Devil's Masks

by ariescelestial

AU Shadow Hearts timeline. Alice returns to Rouen, only to find tragedy once more...one man's whim has a drastic effect. [Covenant Spoilers]

4. Shanghai: Unveiling

            As soon as we docked, we were ushered off the boat by the smugglers.  Not a moment too soon, either; a merchant who reeked of fish approached the boat, but turned back when he realized that there was no one on board.  We stood by some barrels as more people gathered, curious about the fishing vessel that had neither people nor fish.

            "What about your boat?" Zhuzhen asked the female smuggler.  "If one of you doesn't claim it—"

            "It's worthless.  Besides, it's not even ours."

            Perhaps I was getting too used to the mention of crime, because I did not even question it.  Instead I leaned over the water, looking in.

            "Sasha will probably cause a bigger commotion when he comes up," I remarked, scanning the sea.  He had been following us most of the time, but I had lost track of him about twenty minutes ago.  "Where is he, anyway?"

            "Right behind you," Sasha breathed in my ear.  I shrieked and nearly pitched forward into the water.  Before I could fall, I felt a grip on my collar that drew me back and settled me on my feet.  Sasha was grinning from ear to ear.  "Got ya."

            "Are you trying to kill me?" I demanded.  "I almost fell in!"

            "Sorry," he said, not looking the least bit so.  "It was just too perfect.  I couldn't resist."

            "You can't resist anything, can you?"  I shook my head.  "How'd you get here so quickly?"

            "I'm a fast swimmer," he said.  His brown eyes glanced warily at the smugglers and I realized this wasn't the best topic for conversation.  "We're a mess.  We better get some new clothes."

            "We'll get the hotel room for you," the smuggler boss said.  "That way you can sneak in without the employees seeing you."

            Sasha looked at the smugglers, considering.  "All right.  This will cover the expense of a room at the Cypress Hotel," he explained as he handed the woman an ample amount of yuan.

            The woman nodded.  "Right then."  She turned and ran off, her subordinate following her.

            "I take it you've been to the Cypress Hotel before?" Zhuzhen asked.

            Sasha nodded.  "A few times.  The employees are pretty easy to bribe."

            He had probably bribed many people before.  I chewed my lip, uncertain how I felt about that.  It was certainly evil, and yet, Sasha was not.  Or at least, he…still had a bit of goodness and caring and warmth, buried under.  Why didn't he show that kindness more often?  It would make things so much simpler.

            "Now, let's see…clothes," Sasha muttered, looking around.

            "How about there?" Margarete said and pointed.  "They've got some armor too.  Although…it looks kind of tacky," she said, frowning at the metal caps on display in the windows.

            "Well, let's go there then," Sasha replied and walked towards the glass doors.  He pulled the door and the chimes clattered as we entered.

            "Welcome," a man with thinning hair greeted us, "Good morning.  Is there anything I can help you with?"

            I ducked my head away as he talked, hoping he wouldn't look at me too closely.  "No, we're fine," Sasha said.  "We're just looking."  The man nodded and ducked down beneath the counter.

            We examined the armor first, metal caps and western-style belts.  They were indeed, as Margarete had said, tacky.  Especially the metal caps.  They looked ridiculous.  Zhuzhen studied the studs in the caps.  "They're placed in accordance to the principles of Feng Shui," he explained.

            "How the hell do they think these things up?"

            "They are stronger," Zhuzhen told Sasha in patient tones.

            The hats were considered a moment longer.  No one found them appealing.  "Alright, let's get them."

            "What about the belts?"

            At this time, I was growing more and more aware of the dark eyes of the shopkeeper on me.  He seemed to be going about taking care of his shop, but his eyes moved to us far too often.  My throat felt dry and I swallowed nervously.  This wasn't anything like Dalian, where there'd been hardly a radio in sight.  News of the soldiers on the train must have spread like wildfire in Shanghai.  Did he think I was a criminal?  "Sasha," I whispered, "he's watching us."

            Sasha looked at me and raised his eyebrows.  I nodded and he stood, four caps in one hand and four belts in the other.  He dropped the items on the counter with a clatter and spoke to the older man.  His voice was unnaturally low as he leaned on the counter.

            "What's he saying?" I wondered.

            "Nothing good I bet," said Margarete.

            The spy seemed right, because the shopkeeper was steadily turning pale as Sasha continued.  When it seemed the man might faint at any moment, Sasha abruptly laughed and clasped his shoulder, as if they were good friends, shaking him.  He straightened up from the counter and paid for the armor, then returned to us.

            "What did you do to him?" I asked, now more concerned for the shopkeeper than us.  The man was staring at the money Sasha had put down as if it was cursed.

            "Just dropped a few names, messed with his mind a bit," Sasha said flippantly.  "He won't report us now."

            Zhuzhen shook his head, an emotion akin to disgust crossing his aged features.  But he said nothing.

            "You sure he won't?" Margarete asked.  "Well, I guess you're right.  That's good."  I wondered if this kind of intimidation was common in her line of work.

            "Yeah, now let's get some clothes."  Sasha pulled me along when I didn't move from my spot.  I felt I should say something to the man, reassure him that he was not in any real danger, but what if it backfired and he did tell someone?

            Finally I tried to put the man out of my mind and scanned the store.  There was a variety of clothes.  I immediately headed towards the dresses but Sasha pulled me back, shaking his head.

            "Inconspicuous, Alice.  Nothing fancy."

            "Oh, face it, how do you think you're going to hide her?" Margarete said.  "The army already knows exactly who they're looking for."

            "Yeah, but they didn't give much of a description," Sasha said, thinking.  "They said they were looking for a Caucasian female…"  His face suddenly brightened and he started pulling my arm again.  "Come on, Alice."

            "Where are you going?" Zhuzhen said, beginning to stand.

            "You two stay put.  I'm going to disguise Alice and then get your opinions.  I've got a really good idea."

            Further back in the store were the men's clothes, and a small dressing room.  This Sasha practically shoved me into and then came in himself.  He faced me away from the mounted mirror.

            "What are you doing?" I demanded.  I did not like being manhandled very much.

            "You know how they described you as a Caucasian female?"

            "Yes..."

            "Well, we can't do much about you being Caucasian.  But we can do something about you looking like a girl."

            "You mean...you're going to make me look like a boy?" I said dubiously.  I was not sure I liked this idea very much.  He wanted to make me a cross dresser!

            "Yep," Sasha said.  His gloved hands gripped my long hair.  "First thing to take care of is this hair of yours.  We need to hide it somehow."  He took my cap and tried piling my hair on top of my head, then covering it with the leather cap.  My hair was of course much too heavy for this and fell out immediately.  Sasha rummaged in the satchel, finding both my bandanna and ribbon.  "We need to sell some of this stuff," he muttered.  His next approach was to try securing my hair with them while not making me overtly feminine.  I could tell from the small sounds he was making that this was not working.  He sounded quite frustrated.

            "This isn't going to work," I told him plainly.  "And stop tugging, that hurts."

            "All right.  I'm going to try one last thing.  Stand still."

            "Stand still?"  I heard the sound of metal hitting against metal.  "Sasha? What are you doing?" I asked.

            He grabbed my hair tightly, and for a second there was a pull so hard I bit my lip to keep from crying out.  As soon as I was released, I whirled around to yell at Sasha--and saw a few white-blonde strands fall from his bladed knuckles.  I followed them and saw the mass of hair on the floor.  Now my gaze traveled slowly back up the mirror.

            "Oh, my--"

            Sasha clamped his hand over my mouth as I started screaming.  "Hey, hey!  Relax!  I just took a bit off your hair."

            "A bit? A bit?" I demanded as soon as my mouth was free.  "You hacked all my hair off!"

            "I didn't take it all off.  Just enough so you'd look more like a boy."

            The person in the mirror had a very red face and ragged hair.  I reached up to the back of my head and felt how close Sasha had cut.  "Oh my god," I whimpered, "I do look like a boy."

            "A boy wearing a leather skirt," the fighter commented with a grin.  "Now hold on, I'm going to even your hair out a bit."  He edged behind me so I was standing closer to the mirror.  "Just hold still."  He picked up a short piece of hair--although now it was the longest piece I had--and trimmed it closer to my head.

            I stared at my reflection as Sasha worked.  From having waist-long hair, I had gone to having hair that was cropped close to my head.  Although my hair was still a bit longer than most boys' were, a small relief.  Mother would have killed me if she had seen me.  Not only for my hair, but the fact that I was crammed in a dressing room with a man--an older man, no less.  Although to kill me, she'd have to somehow squeeze her way in too.  A nervous smile appeared on my reflection.

            "There, that's good enough," Sasha said, looking me over in the mirror.  "Don't worry Alice, you're still pretty.  I'm going to get some clothes for you, okay?"

            "Okay," I murmured.  He slipped out of the dressing room, leaving me to contemplate the hair I'd lost and the new look I had.  Which looked horrible.  But Sasha had said I still looked pretty.  Or was he saying that just to make me feel better?

            Wait.  Still?  I 'still' looked pretty?  So he thought I had looked pretty before?  The thought triggered a blush just as the door opened.

            "Here, I got you a shirt and some pants.  Are you feeling okay?" he asked, looking closely at my blush.

            "Yes."

            He still looked puzzled, but he shrugged and shut the door.  I took my cotton blouse off, relieved at the chance to do so.  After three days of fighting monsters, it was full of sweat and blood and seawater and things I didn't even want to think about.  It should just be burned.  I put the simpler cotton shirt on.  It was a soft blue, which went nicely with my eyes.  I wondered for a brief moment if that was why he'd chosen it, then shook my head.  I was having such silly thoughts.  It was a tad snug around my chest, but then I supposed that was normal, considering it was made for a man to wear.

            Next I kicked off my shoes and removed the leather skirt.  I drew the black pants over my legs.  Again there was a little snugness around the hips, but that was normal, wasn't it?

            "Are you done in there?" Sasha called.

            "Yes."

            "Alright, I'm coming in."  He opened the door and examined me with a critical eye.  I squirmed a bit under his stare.  "You need a jacket."

            "A jacket? Why?"

            "To hide your chest, of course.  Good thing you're not built like Margarete, that'd be impossible to hide."  With that remark for me to mull over, he left to find a jacket.

            It was very true that I wasn't built like Margarete.  Although, I thought as I studied myself in the mirror, it wasn't that I was small or anything.  The spy was simply...well endowed.

            I sized myself up in the mirror.  Were my breasts large, or were they average?  More towards average, I thought, but what exactly was average?

            As I examined my profile, I found another area that bothered me: my posterior.  It was very bad in these pants, which did nothing to conceal its size.  It was much too big.  I'd like it if it was smaller.  And perhaps my chest should be a little bigger.

            Although maybe my body was attractive as it was.  After all, just this morning, Sasha had been feeling me in his sleep...and he'd been a bit slow to take his hands away...

            I turned a bright red as I realized just how sinful my thoughts were.  I shook my head to clear it.  What on earth was I thinking?  I shouldn't even consider those kinds of things.

            The door opened again.  Sasha held a brown trench coat.  "This should work," he said.  Then he paused, his almond eyes taking in my cherry red face.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

            "Yes," I insisted.

            "You're not doing anything in here, are you?" he said teasingly.  My flush became even brighter.

            "No!"

            He chuckled and tossed the trench coat to me.  He closed the door; I was very grateful for the privacy.  I slipped the heavy coat over my shoulders, straightened the collar, and peered into the mirror.  It was very long on me, coming midway down my calves.  It was also a bit wide on my narrow shoulders, and did nothing to hide my chest when open.  I buttoned the trench coat closed and then looked again.  No, that didn't look right either.  I unbuttoned all the buttons from the hips down so more of my pants showed.  My fingers then moved up to the top button.  I gazed at myself intently as I undid each button, showing more of my neck, then my collarbones, a bit more of my chest, and…there.  Now my breasts were noticeable.  I redid that button.  This hid my chest, but didn't make it seem like I was trying to hide anything.

            I wasn't that bad of a boy, I decided.  I certainly looked feminine, but my ragged haircut eased that appearance.  Though, my haircut seemed a bit too orderly now.  I ruffled my hair with my hands, making it even more chaotic, then covered my head with the leather cap.  The mirror's reflection was that of a carefree boy, exactly my opposite.

            I opened the door.  "Finally," Sasha grumbled as he turned to me.  His brown eyes widened as he took in my appearance.  "That's pretty good," he said, "but why aren't you wearing shoes?"  His gaze rested on my bare feet.

            "Because boys don't wear high heels," I said.  I'd look like a fool in them—if I didn't already.

            "Oh.  Right."  Sasha considered this for a moment.  "Give me your shoes."

            I picked up the black high-heeled shoes and handed them to him.  He then walked away, towards the front of the store.  I tried to see what he was moving towards, but then he left my view.  I could hear his voice though, and Margarete's too.  They were arguing quietly, and then their voices rose, while Zhuzhen told both to be more mature.  Finally someone threw something and the voices ceased.  A minute later, Sasha returned with two red marks on his face, a pair of socks and Margarete's combat boots in his hands.  "She threw them at you?" I asked, looking between the marks on his face and the boots.

            "A bit reluctant to part with them," said Sasha, grinning.  I sat on the floor and pulled on the white cotton socks, then the combat boots.  They were a bit big, but then, so were the trench coat and pants.

            "Last thing," Sasha said, and tossed one of the belts to me.  "The caps are too conspicuous, but we should wear the belts."

            Nodding, I did the buckle around my waist and then stood.  Sasha's eyes became slits as he grinned proudly.

            "I knew I could make you look like a guy," he said.  I was not sure whether or not to be insulted by that but let it pass as his pride.  "Let's see what Margarete and Zhuzhen think."

            Just what would they think?  I glanced in the mirror again but was left unsure.  Nervously I followed Sasha back through the rows of clothes, carrying my leather skirt and cotton blouse.  He carried the satchel.

            Margarete was grumbling as she put on my shoes.  Sasha coughed and she looked up, ready to throw my shoes too if he was going to be a nuisance.  Then she noticed me standing shyly behind a clothes rack.  Zhuzhen already had wide eyes at my chopped hair.

            "Hey, they can't see you if you're hiding."  Sasha dragged me by the arm into full view.  Margarete looked me over twice before laughing.

            "I can't believe it.  Well, what should we call you, sir?"

            "Edward?" Sasha suggested.

            I needed a new name too?  "Um, Edward's fine, I guess."

            Margarete stood and circled me, appraising the guise.  She had a smile when she came to my front again.  "I've got to hand it to you Sasha.  It's a good disguise."

            The fighter was practically preening until I elbowed him.  "Don't encourage him Margarete, he's got a big enough ego already."

            "Hey."  Sasha suddenly yawned and only belatedly covered his mouth.  Both Margarete and I winced at his breath.  He had some cleaning up to do.  "God I'm tired."

            "You still have to get new clothes," Margarete said.  "You smell the worst.  I bet your bad breath is what scared the old man."

            He scowled at the blonde spy.  "Just go get your own clothes."

            "Are you alright?" I asked as Margarete left.  It was strange how Sasha hid his fatigue so long—I should've noticed it earlier.

            He nodded.  "Swimming must've worn me out."  He scanned the store and then walked off, leaving me with Zhuzhen.

            I sat down and sighed.  My hand reached up to my hair as I toyed with individual strands, feeling how uneven it was.  It needed to be trimmed before I went home, but for now it helped the roguish appearance.

            "I'm surprised you cut your hair," Zhuzhen said after a moment.

            "I didn't.  Sasha did—and without asking me, too."  I frowned.  "He really ought to learn some manners.  He didn't even say he was sorry!"  Then again, I hadn't been that upset with him.

            The Adept shook his head.  "He needs to learn many things," he mumbled.  He seemed distracted as he tapped his staff on the store's floorboards, as if unsure whether to be pleased or upset.  It reminded me of his grimace and hesitance from the boat.

            "What were you going to tell me earlier?" I asked.  "About Sasha?"

            He shook his head.  "Perhaps later," he said quietly.  "I don't want him to hear."

            "I heard my name," Sasha said, startling me.  He had popped up from behind a row of men's pants.  "What are you saying about me?"

            "Alice was just saying how you needed to learn some manners," Zhuzhen volunteered with a wry grin.

            "You're not still upset about the hair, are you?" Sasha asked me.   "Hey, what do you think of these?"  He held a red shirt with its neck trimmed in black, and a pair of black pants.  The second question was also directed to me.

            "They're nice."

            Sasha pouted.  "Just 'nice'?  You're no fun, Alice."

            "Well, what do you want me to say?" I asked, puzzled.

            "I don't know.  Sexy, maybe."

            This was worthy of a glare.  "Just go change," I told him.

            Once he left, Zhuzhen chuckled.  "He seems to have taken a liking to you."

            The dry observation surprised me.  I turned to Zhuzhen and asked, perhaps a bit too earnestly, "What makes you think that?"

            He laughed.  "Why, do you like him?"

            "Well…I'm not sure," I said.  It didn't seem exactly right to like the person who had kidnapped you.  Now that another person was asking me about it, I felt very embarrassed about my earlier thoughts.  We had only known each other for two days.  He could he like me in that way?  "I probably don't.  He's just attractive is all."

            "Attractive?  Sasha?"  Margarete was back, her blonde hair still in a ponytail.  She was now wearing a tight black dress and a smaller, more elegant jacket, which was a dark blue.  They went with my shoes, although…she still had fishnet stockings.  And the dress was very short—from my seated position I could see her panties through the lace trim.  "He could break a dozen hearts with that face.  And then there's his body."  She grinned and folded her arms beneath her chest.  Her belt slipped on her narrow waist.  "I wouldn't mind a night with him.  As long as he cleaned up first.  What about you, Alice?"

            I spluttered, "No!"  Was she really suggesting…that?  And in front of Zhuzhen of all people!

            A hand clapped on my head and Sasha's remorseful voice said, "But Alice, you can't be a virgin forever."

            I swatted his arm away.  "I'll be a virgin 'til I'm married.  Leave me alone."

            He leaned over me with an upside-down frown.  "Aw…"

            He had changed into his new clothes and did look rather handsome in the red shirt.  It had a loose neck and the fabric fell away from his body as he stood over me, showing hints of a well-defined chest.

            "You know you want to…"

            I scowled at his rude insistence.  Instead of making a response, I stood and walked out of the store.  The shopkeeper made no protest as I left, despite the fact that I was dressed almost head to toe in unpaid clothing—a fact that only occurred to me once I was outside.

            People did look at me as I sulked by the doors, but the looks were only curious glances at the strange foreigner.  Well, at least Sasha had done something good in disguising me.

            He made me so mad sometimes—what exactly did I feel for him?  It was love, or even really like.  It was only a physical attraction.  He was the first good-looking man I had met in while.  On his side, he was probably just trying to get me into a bed with him.  He had an awful lot of nerve.  Why couldn't he simply leave me alone?

            "Hey, Edward," Margarete said.  Oh, right.  'Edward' was my new name.  The spy was attracting a lot more looks than me, but none more than she had been before she changed.  "You're not really mad, are you?"

            It was obvious she thought I shouldn't be—which made me even more upset.  "Well," I said heatedly, "if you must bring up indecent subjects, I would like to be left out of them—but that's Sasha's fault."

            The glass doors were just opening again and Sasha poked his head out.  "I was just joking."

            "I'm sure," I replied dryly.

            He let out a wearied sigh before he started walking away, down the street.  "Come on.  The hotel's this way."

            "The Cypress Hotel," Zhuzhen said.  He was walking between Sasha and us.  His  Adept robes showed a bit of wear, but not so much that he had needed new clothes.  "I hope it hasn't changed too much."

            "So you've been there before?" Sasha asked.  "Must've been a while ago."

            Zhuzhen nodded, though his mind seemed to be away from the conversation.

            Shanghai was such a vibrant city.  There were stalls lining both sides of the street; its vendors were hawking all sorts of things, cloth and little trinkets, souvenirs and artwork, food.  All the smells were making me look forward to lunch despite my large breakfast.

            "I was wondering," Zhuzhen said, "there's a bar near here, just down the street—do you drink, Sasha?"

            "No," Sasha said quickly, "I don't like bars."

            Zhuzhen seemed rather disappointed.  I frowned.  "Sasha, could we talk?"

            Apparently Sasha hadn't expected me to want to talk to him, because he looked askance at me.  I slowed a little behind Margarete as he walked back, letting Zhuzhen lead the way.

            "You don't like bars, or that bar in particular?" I asked in English, looking deep into his dark eyes.

            He sighed.  "I have a feeling I'm going to hate your Demon Eyes.  Look, it's not a big deal.  I just have a quarrel with two of the employees."

            "What'd you do?"

            "To them?  Nothing.  They just don't like me."

            I was silent, letting Sasha know my opinion on this with my expression.  Finally he groaned.

            "They know my profession, and they don't like it very much.  I swear I did nothing to them to start the whole thing."

            "Fine," I said, "But being a criminal is not a profession."

            "Yes miss."  He sighed again and then chuckled.  "Still, I do kind of like getting the girl upset.  She's funny when she's mad."

            So he didn't start it, he just aggravated it.  Like that was so much better.  I shook my head.  Sasha had been right, he was a pain to get along with.

            "Huh?  Where'd that spy go?" he muttered suddenly.  I looked up to see only Zhuzhen in front of us.  Margarete was indeed gone.  The crowd of people was too thick to possibly see her.  "Hey Zhuzhen," he called, getting the Adept's attention, "Where'd Margarete run off to?"

            After his cursory examination of the area, Zhuzhen shrugged.  "She must have gotten lost in the crowd."

            It was a plausible enough explanation, but Sasha didn't buy it for a second.  "Lost, hell," he exclaimed.  "She ran off.  And—goddamn!"  He swore so vehemently that I jumped.  "She still has that memo on us.  Probably went to deliver it."  He kicked the ground viciously and scowled for all it was worth.

            "Do you really think she would?" I asked uncertainly.  Margarete had helped us—and she had promised me the favor of a ride to Zurich—but what if that meant I had to return a favor to her government?  What would they ask for?  If it was anything bad I certainly wasn't going to do it.  Then I remembered what the Japanese Army had done the last time it had met resistance, the two wounded missionaries coming back to me.  Would Margarete's government do the same thing?

            "You finally figure out how deep we're in?" Sasha asked.  He had been watching my expression as it paled.  "I swear, if she did—"

            "Maybe she didn't," I interrupted.  I didn't like how he was getting all worked up about it.  It made me even more nervous; he seemed like he was about to blow his stack and then…  "Maybe she got lost or saw something interesting."

            My weak words didn't help his mood.  His fists were clenched and he looked ready to punch something or someone.  It wasn't a good idea in the bustling marketplace.  He had been stressed during the past days, but had tried to bury it under and not show it to anyone and now…

            "Here," I said.  Reaching into the satchel, I quickly pulled out a Pure leaf and held it out to him.  It was rudely snatched away and consumed.  As Sasha chewed the murderous fury slowly drained from him, and I felt my own anxiety abate.

            Sasha shook his head, his hand rising to cover it.  Was he doing it because his head hurt or to hide himself?  "Okay.  Sorry, lost my head a bit there," he said, grinning broadly.

            I smiled nervously.  No, this wasn't any  better.  He was trying to cover it up again.  "You need to rest."  Maybe it was simply exhaustion from his swim.

            "Yeah.  I know.  Just…just…God!  I never should have listened to that damn witch!"  A scowl had replaced the fragile smile.  It seemed almost as if he was unraveling before our eyes.

            "Perhaps we should take today to rest," Zhuzhen suggested.

            "Sounds good," Sasha mumbled.  "I'm gonna sleep."

            We finally arrived at the hotel.  It was a large one, though not as big as the buildings in Fengtian. The smugglers were waiting for us in the lobby by a large grandfather clock.  The woman dropped the room key into Sasha's hand.  "Room 206," she said, "We're in 207."

            He acknowledged this with only a grunt.  I sighed.  It was no wonder Sasha was stressed out.  There were so many things…Roger Bacon and Dehuai and these smugglers, even Margarete…so many people who were against us or might turn against us.  Even if we got away from one person, there might be another.  I just wanted to forget about all of that and relax for one day.  Was that an unrealistic wish?

            Our room was only a short walk from the stairs.  The smugglers had gotten us a nice room.  It was cheery and welcoming, the sun streaming in through open windows.  There were four beds, two on each side, enough for all of us…and Margarete.  Sasha's first action when he walked in was to toss his things onto one of the beds, including his hat and belt.  He then claimed the bathroom, shutting the door firmly.

            I doffed my cap, then took off both my trench coat and belt.  I sat down on a bed on the right side and removed Margarete's belts.  "Margarete couldn't have run off," I said to Zhuzhen suddenly.  "She likes her boots too much."

            The Adept chuckled and I felt a bit more light-hearted.  Water ran in the bathroom.  I hoped Sasha wouldn't take too long.  I could certainly use a bath.  At least the beds were clean.  After seeing the filthy beds on the boat, clean beds were a wonderful idea.

            "Are you going to sleep, or do you have time for a story?" Zhuzhen asked.

            "Hmm?"

            Zhuzhen sat on the bed next to mine.  "It's about Sasha."

            I rolled over onto my side.  "What you were going to tell me before?"

            He nodded.  "You see, the first time Dehuai tried the Invocation…fifteen years ago, I tried to stop him."

            "And you did?"

            The old man laughed aloud, shaking his head.  "I'm afraid not.  I was a bit too cocky—I underestimated the power Dehuai had gained with his acts of sacrilege.  Instead I was captured.  Instead of killing me outright, he kept me alive for torture.  He always did hate me."

            "Why?" I asked, curious.

            "We trained together, under the same master.  We were both foolish boys with big egos then.  I suppose it was almost natural that we would be rivals."

            It was hard thinking of Zhuzhen ever being egotistical.  Then again, when Zhuzhen was in training must have been thirty, forty…how old was Zhuzhen?  I couldn't place an age on him.  Older than sixty, I was sure, but he was so spry…

            "Anyways, I eventually managed to escape.  I was very weak from the torture, and three of his henchmen overtook me.  We were just outside this hotel, actually…"  He stood up and made his way to the windows.  I followed him and traced his gaze out over the city.  "Wasn't at all like this that day.  The rain was pouring down.  I thought I was going to die then," he said suddenly.  "I was so weak, I tried to stand and then just fell down again.  There was no way I could have fought them off.  Instead I tried to spend my final moments annoying them.  They called Dehuai 'great' and I told them that I was going to die of laughter."

            Imagining this scene brought a smile to my lips.  After how Zhuzhen had poked fun at Sasha's seasickness, I could see him mouthing off to a trio of villains—it was such an amusing idea.  "What happened?"

            "Well, they got riled up over me insulting Dehuai.  Finally they decided to get it over with and kill me.  Then I heard footsteps, two men approaching us.  'Hold it right there.'"

            There was a vague thought in my mind, along the lines of what does this have to do with Sasha?  But  I was sure Zhuzhen was getting there, so I kept quiet.

            "It was a Japanese man.  Immediately one of the goons threatened him.  I didn't want others dragged into this, so I asked him to leave.  He said that he could not if they were working for Dehuai."

            "So he knew about Dehuai?"

            Zhuzhen nodded.  "That scared them, and Wugui—one of Dehuai's favorites—demanded to know who he was.  He said it was of little importance to those about to die, and then he changed.  He turned into a great black demon with wings, a proud monster.  In a way it was magnificent.  The men were completely shocked.  I could only stare in amazement; I had heard of fusion, but I had also been told it had been centuries since anyone had seen it…"

            So the man had fused…he must be related to Sasha…just like the masked man…

            "He killed two easily, and it took only a minute or so for him to weaken Wugui to the point where he couldn't stand."  Zhuzhen shook his head, his forehead creasing.  "Then he let Wugui go with a message for Dehuai: to live out the rest of his days in fear.  It was amazing to hear him speak; his voice was so soft but all of his words carried a heavy weight.  Wugui used his magic and escaped.  Both the Japanese man and his companion were concerned about my wounds.  Despite my protests, I wound up getting a piggyback ride from the man who'd saved my life.  My face was burning red!  He was an incredible man, and handsome to boot…so much that he almost had me swooning!  Ha!"

            I laughed at the end of the story.  It was so silly compared to the rest of the story, almost absurd.  "Was he really that strong?  He must have been incredible.  And he had fusion, just like Sasha…"  I trailed off as I finally remembered what Zhuzhen had said to Sasha the first night we had met.  It seemed so long ago, but Zhuzhen had asked if Sasha had been taught by his father.  "You don't think he's…Sasha's father…?"

            Zhuzhen nodded.  "You won't find too many who can wield fusion in this world.  Ben did mention his son a few times, but…I just don't know if I should tell him."

            "Doesn't he have a right to know?" I asked.  "It's his father."

            The Adept's dark eyes were averted from me as he nodded again.  "I know.  It's been bothering me ever since we met again in Dalian, but he's not…"  His weary voice died away as he found no words to describe his feelings.  After a few moments, he spoke again, very quietly.  "In a way, I suppose I don't want to know for certain he's Ben's son."

            "He isn't…what you expected, is he?" I asked.  From Zhuzhen's tale, Ben must have been a great man.  Yet, Sasha was a criminal, often selfish and uncouth.  Still…  "That isn't very fair, Zhuzhen.  He's had it very rough, his mother died when he was only a boy."

            "I know."

            There was a melancholy in those words I had not expected.  "Did Sasha tell you?" I didn't think Sasha trusted Zhuzhen that much, but perhaps he had let it slip.

            "No."  He turned away again, to the window.  "Ben gave his life to stop the Valorization.  Both Zhen and I owed him our lives.  The least we could do was offer help to his young wife and son.  So after we managed to set some order to the chaos Dehuai had caused, I traveled to the town they lived in, ready to be the bearer of bad news."  He paused in his narrative, but I knew what was coming.  He had found that Ben's wife, Sasha's mother, was dead.  His long pigtail swished the air as he shook his head morosely.  "When I first saw it, I knew there would be no one to tell.  The houses seemed fine, but there was a feeling of unease stifling the air.  Many people had died, and few of them were at rest.  Then I saw their house.  It was a shambles; there must have been a terrible struggle in there.  Outside, there was a pile of zombies, the villagers changed by a curse.  Dehuai's revenge on Ben had been to pit his family against their friends and neighbors—and even now I'm not quite sure what the outcome was."

            "That's horrible," I breathed.  For vengeance against one man, Dehuai had destroyed an entire village, just as he had Zhaoyang.  I remember our meeting on the boat, his manipulation of Li Li.  He was obsessed, consumed by hatred, just as she had been; and his taint seemed to corrupt all the people he harmed.  Both the villagers of Zhaoyang, and their pets…Li Li…and Sasha.

            Zhuzhen nodded.  "Behind the house, under a tree, I found a grave.  It was marked only with a stick planted in the ground, the words 'rest in peace' crudely carved in.  I wasn't sure who was buried, or who had dug the grave, but I was relieved that there was no troubled spirit.  I searched the village, but it was still a mystery.  There were some footprints in the village, one set small and another large, but there were none but mine leading in or out.  I thought both had died until I saw Sasha's fusion."

            So that meant Sasha had lost both of his parents at the same time.  He had seen his mother murdered by monster that had been neighbors, and his father had disappeared…Koudelka had said he had a maimed heart, and now it seemed all so clear.  It had hurt so much when Father had died, and I had the comfort of knowing my mother was alive.  To have both parents snatched away, at such a tender age…I felt sorry now for all the times I had thought badly of him.  I had judged him without even knowing all the hardships he'd gone through.

            "I might tell him soon…but first I think I'll talk to Zhen."

            "Does he live here?" I asked, wondering who Zhen even was.

            The Adept chuckled.  "He's the owner of the bar.  I was going to show Sasha to him, but then the kid had to say no."

            "Oh…"  Sasha had a quarrel with the employees, but it should be fine if Zhuzhen knew the employer.  Maybe if I told Sasha, he'd see that it was okay to go.  "Well, maybe he'll come around later," I said thoughtfully.

            He nodded.  Leaning over his bed, he rifled through his belongings before reaching a small bag.  He shook the neck open and drew out some money.  Then he idly tossed the pouch back onto the bed.  "I don't intend to be out all that late."

            "That's good.  Just don't come back too drunk."

            We both laughed.  It seemed so improbable that imagining it was humorous.  Leaning on his staff just a tiny bit, Zhuzhen left the hotel room.

            His bag was still lying open.  Perhaps Zhuzhen had not thought much of it, but the gesture was touching.  It seemed a sign of implicit trust in us—that neither Sasha nor I would be dishonest with him.

            Where was Sasha, anyway?  Still in the bathtub?  The water had stopped running, but he hadn't come out yet.  I moved past the table to the bathroom door and knocked twice.  "Sasha, I'd like to take a bath soon," I called.  "Sasha?"

            Water splashed and I heard a groan. "Alice?" Sasha answered, his voice groggy.

            I glared at Sasha--well, I had to settle for the door, but it worked well as a substitute.  "Are you sleeping in the bathtub?" I asked.

            "Sure.  Why not?  It's warm," he mumbled.  Water sloshed inside, but it didn't sound like he was getting out, only shifting his body in the tub.

            "You really shouldn't," I told him.  "What if you drowned in there?"

            There was a sleepy chuckle.  "There's an obituary.  'Died at the age of twenty-four, napping in the tub.'  I'd have to come back as a zombie or something just to die a proper death.  What a bitch the obituary is.  You have to die just right, or you end up looking like a fool forever after."

            I was silent, wondering why he was swearing and going to gallows humor so early in the day.  Was he always like this, even when he was living a normal life?  Had he ever lived a normal life?

            "I don't want an obituary.  Do you, Alice?"

            My eyebrows drew together as I puzzled over the odd question.  "I don't really mind."

            "That's good."  His tone carried the suggestion that he would've said it no matter what my answer.  Sasha yawned loudly, perfectly audible through the door.  "I'll be out in a few minutes, okay?"

            "Okay."

            He sighed and sank back down in the tub.  I was sure he was going back to sleep.  At this rate I'd never get a bath.  Oh well.  Maybe when Zhuzhen came back I could ask the Adept to drive him out.

            In the meantime, what to do?  I thought of perhaps catching up to Zhuzhen, but in a reunion of old friends I'd be unwanted.  I couldn't go out alone; Dehuai controlled Shanghai and the Japanese army was still searching for me.  It seemed like I would be spending a lot of time in this room.  When I looked around again, I found a lot more faults with it than I had originally.  Everything in the room was so bland, designed to displease no one but that meant there was nothing unusual, nothing I had not seen elsewhere a thousand times before.  I sat down at the small table and drummed my fingers.  What to do?

            I could reread the tome, but I'd only finished it this morning.  Reading scriptures hadn't done much for me lately...there was no atmosphere of reverence like there was at church and home and with the missionaries...but then I caught myself.  How I felt about my surroundings shouldn't affect my reading; that was a lazy attitude.  So I took myself to task and settled on a bed with my Bible.
            I leafed through the New Testament, finding nothing that caught my eye.  As I proceeded further back, into the Old Testament, my finger stopped on the book of Ruth.  The story of Ruth was a rather nice one.  It was about loyalty to family and kin.  It was not so much a sermon as other books were, but a heartwarming tale.  I smiled at my selection and began to read.

            As I was reading through the first chapter, the door opened.  I looked up in surprise; was Zhuzhen back already?  But it was Margarete who walked in, grinning.

            "Hey Alice.  I'm so glad we're at Shanghai instead of that backwaters port," she said.  For my part, I liked Dalian better--though small, at least I could walk around it without worrying about armies and warlocks.  "There's so much to see around here."

            "Sasha was really upset that you just walked off," I told her, also a bit upset.  "He thought you'd gone to deliver the memo."

            "What memo?"

            It is rather difficult to reflect on the holy scriptures when someone is trying to tell a bald-faced lie.  I closed my bible, holding my place with my finger, and caught Margarete's light blue eyes.

            She made a quizzical face.  "What?"  After another moment, she sighed.  "How'd Sasha find out?"

            "He saw you writing it yesterday."

            "He's got good eyes," she grumbled.

            "So--is your army coming after us too?"  I tried to make it sound light-hearted, but that was near impossible when I felt so hurt.  Why had she offered me a trip home if she was also going to tell her military that I would be useful to them?  It defeated the purpose.

            The spy winced.  "We don't use those kinds of tactics."

            "But they'll still get us, right?"
            "We're not doing this to invade others," Margarete said defensively.  "It's research so we can protect ourselves."

            "So even if you got in a war, I wouldn't be pulled into it?"

            The spy opened her mouth but then shut it and looked away.  "Fine."  From her new jacket she drew a piece of paper and dropped it on the bed.  "There's no one in Shanghai, I was going to deliver it in Changchun.  But you can shred it if you want.  That's the only copy."

            I searched her face carefully and then smiled.  "That's good.  But save it for Sasha, he'll probably want to see it himself."

            "Sure.  Where is he?"

            I nodded to the bathroom and returned to the bible.  The spy rapped on the door.  "Sasha?" she called loudly.

            "He's probably still asleep."

            "Asleep?" I heard the handle rattle and looked up to see Margarete jiggling it until the door popped open. She stepped inside.

            What is she doing? Best not think about it. Reverent atmosphere, mind on God...

            "Fucking hell!"  There were a torrent of swears following the first exclamation, and many splashes from the bathroom.  "Alright, alright, I'm up—ow!"  There had been a loud snapping noise.

            "That's for getting me all wet."

            You're supposed to have the spirit when you read the scriptures...  Still, one part of my mind was on the sounds from the other room.  The snapping sounds continued, and each one brought yells and curses from Sasha.

            I tried hard to continue the story of Ruth in a spirit of reverence, but then the door banged open, ending both my thought process and the last shred of patience.  Finally it was too much and I looked up to yell at them, "Would you two behave--!"

            I stopped, my mouth hanging slightly open as I realized what was in front of me. Sasha had run from the bathroom to escape the spy—but he had neglected clothing.  The wiry fighter stood in front of me, naked as a jaybird. He was facing me and looked quite surprised.

            "What'd you let her in for?" he demanded.

            I was still too flabbergasted to make a proper response when Margarete snuck up on him.  Twirling a wet towel, she gave Sasha one last whip on his behind.  The fighter growled, wrenched the towel from her hands, and gave the spy a whip to make her shriek, all the while giving me a full view of his behind.  He then wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the bathroom.

            That...completely killed the spirit.  I tried hard to continue reading the story of Ruth, but my mind couldn't stay on it.  I sighed, defeated, and closed the bible. I'm not going to be able to read while those two are around...

            My shoes lay haphazardly on the floor.  Margarete was lounging on the bed opposite mine, a broad smile on her face.  "He's got a nice package."

            If she had expected me to reply, I disappointed her.  I lay down as the water began to drain from the tub.

            Sasha's footsteps, light on the carpet, were heard as he reentered the room.  It seemed rather fast for getting dressed.  Was he still nude?  I directed my eyes to the white ceiling, unwilling to check.  He couldn't be that uncivilized, but at the same time I didn't want to risk it.

            "Where'd you go?" he asked Margarete bluntly.

            "There was this really great shop.  I got distracted."  There was silence for a moment.  Sasha did not believe her, but then again, he was always skeptical, and he was justified in this instance.  "I'm telling the truth, you know.  The memo's on Alice's bed.  Feel free to make confetti with it."

            "You've got another one," he said.

            "Nope.  Like I told Alice, only copy."

            "Alice?"

            "She's telling the truth," I said, keeping both eyes fixed on the ceiling.

            His footsteps came towards me.  I thought he was coming to get the memo, but soon he was looming over me.  The red shirt hung a bit damp on his body, and his hair was still wet.  "Something wrong?" he asked.

            I cautiously glanced down.  He had pants on.  "I thought you might still be undressed."

            "Oh.  What, are you trying to preserve your virgin eyes?"  Sasha grinned.  He picked up the memo, examined it critically and then ripped it into tiny little pieces.  I looked on as each little bit fell to the ground, like snowflakes.  That was it then, we would trust Margarete.

            "I catch you writing another and there'll be hell to pay."

            Okay.  So Sasha wouldn't trust Margarete, but as long as she didn't try it again, everything would be fine.

            "Where's the old goat?" Sasha asked once finished.  The memo was in at least fifty different pieces on the red carpet.

            Margarete shrugged.  "Dunno.  I passed him in the lobby, but all he told me was he'd be gone for a while and what room we were staying in."

            "Zhuzhen went to the bar," I told them.  "You should've gone with him, Sasha.  He's friends with the owner, so you shouldn't have gotten in any trouble."

            He seemed very surprised, his brown almond eyes widening.  "Really?  Must be a different bar then," he muttered.  "But in this area?"

            I was confused by what that remark meant.  What did the location have to do with it?  "Well, it's owned by a man named Zhen."

            "Zhen?"  Now Sasha was frowning.  "That was his name?"

            "Yes…"

            He groaned.  "When's the last time Zhuzhen was in Shanghai?"

            "Fifteen years, it sounded like."  An uneasy feeling was rising in my stomach.  Had Zhuzhen chosen the same bar Sasha knew?  Did Sasha have a good reason for avoiding it?  "What's wrong?"

            Sasha was already heading for the door.  "The bar changed ownership a few years back.  Get dressed."

            I put on the trench coat and slipped on the boots.  "It did?" I asked, jumping up and following him.  The Shooting Star Tome caught my eye; it sounded like I might need it.  I picked it up.  Margarete shut the door as we left.

            "Yeah, to one of Dehuai's goons."

            My eyes widened as I realized what that meant.  Dehuai wanted Zhuzhen dead, and his henchmen could take him unawares and…

            Sasha was walking faster and Margarete and I hastened our steps until we burst out of the hotel doors.  It was noon and the streets were packed with people.  I quickly fell behind Sasha and Margarete, who both slipped through the crowd easily.

            They kept disappearing from my sight and I panicked.  "Wait!" I called, struggling through the crowd.  "Wait—ow!"

            Another girl had knocked into me, or I into her, and we'd both been going so fast that we were now on the ground.  I stood quickly and offered her a hand with an automatic apology, "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

            Sasha was weaving his way back.  "Come on, hurry up," he called as the girl took my hand and stood.

            "I'm fi—"  She stopped suddenly as she saw Sasha standing at my side.  Her dark eyes narrowed at both of us and without saying anymore the Chinese woman walked away.

            "Quihua, you're never going to get a guy if you're always being a bitch to them," Sasha said.  Surprisingly, the woman simply brushed off the rude remark.  "Did you come from the bar?"

            "I don't have time for you," she muttered.

            This was not the right answer.  Sasha grabbed her arm along with a fistful of the light blue fabric she wore and pulled her back.  "You came from the bar, didn't you?  Is there an old man getting the tar beaten out of him right now?"

            "Yes, and I'm going to get his friends now, so—"

            "Um, we're his friends," I interrupted.

            "You expect me to believe that?" she snapped.

            "Forget her," Margarete yelled when she neared us, "Forget her, let's go!"

            Sasha shook his head and let go of the woman.  "Fine."  He turned and led the way to the bar again.  It wasn't long though before I heard hurried footsteps behind us.  The woman was following us.

            We ran down steps into a lower street; there Sasha turned right into an old building, the bar.  Inside the air was smoky and the lighting dim.  Two kappas lay on the floor, both dead, and Zhuzhen was kneeling on the floor, wounded.  I ran past the grey-haired man who was observing the scene and knelt by Zhuzhen.

            The Adept's body shook with each shallow breath he took.  His pupils were dilated and, when I touched his arm, his skin was clammy.

            I felt a pressure on my head and heard a chuckle as my cap was removed.  Turning, I saw my cap was held aloft by a hand attached to an arm nearly a meter long.  The strange limb belonged to a Chinese man, dressed in red and adorned with jewelry, and was slowly retracting to a more normal length.  "So this is the key?  The old man, the traitor and the key, all in my hands...this is a fortunate day."

            Sasha chuckled.  "Funny, I'd say this was a bad day for you.  And what's this 'traitor' business?  I never pledged loyalty to your master."

            The man smirked unpleasantly.  "Say whatever you want.  You'll die right here."  he tossed my leather cap aside idly and began to crack each of his knuckles.  It was a disgusting sound.  "You are a fool.  Roger Bacon was quite displeased about what you did to him.  Now you've lost his protection."

            Sasha...was protected by Roger Bacon? I wondered in amazement.  I was astonished by two things: the Roger Bacon would help someone, and that anyone would dare turn against him.

            The fighter said nothing to deny it.  He only smirked.  "I'm not the one who needs protection here, Wugui."  He turned his head to look at me.  "What are you waiting for, Alice?  Heal the geezer before he croaks."

            "Oh, right," I said.  With a Cure spell Zhuzhen's skin felt a bit warmer and he took deeper breaths.  Still, there was a very powerful Dark magic in him, which kept him weak.  I continued to heal him until a bright light filled the room; I looked behind myself to see Sasha had fused into the tiger form.  There were gasps of surprise from both the older man and Quihua, but strangely, neither were afraid.  Had they seen Sasha fuse before?

            The tiger attacked Wugui with a viciousness that surprised me, keeping my eyes fixed on him as he made his first attacks.  Sasha was trying to maim Wugui...maybe even kill him!  I felt slightly sick as I recognized the murderous intent within him.  Was it necessary...?  Why did he have that emotion?

            I didn't want to think about it.  I healed Zhuzhen one last time and felt the Dark curse release him.  He looked up at me wearily.  "Alice.  Thank goodness.  Quihua found you?"

            I nodded.  "Don't worry.  Sasha's taking care of it."

            Exhausted, he lifted his head and took notice of the fight behind me.  He chuckled, leaning into me as I lifted both of us to our feet.  "It's almost like fifteen years ago," the Adept said quietly.

            "Uncle Zhuzhen," Quihua said cautiously, "do you know him...?"  She pointed a rather shaky finger at the transformed man.

            Zhuzhen nodded.  "I'll introduce you...once this is over..."  He winced, still in some pain, and I allowed him to lean more on me.

            Quihua made no reply.  She had an extremely skeptical expression that didn't suit her.  The grey-haired man, who seemed to be a relative--there was a bit of a resemblance--bore an even uglier expression, that of hatred.  I wasn't sure if it was for Wugui or Sasha.

            Sasha had drawn blood; Wugui was clutching his shoulder, blood flowing over his numerous rings.  The tiger was growling as he circled Wugui, down on all fours; Sasha was behaving almost like a real tiger.  There was such a malevolence in him.  How far would he go?  He was bleeding as well, but he seemed more interested in inflicting wounds than healing his own.  Wugui's arms stretched foward as he reached to hit the tiger.

            Sasha darted past them, clawing Wugui's chest before being struck away.  It was a momentary delay, however--in the next second he had rolled back onto his feet and sprung.  His front paws landed on Wugui's chest, slamming the man down to the floor.   His jaws found the throat and Wugui gagged as each incisor pinched and then began to pierce the skin.  And Sasha only continued to tighten his hold.  He was going to kill him!   "Sasha!" I screamed, horrified at how he was killing--slowly, cruelly, without any remorse.  Even a beast would not kill this way.  Sasha did not react to my call, too intent on butchering the man.  "Cure!" I said, hoping he could not ignore magic being used on him.

            The tiger released the man's neck to snarl at me.  His blood red eyes glowed in his desire to slaughter.  I found myself shivering and held my bible closely for comfort.  "Sasha," I said, "that's enough.  You beat him.  He can't hurt us."  The murderous feline growled and turned his eyes back to Wugui, who was trembling with fear.  My magic had inadvertently healed his throat, but if Sasha was quicker about ripping it out next time... "Sasha!" I yelled.  "Get off him!"

            He snarled at me again, this time not so much angry as contemptuous.  He went further and raised his clawed hand, bringing the lethal paw to rake across the man's face; only then, with Wugui screaming in pain, did he get off and disembody.  Wugui rolled over, hands cradling his head, protecting the raw skin on his face.  His jewelry was both yellow and red after being coated in his blood.

            "You're goddamned lucky she's here," Sasha told the wounded man.  Though now human, Sasha's voice was still a growl; his eyes were a mix of his normal brown and the tiger's red, like dried blood.  His whole body trembled with the violence that had barely been contained.  "Because I don't think anyone else would've objected to me ripping you apart, piece by piece...that's what you deserve after what you did to me."

            Wugui's voice was muffled by his hands, but he shook his head until Sasha lifted him and slammed his body against the bar's counter.  An empty glass was knocked off and shattered on the floor.

            I looked at the others, to see if they would've stopped Sasha had I not, if they cared about the violence he was still showing.  Zhuzhen seemed saddened, almost ashamed by what Sasha's actions.  Quihua and the man both had torn expressions, but none of the emotions I saw in them reassured me any.  Margarete watched with a neutral expression.

            "Don't play dumb," Sasha said in a low voice.  Then, suddenly, he dropped the man onto one of the barstools.  "You really don't remember?  I'll help jog your memory.  Remember when Dehuai lost half of his body to a harmonixer?  He was screaming bloody murder even after he killed the guy."  Standing to his left, I could see his wide smile; but his eyes were nearly closed, making his entire countenance artificial.  "Wanted to kill both his wife and his son, but he was too weak to even get up from a bed.

            "So who does he send but his right-hand man?"

            Wugui swallowed, his Adam's apple riding up and down with the motion.

            "Did you ever see the son?"

            A shake of the head was the only answer Wugui would give.

            "No, you didn't," Sasha said, "because you decided to just turn innocent people into zombies and let them do your dirty work.  But you should've.  They didn't do the job right.  I'm still alive."

            "That--that wasn't--"

            "Bullshit," Sasha told him. He was still smiling, though the look in his eyes told me he'd like nothing better than to strangle the man.   "I know you did.  But…Alice doesn't want to see blood."  His dark eyes darted to me for only a second, but they showed clearly he was not happy with me.  "That's fine. I'll let you go for now. You can go tell your master that he has two ways to die: he can either wait for me or do it himself.  And if he waits for me he'll be dying very, very slowly."

            His face still shielded, Wugui disappeared without giving any response. Sasha stared at where he had been before sagging forward, holding himself up on the bar counter. Then he folded his arms and rested his head on them, turned away from me. His black shoe tapped on the floor a moment before he swore and pushed away.

            "What's wrong?"

            "I've got that bastard's blood in my mouth."  With an easy-going manner of familiarity he walked behind the counter and picked up a beer bottle.  Almost absently one hand reached for a glass while the other smashed the bottle against the counter, breaking off its neck.  He poured himself a glass and downed a gulp as he sat on a stool.  The short sleeves of his red shirt showed bruises on his arms, but he didn't seem to mind them.

            There was a bit of an awkward silence as Sasha drank.  I was surprised still at how violent Sasha had been, and how the anger clung to him even now...though the anger was understandable if Wugui had been responsible for his mother's death...I hated Roger Bacon for killing my father...I bit my lip as I remembered Wugui's words.

            "Sasha.  Why is Roger Bacon protecting you?"

            Over the half-full glass, his eyes flickered to me, now back to their normal brown.  He lowered the glass, his fingers drumming its surface.  "Was," he corrected me with a frown.

            "Why?" I persisted.

            "That is rather unusual..." Zhuzhen said softly, "to be under the protection of such a powerful warlock..."

            "So spill the beans, kiddo," said Margarete.  Contrary to the general sobriety, she had a slight grin, even a smirk.

            Sasha shook his head.  "You guys should already know, I was working for him a little while--"

            "A little while, try ten years," Quihua interrupted.  Folding her arms resolutely, the Chinese woman turned to Zhuzhen, who was now leaning on his staff rather than my shoulder.  "Uncle Zhuzhen, I don't know what kind of lies he's told you, but this is not a man you want to associate with--"

            "Quihua, did anyone ask your opinion?" Sasha said loudly.

            "Ten years?"

            He sighed and downed the remains of the glass and began on a second.  "Yes."

            "And how long have you known about—what Wugui did?" Zhuzhen asked carefully.

            Sasha smiled humorlessly.  "Fifteen years."

            "Then you…you really are Ben's son, aren't you?"

            The grey-haired man had finally spoken.  I had not expected his voice to sound so weak though.  I looked at the man, with his shoulders sunk down in an unconscious acknowledgment of defeat.  Though he was certainly younger than Zhuzhen, his eyes were much wearier.

            Quihua shook her head.  "How can you say that, Father?  How could he be Ben's son—"

            "I am," Sasha said.  "Though I wouldn't say he was much of a father."

            She turned back to him, her ire rising.  "Ben loved his wife and son very much."

            The half-Russian, half-Japanese man snorted lightly.  He toyed with his glass and watched the liquid inside swirl.  "He was a cold man," he said in a quiet voice.

            His eyes were hidden as he looked down.  There was a note of sadness tingeing his voice, though he hid it well.  I was confused between Sasha and Quihua and Zhuzhen; their opinions of Sasha's father were at odds with each other.  I was more inclined to believe Zhuzhen, but Sasha was his own son…

            "Alright," Zhuzhen said, gripping his staff.  "There are some things we obviously need to straighten out.  Why don't we go back to the hotel and talk this over?"

            It sounded like a good idea.  He was probably hoping that the walk would calm everyone down, and allow people to think before they said anything rash.

            "Alright," Quihua said, a bit reluctant but respectful of Zhuzhen's wishes.  She walked out, followed by Margarete.  Zhuzhen and Zhen left, close together.  They were talking, but not about Sasha.  Zhuzhen seemed to be asking how Zhen had been, his brow wrinkled with concern.

            I was starting to walk to the doors, but then I realized that Sasha wasn't following.  I turned back to see him still sitting.

            "Aren't you coming?" I asked.  My voice had a slight edge to it that I regretted immediately.  "I...I have some questions to ask you."

            He smiled.  As I walked back to him, it struck me that his eyes had a dreamy look, infused with a soft amber glow.  Was he drunk?  "You're mad."

            It was such a frank observation.  He didn't mind.  He didn't care who was mad at him.  "Maybe a little," I admitted, "but it's more because I'm confused."  He shrugged at my explanation and drained his glass in one final swig.  "I want to know why you've done what you have."

            Sasha chuckled, his long dark bangs falling across his eyes.  "That's a tough question.  I don't know why myself.  I thought I could let it go, but all that witch had to do was taunt me and I--"

            "You rescued me."  So that was it.  His only motivation had been revenge.  He'd been baited by Koudelka into helping me.  I felt a surge of disappointment before I forced myself to smile.  "Well, we'd better catch up to the others."

            My captor—all illusions of him being anything else to me had vanished—my captor followed me back, always two steps behind.  By the time we got to the hotel, everyone else was waiting for us in the plain hotel room.

            "What took you guys so long?" Margarete asked.  Her eyes took in my face and her smile faded a bit.

            "Sorry.  We got distracted."  I sat on my bed and lay down.  I didn't bother to remove my trench coat; the cloth was warm and comforting in this chilly atmosphere.  At the center of it was Sasha, currently lounging with his feet on the table.

            Zhuzhen cleared his throat, signaling he was about to speak.  "Alright, let's start from the beginning.  Alice, Margarete, this is Zhen, and his daughter Quihua.  Zhen and I helped Colonel Ben Hyuga defeat Dehuai fifteen years ago...but it seems you already knew about them," he said to Sasha.

            The fighter nodded, leaning back in his chair.  "Yeah.  Didn't know about you, but I guessed after what you said about my father teaching me."

            "And, if you know so much," Zhuzhen said, his hand twisting on the top of his staff, "why did you work for Dehuai?  Revenge?"

            Sasha slowly shook his head.  "No.  I did because I was ordered to."

            "By Roger Bacon?"

            "And how long have you been working for him?" I interrupted.  It was rude, but I couldn't wait any longer--I had to know.  "Under his protection?"

            With a sigh, the fighter answered, "Fifteen years...ever since he saved my life."

            This was apparently news to everyone; even Zhen and Quihua were surprised.  "He saved you?" I repeated, disbelievingly.

            He frowned darkly.  "Yes, saved me."

            "And that's why you serve him?" Zhuzhen asked.

            "Yes."

            I bit my lip, unsure what to think.  Fifteen years ago...he would have only been nine or ten years old, recently orphaned, having seen his mother die in a horrible manner.  Alone and numbed by both the violence and his grief, still an impressionable child...he might have let Bacon use him because he was grateful, and because he had no other alternatives.  And now, fifteen years later, he continued serving Roger Bacon because it was the only way of life he knew.

            Oh God.  Without realizing it I had gone back to feeling sorry for him.  It was unbelievable how I could go through a whole range of emotions for him: from like to dislike to shock and horror; to disgust and anger, and then to pity.  All in one day, and it was only the afternoon!  I lay back on my bed and sighed, letting the others ask him questions.  I wished I could make up my mind on him; but even though I knew more about him, he was as mysterious as he had been the first night.

            "So, he was the one who killed the monsters…"

            Sasha shook his head at the assumption.  "I did.  But after that I was hurt and weak.  Roger Bacon came that night.  He told me what had happened, offered me shelter with him."

            "And you accepted?" I said softly.

            The fighter laughed loudly.  It filled the room, strong and boisterous, but I couldn't see any humor.  "I told him he was a liar and God thrusts all liars down to hell."  I directed my eyes to him to see his inelegant shrug.  "Something my mom had taught me once.  I couldn't believe my father was dead too."  Sasha's eyes were focused on the ceiling as he leaned further back, almost knocking his own chair over.  "He told me I could wait there as long as I wanted, my father was never coming back.  I was determined to prove him wrong, so I took him up on his offer.

            "I stayed there," Sasha said, "maybe a week or so.  Less, probably, but the days seemed so long…"  His voice trailed off or a moment.  "Bacon returned two or three times with the same offer, but I always refused.  I became sick from all the decaying matter around me…I started having nightmares, dreams where the maggots eating mom devoured me."

            My stomach lurched at this description; I turned away from him, glad I was lying down.  The plain off-white walls were no help though.  They acted as a blank screen onto which my imagination could project the horrible image.  It was so awful to think of the flesh's decay after death.

            "In the end I collapsed outside the house.  For a long time…I think I was hallucinating," he said in an uncertain voice.  "I came out of it to find Roger Bacon next to me, taking care of me."

            I could tell from his tone he was smiling, he was grateful; he was indebted to Roger Bacon.  A loose thread in my pillow caught my eye and I fingered it, pulling it tight and then letting it go to see the string coil about itself.

            Sasha wasn't lying.  He wasn't completely evil…maybe not evil at all, but misguided.  But could we continue on before, now that I knew his feelings toward Roger Bacon?  Towards the man that murdered my father, he felt compassion.  It simply didn't make sense.

            "He probably did it only because you were a harmonixer," Zhuzhen remarked.

            "Probably," Sasha said, "but it's more than I can say for either of you."  The venom in his tone made me flinch, even though it was not directed at me.  "If you held my father in such high regard, maybe you should've done something for his family."

            "They did!" I protested, sitting up.  Startled by my outburst, everyone turned to me.  "Zhuzhen was coming to tell you the news…but you were already gone when he got there."

            "It took a whole week?" he responded cynically.  His dark eyes were hard, dams against the bitterness he held.  And as I remembered my own feelings, the dark thoughts I had once had for Father Doyle, I could not fault Sasha for hating Zhuzhen or Zhen.  I only wished he would see that they had meant to help…

            "Dehuai's first Invocation set off earthquakes and fires.  There were so many dead and wounded…we thought our first priority should be to tend to the wounded and the souls not at peace."  Zhuzhen pressed his lips together and lowered his head.  Every wrinkle was etched into his face, the age spots bold against his yellow skin.

            "We thought Dehuai was dead," Zhen said, his voice little more than a whisper.  "We didn't think you or your mother were in danger...if we had known..."

            The table rattled as Sasha's fist slammed into it.  "What the hell do you sound sorry for, old man?" he challenged Zhen.  "You've always despised me.  You looked down on me because that was the only way to hold onto a scrap of your pride."  His laugh was harsh and biting.  "Protect us, save us?  Is that what you would've done?  You couldn't even keep your own daughter from being Wugui's slave."

            He had struck an open wound.  Zhen flinched as though Sasha had hit him, his wearied eyes full of pain, his hand reaching up to his chest in an unconscious movement.  Quihua, on the other hand, was not hurt but outraged.

            "How dare you!" she exclaimed.  Sasha snorted, settling back in his chair.  She opened her mouth, ready to shout at him more, but then thought better of it.  The woman folded her arms and looked out the windows.  Fine grey clouds were forming over the buildings.  "Did we need any more reason to hate you when you chose to serve Dehuai?  You know yourself how cruel he is.  And that warlock is not exactly clean either."

            It was a massive understatement.  Roger Bacon was entangled in so many scandals--murder, theft, and heresy the chief among them.  What kind of schemes had he dragged Sasha into?

            Though I was trying to remain impartial towards Sasha, it was difficult for me.  On one part I pitied him for all the hardships he had endured, but at the same time I agreed with Quihua that the mere association with Roger Bacon was reprehensible--and Sasha had worked for him!

            "What are you saying, Quihua?"

            Margarete chuckled.  "She's saying that if you sleep with dogs, you'll rise up with fleas."

            There was certainly annoyance in Sasha's eyes as he glanced at her.  The spy sensed he was becoming more irritable and only laughed.  She felt no trepidation about him as everyone else did.  She wasn't tied to Sasha like we were.  The blonde was merely a commentator in this scene.

            "I'm saying that if you're half decent you should quit working for him now!"  Quihua sat down at the table opposite Sasha and reached out to him in a beseeching manner.  "You're working for him because he saved your life, right?  Isn't fifteen years long enough to pay back the debt?"  Inwardly I was applauding her.  She was right.  Fifteen years was a long enough time.  Couldn't Sasha consider the debt of his life paid and leave Roger Bacon?

            "That's part of the reason I work for him," Sasha said.  He seemed to be getting tired of answering questions about Bacon.  "I also work for him because we have the same goal."

            I stiffened and then raised myself up on my elbow.  "The same...?" I asked, but it was too soft for anyone to hear.  What kind of goals would a warlock like Roger Bacon have?

            A cloud stole across the sun and the light in the room dimmed.  Zhuzhen and Zhen stood with their backs to the windows, Zhen's eyes hovering somewhere between Sasha and the red carpet.

            Quihua's arms rested on the table.  She was staring at Sasha with her dark, narrow eyes.  "And what's your goal?"

            "Something that will bring everyone joy," the fighter answered mysteriously, smiling softly.  There were still traces of an amber glow in his eyes.  Margarete gave me a sideways glance, her eyebrow raised.  I shrugged, my attention fixed on Sasha.  He was deliberately being vague, but he was not lying.  He believed it was not a selfish goal.  But why would Roger Bacon use such awful methods if his intentions were benevolent?

            "Even if it is for good, would the results be worth the harm he's done?" Zhuzhen said, echoing my thoughts.

            "If I didn't think so, I wouldn't be helping him, now would I?" Sasha asked, his voice growing louder with each word.  "I'm not ashamed of anything he's done!"

            I sat up, staring at Sasha.  He was ashamed of nothing?  "...not even Rouen?" I asked quietly.

            He met my gaze evenly, his arms folded against his chest.  There was no doubt or hesitance in his eyes.  I knew what he would say.  But still I waited for him to say it.  Maybe he would rethink, finally realize how evil Roger Bacon was.  How evil the things he had done were.

            He could at least pretend to.

            "I'm not ashamed," Sasha repeated in a low voice, "of anything he's done.  He did what he needed to."

            I was overcome with both anger and disgust.  Roger Bacon killed my father, and Sasha thought it was perfectly fine.  It had just been a task to be taken care of.  To save my life, my father had sacrificed his own and Sasha didn't care one bit.  Again I wondered if Sasha had ever killed.  I felt sick to my stomach and then I stood, taking my book up in my arms.

            "Then, one of us will be leaving today," I told him, breathing very quickly.  I couldn't quite fill my lungs with air.  "I'll let you decide who it is."

            "Alice," Margarete said, "What's wrong?"  I shook my head and she turned to Sasha.  "Hey, kid.  What the hell did you do?"  Her  voice had turned cold.

            "He didn't do anything," I said.  "We just can't work together."  As I spoke I almost felt anger at myself.  Why was I still defending him?  Sasha might have been kind to me.  He wasn't a bad person.  But he was so warped and twisted, unmistakably Roger Bacon's work.  "When you've decided, I'll be in the lobby."

            There were small tears at the corners of my eyes, but I managed to keep them down until I was out in the hallway.  Zhuzhen's terse voice demanded to know what had happened in Rouen.  That was right, I hadn't told either Zhuzhen or Margarete about it.  I had rarely talked about it with anyone.

            Rain pitter-pattered against the glass panes as I walked down the large hall, with its ornate, impersonal décor.  Every step seemed to encompass an immeasurable distance.

            Which would Sasha choose?  Would he leave, or would I have to go?  I shook my head.  The answer was obvious.  I had meant to give him a free choice—hadn't I?—but everyone in the room was angry with him, and Margarete and Zhuzhen both knew I was in more danger than he was.  Sasha would leave.  Inwardly I was relieved that I didn't have to go.  I'd be hopelessly lost in an hour.

            "Um, Alice?"

            I turned to see Quihua, who had followed me to the lobby.  We stood eye-to-eye for only a second before she looked down.

            "Are you alright?"

            "I'm fine," I told her.  "It's nothing for you to worry about."

            She looked up at me and for the first time I realized how painfully shy she was.  Quihua was embarrassed; strange considering how vocal she had been against Sasha, or maybe she was because of it?  "Alright.  Father sent me to get something, so…"  She nodded to herself and then pushed through the entrance's glass doors.

            I looked around the lobby and sat in a wide blue armchair.  My small body sank into its cushions and I curled up into one corner so I was a ball of brown trench coat.  The grandfather clock chimed the hour's last quarter.

            What should I say when Sasha came down?  When he told me his decision?  I could simply accept his decision and say goodbye.  We didn't have to talk about what had happened.  We would never see eye-to-eye anyway, so there was no point in talking about anything.

            And what if he tried to persuade me to stay with him?  At the very thought my lips curled back in disgust.  If Sasha said even one word to that effect I was going to hurt him.  I wasn't sure what exactly I would do, but I was certainly not going to listen to him anymore.  All that had ever done was confuse me.

            There was a conversation in the lobby, though I could hear only one person.  Curious I turned my head to rest on the chair's arm and saw a Chinese businessman walking away from a dejected pedler.  I smiled at the odd hat he wore, it looked like an upside-down basket.

            By and by I began to wonder if Sasha was ever going to come down.  Though I had thought his decision was obvious, it was taking him a very long time to make it.

            Quihua came back as the new hour was announced.  Her slender fingers cupped something silver--it looked like jewelry.  She glanced to me and smiled hesitantly before heading up the stairs.  I buried my head in my arms and curled up even further.  It occurred to me that I must look very childish and that I had my feet on furniture.  But they were new shoes, so it should be alright.

            There was a gusty sigh and I looked up to see Sasha.  He walked towards me, a silver chain swaying by his legs with each step.  My eyes were drawn to his pants pocket, which held a small cross.  Only the base of the cross was fully in the pocket.

            Sasha saw where my attention was.  He stopped and grabbed the loop, dangling the cross in front of me.  "Quihua just gave it to me," he explained.  "It was my mother's.  She gave it to my father each winter...it was supposed to keep him safe."

            The cross's design was simple, letting the beauty of its material testify of its value.  It had a warm and gentle spirit that must have been bestowed upon it by the woman who sacrificed her life for her son.

            "It's lovely."

            He extended his arm so the cross was closer to me; it was just above my clasped hands.  "Do you..." he asked slowly.

            I raised my eyes to look directly at him.  Was he really giving me his mother's cross?  What sort of bribe was this?  He winced and withdrew, stuffing the necklace back into his pocket.  "Never mind."

            "Did you make your decision?"  I felt uneasy now as I thought of the offer almost made.  How could he give away such a precious memento?

            Sasha laughed, a hollow sound.  "That eager to get rid of me?  ...Can't say I blame you.  You must hate my guts."

            I shook my head and felt a bit of surprise at how much freer the motion was with short hair.  "No.  But I don't understand you, and I don't see how I ever will."

            "Why not?"

            My fists clenched in my lap, grabbing the thick fabric of the trench coat.  "Why not?  How can you condone a murder?"  I asked him, in English.  "When you saw your own mother murdered...how can you accept my father's death as justified?"

            "Isn't death nothing more than a reunion with your Heavenly Father?" Sasha asked.  "Your father should be content with where he is."

            Though true, his words struck me as wildly absurd and inappropriate.  He had said something similar in Zhaoyang.  I should've known then.  I should've known the moment I met him.  "Maybe he is happy.  But what about me and my mother?" I demanded.  "What about the people who get left behind?  What're we supposed to do?  I--" I dropped my head onto my knees; I was not crying, but I felt I might soon with the large lump in my throat.

            "Do you miss him?"

            "Of course I do, you--you--"

            "Do you want to see him?"

            Something in his tone stopped my vain search for an adequate insult.  I raised my head.

            Sasha was regarding me with his head tilted to one side.  His eyes had the curious amber glow again, giving the same glazed over look as before.

            "Do you?" His finger touched my neck and ran lightly along the cross's golden chain, barely skimming my skin.  What was he suggesting?

            "Stop joking, Sasha," I muttered.

            He lifted up my cross and tugged on it, pulling me forward slightly.  "You're a righteous Christian.  You're not scared of death at all, are you?" he said quietly.  His eyes began to shift again, a sort of orange-ish color.

            "Sasha, stop it," I said, my voice shaking a bit.  "Sasha."  He didn't seem to be listening.  He was examining my father's cross; once done, his orange-red eyes moved to my neck.  Their focus unnerved me.  Was he going to--kill me?  Right here?  In that instant I had a vision of myself in the chair, my eyes wide and glassy, my neck bent where it shouldn't be.

            "Don't you want to see your Father?" his melancholy voice asked.

            I grabbed him by the sides, rising out of the chair, and shook him.  His eyes were a deep red, such an inhuman color, and I stared in them, wondering what had possessed him.  "Sasha!  Stop it, Sasha--you're scaring me!"

            He shoved me back hard and I winced as my shoulder rammed into the chair's frame.  My tome lay under me and I seized it for a defense before turning to Sasha.

            The hand over his face obscured one eye, but the other was uncovered: a pure brown, dilated and filled with an inexplicable horror.  He turned his face aside, obviously unsettled by what had just happened, and rushed through the doors before I could recover from my own shock.

            The glass door closed and the Shooting Star Tome fell to the ground as I shuddered with relief.  I had no idea what had brought that from Sasha.  I was only glad that he had left.

            "Are you hurt, miss?"

            The low voice came from the peddler, whose body cast a shadow over me as he stood in front of the chair.

            "I'm fine.  My shoulder's a bit sore is all," I reassured him.  Then, with a start, I remembered that I was supposed to be in disguise.  "How'd you know I was…?"

            "Never heard a boy shout like that."

            I turned a deep red, embarrassed at how obvious it was.  My voice had always been very light, with a tendency to become high-pitched if I was upset enough.

            The man chuckled and then walked away to leave me be.  As I looked at the items he carried it occurred to me that Sasha had not had anything with him other than the cross.  Had he forgotten his possessions?  With his bizarre behavior it was certainly a possibility.

            I heard a radio turn on, not yet tuned to a station.  As the static continued I looked around, searching for the source.

            […hurt him…]

            My eyes widened as I recognized Koudelka's presence.  Hurt him?  I had hurt Sasha?  Why was she saying that, he had nearly killed me!

            […going to…]  Her 'voice' was panicked, making her words even less understandable than normal.  […stop…he's…ll himself.]

            I stared at the light fixture, my blood becoming sludge in my veins.  Kill himself?  Why would he…in the yellow light I could shape his amber eyes, boring into me.  Death was but a reunion…but didn't he understand suicide was a sin, almost as great as murder?  And if he did kill himself, his soul would certainly not be at peace…

            [Please!] Koudelka screamed; I flinched and stood.  On the hotel's blue carpet blood dripped as Sasha slowly drew the knife again across his arm.  The blood did not stain the carpet, which had been juxtaposed to a grey stone wall.  By him there were two manacles, one lying open.  That must have been were Koudelka was being kept prisoner.  Sasha flicked the knife, striking off some of the blood, and then placed the point of the blade against his throat.  He smiled.  I shuddered at Koudelka's memory and ran outside, knocking the peddler's shoulder in my haste.

            "Sasha!  Sasha!" I called.  As soon as I had climbed up the stairs I was awash in a sea of people.  I stood on the tips of my toes, hoping to see him, but he was gone.

            Koudelka, where is he?

            Suddenly I was running, my breath coming hard and fast.  People were either clearing a path for me or getting bowled over.  The fusion souls shrieked as the witch continued to cry out for me to stop.  No.  Fuck her.  She was the one who'd gotten me in this whole mess.  Her and that goddamned girl.

            Alice's face appeared before me, her eyes two gaping orbs, staring at me.  What had scared her so badly?  Had I really tried to…?

            He doesn't know?

            Roger Bacon would never take me back after this.  He would kill me for punching in his eye.  Stupid.  Stupid!  Why I had even thought—goddamn witch!  I knocked into a woman, making her spill her bag of clothing.

            That's the clothing store we went to this morning.  That means…he's running towards…

            "The harbor!" I exclaimed in surprise.  Some people looked at me, but I didn't care.  I began to struggle through the pressing crowds, all the while telling Koudelka, he's going to the harbor!

            I shoved and muscled my way through the main street.  Just as I got through I heard Koudelka's voice again.

            [He's…wa…swimming…drown…]

            My eyes widened in horror and I put every last ounce of energy into the sprint.  He was going to drown himself.  As I neared the harbor I screamed, "Sasha!  Sasha, stop!"

            [he…under…er]

            There were two fishemen, both old and aged, talking agitatedly and pointing at the water.

            Tell him to come up, I said to Koudelka.  Tell him I'm sorry!  If he was doing this because of something I had said, I…I'd let him stay with us if he wanted to, he shouldn't kill himself!

            [He's…listening…]

            At first I was cheered by her words—then I realized her tone was negative and I was missing a crucial word: 'not'.  He wasn't listening.  I stripped off the trench coat and tossed it aside, kicked off both boots, and dove in as the fishermen yelled at me.

            The water was frigid, even though I was fully clothed.  It was colder than it had been in Dalian.  I shivered as I emerged, sucked in a deep breath, and then swam down.  I had managed to save him in Dalian—though he had been closer to the surface then.  But maybe, there was still a chance…

            […almost unconsc…air…]

            And we were so far down…I wouldn't be able to get him up in time.  I spotted him with the flash of his mother's cross.  His face was blue and his eyes were fluttering.  He needed air, or—

            He's got a fusion, I thought desperately, one that breathes underwater…

            […force…monster…]

            Force him?  Could she force him to fuse?

            Suddenly Sasha's eyes shut tightly.  His arms came up to his head and his body curled up into a ball.  The last of his air escaped from him in frantic bubbles.  Koudelka!  Was she the one hurting him?

            There was a bright flash of light from his body.  I turned my head away and, when I looked back, there was the blue, reptilian monster.  He seemed perfectly at ease in this element, thank God.  At least then Sasha would not die.

            […up!  …not…control…Sasha's…]

            Sasha didn't have any control over the fusion.  It swung its large head around to look at me and smiled with rows of serrated teeth—like a shark.

            Oh, my God.  My God my God my God—

            [Go!]

            The creature flinched in pain as Koudelka shouted.  I was already shooting up for the surface, swimming faster and faster as my legs and lungs burned.  I knew he was chasing me, and I knew he was faster.  My only hope was that Koudelka could delay him enough by whatever she was doing.

            Light streamed in at the surface, bright and inviting.  I gave all of my strength in one final effort, bursting out of the water and grabbing the edge of the dock.  I struggled to pull myself up when my ankle was seized.  Sharp teeth tore my skin.  The fusion soul dragged me down with a hard tug.  My fingers scrambled to keep their hold, scraping open against the rough surface.  I cried out in a panic and one of the fishermen responded, lunging forward to grab my arms.  I felt its webbed hands around my leg and lashed out with my free leg.  My first few kicks were ineffective and he tried to capture that limb too, but then I felt my heal hit something soft and squishy.  My ankle was released and I clambered onto the docks, shaking with terror.  I looked back and saw the blood blossoming like a rose in the salty water.  My fingers had left tiny red trails where they had ripped open.  My heart was still hammering so hard I thought it would explode.  Sasha was in the water, watching me.  No, it wasn't Sasha.  It was the monster.  Sasha's aura was buried deep underneath, so far I could barely feel it.  The monster glared at me, its left eye wincing, before sullenly turning around and swimming away.  It had realized that a city had too many people for a monster to roam freely out of the water.

            "Thank y-you," I stammered to the fishermen.  My ankle throbbed in pain and I lowered the torn sock to examine it.  It was raw and bleeding.  I could see a piece of white bone.  I'd never be able to walk with this.  I glanced at the fishermen—they both seemed honest enough people—and took a deep breath.  "Cure," I whispered.  First the muscle stretched back over the bone, and then egg white, new skin began to form.  Once the wound was sealed blood rushed through it.  It turned a bright red color and then paled to the faded pink of a scar.

            "You're a healer?" one of the men asked.

            I nodded.  It began to rain again, only this time it was a soft mist, soothing to the new skin.  I rose, stepping on the foot gingerly to test it, and winced.  It was more painful than I had expected.  "Yes.  Thank you," I said again.  Looking around, I picked up the discarded boots and tugged them over my wet socks.  Then I slipped the trench coat on and buttoned it with trembling fingers.  It was too late, of course.  They must know I was the 'ringleader'—and even if they didn't, they were probably suspicious of my disguise and the reasons behind it.

            "Did the monster—did it eat that young man?" the larger man asked.  He edged towards the water and peered in wearily.

            I swallowed.  "I didn't see.  But—probably."

            The other shook his head, his alert brown eyes focused on me.  "That's too bad."

            There wasn't much to say about the lie, so I nodded and looked out over the blue ocean.  Koudelka?

            […es?]

            Sasha and I…we're even now.  And we're done.  If I ever met the man again it would be too soon.  He scared me; he scared me with his amber eyes and his crimson eyes, his well-intentioned violence and his vengeful streak, his fusion skills and his allegiance to my father's murderer.  I was better off without him.  Should I even have helped Sasha? I wondered, the doubt nagging at me.  Through helping him, I had almost lost my own life.

            [I…stand.  Thank….and…sor…]  Her voice fell away as she from retreated from my mind.

            I should have been thanking her.  By directing Sasha she had saved me on the train, and then saved both our lives by warning us of the cannibals.  Though imprisoned by Roger Bacon, she had done her utmost to help me.  And with who she had to work with, it was a miracle she'd gotten anything done.  But at the time I was too upset to think clearly and so I let her slip back.

            The fishermen had moved along the dock, still searching in the water for the fusion soul.  That was first and foremost in their minds, and I thought I should probably slip away before they began to wonder about me.  I tried to act casually as I walked away—rather hard to do when my clothes were dripping wet and my ankle throbbed with every step I took.  The full effects of the healing hadn't come yet, and at a joint the usual discomfort was agonizing.  I put much of my weight on my left foot, making me walk oddly uneven.

            I meandered through the crowd, a blob of brown.  A man knocked into me and walked past with no apology as I grit my teeth.  I quickly swiped any tears away.  I wish I had my cap so that I could avoid others' scrutiny.  It felt like everyone was watching me because I was strange, because I was foreign.  My short white-blonde hair was only too conspicuous, and doubly odd if anyone realized I was a girl.

            My right foot hit a small rock as I stepped forward; with the sudden jolt of pain I lost balance and fell forward on the street.  I bit my lip.  That had hurt.  It was time to rest.  A side street caught my eye; at least there I wouldn't be seen by as many people.

            I stood, the trench coat now covered in mud, and made my way down the street.  I found a building that had seen better days, its door missing for some reason, and stepped inside there.  Its floor was littered with old beer bottles.  My nose wrinkled in disgust.  But nobody was here, and that was what I wanted.

            I stripped off one boot and sock and examined my right ankle.  It was still the same pinkish white.  I massaged the joint, feeling pricks of pain around the bone.  I cast the healing spell again, continuing to rub the joint slowly.  The ache was going away, but I still felt drained.  After all of today's excitement, I was exhausted.  I hadn't gotten much sleep yesterday either.  I leaned back and relaxed, closing my eyes.

            A drop of water splashed on my nose.  The roof was leaking.  I looked outside and saw that the sky was dark with clouds.

            Two, three, four drops—the drizzle quickly became a deluge.  I sighed and pulled the trench coat's collar over my head.  At least my ankle felt better now.

            I stood and went outside.  The streets were almost deserted now, which I was very glad for.  It made the trip to the hotel shorter, though it didn't really matter; by the time I reached the hotel I was soaking wet and miserable again.  The grandfather clock chimed and I noticed it was half-past four.  The man behind the counter glared at me as I dripped water onto the carpet.  I avoided his dark eyes guiltily and trudged up the stairs.

            The door to our room was locked, but when I put my ear to the door I could hear voices.  I knocked.  "Could you open the door?"

            The voices stopped immediately.  The handle was wrenched tightly and a moment later, Margarete was in the doorframe.  "Where the hell were you, Alice?"

            "Am I in trouble?"  It was such an idiotic question that I winced following the query.

            "We've been looking for you for three hours!" she said hotly.  But her blue eyes softened as she took me in.  "You look like something the cat dragged in.  And you smell like seawater," she remarked suddenly, puzzled.

            "Are you alright?" Zhuzhen asked, grasping my arms.  His hands had a firm grip but there was a tremor running through him.  "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

            Zhuzhen's tone suggested that he felt personally responsible for Sasha's actions.  I frowned.  Maybe I was over-analyzing things.  "No."  Not—not intentionally, at least.  Uncomfortable, I eased my arms out of his hold, knowing how standoffish the action was.  "We were just talking."

            "For three hours?" Margarete said in disbelief.

            My arms were grasping each other as she questioned me.  I didn't like this.  "Well, I fell asleep."

            "Where?!"

            "It's getting heavy," murmured Zhen.  His eyes were on the windows while his quivering hands kneaded each other behind his back.  "I'm going to find Quihua."

            I nodded and began unlacing my boots.  When the door clicked close Margarete put her hands on her hips.  "You took a nap."

            "Yes."  Why wouldn't she leave me alone?  I hadn't done anything wrong.

            "And meanwhile we've been here looking for you, thinking Sasha's murdered you or kidnapped you or something, and all this time you've been asleep!"

            "I was tired."

            "What, too tired to wa—"  She stopped very suddenly.  I looked up to see her staring up at me with wide eyes.  "Alice, your sock."

            I realized suddenly that my sock was stained with blood from my ankle.  It was also torn, making it yet another item of clothing that I'd ruined.  I stripped it off my foot and threw it on the bed, then examined Margarete's combat boots.  "I think they're fine," I offered, holding them out to the spy.  She didn't take them.

            "What about you?" Zhuzhen asked.

            "I'm fine."  I shook my head and eyed the bathroom longingly.  That was what I really wanted.  "I healed it."

            "What attacked you?" asked Margarete, kneeling to get a better look.  In reaction I crossed my legs, partially obscuring her view.  She looked up at my face.  "Something happen at the harbor?  Would explain why you smell like salt."

            "Yes."

            "What happened?"

            The spy was so persistent.  Nosy.  No wonder Sasha hadn't liked her.  It had nothing to do with her.  "It's none of your business," I said quietly.

            "Lemme guess, it had something to do with Sasha."  Margarete raised a delicate eyebrow.  "Are you trying to protect him?"

            I'm trying to protect myself.  I don't want to talk.  But I didn't answer.  Any reply would've only given the pesky blonde more ammunition.  "I'm going to take a bath," I said aloud, trying hard to sound neither angry nor meek.  I stood and headed for the bathroom door.

            "Alice," Zhuzhen called, concerned.

            "Ah, leave her.  Maybe some hot water will thaw the ice queen."

            I was still holding the combat boots and for a moment I would've liked nothing better than to fling both at her.  Knowing my aim though, I'd miss anyway.  Instead I pried my fingers from the boots and let them drop to the floor.  The bathroom door was opened, shut and locked in a second.

            It was a relief to take my clothes off and not have them clinging to me anymore.  This set would have to be washed too, but at least then I'd have two outfits.  If the first could be cleaned, that is.

            I filled the bathtub and then sank into the water with a sigh.  Perhaps Margarete's snide comment had not been too far off; the water was relaxing.  It soothed my fears and doubts into reconciliation.  I was safe here.  Sasha should be fine with Koudelka looking after him.  I had been right to help him.  After all, if he had died like that, he would have almost certainly become a ghost, and knowing him, he'd have made himself a menace to everyone.  I chuckled and slid under the water, glad at least that Sasha would no longer present me with any more conundrums.

            Some ten minutes later I stepped out of the bathtub, my skin soft and pink from the hot water.  I toweled myself off as the water drained.  My pants and shirt had dried somewhat on the towel rack and I unhappily drew them back on.  For a long time I considered my bra.  It had been worn for a long time and had at least saltwater and sweat in it.  I didn't want to guess what else.  For the moment, I decided to forego it and wash it that evening.  The trench coat hid my chest anyway, so it'd be a moot point.  The socks were tossed aside too, with one being bloodied and torn.  I placed that one in the sink and ran cold water until the red had faded to a dark pink.  The tear could be mended with some time and work.

            I must have looked odd when I came out, wrapped up in a trench coat yet barefoot.  Margarete was facing the windows and Zhuzhen and Zhen were talking about something.  I caught the name 'Yuri' and dismissed the conversation, thinking it none of my business.

            Quihua was sitting on one of the beds, idly toying with Sasha's satchel.  She smiled when she saw me.  The pleasant expression made her features warm and beautiful.  "We were worried about you," she said.  Her clothes were still damp and dripping, her shirt clinging to her body, and her hair had been pulled out of its ponytail to dry over her shoulders.

            I felt embarrassed.  Everyone had been out for hours looking for me, and Quihua had gotten caught in the rain—and I had spent most of that time sleeping!  "I'm sorry."

            She shrugged.  "I suppose we all jumped to conclusions too quickly.  Both you and Sasha were gone, and we thought—" She shrugged.  "There was a peddler who told us that you'd left after him, so we weren't really sure what had happened."

            "Sasha was acting really strange," I said.  I was still debating inwardly how much I should tell, how much I wanted to explain.  "So I went after him."

            "And your ankle?" Quihua asked, leaning into me to peer at the scar.

            "…he hurt me.  But, he didn't mean to.  It was one of his fusion souls."

            Quihua gasped, her dark eyes growing wide.  "He lost control to a fusion soul?  That must have been terrifying," she breathed.  "Ben lost control once—I didn't see what happened, but he and my father brought Master Zhuzhen back to the bar on their shoulders.  He was bleeding horribly."  She lowered her eyes to the bedspread.  "Ben tended to him the whole night.  He felt so guilty he barely spoke to anyone…but I suppose Yuri didn't feel the same way."  She shook her head.  "It seems so strange to call him that."

            "Who's Yuri?" I asked.

            Quihua smiled wryly.  "Ben's son, Yuri.  Sasha."

            So that's Sasha's real name.  Yuri.  I turned the name over in my head, sounding it out.  They were both Russian names, and both seemed nice enough.  Sasha, Yuri—it didn't really matter which you called him, he was still the same.

            "So his name is Yuri Hyuga?" Margarete asked as she lay down on the bed.  "Interesting.  He'll be a nice research project."  Her eyes were full of curious prospects as she mused.  Then she focused on me.  "So you didn't want to tell us Sasha had hurt you?  Thought we'd misunderstand?"

            Her guess was nearly dead-on.  They'd misunderstand, and Margarete would ask more questions,  so I'd have to explain, and explain Koudelka and drag everything up again…but…  "How'd you hear?  You were at the window."

            "Read my lips, dearie: I read yours," the spy said with a cheerful laugh.

            I smiled sheepishly, feeling there'd be nothing I could keep from her.  "I just didn't want to talk about it."

            "I noticed," Margarete said, the humor gone from her voice.  She rolled onto her back, covering the pillows.  "You just froze up.  Got pretty cold."

            "Well—"  I bit my lip.  There was not much I could say to it.  After all, I had been evasive, and probably cold.  Especially when everyone had been worried about me.

            "…Alice.  Alice."

            I looked up at Margarete, who was now leaning towards me, looking annoyed.

            "Don't take everything so seriously," she said, tapping my nose.  "I just don't like it when people try to hide their wounds."

            Hesitantly I smiled.  Margarete was trying to be nice, it was just that she and I were different, unaccustomed to each other's manners.  She tended to be blunt and forward, which might upset an easily offended person—and maybe I was too sensitive sometimes.  "I'm sorry."

            The blonde shook her head as Quihua also lay down, their bodies perpendicular to each other.  "Hey Alice," Margarete said, her voice lowered, "What happened in Rouen?  Sasha wouldn't say anything."

            "Oh…that…"  My hands clutched each other as I gathered myself together.  Well, Margarete and Zhuzhen were helping me, so they deserved to know, I supposed.  "Roger Bacon tried to kidnap me there.  But my Father held him off so I could get away…and…"

            After a moment, Margarete guessed, "He killed your father?  And Sasha sadi that was fine?"  I nodded.  "That goddamn son-of-a-bitch—"

            "What's wrong?" Zhuzhen asked.  Margarete had been very vocal with her swearing and both men were turned to us now.

            "Sasha," she said with disgust.  I explained again what had happened to Zhen and Zhuzhen, feeling that my heart was a little lighter.  Everyone was listening to me, and it was a relief to talk about it with people who I knew would be sympathetic.

            Zhen was silent.  His eyes seemed to be burning holes into the carpet.  The Adept shook his head.  "I'm sorry to hear that, Alice.  How he could say something like that—"

            "No, it's alright," I said, "I'm just glad he's gone.  Let's not talk about him anymore.  Please."

            "The rain's gone down.  Why don't we go back to the bar?" Quihua suggested.  "And you can have a meal, on the house of course.  Does that sound like a good idea?"

            I smiled broadly.  "That sounds wonderful.  We can celebrate you and your father getting your bar back."

            The reminder seemed to cheer Zhen up and he agreed to the plan wholeheartedly.  So we walked to the bar and had our meal, prepared by Quihua.  She was skilled at running a bar on her own, and with Wugui gone she seemed genuinely happy to be doing it.  She settled in to eat after serving everyone else; and after everyone had eaten she rose to get another drink for Zhen and Zhuzhen.  The two were already a little drunk and reminiscing.  As I watched Zhen threw his head back and laughed at something Zhuzhen had said.  Quihua's light laughter joined his as she set down the drinks and for a moment I was stung by jealousy.  That should be my father and me, enjoying ourselves and relaxing after a tiring day's journey.  When Zhuzhen looked my way I averted my eyes and pretended to pay attention to Margarete, who had been happily chattering away the entire time.  Their happiness was infectious though and before the end of the night I was laughing and smiling too.

            As it got later, we realized finally that we had to leave.  Everyone was a little tired from the day's events and for Margarete and I there were clothes to clean.  I volunteered to wash hers, being less tired after my nap, and she was only too glad to accept.

            We returned to the hotel and I gathered up the dirty clothes.  Before I could get started though, Zhuzhen raised his hand.  "Zhen and I were talking about what Dehuai's next target might be.  He's been collecting the votive pictures of the four gods…and the last one is in Wuhan."

            "So we're going there?" Margarete asked.  "Guess we'd better get some shut-eye then."  She yawned and stretched before lying on her bed.  Despite the lights being on, she fell very quickly into an easy sleep, light and peaceful.

            "Is that alright with you?" Zhuzhen asked me.

            "Of course," I said.  I began to fill the bathtub with water and took up the first piece of clothing, my white cotton shirt.  It'd be a miracle if I could get this clean.

            Zhuzhen lingered for a moment as I put the clothes in the tub but then walked away.  "Zhuzhen," I called.  He stopped and turned back to me.  "I'm fine.  Really.  So don't worry."

            He looked surprised for a moment and then smiled.  "It must be useful to have Demon Eyes."

            I nodded.  "It helps me tell what people feel towards me."  My skirt was dunked underneath the soapy water.  "Makes it easier to get along with others…most of the time."  Realizing that my mind was going back to Sasha, I shook my head.  Physically, he must be miles away by now, but it still felt like he was right here.  Maybe it was because he'd been in this room.  If so, Wuhan would be good.  I'd be able to forget him.

            "I was just wondering because you seemed lonely earlier."

            He'd caught me looking at Quihua and Zhen.  "I was a little.  But it's all right.  It's been six months…that's long enough."

            There was silence until Zhuzhen nodded.  He didn't seem quite convinced, but he went to his bed and seemed to go to sleep.  I sighed and began to clean the dirty clothes.  There were a lot of things bothering me, but maybe I'd forget them all while I was doing this.

            I was yawning an hour later as I hung the last of the clothes up to dry.  They dripped water on the bathroom tiles and I was all wet myself.  When I couldn't find any towels I simply shook my arms, splashing more water in the small bedroom, until I thought I was dry enough.  I crawled into bed, wearing only my white dry shirt, which was damp but not too uncomfortable.  I studied the bedspread in the milky moonlight before I blinked and then—

            "Don't you want to see your Father?"

             The stones of the street were stained with blood.  I pushed myself up from the ground and looked at the speaker, a little boy who came up to around my ribcage, with dark hair and eyes.

            "Is he in the café?" I asked, looking at the building.  The tables outside it were empty.  That's right, Roger Bacon must have left after he—he'd killed my father.

            I looked down at the cobblestones again, some voice in my head agreeing vaguely, that's right, he did.

            "Do you?" the boy asked again.  He was mad that I wasn't paying attention to him and tugged on my shirt.  "Alice!"

            "What?" I asked as I looked at him.  His right hand grasped the white fabric of my shirt and his left hand was behind his back.  "What do you have…Yuri?"

            The child grinned broadly and brought his other hand out.  It looked for a moment like he had two hands, but there weren't enough fingers.  I looked at it curiously before I realized what he was holding and started awake in bed.  I stared up at the ceiling for only a few seconds before I walked into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

            A hand.  Oh, God, Sasha had been holding another person's hand.  My father's hand, with the index and middle fingers both missing and the gold wedding band covered in blood, and the remaining fingers outstretched as if to beckon me…to what?

            Had that really been his hand?  I knew in some way that it was.  What had the rest of his body looked like?  I had always pictured his body whole, but I knew now that at least his hand had been missing, and probably more.  I covered my mouth, trying to calm myself down.  It didn't matter.  It didn't matter now, he was in Heaven, he was at rest.  The reassurances sounded rather like something Sasha would have said.  No, he had said it, in the lobby.

            No wonder I was having nightmares, when I kept thinking of Sasha.  I flushed the toilet and walked back to bed.  I was not going to think about him.  He was not coming anywhere close to my mind.  I needed to think of something else, like…Wuhan.  I lay in bed and spent the rest of the time trying to imagine what Wuhan looked like.  Zhuzhen hadn't said anything at all about it, so I let my imagination go over all the possibilities.  I was picturing a small town, similar to Dalian, as I fell asleep.  And this time I did not dream.

Author's Note:  Okay, didn't know how to end this so well.  ;;  I didn't get any good ideas.  .

Reviewers:

A Lifeless Beauty:  Sasha acts like you?    Nope, that wasn't planned.  I'm glad you liked the romance.

I think you know why she hates him now.

About the almighty 'B' word…well, he was pestering her to say something bad.  : )

MikoNoNyte:  Yeah, I did forget about that Shadow Souls scene.  O.o  You knew I was going to do something like that?  Weird.

Yeah, I guess you're right.  Sasha is mean-spirited at times.  Then the voice has to give him a few migraines to get 'im going.

I think from this chapter you might understand why Sasha was smiling after Yen Yen died.

;;  And I'll have to correct all that boat stuff sometime soon.

The thing about Li Li having similar powers to Alice was taken from one line in the script where Sea Mother said: "You're no ordinary "Demon Eyes", girl…  The star within you shines far brighter than that.  Li Li's power was nothing compared to yours."  It seemed strange to me for her to compare Alice and Li Li's power if they weren't similar in some way.  And Sea Mother seemed interested in Alice in the game, possibly because she was a bit similar to Li Li.  It's mostly my interpretation in the last chapter.Li Li could have been a Light class while alive.  There are examples in SH2 of people changing class : ) (Ouka, Roger Bacon, and Kallen.)Yeah, a protect thing in SH would've been fun.  Since you can set up people in front/back row, why not set up a person in the front row directly in front of a person in the back?