Page 30 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
“You always work so hard, for so little. Why do you care what Cobra Lily thinks? Leave that mean old woman and find a new job.”
“She lifted me out of poverty, gave me purpose.”
“Hnh. Are you a small child? Giveyourselfpurpose, woman.”
“It’s not just about Cobra Lily,” Mercy said, gently. “This city is my home. It is Bao’s home. Good things are worth fighting for.”
“Is it good, though? This life you struggle to keep.”
“It’s not paradise, but it’s mine,” Mercy said. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere without my cat, and they’d never let a maogui on a plane.”
Bao lashed his tail.
Erika laughed uproariously. “You and that beast,” she said. “Very well, but I’m coming with you. We will solve this problem together. I can’t stay here, now that I’ve killed triad men.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mercy said, with fresh alarm. “I hadn’t even thought—”
“Tch, I went for them, too! Never mind. Best if we leave together, now.”
“No need to come with me,” Mercy said. “Lay low somewhere, stay away from both of these women.”
“I certainly will not! The sooner this is resolved, the sooner I can return. No, no, close that big mouth and don’t argue! I am coming with you, and that’s the end.” The older woman slipped her blade back into its case, and stuck it through her belt. “But help me clean up this mess first, or we’ll have ghosts of our own to deal with. All over my clean floor—look at that!”
“Yes, big sister,” Mercy said humbly, and bent to haul the first body upward.
She thought briefly about mentioning her bad night’s sleep, then decided against it. They had more important tasks at hand.
The bodies were surprisingly easy to dispose of. Erika had many friends in the complex, some more savory than others by legal standards. In record time, unlicensed men carrying medical equipment and ice boxes showed up to scavenge what they could of the freshly dead corpses.
An hour later, the grisly remains (which even Mercy, with all her triad-hardened years, found hard to look at) were dragged off and taken to an industrial waste site. Afterward, they mopped up a few blood smears on the already-stained linoleum floors with bleach.
“Remind me never to anger you,” Mercy said afterward, washing her blood-soaked hands in the sink.
She had killed before, or assisted in killings under Cobra Lily’s leadership. Triad law could not be enforced without the occasional head being removed from the occasional shoulders. But the casual butchery of corpses was a new and unpleasant experience. She hoped never to repeat it again, and wondered how often Erika had participated in such things. Her friend had many layers, and not all of them were nice.
“If you ever did make me angry, I’d give you twenty-four hours’ warning, first. For old times’ sake.” Erika grinned around a cigarette, and Mercy couldnot tell whether the other woman was joking. “If you’re nearly done, I think it is time we paid a visit to Miss Tsang’s property.”
Torrential rain plastered Mercy’s clothes to her stocky frame in mere seconds. Even with a sky sheltered by buildings, the rain got in, filtered through layers of pollution and metal. Around her, the air tasted of ocean salt, undercutting the city stench of grease and pollution. Signs rattled in the sideways wind, the gutters already flooded. The first of the yearly typhoons must have landed in the night.
The weather was inauspicious, to say the least. It felt like another storm was coming.
Mercy held a folded newspaper above her head as she darted down the street, cursing the lack of umbrella. The newspaper did nothing except disintegrate steadily above her. Street lights flickered and faltered. Flooding was often a problem in Kowloon in this sort of weather, making the electricity unreliable.
It was the last day before Hungry Ghost Festival, meaning street hawkers were frantically trying to sell the last of their fu talismans, lucky amulets, incense sticks, special fruit, and paper offerings to all and sundry, before their goods became obsolete again. And before they all went in for the night, to stay safe.
The winds were strong, shaking the festival markets which clustered in streets and side alleys, rattling the hanging lanterns. The ghosts who always lurked in corners and shadows were bolder than usual, almost playful, and everyone gave them a wide berth.
From here, she could see the high-rise building which housed the Birdcage. The establishment occupied two floors, on the fourth and fifth level; beneath it was a butcher shop, which always seemed rather suspicious to Mercy.
The entrance to the Birdcage was an approximation of grandeur, though it fell short of the mark. Creaking double doors stood beneath a swinging sign, inviting entry. Red and gold paint flaked from the carved exterior, the handles patterned with the grime of many hands.
A pair of bouncers stood inside the enclosed porch; both were armed, with carved wards hanging round their necks. Even large, tough men did not wait outside at night in Kowloon, unless they absolutely had to.
“Not looking very quiet,” she muttered. “Do those big nephews ever sleep?”
“Probably not, but that’s okay,” Erika said, and tugged her arm. “This way. There’s a back entrance through the alley. I’ll show you.”
The “alley” had once been a gap between buildings, a few levels above the ground floor. Since then, the gap had been filled with planks, cables, and pipes, layered up with metal sheeting and a thick layer of trash compacted down by the passage of feet. It was somewhere between a garbage net and a ramshackle bridge. Mercy stepped with light feet, conscious that any of it might give way in unexpected places.
