Holidays are Hell

I understand, he said, using his mind to speak to her. He was not entirely certain the message would go through—he still thought those earlier moments might be flukes—but a furrow formed between Six's eyes and she licked her lips. Joseph remembered kissing her. Felt like a lifetime past. He wondered if he would ever get another chance.

"I heard you," she said softly. "How?"

It's a skill like any other, he told her, feeling inside his chest an unfamiliar sense of panic and warmth. You know how to do things I don't. I know how to do things you don't.

Six leaned back. She did not let go of his throat, though her ringers loosened just a fraction, making it easier for him to breathe. "And those… things? What Chenglei became?"

The Jiangshi. Hopping ghosts. Vampires.

"No such thing," she said immediately. "Tales of old stupid men who do not know better."

Then call them a virus, if that makes you happy. Think of them as your biological weapon. Your terrorists. Either way, you know they're dangerous. You can't ignore that.

Six's jaw tightened. Joseph did not look away. He studied her eyes as closely as she studied his, and felt her thoughts press against his mind. He tried not to listen. He did not want to. Still, he knew a moment before she acted that her fingers were going to loosen once again, and he fought the urge to rub his throat as her hand slid down to press hard against his chest.

"Drive," she said. "If you try to paralyze me, I will rip out your throat."

"What about destroying evidence?"

"The car is still evidence."

"I'm not turning myself in," he said, keeping his hands in his lap.

Six narrowed her eyes. "All I want are answers. You will drive. I will talk. You will speak only when spoken to."

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, and put the car in gear. He tapped the accelerator and drove down the street. He took a right at the first intersection, weaving around pedestrians and motorcycles and other cars running the red light. Paper lanterns had been strung across the road; he saw, in front of the shops, men and women sweeping furiously with their brooms. Cleaning out the bad luck, making way for good. He wished it were that easy.

Six said, "What are you? How do you control people?"

"I use my mind," he said.

"Who taught you? Were you part of a government program?"

Joseph almost laughed. "My family taught me."

"So what you do is… genetic."

"Somewhat."

Six remained silent. The surrounding buildings became larger, newer, opulent in their modernity, glittering shopping centers and sidewalks crammed with young people. Shanghai—the largest mall in the world, a city devoted to business and commercialism. Shallow, but pretty. Joseph had a weakness for bright lights, especially now, when most of them were red for the New Year holiday. There were fireworks here, too, set off by kids, laughing and screaming in front of monstrous hanging billboards decorated with foreign celebrities hawking watches and designers.

Six's fingers tapped her thigh. "You called them Jiangshi. Hopping ghosts. Like in the stories."

"Not quite like the stories," Joseph replied. "Those creatures are not lost souls. You can't stop them with a block of six-inch wood at the threshold of a home—they are not scared of sunlight—and you can't hide from them by holding your breath. That is fantasy."

"All of it is fantasy," she muttered. "But if I were to pretend it is not, then what of the rest?"

"That they're dangerous? That they kill by stealing a person's life essence?" Joseph gritted this teeth. "That, unfortunately, would be true. It's why I call them vampires."

"Western folklore. Vampires steal blood."

"World folklore," Joseph corrected her. "And blood is the same as life, no different from energy."

Six studied him. Her hand was still on his chest. Her palm felt warm. "How do you know all this? Did your family teach you?"

Joseph glanced at her. "Yes."

"And these… creatures? What do they want with you? And what do they have to do with the terrorists? Chenglei—"

"Was unexpected," he interrupted. "That man was not always a vampire. In fact, the last time I saw him, he was very human. He worked in conjunction with a terrorist organization run by members fresh out of Central Asia, Indonesia, and Xin Jiang. Business matters. A. money man. No ethical qualms, either. Chenglei himself was not a native Chinese. He was born in Jakarta. His uncle could be considered one of most radical clerics in Southeast Asia."

"I know most of this," Six said. "We had Chenglei under surveillance for quite some time. We wanted his contacts."

"You didn't get them, I assume."

"Some. Not enough. Tonight, after seeing who he was meeting with, I planned on bringing him in. Permanently."