Page 121 of Night's Reckoning
“I would not think of keeping it,” Cheng said. “Though I may request to buy some of these pieces for my collection.”
“Understandable.” She wanted the ruby necklace for herself.
“Do you realize what this means, Tenzin?” Cheng said. “If your father’s sword was in a case like these, the Laylat al Hisab could be in nearly perfect condition.”
“Yes. But that’s not all it means.”
“What else?”
She remembered Ben’s words exactly.“We found the sword. It was with the glass like you thought. Glass ca-cash. Case. Like… bubble. Bread. Weird.”
Ben hadn’t known what he’d been looking at. Not at first. And Tenzin would never have imagined it without seeing these pieces. But Johari had known immediately what they had found, because she wasted no time eliminating her competition.
“Johari knew exactly what to look for,” Tenzin said. “That means whoever sent her knew exactly what Harun packed in that caravan a thousand years ago.”
30
Tenzin was staring at the day quarters of a vampire she didn’t know. She didn’t know Johari’s history or connections. She didn’t know anything about her training or her power. She was a vampire who had changed elements. She had switched loyalties, which meant she was not to be trusted.
She looked for clues in the things left behind. Johari’d had no opportunity to take her belongings after she stole the sword, leaving a few clues to where she might go.
There was a book about Taiwan and another about Macau. There was a map of the region with no markings on it. There was another book of nonfiction written by an Indian journalist. It was about refugees surviving in East Africa.
Interesting. And unexpected.
Tenzin picked up the book and paged through it, looking for pages that had been read, minute marks on the paper, and creases. The book might have been random, or it could offer a clue about who Johari truly was.
A picture fell from the paperback.
She stopped it before she lost the page, opening it to the beginning of a chapter entitled “The Good Doctor.”
She skimmed the pages of the chapter detailing the work of one man in Uganda, a doctor who focused on women and children in the refugee camps, but nothing stood out as unusual until she came to one paragraph.
Dr. Zuberi, born of an Arab father and an East African mother, sees it as his mission to help these women in need, though a rare skin condition keeps his clinic operating almost entirely at night. Nevertheless, he manages to…
Manages to be a doctor and a vampire at the same time. Tenzin flipped over the picture, which was yellowed with age. A tall, attractive man in a formal, long-sleevedthobestared back at her. The long, off-white robe contrasted sharply with the man’s dark skin. His bearing was regal, and he did not smile. The picture was taken in a studio, no doubt at night using artificial light if it was the same ageless man. She looked at the back of the picture.
Zuberi in Lamu, 1934.
So this Zuberi was important enough to Johari to keep a picture of him, and also a book.
Interesting.
She searched the rest of the quarters, but there was nothing else of importance to note. Tenzin took the book and the photograph back to her hold and brought out her tablet.
“Cara, call Penglai.”
“Calling.”
The phone started to ring. Tenzin pictured it in the small room off the palace. The old landline was the only telecommunication off the island for the vampires who resided there, and the room was staffed by humans most of the time, polishing and cleaning the old rotary phone to keep it shining.
The ringing stopped and there was silence.
“Hello?”
She closed her eyes when she heard his voice. Tenzin couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She saw his face. His fine, graceful fingers holding the phone handset to his ear. His lips waiting to speak.
“Tenzin, you wanted me here, so I am. I’ve been waiting for an hour and a half. What do you want?”
