, he's not here. The Chiru master is."

It was still true. Caine had been summoned, but had not yet arrived. "He will be here."

"Yeah, it's the only thing that makes sense. The Chiru master well definitely come here." Peter stood. "Don't worry about me, okay? Just stay safe. Keep Xiaoli safe. Thanks for the tea and the medicine, Lo Si," said Peter, closing the door firmly behind him.

The Ancient looked up, and shook his head. The younger generation was so very impatient. "I meant your father," he said.

Preparations would be needed.

This was definitely an ambush. That was Paul's assessment as walked through the parking lot, finding a familiar face sitting on the pavement by his car. "Caine? What the hell are you doing here? Didn't Kermit tell you to stay away?"

"I know, Captain, but— look, I need to talk to you. These guys are coming after me."

Paul Blaisdell looked at the man in front of him. "No one is coming after you."

"Captain, they killed my landlord. It's the same person killing those girls."

"The MO's different." Paul looked at Caine for a moment, assessing him even as Peter shook his head and prepared to argue. The young man in front of him was frightened. No matter that he was puffed up and bluffing his way through life, it was in every line of his posture. The young man was brave, Paul had seen evidence of that when he'd brought Tan down, but there was something in the way his eyes scanned the area, something in how his attention jumped from place to place. Paul had seen it before, in his old mercenary days. Caine was close to a breaking point, and if he was left to his own devices, he might make a very fatal mistake.

God. He just wanted to head home to his family, but... Paul ran a hand down his face and gestured to the car. "Get in. I'll drive you home."

"Can't." Peter shook his head. "Your favorite detective is still tearing my place apart. He had Jorgenson with him, you know. The pair of them have it out for me."

"Oh, for the love of—" The police Captain sighed. "Forensics, Caine. I'm sure you've heard about that. It's not personal."

Peter let out a breath. "Personal or not, I don't have a place to go."

"Fine. The department has a fund for this kind of thing. I'll get you a room at a hotel for a few days." Caine looked doubtful, but more than tired enough that he wasn't going to argue the idea of a safe place to sleep. He got into the car and slammed the door shut.

Paul shook his head and sat down on the driver's side, the leather steering wheel squeaking slightly as his hands touched it. Sticking the key in the ignition, he looked over at his younger passenger with some frustration as he listened to the engine turn over. "If you think it's about you, tell me: who it is? Tongs? Those dealers you took down at the club? Or just someone you pissed off? I know you've do that as easily as you breathe."

"Ha." The younger man sat back as they pulled into traffic. "No. No, this isn't organized crime, at least... not organized crime either of us is familiar with. It's this guy who belongs to a sect of shadow assassins: Chiru."

"Shadow assassins? Unbelievable." Except, of course, it wasn't, not really. Paul had seen enough of the world to know that there was a lot more out there than what he knew about, and that underground assassin groups weren't as uncommon as the general public might think. "What makes you think this is the work of one of these shadow assassin?"

"Kermit told me you don't know how these people are being killed. These guys, these shadow assassins... they use poisons, toxins that aren't traceable, or if they are, they're so specific that you don't know to test for them. There's a mark they left last time—"

"Last time?"

"There was a book signing last year. A Shaolin was killed. The assassin was going after an author, and my father stopped him— these guys, or this one guy, I, I don't— Tan made me stay out of it, but I know they left an impression of a ring on the guy's forehead. Like some kind of calling card. Pop recognized it immediately. And I— I didn't even register it last night, I was so... but I'm sure I saw the same thing on my landlord's head."

Could it be true? Paul remembered the case. He remembered every case where he had to notify an officer's family. Kira Blake and Ed Eagleton had pulled security on the author, and Kira had wound up dead. No suspects, no leads... If it was the same people as before... God, he hoped it wasn't, but— but if it was, if it was, it was too dangerous to have Peter Caine in the middle of it. It had to be someone else.

Peter hadn't paused in his rambling. "I nearly threw up after, you know. Private eye exam's in a month, and I can't hold myself together at a murder scene."

"It never gets easier, seeing a friend dead." Paul shook his head. "I haven't been told about any marks on the bodies, son."

"I'm not your son."

"Yeah, I know, kid. Turn of phrase." Caine went quiet beside him, but the anxiety he was projecting wasn't going anywhere. He needed to channel it. That would calm him. He needed to feel as though his information was being taken seriously. "Okay, suppose you're right, suppose you're theory's right. What is his motive?"

"My father humiliated him. He's looking for revenge. Simple."

Paul laughed grimly. "Well that's not so simple, Peter, revenge is never simple." The young man beside him stared at him with a lack of understanding. "Look, a man reaches out for a prize, just because he wants to reach out. All right: he grabs it. But if it's something he wants, then his hand can slip, and if it's something he needs... it's a brass ring, and he can fall on his face because he cares too much." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter nod, clearly thinking about his own past encounters with his criminal associates. "Now, if that's the Chiru master's motive," continued Paul, "then someplace along the line, he's going to make a misstep, and when he does, then we can nail him."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Caine frown. "That sounds like something my father would say."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if I'm in good company or not." Caine blustered a moment, and the Captain smiled. That was apparently enough of a distraction. "Relax, I know which father you meant. Now I've seen a lot of people in my time. Knowing how vengeance works is as much a part of being a police officer as it is for a priest."

Caine was quiet as they turned the corner, and Paul decided to let him think for a bit.

He turned his eyes for a moment, only a moment, to look at the younger man, when suddenly— "Captain!"

He looked back at the road to see someone in it— my God, he was going to hit the man— he turned the wheel quickly to avoid running the pedestrian over. He heard the bottom of the car screeching, metal on metal, but wouldn't remember being thrown through the windshield glass.

Author's notes:

Hope no one's too disappointed, but I had to replace Donny Double D with someone that fit the story a bit better. "Tommy Lu Wong" is probably from me hearing a murder victim's name wrong in Aspects of the Soul. Tommy Lou Wong? Tommy Lawang? Is it the audio that sucks or my ears? Maybe both. I'd love to hear your thoughts.