Chapter 2

"Sis, you're back?"

Flora's voice drifted over from the couch.

She was wrapped in the handmade shawl Grandma had left me, and a piece of jade hung at her throat.

My feet stopped.

That was the warm-jade pendant Michael had given me five years ago. Top-grade stone, made specifically to suppress yin energy.

He'd told me back then that if I kept it under my pillow, I'd stop having nightmares.

"What are you looking at, Sis?" Flora followed my gaze and touched the jade, smiling like she'd done nothing wrong.

"Mikey said I just used your lamp, that I'm run-down, so he told me to wear it for a few days."

She said it so lightly. All her life she'd taken my things, and never once thought she had to give them back.

Michael came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of herbal medicine. When he saw me, his brow creased.

"Why are you back so late? Did you bring the blood? Did you finish copying the scriptures?"

"No."

His face darkened. His mouth opened like he had more to say.

Then Flora shrank into her shoulders. "Sis, why is the lamp burning that eerie green? It's so cold. It's making my skin crawl."

Dad walked out of the study, and the moment he heard that, his brow knotted.

"Laura, go see what's wrong. Is it because it hasn't been fed blood? Is the lamp unstable?"

Of course I knew what was wrong.

The wick was flickering wildly, flaring and dimming. The lamp was searching for its true owner.

The blood-pact was bound to my life chart. When it couldn't find me, it would pull in every scrap of yin energy for ten miles around to fill the gap.

Flora was an ordinary person. Sitting in front of that lamp, she was a slab of meat set down in front of starving wraiths.

"Just drip some blood in already." Mom's voice was impatient. "Quit dragging your feet. Look how scared you've made your sister."

Michael had already gone to the kitchen for the fruit knife, and he held it out to me.

"Just one cut. A small one."

I looked at the knife in his hand.

The silver blade caught the lamp's eerie green light.

None of them knew that a single drop of blood would fully activate the blood-pact inside the wick.

The lamp would become a signal tower, pulling every wandering wraith drifting through the city on this Ghost Festival night straight toward it.

And the name carved on the lamp base was: Flora Henson.

I took the knife and cut a line across my index finger.

The instant the drop of blood fell into the wick, the green flame shot up three inches, then snapped back down into a quiet, eerie glow.

"There, there, see? It's steady now."

Dad let out a breath and patted Flora's head. "It's fine, baby. Just sleep it off."

Flora leaned back against the couch and smiled at me. "Thank you, Sis."

I didn't answer. I turned and went upstairs.

I was going to grab my ID and the bankbook Grandma had left me. I didn't want to stay in this house one more minute.

I pushed open my bedroom door. The drawer had been pried open, and it was empty.

My ID was gone. The bankbook was gone. Even the string of cinnabar prayer beads Grandma left me was gone.

"Looking for your documents? I put them away. Don't worry."

Mom stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest.

"It's the Ghost Festival. Don't go out. Stay home and behave, don't go wandering around and pick something up."

Then Dad came too.

"Flora can sleep in your room tonight. It faces the sun, good feng shui. You make do in the guest room for one night."

But Mom said, "The guest room's too close. Go sleep in the basement. Don't let your yin energy knock into Flora. And have you finished copying the scriptures? When you're done, bring them to me."

"There were no brushes or ink at the hospital. I couldn't copy anything."

"Then take a brush and ink and go copy in the basement. When you're finished, I'll come collect them."

Mom closed the door and left.

I let out a bitter laugh. It had always been this way. In their eyes there was only ever Flora.

On Flora's birthday, the whole family went to the amusement park, and I was locked at home, in case I saw something unclean and cried, and brought bad luck.

At Flora's piano recital, the whole family was in the audience. Not one person came to my speech competition.

When she got sick, the whole family circled around her.

When I ran a fever, Mom said don't be so delicate, drink some hot water and you'll be fine.

I wiped away the tears that hadn't yet fallen and opened my phone to the ticketing app.

I didn't have my ID, but I could book the ticket first and get a temporary ID certificate at the station.

There were still over two hours until midnight.

I stared at the screen and pressed the button to confirm the bullet-train ticket.