Burning Tigress (26 page)

Nothing. Little Pearl reached the door and pulled it open.

"I have gone to the Chamber. The one with swinging lights."

Little Pearl stopped, her hand on the open door. She turned, and her eyes narrowed. "I do not believe you."

Charlotte reared back and her hands clenched into fists. "I have been there."

"Describe it."

Charlotte hesitated. How to describe the indescribable? "It was wonderful: dark and scary. There was a song, but it was velvety and quiet. I was terrified, and I met my brother." She raised her hands in confusion. She knew she wasn't making sense, but then again, wasn't that why she was here—to try to understand? "It was terribly confusing. I will do anything to go back."

Little Pearl didn't speak, and dismay chilled Charlotte's belly. Clearly this woman didn't understand, or if she did, she had no desire to help a ghost woman. Charlotte sighed. Why were best friends so hard to find? Very well, she would just have to find another way. She lowered her head in a respectful bow. "My apologies for inconveniencing you. I can see that there are no answers for me here." Then she turned and headed for the street.

"Come inside."

Charlotte was halfway through the courtyard before she heard Little Pearl's words, repeated with some force.

"Ghost woman! Come inside!"

Charlotte barely understood the meaning at first. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Little Pearl inside a fully open doorway. The woman's head was lowered, her hand turned palm-side up as she gestured to the interior. It was a formal sign of welcome.

Charlotte didn't trust it. No one changed that radically, that fast. But she was so desperate to discuss her experiences with someone else—anyone else—that she quickly crossed back to the woman.

"Please to follow me," Little Pearl said in awkward English.

"I speak Shanghai dialect quite comfortably," Charlotte replied in that language. Indeed, they had been talking in Chinese, so why the woman suddenly wished to change to English was beyond her. But there was no time to discuss more, as Little Pearl led her into the compound.

They moved quickly through the reception hallway, past papered windows and elegant black lacquered furniture. Then they entered the inner garden, and Charlotte glimpsed crystal ponds and ornamental shrubs. A caged songbird dangled from a gingko tree above a very old turtle hidden inside its shell.

"This is stunning," Charlotte breathed. But as she slowed her steps, Little Pearl grabbed her arm. The woman had a tiny hand with long fingernails, and gripped with surprising strength.

"Please to walk fast." English again, in a terrible accent.

Charlotte speeded up. "Where are we going?" she asked in Chinese.

No answer. In fact, the woman didn't speak again until they made it to a building in the very back of the inner courtyard. Pushing open a door to a darkened interior, she wrinkled her nose, clearly sniffing the air before nodding in satisfaction.

"Please to enter."

Charlotte slowed, then eventually stopped. She couldn't see a single thing inside that dark building. Who knew what lurked there? The woman could have henchmen in there ready to lock her in chains before selling her into white slavery. Such things did happen. So she folded her arms across her chest. "I have no wish to offend," she said in her most polite Chinese, "but I do not have much time."

"You, you! Come!" Little Pearl abruptly cried in Chinese. It took Charlotte a moment to realize the comment wasn't addressed to her, but to a male servant crossing the courtyard. At Little Pearl's call, the man abruptly changed direction and rushed over.

He bowed deeply. "How may I serve, Tigress Pearl?"

"Bring candles, tea, cakes. We have a guest." She gestured to Charlotte, and then she clapped her tiny hands. "Immediately!"

The man bowed and ran off. Little Pearl frowned at him, then gestured to a different building. "We wait here," she said in English. Then she half led, half pulled Charlotte to a sitting room in the same building, but with a separate entrance. This room, however, had two large windows over elaborate wood designs. They were papered, to prevent flies, but at least some light came through to illuminate a minimal sitting room with a low couch, fragrant cushions, and a serving table.

"Please to sit," Little Pearl said as she firmly shut the door behind them.

Charlotte complied, still feeling uneasy but reassuring herself that now they could speak. "Can you explain to me," she asked in Shanghai dialect, "exactly what is taught in this school?"

Little Pearl shook her head. "
Aie, aie!
Too hard!" Clearly the woman would not budge from her broken English. Perhaps she thought it would be rude to speak to a guest in anything other than the guest's native tongue, even though her command of English was tenuous at best.

Charlotte sighed and pressed on in Chinese. Eventually, she prayed, the woman would see how fluent Charlotte was and give in to simple practicality. They obviously could not carry on a substantial conversation in English.

"I have studied the scrolls, but I cannot read Chinese well," she said, flushing. Truthfully, she couldn't read it at all. "But I understood the pictures. Indeed, they are quite detailed." She stared at the suddenly pale Little Pearl. "Is that what you teach here? The exercises shown on those scrolls?"

"What pictures?" the woman said in English. "Show me!"

Charlotte shook her head. "I don't have them with me. They are at home in a safe place."

"Not for you!" Little Pearl snapped. Then she descended into a long muttered curse that likened Ken Jin to a diseased dog. Truly, it was quite alarming. Charlotte would have gotten up to leave, except right then the servant returned with tea and sticky rice cakes enfolded in dark bamboo leaves.

"Aie aie!"
cried Little Pearl to the servant. "No good for our guest! She is Eeenglish!" She drew out the last word with a sneer. "Take it away!"

"No, no!" cried Charlotte, feeling bad for the shamed servant. "No, I love sticky rice. This is fine. Truly, don't take it away."

The man started, his eyes huge as he realized she spoke Chinese. Charlotte smiled, then quickly grabbed chopsticks and plate, deftly plucking up the delicacy and flipping open the leaves. Sickly sweet steam rose from the patty, but Charlotte ignored it. In truth, this was not her favorite food, but she had no wish to prolong her visit. She certainly didn't want to sit while the kitchen struggled to find English food for her.

Both Little Pearl and the servant continued to stare as she ate small bites of the rice. "Ken Jin teach you this?" Little Pearl asked in English.

Charlotte frowned and shook her head. "How to use chopsticks? No, no. My best friend taught me. We used to have tea parties and teach our dolls how to use them, too."

The servant goggled as if he had never heard of anything so strange. Little Pearl, too, seemed stunned, but then she busied herself by dropping tea leaves into the two teacups.

There were a variety of different dried leaves on the tray, each in its own little china container. Charlotte had no understanding of any of them, but Little Pearl obviously did. She was quick as she selected the exact brew—different leaves for each of them—then poured hot water into both cups.

It wasn't what Charlotte was used to. Who brewed tea in the cups and left the leaves swirling in the water? The Chinese, obviously, so she smiled in false appreciation. When in Rome, and all that.

So when Little Pearl handed her the cup, urging her to drink, Charlotte was true to her upbringing; she sipped whenever Little Pearl sipped, drank whenever Little Pearl drank. And before long, two cups of the stuff were gone, and the sticky rice as well. It was frustrating, really. Whenever she asked a question, Little Pearl's answer was to urge her to take more food. Even the blandest inquiry was deflected into the niceties of afternoon tea. Indeed, Charlotte was disgusted to realize that, despite the woman's sudden friendliness, Little Pearl would still not give up any information. And so, Charlotte set down her chopsticks with a hard click.

"This has been a lovely meal, Little Pearl, and I thank you, but I came here with questions. I need..." She swallowed, startled to realize how hot her tongue felt. The food had been spicier than she thought. "I want to learn."

Little Pearl looked hard at her. Charlotte returned the look in equal measure. Indeed, she felt a fire building within her, a heat that fueled her anger. She spoke harshly, though the words were difficult to form with a mouth suddenly on fire.

"You said you had no time for Ken Jin's games. I have little time for yours. Will you teach me or not?" Charlotte flushed in embarrassment. She had been raised to be more polite, but it was unbearably hot in here, and she was beginning to sweat. Her temper had been frayed to begin with, and now she barely kept it contained. Arching her eyebrow, Charlotte glared at her hostess. "Well?"

"Very well," Little Pearl said in surprisingly smooth English. "The room is prepared. We will learn what you experienced now."

Charlotte blinked. She had been hearing noise from the other room for some time: bumps and shuffles from what sounded like an army of servants. But all was quiet now. So at Little Pearl's prompting, Charlotte stood, feeling a flash fire of heat skate across her skin. She frowned and took a step, then gasped at the feel of her trousers brushing against her suddenly raw thighs. Good Lord, how had the day turned so beastly hot? Thank goodness she was wearing a Chinese tunic rather than her own corset and gown; all that English fabric would be unbearable! Meanwhile, she had to follow Little Pearl back outside and then around the corner to the first door, the one that led to a darkened, henchman-containing interior.

"Why can't we just talk where we were?" Charlotte asked.

Little Pearl shook her head. "That room for talk; this room for practice." And with that, she opened the door onto a strangely small chamber.

It was dark inside, though several candles had been lit and an exotic scent perfumed the air. Still, there was enough light to see heavy tapestries hanging from all four walls. In the center of the room a knee-high table doubled as a bed. It was covered with a coarse sheet and cushioned by several pillows.

"Please to remove clothing and lie down."

The air was thick with perfume, but the scent wasn't cloying. It tingled in Charlotte's nostrils and brought warmth to her lungs. "What is that scent?" she asked, stepping to the door.

"Perfume. Please to remove clothing and lie down."

"Speak in Chinese, damn it! Your English is atrocious!"

Little Pearl reared back in shock. Charlotte chided herself. What was the matter with her? She was sweating, for God's sake, and a vague discomfort crawled beneath her skin, making her short and irritable.

"I will speak better," Little Pearl returned smoothly, still in English. Then she gripped Charlotte's arm and pulled her inside the room.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to undress." The heat in her body was increasing, and she leaned her thigh against the low table to stabilize herself. It didn't really help, but she appreciated the hard pressure. "I came to talk to you about Ken Jin. About what's happening—"

Little Pearl slashed her hand sideways. "Ken Jin is unimportant. I wish to see your Heaven."

Charlotte frowned as she pushed a drooping lank of hair out of her eyes. "You can't see my Heaven. I was only there for a moment, and it wasn't even Heaven. Ken Jin said it was the antechamber. It was all dark and had lights." Meanwhile the sunlight disappeared as the door slipped shut.

Little Pearl stepped closer. There was little space to maneuver, and Charlotte found herself backing up so that both her thighs pressed against the table. "We will repeat the experience," the Chinese woman said. Then she reached out and unfastened two of the frogs along Charlotte's right shoulder.

Charlotte reared back, trying to avoid Little Pearl's grasping hands, but the movement unbalanced her. With her legs pressed hard against the table, she ended up falling backward. She managed to catch herself with her hands, but even so, the candle flames danced for a moment. Then, before she could reorient herself, she felt her tunic slip open. Little Pearl had it completely unfastened and was now pulling it away. And as Charlotte sat in her coolie pants and shift, the woman's tiny hands began tugging at those, too.

The disrobing was irritating enough, but what truly shocked Charlotte was the tingling heat that flew across her skin whenever anything touched her. Fingertips, fabric, even the wondrous kiss of air—all of it created waves of heat that rolled at random across her body. She hadn't felt anything like it since a desperate illness as a child. She'd had a terribly high fever then, and her parents had feared for her life. She felt like that now, except there was no coughing, no aching pain, just waves of dry heat as if she were becoming the sun.

How was it that her shift had been removed? But oh, the breath of air on her breasts was lovely.

She took a deep breath and focused. This had to stop. With great effort, she reached down and grabbed Little Pearl's wrists. The woman was tugging at her trousers with single-minded determination, but Charlotte's hands were larger and stronger.

"Stop," she said rather loudly. Indeed, she winced as the word echoed in her head.