Dim Sum Asylum(56)

“Definitely tomorrow, then?” He studied me, and I would have made a remark about being an insect pinned to a piece of corkboard, but I didn’t think he’d find it funny. Nodding slowly, he said, “I’m not saying we go at it on the couch here. What I am saying is that we should be open to it, at least. Life’s too short, Roku. You know that. We both do. But when it’s all said and done, we need to be friends. I need that in my life. My world was turned upside down, and, well, I don’t think yours has ever been right side up.”

“You’ve got that right.” The pangs in my chest were subsiding, but the broiling sear in my belly was kicking it up a notch. “You going to go toe-to-toe with me on the case? Because I need to get it back. I owe it to Jie.”

“You go through a door, I’ll be right there with you. Look, there’s got to be a connection between the first two netsuke murders and the attempts on you and your grandfather. I’m guessing Jie was killed because she was poking into things for you.” Trent’s fingers were busy again, ghosting over my knee. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

“Hell, there were some very recent days when Jie was the only person I could depend on,” I admitted quietly. “Gaines and Braeden are great. Don’t get me wrong. But their idea of empathy usually comes with a huge meal and fifty of their closest friends to keep you company over the weekend. Way too damned social when all I want to do is brood and sulk.”

“We don’t have anywhere to start, remember? The whole damned division came up empty on every single weak lead we had.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” I needed to get some breathing room, some space to get my thoughts all in one bucket to fish through, because Trent’s hands were making it hard to think. “Okay, someone took out Jie with the same kind of magic used on me and the old man. The three of us have a solid connection, but what about the noodle factory owner and the… what did the other victim do?”

“Teacher, I think.” Trent leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. I feared for the coffee table, but it held under his movements. “And then there’s the woman who went missing from the temple. The same temple our dead noodle factory guy attended.”

“Okay, supposition. Maybe the spell is done in threes. A lot of them are.” I was going to need something for my head, but at the moment, I had a whisper of an idea dancing through my thoughts.

“Three’s a magical number,” Trent offered. “Or at least everything I read says that.”

“Chinese especially. The word for three sounds like birth. Um, sān or shēng, depending on how you pronounce it. It’s convoluted, but it works with the three major stages of life, birth, marriage, and death.” The incessant throb was back behind my eyes, but I told the pain it was going to have to wait. It responded by picking a spot in my sinuses to poke at. I ignored that too. “Three is both the birth and the stages. Look, I know the concept, but ancient numerology tenets require a man with a tall, thin hat and robes to explain. I just know there’s numbers that matter and a little bit about why they do. The point is three is a powerful number and word.”

“Really? Marriage?” His eyebrow crooked up.

“Continuation of family is the basis of most Asian cultures. You don’t live for yourself. You live for the generations before and after you. You’re cared for in the beginning, knowing you will spend most of your life caring for your children and your parents, and if you’ve done right by the generations you’ve cared for, they take care of you when you’re older. It’s just how it is. That’s what marriage means, that span of time when you’re building off of what came before you.” I needed more coffee, and when I checked my cup, it was woefully low. “But three, that’s significant because the caster might be using it to birth the netsuke. It corresponds to the number he seems to be creating in a batch. Three is a powerful magic base. Three netsuke and the right kanji combination would fuel the spell if he’s using birth to mean animate.”

“There were only two tanuki netsuke,” Trent pointed out. “Where’d the third go?”

“I think the shrine god was the third in that. They’re connected as fertility totems. It could be why the god didn’t have a focus. We assumed it was a love spell gone wrong, but suppose it couldn’t lock on its victim? That would explain why it was running amok through Chinatown.” The threads were beginning to form, solidifying into something, but I couldn’t see the whole picture. “Grandfather, Jie, and I were attacked using scorpion netsuke. Suppose the shrine god was used as a substitute. Suppose he had three tanuki and something happened to one of them. He’d need a substitute, and shrine gods are a dime a dozen.”

“Aren’t netsuke cheaper? I mean, they’re all over the lower districts. You can get them practically on every street corner in C-Town or up over in Japantown.” Trent checked my coffee cup, peeking into its empty depths. “I’ll do refills. Keep talking. Why wouldn’t he just grab something close by?”

“The ones the caster is using are high quality. Good clear quartz or solid stone, hand-carved. Not that crude resin or plastic crap you can get for a few bucks. The better the tools, the stronger the magic.” I stretched, counting the number of times my back popped, but the rush of relief along my cramped muscles made the dizzying sensations worth it. “He’d need quality stoneware, something equal to what he was working with. Temples tend to use statues that can withstand weather and people handling them. Remember, he’s got to have something sturdy enough to do damage. The scorpion that attacked me was meticulously carved, so when it was animated, all of its joints and claws worked, and it was damned hard to stop.”