Shadows and Gold, Page 2

  He adjusted his backpack and scanned the area for pickpockets. Still no sign. The soldiers with automatic weapons by the door probably discouraged them. There would be easier pickings in the marketplace.

  Ben asked, “Does your grandson speak Uyghur?”

  “Of course. And Chinese. And a little English. He’s very smart. He knows the city very well. You speak English?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded and herded him toward her grandson. “You practice then. You speak Chinese to him. He speaks English to you. Yes? Good.”

  Ben smiled and let her herd him. They passed the line of taxi drivers who yelled at the old woman. She ignored them and led him toward the parking lot where the young man was waiting with a smile and an open car door.

  “This is Akil. He is a student at the university. And a very good driver.”

  Akil held out his hand. “Very nice to meet you,” he said in English.

  “Nǐ hǎo ma?” Ben asked.

  “I am well,” Akil responded in Chinese as he took Ben’s suitcase. “And you? Where can I take you today?”

  The old woman had wandered away, no doubt to sell more lighters or find more passengers for another “grandson” who was also the best guide in Ürümqi. He shouldn’t be so cynical, but life had taught him that very little was ever as it appeared. Akil seemed to know a couple languages, his car was well-kept, and he didn’t have the darting eyes of a con. Probably he was just a student looking for some extra cash. Ben was more than happy to give it to him rather than one of the hard-eyed taxi drivers.

  They settled in the car and Akil turned up the air-conditioning, though the weather wasn’t unpleasant. A little warm, but dry and breezy.

  “You can take me to the Sheraton,” he said.

  “Ah, a very nice hotel.” Admiration was in Akil’s eyes. “And near the museum. Do you prefer to speak English or Chinese?”

  Ben smiled. “What’s your best language?”

  “Uyghur,” he said with a laugh. “But then Mandarin. School, of course.”

  “Are you in university?”

  “Yes, in Qinghai. I am studying agriculture.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Akil continued in flawless Mandarin. “It is very important. My family has orchards, but we want to be more modern. To make our farm more successful.”

  “Cool,” Ben muttered.

  “Cool,” Akil copied him in English, grinning.

  Ben smiled back. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two. And you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Ben.”

  “Welcome to Ürümqi, Ben.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why do you come to Xinjiang?” Akil asked in English.

  “I’m meeting a friend here.”

  “Is he Uyghur?”

  “She’s… sort of Chinese. But she lives in Los Angeles now.”

  “Los Angeles!” Akil exclaimed. “Hollywood. This is where you live?”

  “Yes, but I’m not in Hollywood. I’m just a student, like you.”

  “What do you study?”

  “Political science and Mandarin. I thought it would be good to come to China to practice speaking Mandarin.”

  Akil started to laugh. “You came to Xinjiang to practice Chinese? Why didn’t you go to Beijing? Or Xi’an?”

  “I’m starting to think my friend had ulterior motives.”

  “I think you are right.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Akil dropped him off at the front of the hotel, ignoring the dismissive look of the doorman in attendance. Ben caught it, but the man was nothing but politeness for Ben, whom he greeted in English.

  “Checking in?”

  “Yes, thank you.” The doorman whisked his bag away as Ben turned to pay Akil.

  “Here.” The young man handed him a card. “If you need a driver—”

  “I’ll call you,” Ben said. “For sure. Any suggestions until I meet my friend tonight?”

  “The museum is good.” Akil nodded down the street. He’d pointed it out on the way to the hotel. “You can walk there. There are signs in English, which isn’t common in Chinese museums. It will give you a good idea of the area’s history. And there are the mummies.”

  “Mummies?”

  Akil smiled. “Yes. They’re famous. The Loulan girl. You should see them. And if you need a driver or an interpreter—”

  “I got it.” Ben held up the card. “I’ll call you.”

  Akil held out a hand. “Stay cool,” he said in English.

  “You too.”

  He walked into the dry air-conditioning of the hotel lobby and glanced around.

  Clearly new, the Sheraton in Ürümqi was probably built to appeal to business travelers. Akil had told him that Xinjiang was one of China’s fastest growing provinces, even though it was the most remote. The farthest west province of the People’s Republic bordered Mongolia, Russia, and Kazakhstan, and more than one guidebook said it had more in common with that Central Asian country than it did with the rest of Han-dominated China.

  Ben knew it was a diverse region, dotted by some of the most ancient cities on the Asian trade routes.

  He just had no idea why Tenzin wanted him there.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Hello,” Ben said to the girl at the front desk. Despite her suit, she looked younger than he did, but her manner was completely professional. He gave her his most charming smile, hoping for a reaction. After all, it was summer break. He was on vacation. A guy could use a little fun.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Vecchio?”

  The desk clerk answered him in English, but he continued in Chinese.

  “How are you today?” Something. Anything?

  “Very well, sir. How can I help you?”

  And nothing. She was the picture of efficient professionalism. Oh well.

  Ben had settled into the hotel and was debating whether or not to go out in the city or sleep. Being raised by the nocturnal had given him the ability to sleep when he needed to, but he was still affected by jet lag. He had decided to stay up, hopefully stave off the worst of the exhaustion, then sleep in the afternoon. He didn’t know when Tenzin would show up, or if the vampire would be forthcoming about her real motivations. But he knew she wouldn’t show up until the sun was down. He had to be on his toes.

  “I have a few hours before I need to meet a friend,” he told the clerk. “What would you recommend that is nearby?”

  She pulled out a small map in English. “The Regional Museum is very good. There is an excellent exhibition on the Silk Road, which is of course very important to the history of Xinjiang. There is also shopping next door.” She held a polite hand toward the attached luxury mall, which held zero interest to him. He could get all the same things on Rodeo Drive.

  “You’re the second person to recommend the museum.” Another smile that affected her not at all. “I think I’ll go there.”

  “If you take your passport with you, they will likely waive the entrance fee. Since you are a visitor.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  Waive the entrance fee? That was a new one. So far, he’d had to pay to get… well, just about anywhere. Even the hutong, the historic neighborhoods in Beijing, asked visitors who were walking through to pay an entrance fee. Was it legal? Who knew? But everyone did it, so Ben didn’t argue.

  Walking through the luxury mall with its glowing six-foot ads and discreet security, Ben started to feel conspicuous again. He saw a few tourists surreptitiously snap pictures on their phones, which made him grit his teeth. It was habit to avoid the camera by now. Giovanni and Beatrice kept a few pictures in the house, but when you were immortal, it was best to not keep around photographic evidence of how much you didn’t age. The human brain could convince itself of almost anything—like when the neighbor who had lived quietly in the house down the street didn’t look a year older than he had ten years ago—but p
hotographic evidence was harder to dismiss.

  He reached the end of the mall and left through the soaring glass doors. New construction surrounded him. He slipped on his sunglasses and scanned the street to find the best place to cross, following the old women who were selling baskets of plums.

  According to Akil, Ürümqi was divided between the Han neighborhoods and the Uyghur ones. The museum was in a mostly Han area, but he still saw an intriguing mix of faces. Xinjiang was becoming more and more interesting the longer he visited.

  He passed through security at the museum, then walked up the steps and into the cool interior. A glowing map of Xinjiang spread in front of him, and curious groups of Chinese tourists gathered around it, taking turns pressing the lights that highlighted the various routes of the Silk Road. He turned left to follow the crowd.

  Ben took his time in the exhibits. He had at least three hours to kill, and the museum looked like it would eat up more than enough. As he toured the hall highlighting the various ethnic groups that made up the province, he scanned the crowd. No one was following him. Other than a few curious glances, no one seemed to pay him any mind.

  Nothing suspicious.

  He heard a small group mention the mummies that Akil had spoken of, so he followed them.

  Up the stairs and around the atrium, Ben headed toward another hall.

  The minute he stepped inside, he could feel her.

  Tenzin.

  She was there. He didn’t know how. Or why. But some sixth sense alerted him. It had always been that way with her.

  “The Tarim mummies of Xinjiang”—a tour guide caught his attention as she stood before a glass case—“are only some of the evidence that this province has been continually occupied for over four thousand years. DNA evidence suggests that the mixed populations of the Tarim Basin had origins in Asia, Europe, Mesopotamia, India, and many other regions. This evidence confirms ancient Chinese historians who reported tribes who appeared to be European passing through and even inhabiting these areas. There were reports of tall men and women, with blue and green eyes. Red and blond hair. Even full beards.” The group laughed quietly. “As you can see, the population of Xinjiang continues to represent this diversity.”

  A shadow passed to his right, and Ben walked into another room.

  Tenzin was a day-walker. While most vampires needed to sleep for most of the day, a few did not. Beatrice said it was because Tenzin was so old, but Ben knew other old vampires who needed to sleep. Tenzin wasn’t like them. She was just as active during the day as humans were. She just couldn’t go out in the sun. As long as she kept out of the light, she was fine.

  Was it age or something else? He didn’t really know. Beatrice had taken a lot of Tenzin’s blood because her father and Tenzin had been mated, so Beatrice didn’t sleep much either. It wasn’t something his aunt liked and she often spent much of the day meditating in the dark while her mate slept.

  Ben had never heard Tenzin complain about it.

  He couldn’t imagine never sleeping. He loved to sleep. Loved to dream. Missing that would make him a little crazy.

  He walked quietly through the hall, trailing behind another tour group, stopping when they did, hanging on to the edge of the crowd, listening and trying to ignore the invisible eyes he could feel watching him. He wouldn’t see Tenzin until she wanted to be seen.

  Ben wandered to the next room, heading over to the first case he saw with a mummy inside. He leaned over, trying to see her features beyond the glare of the protective glass.

  Qiemo Female Mummy, the case read. The mummy was exhumed from No. 2 tomb. Date: 800 BC. Height 160 cm. She belongs to a mixture of Europoid and Mongoloid traits.

  The mummy in the case was remarkably well-preserved, with a deep crimson robe that was intricately sewn. She had swirling tattoos along her face and four thick braids hung past her shoulders. 160 centimeters meant… He did a quick calculation and determined the mummy was over five feet. Taller than he would have expected.

  800 BC.

  Ben stared at the mummy, thinking of the vampire he could feel in the air around him, as if her ghost hovered over his shoulder.

  What had this woman seen? What had her life been like? How old was she when she died? Had she had a happy life? Someone had taken care when they buried her. Her body was carefully positioned and her jaw wrapped with the same crimson thread her robe was made from. Maybe she was a beloved wife. A mother.

  The woman in the glass case was almost three thousand years old. Had Tenzin been alive then? Probably. He didn’t really know how old she was. No one talked about it. Then again, no one really knew, did they? Maybe not even Tenzin herself.

  He caught a flash of reflection in the glass. A darting glance. A fanged smile. By the time he’d turned around, she was gone.

  Ben made his way back to the hotel when the sun began tilting toward the horizon. There was a rush of cold air at the doorway to the mall, then the long lit walk past the storefronts. Cartier. Louis Vuitton. Hugo Boss. The juxtaposition of luxury and history was jarring to the senses. He ducked his head when he saw another phone camera pointed in his direction and kept it down until he’d entered the hotel and made his way to the elevators.

  Quiet.

  Ben took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The elevator sped to the fifteenth floor without stopping, the dinging doors more welcome than any familiar voice. A few more steps and he was in the generic surroundings of a Western chain hotel thousands of miles from home. Door locked. Chain set. Portable electronic alarm attached to the door.

  Quiet.

  Ben was used to quiet. He often came home to a house where no one was home or no one was awake. It was soothing.

  He plugged his phone into his laptop and quickly downloaded the photos he’d taken at the museum, then erased them from the phone. On the off chance it was hacked, no thief would be able to track his movements by his photo history. He logged in to the virtual private network he used when he was traveling, checked his email and the secure remote dropbox that Gio and Beatrice had set up, then he reset his passwords for the week and turned the computer off.

  The security measures were automatic, a routine that had been drilled into Ben as soon as he learned how to work a keyboard. His aunt had more than a passing ability with computers, and she’d taught Ben if it could be hacked, it probably would be. But that was more of a human threat.

  Vampires, on the whole, distrusted technology. Often, the most important messages or communications still made their way by personal courier. Couriers were as well trained as assassins and just as expensive. Immortals were paranoid about security and often sired children or kept humans whose sole purpose was transporting information discreetly. Beatrice’s grandfather had a human constantly at his side, loyal to a fault and ready to transport any letter the old vampire might write. Ben knew at least one of Giovanni’s regular correspondents who still used wax-sealed scrolls.

  There was something to be said for old school.

  He checked his watch and decided to fit in another hour or two of sleep. Ben pulled off his shirt and, glancing toward the sunny window, cracked it open before he went to lie down. Within minutes, he was dreaming.

  He woke when the bed shifted slightly.

  Ben kept his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

  Dust. Honey. Cardamom.

  “Hey, Tenzin.”

  She scooted farther over on the bed and he shifted to make room.

  “No, really,” he muttered, keeping his eyes shut. “Make yourself at home.”

  “I told you these beds would be comfortable.”

  “I wouldn’t call this comfortable.”

  “Comfortable for China then. You’re so American.”

  “You’re so intrusive.”

  “You left the window open.”

  “I’m on the fifteenth floor.”

  She just laughed.

  “You realize you have boundary issues, right, Tiny?”

  “Boundary issues?�€
 She bumped her shoulder into the space between his bare shoulders. “Are you being modest again?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Funny boy. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked.”

  He had seen her naked. It had been a defining moment of his adolescence before Giovanni walked out to the pool and lectured Tenzin on modern standards of decency around seventeen-year-old boys. He’d held a grudge against his uncle for weeks.

  Ben rubbed his eyes and rolled over. “Hi.”

  “Hello. How did you like the museum?”

  She was wearing her hair in braids that were oddly reminiscent of the mummy he’d seen earlier. He decided not to tell her that. He liked her hair in braids. Tenzin’s hair was past her shoulders and thicker than any woman’s hair he’d ever seen. Like a black cloud flying behind her when she wore it loose. She often wore it in braids, a habit Giovanni said she’d picked up in Tibet. Sometimes she tied the ends with brightly colored string that flashed and fluttered when she was in the air. He reached out and tugged on the end of one.

  “I liked the museum. It was interesting. How did you get in there?”

  “A guard let me in last night. There are some very comfortable yurts in one of the exhibits.”

  “He let you in? You mean you used amnis on the night guard so he would let you in.”

  “Same same.”

  “Not really.”

  Tenzin sat up and folded her legs on the bed as he scooted up to sit against the headboard. He reached for his T-shirt and tugged it on. Ben pulled up his legs and crossed his arms on his knees, settling his chin there as he yawned.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Old enough to know better and still not care.”

  He smiled. “No, really.”

  She cocked her head. “The mummies?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Older. Older than the mummies there.”

  He mouthed, Wow.

  “Ancient.” She drifted into the air and did a slow roll. “I am an old, old woman.”

  He loved the way she flew. It wasn’t like a bird. Tenzin moved through air as a fish did in water. Second nature. She looked out of place on the ground.