Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 108768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
A chill ran down my spine.
“It’s like the tales of sirens and mermaids, luring sailors with their beauty and songs, only for them to be pulled under, never to resurface.”
“Are those all the colors?”
“In the North, they wear yellow.”
“Why?”
“Think of it like a caution sign. One must always proceed carefully and with great respect when they see yellow.”
“So then why do you want me to wear white?”
“White shows neutrality and signifies that a person is a Friend of the Diamond Syndicate and is protected by its codes and regulations. It means you cannot be possessed, harmed, or threatened by any of the factions within the Syndicate.”
I felt a lump form in my throat. The thought of having such a mark was reassuring, but also daunting. “And everyone in this Diamond Syndicate would respect that?”
“Everyone in Paradise City would. But yes. . .someone like Leo. . .even though he is demented. . .would respect the white.” He sighed. “Lei would too. Chen would demand that everyone treat you in accordance with the code. He’s stiff like that.”
“Alright.” I nodded. “I can compromise on the color. As long as my wearing white isn’t disrespectful to anyone.”
“Lei may not like it but—”
“Why wouldn’t he like it?”
“Your wearing blue now means that he has full domain over you—”
“What? I’m just wearing blue—”
“It still means you’re under his control.”
I sighed, hating how caught up they all were with colors.
“White will keep our side calm.”
“Marcelo and you?”
“Yes. Because. . .I’m with Marcelo. I don’t want you there either—”
“Banks, I swear I’m fine and—”
“No. No. We don’t need to argue it at this point. Just let me have my men there watching over you. I get eyes there and I’m calm. Next, you wear white and now my blood pressure is steady.”
“And you’re fine?”
“No. I wouldn’t be fine, but I would be manageable for these seven days. Once you’re done, Marcelo and I grab you.”
“Okay.”
“Then, we will look over that deed and really help you decide if living in the East is a smart move or not.”
I gritted. “Okay.”
“And keep in mind, cousin. I’m not trying to control your life. It’s just. . .you’re now moving in my world, and there’s things that are different. . .and even dangerous. I just want you safe.”
“I understand.”
Banks released a pained sigh. “I can’t believe Uncle Chris is gone.”
My heart broke.
“We’ll send him out the right way.”
I nodded, tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah. We will.”
“And now Lei wants to be my cousin’s friend?”
I tensed.
“Just make sure you let Chen know that my men are there to protect you and that if he has a problem with it, to call me.”
“Banks, I don’t want to start any shit.”
“Chen will do it because he wants no war in Paradise City.”
“I don’t want any war either.”
“Then, make sure my men are in place, and you’re dressed in white.”
We continued talking.
He updated me on my sisters. T.T. had convinced him to buy her tons of treasure hunting books.
Chloe had already linked up with some of the friends she had made from earlier visits.
And Jo had two interviews with comic book stores this week. Apparently, Marcelo had pulled some strings. There would be no doubt that Jo would have a job by the end of the week.
This gave me the time to not only help Lei but get my shit together mentally.
Once Banks wrapped up our conversation, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that he was looking out for me.
He was right—I was stepping into a different, dangerous world, and I needed all the guidance I could get.
I just hoped that the presence of his men didn’t cause any problems.
Chapter four
A Bubbling Concoction
Lei
The brisk mountain air swept through the medical tent’s entrance sending chills down my spine.
Duck and I had been escorted inside after our heated altercation on the mountainside.
The dark blue interior contrasted to the rugged outside—delicate silk curtains swayed in the breeze, the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the room, and the scent of incense and herbs filled the space.
Lush, embroidered cushions adorned the benches on which Duck and I reclined.
A myriad of traditional Chinese healing instruments were carefully laid out—delicate jade gua sha tools, intricately painted porcelain bowls filled with dried herbs ready for brewing, and scrolls depicting ancient acupressure points.
Once we got on the benches, several healers examined our cuts and bruises. Their skilled hands moved in rhythmic patterns, cleaning and dressing our wounds with concoctions that stung momentarily but then soon soothed.
The heady aroma of herbs, combined with the fragrant balms, began to create an atmosphere of calm, slightly easing the weight of our confrontation.
Yet, it was the ancient rite of fire therapy that left the most profound effect on the space.
The process began with the healers lighting flames within glass cups, causing small vacuums when placed against the skin. The sensations were intense. The heat combined with the tugging of my skin into the cups was at once painful yet oddly cathartic.