The Reckoning Read online

  Early one morning, a young man she had heard the others call Gabriel came over to her. He crouched down in front of her. His golden skin underscored the incongruous dark blue of his twinkling eyes. Startled by the surprising color in a Chinese face, she understood why so many people seemed taken back by her emerald green eyes.

  Even though he was probably only a couple of years older than she was, his broad shoulders, his muscled arms and chest were more a man’s than a boy’s. He speared her with a teasing grin. “How long are you gonna hide in the corners, little one, before you venture out?”

  Ah Lam knew she looked like a frightened child, and was mortified. However, her indignation overcame her embarrassment. Tossing her head defiantly, she said, “First, I am not a child. And second, I am not hiding. I … I am watching.”

  Gabriel’s eyes widened, seemingly surprised at her irritated response. He nodded, then said in a thoughtful voice, “I see. Well, if you are not hiding back in this corner where you have been every morning for the last month or so, how can I help you?”

  Ah Lam glared at him, certain he was making fun of her. Seeing his serious face, she reconsidered, swallowing hard and mustering up her courage. “Will you teach me?”

  “What do you want me to teach you?”

  “To kill.”

  He started—then his expression smoothed. He said in a mild voice, “Hmm, I’m not sure my uncle will approve of that, but I will teach you to defend yourself. So no one can hurt you. Will that suffice?”

  Ah Lam nodded, on the surface, agreeing. In her heart, though, she knew defending herself would never be enough.

  Each day for the next two months she met Gabe, dragging every bit of knowledge from him, then demanding more. She sparred with him early in the morning. Late at night she sneaked back to continue her quest. She pounded the bags with her fists, struck the walls with her kicks until her hands and feet were as calloused as Gabe’s.

  One morning she was surprised to see the Avenger standing in the doorway, watching her. He tossed his cigarette, motioning the others to leave. “All of you, please go.” He added, nodding at Gabe, “Except you, Dewa.”

  Ah Lam stepped back, surprised by Gabe’s Chinese name. She knew it meant virtuous warrior and thought it was well-chosen.

  The Avenger smiled at her. “I want to show you something, Ah Lam. I am going to fight the way you do now. Gabe will fight me the way you will fight two years from now.”

  Ah Lam was embarrassed at first, watching the Avenger’s fierce, but futile strikes. Gabe easily circumvented them with a flying leap, a twisting arc, or an astonishing backward flip. Then, as though an invincible cloak covered him, the Avenger whirled in the air fully five feet above the ground. Gabe retreated with an admiring grin. He put his arm around Ah Lam’s shoulders and pulled her to the edge of the mat. For the next several minutes the two of them watched astonished as the grandmaster performed a breathtaking display of violent artistry. His body was steel clothed in velvet.

  Ah Lam knew with a single intentional strike this graceful warrior could kill an opponent.

  She ached at the thought.

  The Avenger landed lightly in front of them. He smiled at Ah Lam. “The secret is chi, energy. You are fighting your chi, trying to control it, force it. I allow my chi to settle low. I honor it. It controls me. All I do is listen to it, feel it, then direct it.” He added with an ironic grin at Gabe, “My nephew, Dewa, used to fight like you do. We worked with his chi. Now he fights like a master warrior.” Picking up his jacket, he casually lit a cigarette, looked over his shoulder, and nodded to Gabe. “Teach her. The way I taught you.”

  Gabe followed him out, leaving Ah Lam behind. His voice was low, but she wiggled close to hear what they said.

  “I don’t know, Uncle Bai. She’s good, talented, fierce. But, she … she’s on a mission.”

  Bai quirked a questioning eyebrow.

  Gabe gave him a half-hearted grin, but from her hiding place Ah Lam saw the concern in his eyes. “Hell, when she first came to me six months ago I asked her what she wanted. Damned if she didn’t look me in the eye and say, ‘Teach me to kill.’”

  Bai took a drag off his cigarette and gave a nonchalant shrug. “So? Teach her.”

  * * *

  From that day on, Gabriel didn’t hold back. Ah Lam gloried in their battles, thrilled at the growing strength of her body, the power of her practice. The only negative was Gabe’s occasional reaction to her. Brushing against her breast or pinning her breathlessly to the floor, sometimes he hesitated, straddling her hips a moment too long, then jumped to his feet, blushing. Ah Lam recognized but never acknowledged the signs of arousal he desperately tried to hide. She ignored them and ignored him. Looking at the beautiful boy with his strong muscular body and kind eyes, she forced down the incipient quivers low in her belly. She squashed them knowing they signaled experiences she would never allow.

  When she was eighteen years old, Bai called her to his office. Motioning for her to sit across from him, his smile was pleasant. “Ah Lam, I have watched you for two years now. I am proud of you. You are bright, the brightest of the girls.” He added with a grin, “And, you are a hell of a fighter. You know I will always protect you. But you are a woman now. I will support you any way you wish. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

  Without hesitation, Ah Lam replied, “I want to study medicine. In New York City.”

  Bai studied her for a moment. A knowing expression crossed his face. He selected a slender Bolivian cigar from the humidor on his desk. She watched as he meticulously trimmed it, cut the end. He puffed on it until it was drawing well, then blew the aromatic smoke in the air. Leaning back in his chair he gazed at her from half lidded eyes. He nodded. “I see. Then you shall.” He added, “Dr. Wong at the New York Infirmary for Women and Children is a friend of mine. The train leaves in two days.”

  * * *

  New York City

  Fall, 1906

  Walking through the rain back to her dorm, she heard a voice call her name. Without looking, she knew it was him.

  “Ah Lam! Wait. Ah Lam. I’ve been hunting for you. Thank God, I found you. It’s me, Gabe.”

  She turned to see the tall young man dashing toward her. To her surprise, he grasped her under her arms, picked her up, and whirled her in a dizzying circle.

  She shrieked, laughingly admonishing him. “Put me down, Gabe. You’re making me dizzy.”

  They sat huddled at a table in the back corner of a smoky tavern. Gabe interrogated her like a long lost friend, his eyes bright with excitement. Plying her with question after question he insisted she tell him everything she had done in the past three years. Ah Lam smiled at his eagerness and talked more than she had since leaving the compound. She surprised herself by how often she laughed.

  After his third glass of ale, Gabe’s eyes darkened. A soft frown creased his brow. “You didn’t say good-by, Ah Lam.” When she didn’t respond, he chided, “One morning we sparred like we always did, the next morning you were gone.” He hesitated and she saw the hurt in his eyes. “Why, Ah Lam? I thought we were … we were …”

  She interrupted him. “I was done there. I got what I needed. There was nothing more to say, to do.” Ignoring the surprise on his face, she jumped to her feet and turned to leave. When he started after her, she held up her hand, stopping him. “No, Gabe. I need to go. I … it was good to see you.” She hurried toward the door, and said over her shoulder, “Good-by, Gabe.”

  Sprinting to catch the train, she shoved aside the rush of emotions threatening to swamp her. She’d spent five years of her life planning the next two weeks. She wouldn’t allow anything to stop her now.

  The next evening, she was surprised by a knock on her door. She opened it to find Gabe standing in the doorway. He brushed by her, ignoring her frown.

  “Sorry, Ah Lam. I tracked you down. I talked to that nosy biddy at the medical library. She told me where you live. I … I hoped we could have dinne
r.” His eyes twinkled. “I know a good Chinese restaurant nearby.”

  She couldn’t suppress a laugh. Before she knew it they were sitting together in a tiny booth, eating, laughing, and talking. Without intending it, she found herself relaxing, enjoying herself—and him.

  As they walked back to her dorm, he stopped and put his arms around her. She choked back her surprise and pushed against his chest, preparing to run. He shook his head and held her closer.

  “Uh-uh, Ah Lam. I need to tell you how I feel. I know you won’t believe this, but every day for three years I have thought about you. I finally wrangled out of my uncle where you were. He agreed it was time. Don’t push me away, Ah Lam. I … Ah Lam, you were a lovely girl. Now you are a beautiful, desirable woman.”

  Ah Lam struggled to free herself. “Thank you, Gabe. But I … I can never have a … a man in my life.”

  His arms were steel bands encircling her. “Why not?”

  She twisted away; her voice was fierce, harsh. “It’s not up for discussion, Gabe. My future was set long ago.”

  Ignoring her struggles, he pulled her close. He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Ah Lam, will you allow me to show you something? Will you let me show you it doesn’t have to hurt?”

  Before she could stop him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was soft, gentle. He licked her bottom lip, then sucked it into his mouth, lightly nipping at the corner. The longing in his eyes stole her breath. When he slid his tongue between her teeth and stroked her tongue with his, she shocked herself by kissing him back.

  A deep male rumble shook his chest. Groaning, he clasped her tighter. Whispering incoherent, loving words, he praised her body, her taste, her exotic scent. His hands were everywhere, lighting fiery tingles on her breasts, her hips, her thighs. He pressed kisses, tiny bites on the sensitive place below her ear, then down the long column of her neck, to the lush swell of her breasts. The smell of his skin, his arousal, wafted over her, showering her with waves of erotic sensations. He cupped her bottom in his large hands. With a harsh groan he spread her legs with his muscled thigh and pressed his hard arousal up against her. Astonished, she realized the whimpering moans, the passionate gasps, and the musky odor was hers. She knew more than anything in the world, she didn’t want him to stop. Just as fiercely, she knew that he must.

  Wrenching away, pushing his hands down, she cried out: “No! No, Gabe. I can’t. Don’t you understand? I cannot do this! I can’t! I want you to leave me alone! Go. Please go!” Running, darting between startled pedestrians, she caught backward glimpses of anguish streaking his face. He stood silent, watching her run. His face was grey, his hands helpless at his sides. The need in his dark eyes was as pure as the pain. It underscored why she could never see him again.

  * * *

  The next day Ah Lam packed her belongings and moved to an apartment close to her target. A week later she circled the house for the last time. It was large, imposing, with many levels, many rooms. It was astonishingly ugly. No flowers or trees grew on the rocky grounds. It was as though anything that spoke to the lushness of life couldn’t survive. She smiled, remembering how she had thought it was a castle and that she was a beautiful princess. Until she was awakened—not by a prince, but by a monster.

  She knew the floor plan, the pattern of the guards. The Tuesday night poker game at the pub left only three men guarding the house. She clutched her leather case, remembering Gabe’s dismay at her fascination with knives. Reluctantly he had taught her to wield a variety of instruments. The massive Bowie, the pointed stiletto, and, ultimately, the kama blade—the Chinese weapon of death. From her studies, she had added scalpels to her arsenal. She found them charming. They were fine, astonishingly sharp, fit for the most delicate work.

  Inserting the blade in the lock with a quick twist, the back door swung open, and she slipped inside. She had rehearsed every step, every breath a thousand times. The first man was precisely where he was supposed to be. The expert twist of her garrote left him dead at her feet, his surprised gasp the only sound. The man dozing on the next level didn’t see her until she was at his side. Driving a practiced knee to his jaw, she thrust the Bowie blade between his ribs and jerked up hard. With a burbling sound he slid down the wall, his eyes at first astonished, then empty. The final man didn’t hear her approach, just stiffened when she shoved her pistol at the base of his skull.

  “Call him, Luciano,” she said. “Make him come to the door. If you warn him, I will kill you.”

  She heard Massimo’s angry mutterings as he lumbered to the door. The key rasped in the lock. He threw the door open with a snarl. “What the goddamn fuck …?”

  His eyes flared wide. He stumbled back, a shock of recognition draining his face. Before he could reach for a weapon, she shot twice, shattering each of his kneecaps. He crumpled to the floor, a writhing, screaming heap.

  Ignoring Massimo’s terrified screams, she pressed her gun harder against Luciano’s neck. Her voice was calm, sure: “Get him on the rack. Do exactly as I say.”

  Minutes later, Massimo hung on the infamous apparatus, snugly tied in multiple places. Luciano sat at a short distance, secured to the chair by Ah Lam’s tight ropes. He sobbed bitterly, shaking his head from side to side and splattering blood from where his ear had been.

  Spreading her knives across the table, Ah Lam added several of Massimo’s prized wrenches and pliers to her collection. For the next hour she worked systematically, carefully. The basin at Massimo’s feet soon filled with various bony pieces: ears, fingers, toes, and the like. Her blade work was expert, his screams piercing. She patiently held back when he slipped into unconsciousness, prodding him at knifepoint until he roused again. As she began the laborious, exacting task of removing his skin, she marveled at the large pieces she was able to extract without a tear. She thought, with a slight grin, that those long nights practicing on tomatoes had served her well.

  At the sound of Luciano’s horrified groans, she glanced at him and recognized the dread on his face. She had seen that level of terror many times in this room. On the faces of young girls, of children.

  Standing back to view her handiwork, she drew her kama blade for the coup de grace. With a quick flick of the blade she removed Massimo’s most offensive organ, stuffing it into his gaping mouth. She thought with a wry grimace if more women had their way there would be a significant increase in the eunuch population.

  She wiped off each of her tools, put them back in her leather case, and slung the case over her shoulder. Eyeing Luciano, she allowed herself to remember him handing Massimo the knife that had killed her mother, the countless girls he had fastened to the rack in preparation for his master’s evil.

  She brandished her kama. Ignoring his terrorized pleas, she said, “You don’t deserve a painless death, Luciano.” Nodding to the man hanging on the rack, she added with an ironic grin, “But as you can see, I am feeling merciful tonight.” She quickly slit his throat and walked to the door.

  Turning to the dying man on the rack, bleeding from every orifice, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. With a satisfied nod, she said, “Good night. And, good-by, Father.”

  * * *

  The rain pouring from the skies was a good thing. It fell in sheets washing over her hair, her soiled clothing, her hands. After several blocks the puddles in her wake were clear, no longer crimson streaked. She walked quickly toward the train station. Her timing, as always, was impeccable. She had precisely enough time to catch the next train.

  She felt a sense of peace, of accomplishment, knowing she had rid the world of a monster. Surprisingly, her thoughts turned to Gabriel. With a sigh she remembered his kiss. His strong arms, his hard body, his clean, male smell, his musk. Her core clenched, ached. With a painful effort, she pushed aside her desire.

  Gabriel was a warrior, he understood battle. But, she reminded herself with a grim smile, given his reverence for family, the honor he paid his ancestors, it was doubt
ful he’d condone patricide.

  Hurrying to the station, she heard footsteps behind her. And then: his voice.

  “Ah Lam, wait. Wait for me.”

  She slowed. Steeled her resolve. Sped up.

  His voice was insistent. His footsteps increased, came faster. Then he stopped. His voice was firm. “Ah Lam. Stop. Please, stop … Let me hold you.”

  Wavering for a moment, she turned toward him. For the first time she saw the man, not the boy. His eyes were less innocent than she remembered. They were more like the Avenger’s. Like a man who knew good and abhorred evil.

  His face was stern, but his eyes gleamed with compassion.

  “Ah Lam. Come to me.”

  She hesitated. The thousand reasons she couldn’t—wouldn’t—flashed through her mind. Yet she found it impossible to turn away. It was wonderful and terrifying, both at once. She knew that regardless of the possibilities, good or bad, she really only had one option.

  She mustered her courage and started toward him.

  # # #

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading The Reckoning; A Grandmaster Legacy Short Story. I published this story as part of a Halloween collection dedicated to horror, terror and the like. However, my story is the story of true horror. Of a genuine monster. It is also a confirmation that the make-believe ghosts and the goblins pale in comparison to the real terror evil men can wreak on others.

  But above all, The Reckoning is a story of redemption. A testament to the power of the human spirit. And to the belief that even in the midst of hideous evil, the power of love can triumph.

  If you are intrigued by Bai Chang, the Grandmaster who his enemies call The Frenchman, pick up The Grandmaster’s Legacy – a boxed set featuring FOUR full length Grandmaster novels.