Marked by Passion (11 page)

Pausing, he looked over his shoulder.

"Are we okay?" I asked in a timid voice I didn't recognize as my own.

Jesse stared at me so long, for a second I thought time had stopped. Then he said, "I'll call you" as he left the diner.

It didn't escape my notice that he hadn't answered my question.

S
omeone was following me. Yeah—frickin' again. The itching feeling started as soon as I stepped out of It's Tops, and I knew it wasn't Jesse—I saw the punk reflected in a window and there was no hot Brit to step in this time.

I'd meant to honor my promise to Rhys and catch a cab, but no way was I going to stand around and be a target for some stalker. So I started walking.

Briefly, I considered letting whoever followed me to catch up so I could question him with my fists.
Tu ch’i
swelled eagerly, goading me into action. Fortunately, the exercise of walking restored my common sense, not to mention my control. Stifling the rush of energy, I decided to deal with him more cleverly.

I'd ditch him.

And I knew just the place. I just had to get there before I got mugged (because who knew what this guy would do).

Picking up the pace, I headed for Archie's, a martini bar on Valencia. It'd be crowded (safety in numbers), and because of a particularly disastrous date a few years ago, I knew that the women's restroom window opened to a small alley.

When I saw the gleaming blue neon of the bar, I relaxed. Swearing to myself that if I got out of this all right I'd do a little practice sparring on my makeshift dummy, I walked inside and headed to the bar.

It'd look suspicious if I didn't order a drink, so I slid onto a barstool at the far end and ordered a martini. Half my attention was on the front door to make sure my tail didn't surprise me. The other half watched the bartender drown my gin with vermouth.

The guy on the stool next to me lurched into my space and elbowed my arm. "Thish ish a great place."

I nodded politely as I dropped a bill on the counter for my drink and tip.

"You're pretty." He grinned sloppily. "I am, too."

Rolling my eyes, I pretended to take a sip of my drink.

"Wanna kish?" he asked, leaning over and puckering his lips.

"Maybe when I get back from the restroom. Save my seat?" Smiling, I touched his shoulder suggestively. Guilt stabbed me, and I knew I'd be karmically punished for this, but he was the perfect cover. I stood up and hurried to the ladies' room.

I had a foot on the windowsill when a woman stepped out of one of the stalls. She came to an abrupt stop and gaped at me.

"Date from hell," I said with a grimace, hoisting myself up.

"Oh." She nodded sympathetically and washed her hands. "Smart move."

The ground was too far away to jump safely, so I hung on to the frame and dangled myself lower before dropping the last couple feet. Not wanting to linger, I took off at a run. To be safe, I wound my way up and down random streets before I finally headed home.

I opened the front door to find Wu hovering next to the futon. I felt a pull from the kitchen—a relief, because I recognized it as meaning the scroll was still there. I forced myself to ignore it and shrugged out of my jacket.

He frowned. "You're huffing. Have you been running?"

"A little." I dropped my coat on the floor.

"You're embarrassingly out of shape."

"This coming from the man who died from falling in the bathtub," I shot back as I pulled out an athletic bra, sweatshirt, and lycra yoga pants.

The glow around him diminished, and his face went blank. "Yes, I was taking a shower."

Something about the way he said it made me pause. "And you slipped."

His forehead wrinkled. "I don't remember."

If I looked in the mirror, I'd probably have identical lines creasing on my brow. "How could you not remember how you died?"

"I was taking a shower," he repeated, his gaze distant. "Something made me turn around, but I don't remember anything after."

I didn't like the sound of this. "What made you turn around?"

"I don't remember."

"Were you followed much when you were Guardian?" I didn't remember stuff like this happening, but I'd been a kid.

"What?" He snapped out of the daze, his focus sharp on me. "Why do you ask about being followed?"

"Well, maybe you heard someone coming after the scroll."

He scowled. "Don't be ridiculous. Rule number two states that the Guardian must keep it hidden at all costs. No Chin has
ever
betrayed the Guardianship in all the generations we've secreted the scroll."

Then how come I was being followed? Because I sure hadn't spilled the secret.

"Why did you ask?" he asked again.

"Just curious." Like hell I'd tell him what was going on. He'd totally blame me.

He drifted toward me. "You can't just ask such a question and then dismiss it."

Yeah, but I also wasn't sure about telling him I was being followed. He was already a pain in the neck—if he suspected the scroll was in danger, he'd be even more annoying. It was bad enough working out while he was in the same room. If only he'd leave.

An idea hit me. I dropped my clothes on the floor and started to pull my shirt over my head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice an octave higher.

"Getting undressed for bed."

He squeaked and then disappeared without a trace.

Grinning, I put on my workout clothes and pulled out my duct-taped sparring buddy.

I'd never admit to Wu that he was right, but he was. I hadn't practiced in a while, and with recent events it seemed a good idea to brush up on some moves. I knew my instincts would kick in if I were attacked, but better to be prepared. A rolled-up foam mat wasn't the same as practicing with a live body, but in a pinch it'd do.

I beat it up steadily for over an hour, starting slowly with simple punches and kicks. Once I had the flow, I practiced a few throws and pictured leverages (hard to actually perform leverages on something that doesn't have joints).

I'd just executed a rather brilliant jab-eye poke-sweep combination when I heard, "You lost your balance."

"Shit."
I whirled around with a small yelp to find Wu hovering cross-legged over my bed.

"You aren't setting your weight properly." He frowned. "It's causing you to lose your balance."

I didn't give a damn about my balance at the moment. "Stop sneaking up on me."

"This is troubling," he said as if I'd never spoken. "Balance is essential, especially for the Guardian of the Book of Earth."

Whatever. I put the foam dummy back in the corner.

"What are the five elements?"

He fired off his question so suddenly it was like a strike. I stammered. "Excuse me?"

"Each scroll is based on one of the five elements in Chinese cosmology. What are they?"

If I didn't answer, he'd hound me all night. Sigh. "Earth. Fire, water . . . And, um—" It wasn't wind— that was a Western element. Shit. I knew them, but the more I struggled to say the last two, the more blank my mind got.

"Wood and metal."

"Right." I snapped my fingers. "I was about to say that."

Exasperation lined his otherworldly face. Then he continued like I hadn't said a word. "For each element there is a correlating fighting principle. The properties of wood include flexibility. The fighting principle that goes hand in hand with it is leverages.

"Fire is strength and persistence, which translates to punches and kicks.

"Metal is best described as unyielding and determination—power moves.

"Water, which represents wisdom and intelligence, teaches the psychology of fighting.

"Earth encompasses all. It represents patience and hard work. Stability and balance. Obviously, its fighting principles are yielding and the use of balance points."

"Obviously." I knew I sounded snotty, but I couldn't help myself.

Wu didn't even pay attention. "Stability and balance are key for manipulating
tu ch’i,
the energy endowed by the scroll. Without stability and balance, earthquakes and tsunamis happen."

His accusatory tone irritated me. What I hated most was that I couldn't argue with his point. "There were no tsunamis, just big waves."

He pointed a finger at me. "You must learn to control
tu ch’i,
or you'll be susceptible to the impulses of the scroll."

Oh, please. "And once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

"This is not a joking matter, Gabrielle," he snapped. "The scroll is powerfully seductive. Its call can entice you into doing things you don't mean to. It enhances the natural inclination of the person who holds it."

My birthmark prickled.

"You must practice control before you're lured to read the scroll." His eyes narrowed. "You haven't looked at it yet, have you?"

"No." Tempting now, though.

"We'll begin practice in the morning."

"What do you—"

He vanished again.

"Hey! Come back. I wasn't done with you yet."

Nothing.

"Sure, decide to go poof when it's convenient for you," I muttered.

As if hearing Wu's warning, the scroll tugged at me.
Tu ch’i
flared, as if answering the pull. I took a couple steps toward the kitchen before I realized what I was doing.

I paused. Not that I believed Wu, necessarily—he was something of an alarmist. It was, after all, just an old scrap of paper.

What would it hurt to spend some time looking at it, anyway? Just a few minutes. I might learn some important things. I bet it'd feel cool to the touch. Soothing.

Maybe just a little reading.

Tu ch’i
pulsed under my skin as I walked to the refrigerator. I got the impression it was eager, too. I mentally made myself calm down before taking the scroll out.

A rumbling echoed deep under my feet the moment my hand closed on the parchment. I freaked as I felt
tu ch’i
flare. It threatened to spike right before I stifled it. I waited another ten seconds to make sure everything was still before I took the scroll into the living room.

Settling onto the futon, I entertained the idea of reading it in some hidden place so Wu wouldn't stumble upon me. A silly thought, since of course he'd home in on it. I shook my head and unfurled the bane of my existence.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't the endless pristine Chinese calligraphy, untouched by time. Crisp, not like it'd been handled by countless people over God knew how many centuries.

"Weird," I said under my breath as I traced the bold characters.

Here begins the Book of Earth, wherein...

Gasping, I turned to see who spoke, but then I realized the words echoed in my head. I touched the lettering again.

Here begins the Book of Earth, wherein lies the truth about man and energy. For energy is but a tool, good or bad determined by he who wields it...

"Holy shit," I mouthed. You could read it if you just touched it? Who knew?

I pulled back my finger. The Book of Earth. Maybe the scrolls were called books back in the day. Or maybe there was a glitch in my instant translator.

Wu used to tell me about the scrolls, but just the story about how the monk Wei Lin recognized that a neighboring overlord coveted them, and how Wei Lin stole them from the monastery and sought out five men to keep the scrolls safe. Five scrolls for five families.

He never went into any detail, though—except for the four rules. The intricacies of the scroll and
tu ch’i
were a mystery to me. All this was new.

"Wonder if he'd even tried reading it," I mumbled, running my fingers over the first words again. I let them sink in before I continued.

Fifteen minutes later I was battling to keep my eyes open. With each word I traced, I found myself snuggled more deeply into the comforter.

I yawned, tried not to think about how tired I was, and read another line. Then I read that line over again—twice. Not because it was so interesting, but because I didn't understand what the hell it said. What did
the shallowest stream is the same as the deepest river
mean?

It took me another fifteen minutes to come to some conclusions.

One: the scroll could solve the worst case of insomnia ever encountered. Fighting was exciting. This scroll—not so much.

Two: it was beyond confusing. I admit I was never great in reading comprehension, but I wasn't stupid. I could read a paragraph and summarize it. But I had a feeling that if someone asked me what I'd just read, I wouldn't be able to say anything. Except that it had to do with trees and birds and stuff.

Three: the trees and birds and stuff. I got that it was the earth scroll, but the author could have used fewer nature analogies. No need to go overboard.

Four: there were no instructions on how to handle
tu ch’i.
At least not in the beginning of the scroll. It figured that the author would make you read to the end before revealing any useful secrets.

And having the scroll in my hands didn't abate the strength of
tu ch’i.
If anything, it felt like it'd had a boost of vitamin C. I had to concentrate to keep it from manifesting.

"I'm done." I tossed the scroll on the floor and snuggled into the covers. Closing my eyes, I tried to relax enough to fall asleep, but each time my tension faded,
tu ch’i
surged.

It was going to be a long night.

A
fter another fitful night of sleep, I woke up late, groggy and feeling hungover.
Tu ch’i
roiled in me like rancid fast food, making me want to puke to get rid of it. I felt bloated with it this morning.

Needless to say, Paul's offer looked
really
attractive.

I considered going back to the beach. I'd felt peaceful there. I just wondered if the peace stemmed from the waves, Rhys, or a combination of the two.

But I remembered the way
tu ch’i
flared last night when Rhys had touched me, and I shook my head. Not him. Except it'd calmed down after he showered me with those almost nonexistent kisses.