Page 35 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
Carefully, leery of her own dubious balance, Mercy reached the first concrete slab, and lifted up the tarp.
It took her a long moment to realize that she actually recognized this body, in part because the head was missing: the little water-fetcher girl, laid out to rest. The smell was bad, but this whole room stank of drainage and filthy water. So, this was where the body ended up, then.
She moved to the next one, gently peeling it back. A young businessman lay beneath, still in a smart suit and polished shoes. An expensive watch encircled one wrist, and his dead eyes were wide open.
A fu talisman of preservation was tacked to his chest; he had not rotted, unlike the young girl. Those fu talismans were common enough for funerals, or on food you didn’t want to spoil, and Mercy had seen them often. This was a much darker repurposing of a very useful fu talisman, though.
A terrible suspicion crawled over Mercy.
Some ghosts could take bodies and inhabit them. But usually, ghosts took only a single victim, leaving that unfortunate person behind as a new spirit, in their place.
This ghost, though, seemed to be taking many different bodies. Instead of living in a single one, they were swapping between skins like sets of clothes. It reminded her a bit of the story about the painted skin demon, who could take different appearances and blend in as human.
But for what purpose? That was the bit Mercy found difficult. She still couldn’t fathomwhythe ghost was doing all this. What need, what desire, what unfinished business drove it to such layered and complex actions? Ghosts were many things, butcomplexwas rarely one of them.
Feeling sick with anxiety, Mercy turned away, stepping carefully to the final slab. With a deep feeling of trepidation, she drew back the heavy tarp.
This body belonged to Cobra Lily.
12CATS ARE BASTARDS
August 21, 1975
Mercy bent over the cold body in that dim light, breath coming in hard and sharp.
Definitely Cobra Lily. Mercy could pick her boss out of a crowd of thousands, could—if required—home in on that triangular face. The tattoos seemed heavy and dark against the unexpected pallor of her skin. A preservation fu talisman was pinned to her chest, same as the man Mercy had just looked at.
This murder must have occurred the night before, she decided. Perhaps the ghost had come to Cobra Lily’s quarters in the Walled City, through the connected waterways. From there, it would be a simple task for such a creature to drown the triad leader.
That explained the triad enforcers coming to Erika’s house in the night. Cobra Lily hadn’t suddenly changed her opinion of Mercy’s usefulness. Rather, someone else—or somethingelse—had taken over Cobra Lily.
And Kit Ling was definitely working with this ghost, in some capacity. Mercy wondered how the councilwoman was controlling something so powerful—if indeed she was. Maybe it was controlling her, or maybe it had gotten out of control.
Mercy lifted one of the hands, unable to stop herself. Long fingers and a narrow wrist, resting in her palm. The arm sat limply in her grasp. With her knife, she gently prodded the corpse; no response to that either. She hadn’t been expecting one.
You’ll have a place to live, luxury goods, and you’ll never be hungry again. What do you say, little ghost talker?
Working for a triad hadn’t always been easy, despite the money and prestige. The job had been a challenge, both in learning to deal with ghosts and in navigating the triad queen’s wild mood swings and fragile ego. Then there’d been the whole business with the name change: Cobra Lily had insisted she take an English name, for “prestige.”
But Mercy didn’t hold a grudge. She’d known what she was signing up for and been fine with it. Ultimately, she had never wanted or expected an easy life, only an interesting one, and Cobra Lily had always given her that.
She would miss the violent old bat.
“I am sorry,” she said to Cobra Lily’s shell, wishing she knew the woman’s full name. Her boss had been a complicated woman; both a benefactor and a bully, both a social reformer and a volatile criminal.
Mercy gave herself a shake, replaced the tarp gently, and stepped back. She had to get out of here. Had to tell someone.
Only, there was truly no one to tell. The ghost was working with Kit Ling in some capacity, and either was controlled by her, or was controlling her. It could appear as a swathe of different people; no one was safe.
Who, exactly, was Mercy going to inform other than Erika—someone nearly as powerless as herself?
Theoretically, she could tell the triad. But the idea of rounding up triad members and informing them that their leader was now a supernatural creature inhabiting different skins made her insides clench. No one would believe her tale, not without significant proof, and that would involve openly storming the premises and bringing people down here. Dragging a body up with her would not be enough, because you could get bodies from anywhere.
Assuming anyone in the triad did believe her, Mercy was not sure they would care. Cobra Lily was seen as powerful, regarded almost as a force of nature. The revelation that she was even more powerful than everyone had first thought would not necessarily have the effect Mercy was hoping for. A handful of skins in a secret room was unlikely to deter those loyal to her. Cobra Lily had buried her share of corpses over the years.
Maybe Mercy should just walk away. There was still time to go back up those stairs, out the side door, and flee. Meet up with Bao and Erika, get the hell out. She could catch a plane or boat or train, anything, and be on the other side of the world as Erika had suggested. Sometimes a fight was bigger than you could handle.
And yet.
