"Is that all?" she asks. Her voice is surprisingly low.
He thanks her. Later that night, she knocks on his door and slips inside before he can tell her to come in. Her nightdress is much cleaner than he thought it would be. "I will not leave with you."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is life so fine here?"
She hesitates. "They need me here. If not, he will come. He will beat and rape the other girls."
"Yes, I know."
"Then why would you take me away?"
"You will leave soon."
Her eyes narrow. "Without me, they would not be alive."
He makes a disapproving noise. "Child, do not claim credit for what those spirits would do."
"They only listen to me. They'll do it for me."
"Yes, but they're the ones doing the work."
For the first time, he sees her unsettled. She looks very young suddenly; all of her six years. "I will not leave with you," she repeats.
"All right."
Her fingers fiddle with the frayed cuffs. "The spirits do not like you."
"Then I will leave," he says.
-----
The air is thick and heavy in the opium den. He stops by a woman, crouches and murmurs something in her ear. She coughs, picks up her pipe and takes a last lungful of smoke before nodding. He puts a hand on her forehead and she slumps over, smiling faintly.
"That was cruel."
He looks behind him. She is a little older; about ten or so. She has cut her hair so that its ends barely brush her chin and her lashes have been painted so thickly that they look fake. "Was it?"
"She does not know what she has paid. She doesn't realize how high your prices can be."
He smiles at her. "Do you know?"
"She'll never leave now." She juts her chin forward and crosses her arms across her chest. "All for the sake of a memory she did not want to keep."
"Perhaps. Will you stay with her? You did not stay at the inn."
She pauses. "I could not save them. The spirits refused to listen to me in the end."
He stands up and brushes off his robes. She stands very still and in the soft light of the den, she resembles nothing more than an expensive doll with her porcelain cheeks and expensive clothing. Her queer eyes catch every flicker of the lamps. He says, "Spirits are fickle. So are little girls."
"I will not come with you."
"Will you stay with her? Your adopted mother is lost in a dream of opium and fabricated memories. She will not remember you. I will."
She nods. "I know. But I will stay with her."
He ruffles her hair and she does not flinch. "Very well. I will leave."
-----
The orphanage is very crowded. Children gather around him and he conjures them sweets and hands out kindnesses until they are sated. They leave him until she is the only one left. Her hair has grown and she is a little taller now. She is holding a doll; it has black hair and white skin. Its yukata is much more elaborate than the one she is wearing.
"Why do you keep finding me?" she asks. Her voice is still childishly high. "I will not leave here."
"It's inevitable. Sooner or later, you must leave."
"Not with you." She looks at the doll in her arms. "I must watch these children; they were plagued by demons and nightmares before I came. Now people come. They take these lost souls and shelter them. Less and less children will die unloved if I am here."
"It was not your fault that you could not save your cousins," he tells her gently. "Nor is it your fault that you were born an orphan."
"I can save these children. I can give them hopes and dreams."
"You are only a child," he reminds her. "You cannot keep doing this; it will catch up to you."
"I am not afraid. The spirits like me; they will not let anything harm me."
He stretches out a hand to her. "Come with me, and I will protect you. I will give you power to save the world."
She shakes her head. "I don't want to save the world. Only these children."
He nods. "I understand. I will leave."
-----
"I would not expect to find you in a brothel."
He sips his tea. "How are the children?"
She looks away. "The orphanage perished in the fire. I was the only one to have survived. The fire spirits liked me so much that they decided to let me live. Why are you here?"
"Strangely enough, I was not trying to find you. I was called here by someone else."
"The matron. She is beautiful enough as it is."
He nods. "Yes. But she wanted to be even more beautiful."
"What did you take?"
"Did you know that you are the reason for her jealousy? Had you not come here, she may have enjoyed a long life. You have grown very beautiful."
She pours him more tea. "What would you pay for me?"
"I offered you power and you did not want it. Would you like gold? Precious jewels? I can offer you diamonds that would make queens envious. I will give you anything you desire if you would come away with me."
She smiles but shakes her head. "I am worth much more than material things."
"Fair enough." He is about to leave when she calls his name.
"You haven't paid for the tea or my time," she tells him. He sees the light of mischief in her eyes and he laughs.
"Very well." He bends forward and kisses her softly on her forehead. "Until we meet again, my dear."
-----
She sits on the bench, her back bent. Her lacy black gown pools around her and her long dark hair has been coiled into a severe knot. The people in the church stay away, whispering among themselves. He sits next to her.
"Here," he says and offers a handkerchief. She takes it and dabs her eyes. She looks very tired.
"I did not kill him," she tells him.
"I know."
"I cannot help it. They come to me and speak to me. They dislike it when anyone comes near me. Except you." She looks at him. Her eyes are red, so red that they seem like fine wine. "I did not love him. But he treated me well."
He offers his shoulder and she leans against it briefly. "His wife and children will not forgive you. His family is frightened," he finally says. "It would be best if you left."
"Not with you," she murmurs and trips on the lace of her gown when she tries to get up.
"Next time you attend a funeral, try to remain sober," he chides, sliding an arm around her and helping her to her feet. "Or at least pretend to be."
She mutters something uncomplimentary under her breath and he gives her a bottle of wine before leaving.
-----
She sits on the green grass and tilts her head up to the night sky. The air is warm and very still.
"How long have you been waiting?"
"Years. Several lifetimes at least." She pats the ground beside her and he sits. Her hair streams down her back and over her shoulders like thin bolts of silk. "I met someone at the bookshop today. He was very tall and wore glasses. His hair was about here," she made a gesture just below her collarbone. "and he seemed very wise. He reminded me of you a little. He bought a book on alchemy and showed me the designs for his latest invention. They're like playing cards, but each one of them harbours a different kind of spell and power. It looks fascinating."
His eyes crinkle at the edges, but he does not reply.
"This is the first time I've seen a red moon," she continues. "What is it supposed to mean?"
"It's generally associated with women and the menstruation cycle. It's considered a fertility symbol, but it could also stand for transition and change."
"Change," she murmurs. She cups her hands and holds it out as it to catch the orb. Instead, a butterfly lands in them, and she brings it close to her. Its dark wings flutter against her palms. She takes a deep breath. "Will you take me away?"
He looks at her. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." She unlinks her fingers and the butterfly settles invisibly into her hair. "What will I have to pay?"
"Lifetimes. Time. Everything and nothing, really." He stands and holds out his hand. Her grip is firm, but her fingers are cool.
She smiles. "Will you not offer me something like all those times before?"
"My dear," he says, "I will have lifetimes to give them to you," and takes her away.