A few restaurants were interspersed between the specialty merchant shops. Ai Ling’s mouth watered from the scent of roasted duck. Chen Yong released her hand, and her heart dropped with it as he pulled away.
“Let’s eat first,” he said. “The smell of that duck is torture.”
They pushed their way toward the origin of the delicious aroma, and wandered down a small side street. Tucked in the middle was a cramped one-story restaurant, looking as if it fought for its space between two tall buildings. There was no name plaque outside the establishment.
Ai Ling and Chen Yong stepped into the dark interior. The restaurant was small, and surprisingly empty considering the tantalizing scent that had drawn them both. Fewer than a dozen wooden tables took up the tiny space, with a dark blue curtain draped between the dining area and the kitchen behind it.
“Goddess of Mercy, I need to eat,” Ai Ling said, sliding into a wooden chair near the kitchen. They’d be served faster, she reasoned.
Chen Yong grinned at her. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a hot meal.” He sat down across from her and put his knapsack on the floor. “Order as much as you like. My treat.”
Ai Ling clapped her hands with glee, and Chen Yong laughed.
“It’s the least I deserve after the shock of playing your wife without so much as a kiss or warning,” she said.
Two bright points of color appeared on Chen Yong’s cheekbones, barely noticeable in the dim light. Ai Ling smiled, amused that she had made him blush for once.
“It worked, didn’t it? We would have had too many questions otherwise,” he said.
A girl brought them hot tea.
“A plate of the roast duck, steamed dumplings, spicy noodles with beef gravy, pickled cucumbers, stewed tongue and eggs if you have them, cold please, and sticky rice pearls, too,” Ai Ling said, before the server girl could open her mouth. “I don’t know what he wants.” Ai Ling nodded toward Chen Yong.
“I’m not sure I have enough coins to order anything more,” he said, laughing.
Ai Ling was about to retort but couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“I’ll have fresh steamed fish, if you have it, and bean curd with shrimp and snow peas,” he said.
“We are close to the sea and have fresh seafood delivered daily, sir.” The servant girl nodded before she hurried away to the kitchen with their order.
“We never ate much seafood. It was difficult to get, not to mention expensive. But always a treat,” Ai Ling said.
“I guess I grew up spoiled. My family had at least one seafood dish with every meal,” he said.
Ai Ling glanced at the other patrons in the small restaurant. There was a stocky man drinking wine and trying various small dishes near the entrance, and at another table close by two men slurped large bowls of noodles. Her hunger worsened.
Another patron was just entering. He blocked the doorway, the sunlight from behind him obscuring his features. He raised one hand and pointed at her. The hair on her arms stood on end.
“Ai Ling,” he hissed.
“Chen Yong,” she said, in warning.
He did not rise from the chair, but his eyes were alert and dangerous.
The figure stepped from the doorway, and the lanterns in the small restaurant revealed his form. His white tongue lolled out past his chin, the ashen lips drawn back showing jagged teeth. Instead of hair, milk white strands thicker than noodles writhed on his head. It took a second for Ai Ling to realize that each strand was alive, with tiny gaping maws. A keening came from the hundreds of open mouths. Her teeth ached from it.
Night-worm fiends! Her mind quickly flew to The Book of the Dead.
The man dining with his friend was the only other patron facing the front entrance. He shrieked and scooted back in his chair too quickly, tipping backward in a heap.
The stocky man eating by himself rose in confusion. “Son of a cursed bitch, what’s—” He never finished his sentence as the thing lurched from behind and laid a hand on his shoulder.
The man’s eyes grew wide as they turned a filmy white, his black pupils disappearing. His lips drew back as jagged teeth erupted from his gums and his tongue fell from his mouth, widening and lengthening at the same time, until it licked his own chin. Worms sprouted instantaneously from his entire head, undulating and hissing as they grew to their full length.
“Ai Ling,” he hissed.
The metamorphosis was complete in mere breaths. The man who had fallen on the floor whimpered and struggled to rise. His friend tried to help him to his feet.
But both creatures covered the space between them in two jerky strides, each laying a hand on one of the men. Ai Ling didn’t need to see what would happen next. She jumped from her chair and saw Chen Yong do the same, with his sword drawn.
“Through the kitchen,” she yelled.
She dashed through the curtained door, only to be greeted by the hissing of her name. Their servant girl. She crouched by the cutting table, blocking their way to the back entry. Ai Ling cast a quick glance around and saw two others, stumbling toward them.
“Step back!” Chen Yong pushed past her and slashed the servant girl in the neck with his sword. The pale worms on her head spat with fury. But the girl did not falter, and she extended her hand toward Chen Yong.
The other two closed in on Ai Ling, hands outstretched, hissing her name.
She felt the crackle in her hair as all three demons were enveloped in a blinding light and flung against the kitchen wall. Ai Ling clutched her jade pendant, burning in her palm.
“Go!” she shouted.
She threw the back door open and jumped into the small alleyway that ran behind the restaurant. The stench of rotten cabbage filled her nose. She looked back past Chen Yong to see the three demons from the dining room stagger after them. She splashed through a puddle of rancid water and slipped, reeling backward. Chen Yong caught her and pushed her upright again, thrusting her forward.
She ran with Chen Yong at her heels, the sound of her heart and breath thundering in her ears. The alleyway was narrow and dark. She ran blind, hoping to come to the end of the passageway and an open street. A gray stone wall, a little taller than Chen Yong, blocked their path. They were trapped. She turned to find fiends shuffling toward them, all hissing her name.
“Climb the wall, I’ll help you,” Chen Yong said.
He lifted her, and her hands searched for a hold among the rough stones. She pulled herself up as Chen Yong boosted her by the feet from below. She perched on the top of the wall, the width of it no more than her foot. She reached down to Chen Yong. The demons swarmed around him, tongues lolling and arms outstretched.
He looked up at her with an unreadable expression. “Run,” he said.
“Take my hand.” She stretched toward him, and their hands clasped just as the wretched creatures fell upon him.
Ai Ling watched with horror as his amber eyes began to fade to white. His tongue emerged from his mouth, and his face distorted. She hurtled into his being with fury and felt the onslaught of the evil that flooded his spirit. She fought against it, whirling through him in a blinding rage, destroying the seeping filth of the night worms’ tainted touch.
I can’t lose you, was her only tangible thought. She held on to it as she fought. She saw nothing, only felt the blazing heat of her spirit as it coursed through his. Finally, sensing a balance return, she saw through him; she squatted on the wall, their fingers twined together, her face pallid and tight.
In a rage of violence not his own, Chen Yong knocked the demons to the ground. She snapped back into her own body. Gasping, the world spun, and she gripped the narrow wall with both hands. Chen Yong stood below her, head bent, looking at the bodies around him. They were themselves again, and all lay unconscious on the ground. The servant girl bled profusely from her gaping throat.