Kunlun

By Adamek L Wendi

Teen bookshelves are packed with vampires and other strays from medieval European culture, but here’s an alternative: Kunlun, a tale of Asian mystery, adventure, and lives on the line. At the heart of it is Vikki Beldark, a scrappy shape-shifting fox who finds herself on an fur-raising journey across China. Along the way she

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Wuxia Books
• Release date: Jun 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999173500

Adamek L Wendi

When not writing fiction about Asia, Wendi Adamek spends her time studying it. Born in Hawaii and educated at Stanford, she has lived in many places in Asia and the Pacific. She is currently Numata Chair in Buddhist Studies at the Department of Classics and Religion at the University of Calgary. Her interests include medieval Chinese Buddhism, Buddhist archeology, and permaculture. Her forthcoming academic book Practicescapes and the Buddhists of Baoshan centers on a sixth-century community in Henan, China. Previous publications include The Mystique of Transmission (AAR Award for Excellence in Textual Studies, 2008) and The Teachings of Master Wuzhu (2011). She has held research fellowships at Kyoto University (BDK, Fulbright), Peking University (NEH, Fulbright), the Stanford Humanities Center, the Institute for Advanced Study (Princeton), and the Calgary Institute for the Humanities.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

FASHION STATEMENTS

It was the day of her family’s annual party. The usual party. It was a day when she got snarled at by a stranger, but that was kind of interesting. She wasn’t exactly minding her own business at the time, but that was pretty normal. There was no way she could have known that all the pathways of cosmic probability were taking a sharp turn into oncoming traffic.

She really should have just stayed in bed. Around mid-afternoon Vikki Beldark could no longer pretend to herself that she was still asleep. She jammed in her earbuds and tried to drown in her favorite music, but there was no escape—voices filled the house and a Brazilian band was warming up right underneath her window. It would be better get out of bed before somebody came and dragged her out by the scruff of her neck.

She was the only one for miles who didn’t want to be there. Bastille Day at the Beldark vineyards was a local tradition for residents of the quaint little town of Santa Francesca, who vaguely associated it with Vikki’s grandmother’s charming French accent. The Beldark’s summer celebration of their own unique Franco-California-India chic used to be kind of fun. A couple of years ago it got old. Now it had all the appeal of Pilates class. Vikki’s only goal was to attract as little attention as possible.

And there it was, a rap on her door, cutting through the last bittersweet chocolate moment of avoidance.

Come in, she muttered darkly.

The door opened. Vikki poked her nose out from under the covers, unplugged her ears, and contemplated her mother, the party animal.

Pauline Beldark’s gleaming black hair fanned out behind her gold earrings, rippled over her shoulders and spilled down to the small of her back. She stood relaxed as a runway model on red stiletto sandals, wearing a sheer white shirt with a short white camisole underneath. She was showing the tanned results of her trademark ab-workout over snug low-cut jeans.

What got to Vikki most about her mother’s gorgeousness was the way her deep, dark eyes never lost that look of effortless calm, even when she was about to let a person know just how futile it was to resist doing whatever Pauline wanted that person to do, immediately. Unfortunately that person was often Vikki. Yet her mother could also smile so compassionately that the amber flecks in her eyes seemed to glow. Without bothering much with conversation, she kept entire rooms focused on her every move.

You look great, mom, Vikki sighed. Her mother lifted her eyebrows with that I’m practicing patience look as she surveyed her rumpled daughter buried in her rumpled bed.

Come on, get dressed, we could use some help down there. What’re you wearing? Pauline went to Vikki’s closet and began to pick through her clothes, mostly on the floor. Vikki yawned, crawled out of bed and stood up, swishing her long bushy tail back and forth to get the sleepy tingles out.

Mom, how come you’re being human? Are there people coming? I thought this time Papa said it was just family and foxes.

Oh, come on. You know he always says that, every year. I don’t get why the two of you are so antisocial. I invited some of your human school friends, you’ll have fun.

Vikki refrained from pointing out that she didn’t have any human school friends. Her mother moaned softly as she dug through the pile. Vikki, why? Why? I buy you these beautiful clothes and you drop them in here like rags! She fished out a silk shirt, shaking her head.

Come here, let me see. This would look okay with jeans and your gold bracelets, but it’s not very . . . .

Vikki slouched over and stood beside her mother as Pauline attempted to smooth the tissue-thin fabric. She hunched her shoulders and glowered at their reflections in the closet mirror, crossing her forelegs tightly over the frayed black sweatshirt she’d borrowed from her father. On her it was long enough to be a dress.

At fourteen she still looked about twelve, short and pudgy like a cub. Like her father, Vikki had the type of fox coloring you saw in all the human books: black-tipped ears, tail, and paws, white underbelly, scruffy red-gold fur. It wasn’t fair, her little brother Marcus got the supermodel gene—he got their mother’s silky black fur and long slender body. What a waste.

But she was smarter than her brother. Definitely smarter. Marcus was about as slow as your average human. That would probably explain why he actually made friends with some of them. She bent over and rooted around in the piles on the floor.

Mom, Delfy and I made these for the party, look. She fished out a dark green hoodie printed with a photo of a large pile of garbage and the caption You’ve Had the Time of My Life.

Pauline looked at it and blinked. Then she sighed. Okay, so get changed and get yourself down to the kitchen and help Nana and Nattie. She dropped the silk shirt onto the pile in the closet and swept out.

Vicki waited until her mother was gone before rolling her eyes and growling at the ceiling. She peeled off the baggy sweatshirt and hid it in a corner.

Then she changed.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the floating sensation that allowed her to transform. It was like walking through a cloud swirling all around her. It was also like turning and walking into herself. It was like the best music but she could never remember it. There was a pulsing, humming sound in her head when she came together again.

She always shivered when she remembered how she used to watch her parents transform. They disappeared completely for just an instant. It used to scare the fur off her, but she always wanted to watch. She eventually had to grow up and learn that it was rude to watch other foxes transform. She tried to watch herself change in the mirror but it was impossible.

Opening her eyes, she sniffed and wrinkled her nose. Uck. She was still wearing workout clothes from the last time she was in human form, when her mother made her go to Pilates and she’d been too lazy to change. She stripped off the tank and sweats, slowly pulled on jeans and her new hoodie. Pausing at the mirror, she peered critically at her human self.

Her long muzzle and thick fur had morphed into a snub nose in a round little face with pale skin like the underside of a mushroom. Heavy red-gold hair tangled over her shoulders. She privately thought that the shadows under her big hazel eyes made them look soulful and sexy, but nobody else seemed to feel that way. Her father was always trying to make her go to bed at eleven. Her mother said that if she would just get outside and exercise more everything would be fine. Her grandmother said she was the most beautiful foxling in the universe. It didn’t help that her family nickname was Cubbage. Yep, go ahead, tall skinny people, rub it in.

Vikki sighed. She slouched down the hall and down the stairs. When she cautiously poked her head in the doorway of their enormous kitchen she immediately decided she didn’t need to be there.

The air was steamy, every surface was covered with dishes in preparation, every oven and stove was in use. Aunt Nattie and Maria the housekeeper were in hyperdrive, about to self-combust. A bunch of guests lounged around with wine glasses pretending to help. Some really obnoxious cubs were running around shrieking and bouncing off people’s knees. She’d go find Uncle Alphie. He shared her views about work and had lots of experience avoiding it.

Too late. Aunt Nattie spotted her and hurried over to grab her arm. Go help Val with his paella, he’s taking forever, she hissed in Vikki’s ear.

Vikki groaned and headed across the kitchen, submitting to hugs, nuzzles, and squeals of welcome along the way. Their handsome burly neighbor Valentino Deguerro had seafood spread over two counters but was giving his attention to the trophy wife of one of the other winegrowers. He took time out from flirting to greet Vikki with a friendly growl. To her immense disgust, he handed her a large bowl of fresh squid.

As she sullenly cleaned squid and listened to Val banter with Diana, Vikki surveyed the scene. Mixed with family and friends in human form were a number of unsuspecting human guests. As for family—there was her loathsomely cute seven-year-old cousin Juliette, acting like she was surrounded by a film crew, as usual. Nana, their tiny silver-haired grandmother, was preparing bowls of olive oil, dishes of butter, and ripe cheeses to go with fresh hot loaves. Vikki’s second cousin Suzanne was whispering to Nana, clutching a sweaty glass of white wine. Vikki knew she was relating her latest pathetic romantic crisis.

Maria opened the rotisserie and began pulling dripping crispy birds off the racks, causing arriving guests to lift their noses and sniff appreciatively. Vikki’s stomach growled, but the only thing within reach was raw squid.

She sighed and started shelling the prawns. Val finally rolled up his sleeves and began throwing fistfuls of rabbit chunks and garlic into a massive pan of hot oil. At last, Nana came to her rescue. Smiling, she tucked a sprig of lavender behind Vikki’s ear. Sweetheart, go get Uncle Alphie out of the pool. We need more bottles from the cellar.

Gratefully, Vikki dropped the prawns, scrubbed her hands hard at the sink and made her escape. As she left the kitchen she pulled up her new shirt and sniffed suspiciously. Bleagh. Just wonderful. It seemed like essence of fish-market might be with her for the rest of the party.

Unfortunately, this was confirmed when Delfy grabbed her in the hallway. Delphinia Gloriana Mehta, a name Delfy blamed on her dad’s bizarre love of the Victorian era, was Vikki’s best friend. Her only friend, really. She tried not to mind that Delfy looked spectacular in the hoodie they’d designed together. Delfy had just turned fourteen, but she easily passed for sixteen. She was starting to fill out in the right places, and she had velvety mocha skin and long curly black hair.

"Vikkers! I was looking for you but your mom pounced on me and made me—yuck! What is the smell?!" Delfy drew back, covered her nose with one hand and held Vikki at arm’s length with the other.

Vikki told her, and Delfy made gagging noises.

Well, c’mon, you’ll have to shower . . . and change . . . and wear a garlic braid, or something.

Vikki was about to protest, but then through the entryway windows she caught sight of new guests arriving at the front door, greeted by her mother. She snarled and dragged Delfy backward into the spare bedroom, locking the door.

"What are you doing?" Delfy demanded.

Shhh! Shhh! It’s the Andersons! With Brooke and Lars! Vikki hissed.

Delfy groaned, but quietly. Without appearing to try, Brooke Anderson maintained a 4.0 grade-point average, campaigned tirelessly on behalf of the homeless, and glowed with flawless Nordic beauty and health. Brooke would never say a word about Vikki’s eau-de-squid. That was the problem. That, and the fact that her brother Lars, a senior, was a soccer star. The soccer star. He caused elevated heart-rates in the entire female population of their school, including some of the teachers.

Vikki looked around helplessly as the sounds of bubbly social patter came nearer and nearer. The doorknob twisted. There was a loud knock and Pauline called out, Is anyone in there? Hello?

Vikki and Delfy backed away from the door. Brooke’s mother’s voice came through loud and clear, she was telling Pauline about some amazing real estate deal she’d just pulled off. Vikki looked around and realized that the bed was piled with bags and clothes and there were towels and robes stacked on the dresser.

Oh, wonderful. They want to change for the pool. Brooke in a bikini, the perfect accessory to every party, Vikki muttered.

We’ll just have to tough it out, I guess, Delfy whispered, reaching for the door.

No! Let’s go into the ducts!

The Beldark house was a rambling adobe with a system of antiquated heating ducts running through the thick walls. Vikki and Delfy discovered when they were little cubs that they could use these as secret passageways. They used to love creeping through the house, spying on everyone through the baseboard grates. Lately, though, crawling around in dark funky cobwebby tunnels had lost its appeal.

Delfy sighed and crinkled her nose. Clearly, she would rather face Brooke, but she wasn’t the one who smelled like squid guts.

Vikki hissed, Look—I’ll go in by myself, you open the door, then just go up to my room and wait for me to come out.

Delfy hissed back, No way! What if something eats you? She giggled, Vikki glowered at her. Um, you really don’t smell that bad, you know—who’s afraid of Miss Brooke Perfecterson, anyway? She gave Vikki an unconvincing punch on the arm.

It’s that—that—sugary look Brooke gets on her face when she has to talk to me. Like I’m one of the winos she’s being nice to. I just can’t—

Vikki! Is that you? Open this door! The doorknob twisted angrily, Pauline’s voice cut through Brooke’s mother’s chirpy monologue. Vikki turned and launched herself into the air with Delfy right behind her. Whatever the Brookes of the world had that she didn’t, there were advantages to being a fox, Vikki thought grimly. Her body morphed and shrank as she leaped. From across the room it would have looked like the two human girls had just blurred and winked out. A closer observer would have seen a pair of tiny furry things—one reddish and one sandy-colored—scrambling through the grate of the heating vent.

Inside the duct they quickly expanded back into foxes big enough to squash spiders and scare off any mice they might meet. It was dusty and dim, light filtered through the grates at long intervals. Vikki went first so as to take the worst of it, batting reluctantly through cobwebs with her front paws. After knocking the fifth or sixth spider off her nose, she started to feel like she’d rather deal with Brooke. Delfy kept up a steady sputtering and muttering behind her.

They found their way to the kitchen and paused to catch their breath. Excited voices and hollow clanging echoed through the walls. Cooking smells wafted in, mixing disgustingly with the stink of generations of mouse droppings and tiny desiccated corpses. Vikki knew she’d have to find a way to make it up to Delfy for this little escapade.

Now came the hard part. They had to leave the downstairs duct and climb to the second story. Vikki found the rusty hole that let them into the space where the water pipes ran up inside the walls.

Climbing was not really a fox’s best skill. Slowly, they clawed their way up the timber frame, tails whipping from side to side with anxiety. Then there was the awful moment when they had to leap from a joist and make a precarious landing on a heating duct. Vikki almost blew it, her claws scraped frantically across the slick surface as she tried to keep from bouncing off and hurtling all the way back down to the first floor. Delfy landed more gracefully, but she was immediately wracked with a series of explosive sneezes from the dust they disturbed.

Panting, Vikki found the loose seam she remembered, a tiny crack between one section of duct and the next. Shrinking to the size of ants, they squeezed back inside and expanded again. Only a few more spiders and they were out of there . . . Vikki turned and ran flat out down the last stretch toward her own room.

It was when she was about to pass the vent to her father’s den that she heard the strange voices. She stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Delfy couldn’t help crashing into her, full speed. Vikki clenched her teeth as they skidded together in a heap, claws flailing and screeching hideously across the metal.

The voices ceased at once. Vikki tried to breathe silently. Her heart was thudding so hard she thought it must be echoing through the duct and into the room.

What wass that? A deep male voice, oddly accented, spoke somewhere above them.

She began to creep backward, very slowly. Behind her she could feel Delfy trying to do the same. Now someone was bending near the grate . . . and it was her father, she could smell him. His deep, drawling voice came through the wall.

It must be mice—we do have a few in this old house.

Cowering away from the patch of light, Vikki was more than sorry to see the ends of her father’s graying whiskers and the tip of his sensitive black nose. He was in fox form, able to smell just where she was—where she shouldn’t be.

He said quietly, It’s only mice, as I thought. His nose and whiskers disappeared as he said to his unseen visitors, I have to go, people will start to wonder. Don’t worry, the boys will be safe here. I’ll ask my mother to bring them a good dinner.

Is thiss wise? We want no one to know they are in thee house, for yourr ssafety as well as theirrss. The rich, sibilant voice was oddly pleasant.

My mother already knows, Vikki’s father said. Someone in the house has to know, just in case. And I have to get down there. Can’t miss my own party.

The strange voice she wanted to hear again said something in an unknown language. An angry young male voice answered, then another voice that quavered. She couldn’t understand, but she caught words that sounded like something she’d heard. Where? She glanced at Delfy, whose furry eyebrows came together in a puzzled frown over her glowing eyes. Vikki shivered involuntarily at the somber, rolling cadences.

After a moment of silence Vikki’s father said gently, Make yourselves at home, rest as much as you can. You’ll have to lock the door behind us. Only open to the sound of—let’s say, three scratches. Like this. He scratched three times against the wall.

Then he said briskly, Shall we change, Ambassador? I’ll see you to your car. There was a quick flurry, the door opened and closed, the lock clicked.

Vikki crept forward as silently as she could to peer through the grate. Delfy tried to wriggle up beside her, but there was only enough space for Vikki to see into the room.

She looked across the thick Persian carpet toward her father’s desk. There was no one in sight.

Then she heard a soft rustle. A pair of hind feet under a blue brocade robe came into view halfway across the room. She crouched as a tall, thin young fox paced slowly to her father’s desk and leaned against it. His head was bowed, his tail brushed the floor beneath his dark robe.

She’d never seen fur like his, silver shading to black and changing with the light. She couldn’t make herself move. She was watching someone’s very private moment and she couldn’t tear herself away, even though she knew she should.

Silent and nearly motionless, the strange fox seemed to be fighting something. His face, in profile, tightened with pain. His eyes clenched shut and his long, sharp claws flexed against the desk. She’d never been allowed to let hers get that lethal-looking.

But as she kept staring, the fur on his nape began to rise and his ears went back. She felt her own fur lifting . . . .

And that was the moment. That, she recognized much later, was when something shifted. Unseen things breathed silence as she waited, frozen in place.

The stranger lifted his nose and sniffed suspiciously. Suddenly, he whirled and snarled, his narrowed eyes shifting, searching. Then he dropped to a menacing crouch and stalked right toward her hiding place. There was something in the sound coming through his throat that held the memory of flesh and blood between his teeth.

His icy blue eyes locked onto hers.

Vikki was drowning. She was being dragged under, unbearably weighted, unable to blink, move, run. She felt utterly exposed even though there were metal bars between them. For another nightmare moment she couldn’t get her legs to respond, then she squeezed her eyes shut and bolted down the dark passage.

Delfy came skittering noisily behind her. They skidded around the corner and hurtled along the duct to Vikki’s room. Shrinking in mid-leap, they tore through one last spider-web and tumbled through the grate. Collapsing on Vikki’s floor, they gasped for breath as they expanded to full size.

When they were finally able to look at each other, they both began to choke and sputter. Vikki felt like she was on some kind of drug. She was light-headed. It seemed like she was hearing herself laugh from far, far away. Down a tunnel. From her father’s den. The nape of her neck felt tingly, like something was about to pounce on her from behind.

Delfy wriggled on the carpet and pawed impatiently at her ears. Normally well-groomed, her sandy fur was now matted with cobwebs and dust. Vikki was sure she looked even worse. Trembling, she tottered to her feet.

"We need to take really quick showers, then get our tails downstairs so we can say we’ve been at the party!!"

The two foxes dashed to the bathroom and cleaned up at record speed, though Vikki had to take two showers, one in human form to get rid of the clinging fishy stink. Her new shirt, sadly, smelled like seal puke. Still damp, she struggled into clothes grabbed at random from her closet floor.

Just as they were about to escape there was a soft knock at the door. They froze, barely breathing. Vikki’s father’s voice came through the keyhole.

Girls, I know you’re in there.

Vikki opened the door a crack and looked nervously up at her father. Jake Beldark was back in human form and his lean face, brown and lined from years in the sun, looked grim. Glancing down the hall, he slipped into her room and quietly closed the door.

He fixed them with his level, soul-searing look, the one Vikki tried to avoid at all costs. Both girls shivered a little.

Listen, I know you two were there, I smelled you, Jake growled. "I told you not to go into the ducts—it’s dangerous, you could get hurt and not be able to get out! What were you thinking?" Vikki took a breath, but she couldn’t think of a good excuse. The whole thing about Brooke Anderson definitely would not fly.

You’re lucky I don’t have time to go into that right now, Jake resumed. But I do want to know— he paused, glancing from Vikki to Delfy and back again, —how much did you hear?

Vikki swallowed. We just heard you stop talking—when we made that noise, and heard that—those—foreigners. Then you went out and we ran back here. Her father looked at her intently. Vikki suddenly realized that the silver fox, whoever he was, would probably tell her father he’d seen someone through the grate.

Um, I think one of them might have heard, or, um, seen us. Maybe. Vikki continued, licking her lips. She really didn’t want to go into detail, about how she’d probably have her throat ripped out by now if her father’s guest had been able to reach her.

Luckily, he seemed ready to drop it and get back to the party. He shook his head. "Well, I’ll talk to you both later. For now, just get yourselves downstairs and don’t say anything about this to anyone. And don’t go into the ducts ever again. Never. Under any circumstances. You’re both way too old to be acting like cubs." He gave her one last stern look and left the room.

Delfy waited until he was out of earshot before she turned to Vikki and snorted. "I can’t believe we went through all that just because of some stupid squid. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’m starving."

CHAPTER TWO

THE PARTY’S OVER

All around the garden torches were flickering, some had gone out. The pool gave off a blue underwater glow. All the paddlers and splashers were gone, even Marcus and his friends. Overhead, innumerable foxes sailed the sky in tiny boats . . . what humans called the Milky Way, foxes called the River Home.

And that starry river really did seem to be moving along. Vikki shook her head, blinked her eyes and tried to make the sky stay still. The wineglass beside her was empty. Curled in a deck chair with a fuzzy blanket, she felt too warm and comfortable to get up.

The moon disappeared behind the ridge above the house.