The Girl with Ghost Eyes by M.H. Boroson

Author:M.H. Boroson [Boroson, M.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-940456-45-4
Publisher: Talos
Published: 2015-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

17

When the sun went down I stood on the steps to Father’s temple and called for Mao’er. He did not come. I went back inside and came out with a flask of lamp oil. “Mao’er,” I called again. A pair of red lacquered lanterns hung outside the temple. I refreshed their oil and lit them. All down the street, other people had done the same. Passersby would walk between shadows, lit by the glow of lamps and lanterns.

I sat on the bottom step and poured my remaining lamp oil into a ceramic saucer. This time, when I called, a small orange shape came sauntering out of the shadows. Mao’er’s two tails were high. He carried himself with a deliberately casual air, as if he just happened to be walking nearby.

“Miao,” he said. He stretched himself on the boardwalk, his eyes focused on the saucer full of oil.

“Don’t be shy, Mao’er,” I said, pushing the saucer closer to him. “It’s for you.”

“Mine-mine?”

I nodded, but still he approached the oil warily, as though some other cat might leap out of the darkness and take his treat from him. He inched toward the saucer. When he reached it, he lowered his head and began lapping it up, with a kind of gusto.

After a few moments, he sat back, in a posture that seemed to be intent on reclaiming some of his dignity. “Dao girl fighty now?”

I looked at him. “I’ve seen you fight, Mao’er. You were like a whirlwind of claws and teeth. Those boys ran away, covered with bites and scratches.”

He preened. “Mao’er fighty!”

“You weren’t holding back when you fought them, were you?”

“Hrah!” he said, or something like it, a cat’s proud laugh. “Me be jungle cat, Dao girl, me be fierce. Hunty, fighty! No hold back.”

“So what you’re saying, Mao’er, is that you fought with all your might, against children, and only managed to give them some scratches?”

He glared at me, his posture shrinking from pride to sullenness. “Mao’er fighty,” he said. “Hunty, fighty.”

“Mao’er, I’m sure you are a mighty hunter, and I would not insult your prowess,” I said. “But I do not think you should join me in my fighty. I mean, my fight.”

Sulking, he went back to lapping up the fish oil.

When there was none left, I burned paper mice. Mao’er hunted the mice, taunted and toyed with them, for minutes, before he killed them with a savagery that surprised me. He was chewing spirit-meat from their bones when I climbed back up the stone steps into the temple, and down the rickety wooden stairs to Father’s quarters.

To prepare myself for what was coming, I needed to pray and meditate, to perform prostrations and move through taiji sequences, if I was to have any hope of succeeding tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The day was approaching, second by second, and it frightened me. I didn’t see how I could face my challenges, but I still had to try. Tomorrow morning I needed to try to recruit the help of gangsters I had always held in contempt.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.