wearing a loose sweater over a muted gray dress. The old woman saw Rachel and spoke in her native language, holding out her arms for a hug.
Rachel obliged. “Hi, Po-Po.”
Grandma Luke hugged her granddaughter, then pointed to the television and spoke again as Granny fired the shotgun into the air. Rachel laughed and Evelyn turned to Donovan, explaining, “She says Granny’s a very obstinate woman.”
Donovan offered a polite smile, but bristled slightly as Grandma Luke’s wizened eyes shifted in his direction, assessing him. Despite her age, those eyes had a clarity and depth that was vaguely unsettling. She spoke again, her voice low and melodic, and when she was done, Evelyn reached over and shut the TV off, turning again to Donovan, her expression sober.
“What did she say?” Donovan asked.
“The look on your face,” Evelyn said. “She’s seen it before.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve been to the other side.”
Surprised, Donovan glanced at Rachel, but Rachel shook her head. “I haven’t told her a thing.”
“It’s a look that only a traveler wears,” Evelyn said.
Traveler, Donovan thought. Another simple, yet appropriate phrase. The Wu family’s ability to cut through the bullshit was starting to impress him.
Still looking at him, Grandma Luke spoke again and Evelyn translated.
“Your story,” she said. “Tell us your story.”
So he told them, letting it spill out of him once again, avoiding the temptation to embellish, telling it exactly as it happened.
Grandma Luke’s face remained immobile throughout, but her dark eyes drew him in as he spoke. For a moment it seemed as if only the two of them were in the room, priest and confessor, mother and child. Telling his story to this old woman was an emotional cleansing that seemed to both drain him and give him strength.
When he finished, Grandma Luke spoke again and Evelyn said, “This man you saw on your journey. The one who kissed you. He died a violent death?”
Donovan flashed back to that moment in the train yard that seemed like eons ago. “Yes,” he said. “He was shot.”
Grandma Luke nodded.
“He is a hungry ghost,” Evelyn translated.
“A what?”
“A hungry ghost,” Rachel said. “It’s an ancient Taoist belief. Every year, during the seventh moon, the gates of hell open and hungry spirits roam the earth in search of bodies to possess.”
“Seventh moon?”
“August,” Rachel told him.
“August came and went a long time ago,” Donovan said.
Grandma Luke spoke once again, her words filtered through Evelyn.
“Time doesn’t matter,” she said. “This is a new spirit. One who found his way here before his final descent. He’s the hungriest of all-and the most dangerous. That kiss he gave you opened a door into your consciousness, leaving you vulnerable to his attacks.”
“Then I was right,” Donovan said. “He’s inside me.”
“Yes,” Evelyn translated. “But he failed to possess you completely. Part of his soul remains stranded in the dark world. His strength comes and goes with the ebb and flow of your own.”
Donovan glanced at Rachel, saw her distress. This clearly wasn’t territory she liked to explore.
“The absence of light you experienced was his way of taunting you,” Evelyn continued, “enticing you to seek him out, so that the transfer of souls can be completed. He killed those men to get your attention, to force you into a confrontation.”
“Confrontation?” Donovan frowned. “What kind of confrontation?”
“On the other side,” Rachel said, a slight tremor to her voice.
“What?”
“He’s calling you back. Challenging you to some kind of… metaphysical duel.”
As Donovan tried to digest this, Grandma Luke spoke again.
“Ignore his taunts at your peril,” Evelyn translated. “If his challenge goes unanswered, he will continue to haunt you until you either go mad or your body gives out.”
“Wonderful.”
“But should you choose to confront him, he will do everything he can to steal your place here on earth.”
“So I’m screwed no matter what,” Donovan said. “And Jessie’s his trump card. If I don’t accept his invitation, I’ll never find her.”
“You don’t know that,” Rachel said.
“Don’t I? He’s the only one left, Rache. He made sure of that when he killed Luther.”
“Maybe so,” Rachel said. “But how do you plan on accomplishing this little get-together? Drive off another bridge?”
Donovan hesitated. She had a point. Even if he chose to confront Gunderson, how exactly would he do it? His first trip to the netherworld had been a fluke, an anomaly. Short of putting a gun to his head, how would he get there again?
Seeming to sense his dilemma, Grandma Luke spoke.
“There’s more than one way to travel to the other side,” Evelyn said. “Less dangerous than what you’ve already experienced, but still very risky.”
Grandma Luke reached to a table beside her chair and opened a battered cigar box. Inside was a collection of papers, some yellowed with age. She searched through them, found a dog-eared business card, and offered it to Donovan.
“This man will help you,” Evelyn translated.
Donovan took the card.
Chinese characters.
An address printed below them.
Rachel stared at it over his shoulder. “This is crazy,” she said. “Why did I even bring you here?”
Grandma Luke smiled at Rachel and spoke again.
“My granddaughter has always been a reluctant believer,” Evelyn translated. “She knows this is the only way, but the truth frightens her.”
“See what I grew up with?” Rachel said.
“I know you’re scared, Rache, but think of Jessie. Right before he was shot, Gunderson asked me if I was willing to die for my little girl.” Donovan paused, then said, “What would your answer be?”
50
It was an apothecary shop, but unless you were suffering from a serious brain-cell deficiency, you wouldn’t mistake it for the local Walgreens.
A three-block walk from Grandma Luke’s apartment, it was tucked into a narrow cul-de-sac as if hiding from the world, a secret to be shared with only a select few.
There were no signs advertising its presence. Only a dilapidated door and a dirty window filled with what looked like industrial-sized mayonnaise jars holding moldy powders and pickled substances of unknown origin. They reminded Donovan of the kinds of things unwitting reality-show contestants are forced to swallow as America watches. Whatever was in those jars did not look particularly medicinal.
“You sure this is the right place?” he asked.
Rachel nodded. “My grandparents used to bring me here.”
