Stealing the Dragon

that Jun would still recognize her in the morning.

An hour later, the nightmare came for her.

If you want to kill this man, you will first have to get close to him.

Xan’s words rolled across thunderheads on the horizon as Sally, her arms heavy and useless, struggled in Kano’s embrace. She could feel him stir as he pressed his hips forward, his right knee forcing her legs apart. His scent was a cloying mixture of musk, booze, and sweat that filled her nostrils, his unshaven cheek sandpaper against her skin. As his right hand grabbed her breast and his left pulled her closer, her arms grew heavier, and Sally realized she wasn’t strong enough. She wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

Kano could take her, and there was nothing Sally could do about it.

As his mouth pressed against hers, she saw the horror on her parents’ faces and knew that she had failed. From beyond the grave they called out to her, their voices merging into a single, plaintive wail of despair.

“Sally! Sally, wake up!”

Light from under the door and Jun shaking her, the darkness retreating to the corners of the room.

Sally shuddered as her eyes focused, her body slick with sweat, suddenly cold in the night air. Jun held her at arm’s length, watching her eyes to see if the dream still possessed her. Sally exhaled and forced a smile.

“Sorry I woke you.”

Jun smiled back, her hands still resting on Sally’s shoulders. Wordlessly, she leaned across the bed and hugged Sally. After a long moment she pulled back enough to kiss Sally lightly on the cheek.

“Welcome home,” she said.

Tears started pouring down Sally’s cheeks. Tears she had never found. Tears for her parents. Tears for the last remnant of innocence she threw over the balcony in Tokyo. All the tears that she couldn’t find for more than a decade.

Jun held her and they both cried silently, the tears running down their faces and chests, flowing together on the bed between them, pooling their sorrows. The two girls sat crying for what seemed like a year, the sheets soaking up all the pain and doubt the world had given them.

When there were no more tears left between them, Sally and Jun looked at each other. Their eyes were red but they both smiled, neither shy nor embarrassed.

Without saying anything more, Jun leaned forward and kissed Sally again, this time on the mouth.

Sally gasped briefly, then returned the kiss. Jun tasted of salt and something else, tears mixed with emotions too subtle and complex to put into words.

Sally closed her eyes and felt Kano’s coarse hands fade away. His scent dissipated in the night air, and his twisted mask of lust and hate shrank to nothingness as he fell, plummeting endlessly from her consciousness into oblivion.

The rest of the night until the dawn Sally stayed in Jun’s arms. Looking back, years later, Sally would remember that night as the last time she had a nightmare.

She knew Death would be her constant companion, but she no longer feared or hated him for what he brought and what he took away. She considered Death an ally, if not a friend, the only one she could count on besides Jun.

Chapter Thirty

San Francisco, present day

Milfred P. James decided the guys running the union were nimrods.

Milfred, or Mill, as he liked women to call him, was tired and more than a little pissed off. Working customs for six hours straight was brutal, even wearing orthopedic shoes and the back brace his ex gave him last Christmas. Some genius in the union figured longer shifts gave them more leverage on the pension plan.

Mill would like to see the union bosses stand for six hours at a time, bending to open people’s bags, standing up again to scan the crowd, bending over again to open the next set. He’d been to union meetings and seen the beer guts on those guys, the tans from playing golf with their politician buddies every Friday. He’d give anyone five- to-one odds that those chicken-fuckers would be in traction if they tried to do his job for a day, let alone a week.

Six hours was a bitch.

Mill looked at his watch. Ten minutes to go. Then another five minutes to change his clothes in the locker room, then twenty minutes to drive home to South San Francisco. Ten more minutes to walk to the bar down the street, then another ten to throw back a shot of bourbon and finish off his first beer of the night.

A family that looked like they were coming home from vacation was headed his way, the mom looking exhausted, two kids talking nonstop-a boy and a girl, both teenagers-and the dad looking pissed. Early in his shift Mill might fuck with them just to pass the time, watch the woman get all crazy and blame the husband for looking so angry that he looked like he had something to hide.

But Mill was tired, and the clock was ticking. He unzipped two of the wheely-bags and lifted the flaps a few inches, then waved them off. He called it the quick-zip-you knew there was nothing inside, just going through the motions.

“That’s it?” asked the dad. “Not much for security around here, are you?”

“Stan, don’t argue with the man,” said the wife.

“Don’t start, Judith.”

“I’m not the one who-”

Mill raised both hands, palms out. “Judith.”

Judith whipped her head around, knocked off balance by the customs guy saying her name like that. She looked at Mill like he was a talking dog.

“Yes?”

“Give it a rest, Judith,” said Mill.

The husband jumped in with both feet. “What did you-”

Mill’s hands were still up as he pivoted toward the man. “Stan, put a sock in it.”

Stan’s head snapped back like he’d been splashed with cold water. The two teenagers started giggling.

Mill looked deliberately from Judith to Stan. “Been on vacation?” he asked pleasantly.

Judith was the first to find her tongue. “Well, yes. We took the kids to visit friends in Hong Kong.” She smiled pleasantly, back on firm ground, reflexive answers to simple questions.

“Swell,” said Mill.

“Excuse me?” said Stan.

Mill let his hands drop to his sides. “You got a choice, folks. You zip up your bags and go home, or you continue irritating the fuck out of me and I recommend you for a cavity search.”

“I don’t have any cavities,” said the teenaged boy, revealing a set of braces that looked like barbed wire.

Mill shook his head. “One…two…three…”

Stan and Judith got the bags off the metal table and the kids through the doors before Mill counted ten. He watched them scurry away, then screwed up his face and spoke in a nasal whine. “Not much for security around here, are you?”

God, did he hate this fucking job.

He looked up to see another wave of passengers flowing toward him, a tall Chinese guy in the lead. He was big, broad in the chest and shoulders, and he moved like he was gliding across the carpet. Must be a dancer or something.

As he came closer, Mill got a look at his face. Jesus, what a scary motherfucker. His eyes looked flat and