Sacrifice (15 page)

Zhen Ni stared at the two silver coins in the man’s hand, their carvings edged in dirt.

“So I buried them again. Deeper this time. And the next morning …” He drew a long breath.

“I see, Master Jin,” she whispered.

“I’d never seen the like. So I tried again. I used calligraphic charms, the best kind, mind, written on peach wood slips and stuck them in a bowl with a handful of earth from where we would break ground.” He gulped, then wiped at his forehead again with the plain handkerchief from his pocket.

Zhen Ni nodded and placed her hand on his armrest to encourage him to speak on.

“They erupted into flames, lady. The moment I planted the charms into the earth, they burned.”

She straightened and stared out into the courtyard. Her husband had filled it with orange trees, the scent of their sweet blossoms drifted into the main hall, and she breathed deep.
Cursed then.
This home was cursed somehow, and her husband knew it. Perhaps welcomed it. “I understand, Master Jin. Thank you for informing me.”

He reached out, almost as if to grab her hand, then jerked his arm back. “You are the new lady of the manor. Certainly, you can talk to your husband on my behalf, yes? Bring in a monk to bless the house? It is not too late to complete the rituals, lady.”

He rose, jittery. He had not touched his tea or the fruit.

“I did my best, lady. I took into account the lay of the land and the small stream that wends through the manor. The buildings are constructed to welcome good fortune and avert disaster. I built a small shrine amid the grove of banyan trees near the back of the manor, lady. And found the best rocks to place around the estate. Your quarters, I set the tigers on the eaves as protection.”

“You did that? I thought my husband had thought of it.”

“He wanted something. And I asked what sign you were, and when he told me, I suggested we use it. Tiger couldn’t have been a better symbol, lady.”

Zhen Ni stood as well and smiled up at the master carpenter, then inclined her head. “I am truly grateful for your attention to such details, Master Jin. My husband did say that he hires the best.”

He grinned, and his cheeks were red above his rough beard.

“Be assured that I will speak to my husband on the matter.”

Master Jin bobbed his head and retreated from the main hall walking backward, as if she were an empress he could not turn his back on. Amazingly, he navigated the steps without a hitch. He had built them, she supposed, watching him lope off toward the main entrance.

Zhen Ni sat back down and drooped against the curved back chair, feeling as if all strength had been sapped from her. She had wondered if this marriage was too good to be true; now she wondered how bad it could become. Was her new husband one who dabbled in the dark arts, who consorted with demons?

The flesh of her arms pimpled as if a cold wind had swept through the main hall. She had wanted to explore her husband’s study due to her usual curious nature, but now she knew she had no choice.

It might be a matter of survival.

Zhen Ni postponed further interviews for the day, feigning a headache. She had Oriole tell everyone who was waiting outside the manor in hopes of securing a job to come back early the next morning. “We had a late start today, and I’m still weary from the wedding banquet.”

Oriole grinned. She was eighteen and much better versed in what happens between a man and a woman on their wedding night. Zhen Ni had glimpsed the handmaid once on her day off at the town market, lips locked with some boy in the shadows of an alleyway. Let Oriole make her presumptions—it was the safest way for now.

She dismissed both handmaids, giving them the day off, saying that they would be very busy beginning tomorrow when they started to select the new staff for the manor. The two girls ambled away, each clutching a gold coin Zhen Ni had given them, looking as pleased as newly groomed kittens. She waited awhile to be certain they had left the manor before changing into her stolen tunic and trousers. It took a long time of rummaging through the rosewood cupboards to find a smaller lantern to take with her, as the lotus ones set on either side of her bed were too cumbersome. She made certain that it was filled with oil and lit it, hoping she wouldn’t come across any of the guards Rose had mentioned. Zhen Ni had glimpsed two loitering in the main courtyard after her meeting with the master builder.

The guards were not normally allowed within the women’s inner quarters where her building was located, but her husband’s study and its surroundings were not off limits to them. She would say she was exploring her new home if she ran across a guard, and that she knew not all the quarters had been furnished yet and some were quite dark. The ruse would have to suffice, and she prayed to the Goddess of Mercy she wouldn’t have to use it.

Zhen Ni slid her reception hall door open and peered into the lush courtyard. Her husband had filled it with crabapple and persimmon trees. The deep pinks of the crabapple blossoms mingled against the crisp green leaves of the persimmon trees. It truly was a gorgeous estate, and she could almost imagine herself leading a normal, fulfilled life here, but the prickling at the back of her mind prevented it. She only had to remember the fear in Master Jin’s broad face, and the hundreds of centuries-old gold and silver coins her strange, awkward husband had given her. Coins so old they should have shown their age but instead looked almost brand-new.

She hurried along the covered path. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the geometric lattice framing the top of the walkway and the low railings below, casting odd shadows upon her slippered feet. Although her stolen outfit was worn and modest, her shoes were befitting a lady of her rank: they were made of silk in the lightest green and embroidered with lavender and gold butterflies. Zhen Ni wasn’t certain of the way back to the study and turned around at various corners, trying to recollect landmarks such as ponds, benches, and pavilions. The grounds were completely void of the sounds of human occupants. It was like living somewhere abandoned. She was actually grateful when she heard the distant
thunk
of cleaver against board as the cook prepared her dinner in the kitchen Zhen Ni hadn’t visited yet, but she soon passed out of earshot.

She was terrified of running across an oafish guard each time she turned a corner but never did. When she glimpsed a stone bridge arched over the small rushing stream that meandered throughout the estate, she at last had her bearings. She ran up the steps of the study and closed the door behind her. Dust motes swirled in the dim sunlight, and the demon hounds (for she was certain that was what they were now) stared at her with glittering ruby eyes.

Zhen Ni skittered past the stone beasts, breath held, until she was in the empty study, shutting the door as to not feel the hounds’ gazes. The chamber was quite dim without the lattice windows drawn, and the air smelled of an unfamiliar musk and fresh-cut wood. Setting down her lantern, she then dropped to her knees and tugged at the small ring on the floor. The stone grated and groaned but barely budged. She hooked both index fingers and clasped her hands so she could use both arms. This time, the ledge lifted, and she pushed it aside. The stone piece matching the floor was a facade, set against a square wooden door beneath, and it hinged open all the way, revealing a dark hole below.

She lowered the small lantern. A rope ladder swung into the darkness—she couldn’t see the bottom. Goddess, she thought. Could she do this? If not now, she might never have another chance. Zhen Ni touched her waist, grateful for the dagger stolen from Nanny Bai that she had strapped there, then lowered herself down, clinging to the bronze lantern handle even as she clutched at the swinging ropes of the ladder.

Wobbling precariously, she lowered one foot down to the next rung. It was farther than she had expected, probably accommodating a much larger frame, like her husband’s. She squeezed her eyes shut and drew a deep breath, whispering a mantra and gathering courage before she lowered the other foot and shifted her hands down one rung. Her arms already felt sore, but she kept going, one foot then the next, one rung at a time. The more frightened she was, the more the ladder shuddered, writhing like a snake in the air. She had no choice but to keep as calm as she could, minimizing the rhythmic swinging as she crept lower and lower into the darkness.

When her foot finally hit hard ground, she let out a soft sob, wiping the dust from her eyes and mouth. The square opening above her was so dim it might have been a figment of her imagination.
Goddess, help me to survive this
. If Skybright had been here, she would have told Zhen Ni to leave it alone, that her husband obviously kept secrets that were never meant to be found out. But Zhen Ni was certain that in the end, the old Skybright would have accompanied her into this tunnel—leading the way to ensure her mistress’s safety. She half smiled, remembering all their misadventures together.

Would Skybright help her now, knowing that her former mistress was in trouble? Her chest felt tight as she held the lantern before her, pretending her old handmaid, her beloved childhood friend and companion, was walking the tunnel beside her, whispering assurances and admonitions, both comforting in their own ways. Not the new Skybright, the one she didn’t truly know, the demonic one with the frightening voice, long serpent coil instead of legs, and forked tongue.

She shivered to remember it.

The tunnel she walked was long and deep, high enough for Master Bei to traverse without having to stoop. It curved downward, as if leading her into the mouth of the underworld itself. Did it? The lantern’s small cone of light offered her little comfort, and her arm wobbled from tiredness and fear, causing shadows to jump along the walls. This was a stupid, dangerous thing she was doing. But how could she not investigate and learn the truth about her new husband?

The air was dry and stale and grew colder the farther she went. She heard no sound except for her own hitched breathing and the scraping of her slippers as she plodded on. After walking for what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened into a large cavern, too massive for her light to show her the entirety of it.

She stopped at the opening when the smell hit her. It reminded her of the butchered animals Cook would chop and slice with expertise in their family kitchen. But beneath the scent of blood and flesh was rot and decay. Like the undead smelled when they weren’t so fresh from their graves. Had she stumbled upon dead bodies? Some lost cemetery? Heartbeat hammering hard in her throat, she shuffled forward.

She heard a squelching noise.

Followed then by wet suckling.

She unsheathed her long dagger, clenching it so hard the carved hilt bit into her skin. Her lantern wavered in her hand, as if she were drunk, and she tried to will her arm steady. A few more steps. She had to see.

A slippered foot. The shoe was not as richly decorated as her own but still pretty. The owner of the shoe had a thick, white ankle.

Zhen Ni suppressed a moan.

The dead woman had probably been five years older than Zhen Ni. She lay on the stone floor with her arms flung out, legs splayed wide. She wore a plain peach dress that had been slit open down the middle, revealing her naked chest. It seemed to bulge unnaturally. Zhen Ni bit her lip hard to keep from crying out as she crept closer, letting the dim lantern light reveal more. The dead woman’s chest had been split open, the flesh peeled back. Her chest cavity and torso were empty of organs. The stench of rancid flesh overwhelmed Zhen Ni’s senses, and she swallowed hard against the strong impulse to retch.

Zhen Ni stumbled back, her lantern swinging wildly. She caught glimpses of other dark bodies lying close. Sobbing silently now, she forced herself to walk farther into the cavern, to see how many corpses there were. Six, she counted, as she pressed her knuckle into her mouth, her hand still clutching her dagger. The dead people were both men and women, of different ages and stations. She didn’t know which was worse, the visual of what was taking place in front of her, or the stomach turning smells. Had Master Bei done this? Had she married some sadistic, ritualistic murderer?

Then she saw something even more unbelievable and horrifying. A baby of about one year sat near the head of one of the corpses. It leaned over the body, making soft suckling noises with its mouth. Zhen Ni walked toward the baby, a sense of dread rising within her—darker than the discoveries of the massacred.

She stopped when she was close enough to see the details of the child. It was a girl. Naked and plump. Beautiful. Perfect. The baby had a chubby fist thrust into the socket of the corpse, gouging an eyeball out with a wet sound. Contentedly, it lifted it to its mouth and began eating.

The thing had a full set of sharp, little teeth.

Zhen Ni stuttered incoherent gibberish, horror smothering her.

The baby noticed her and stopped mid-chew. It cooed. Its wide set eyes were dark brown and expressive. It smiled at Zhen Ni, revealing a dimple in its left cheek. Its arms and legs were so chubby they were ringed with folds of pudgy baby fat. This thing had grown plump from feeding off corpses. Zhen Ni jabbed her dagger at it, her skin crawling with terror, so much so her scalp itched. The thing blinked, looking exactly as a sweet infant would, except for the remnants of an eyeball clutched between dimpled fingers.