Chapter 25

Ming Na Liu

February 18^th^, 1947

Ming raced through the Vegas streets, ignoring the stares. A woman running in a dress was a rare sight in this place, but there was no time. The heat pounded the streets, and sweat rolled off her.

When she passed the construction site from the previous day, she paused and took a deep, gulping breath. "I know this place. I can find it," she mumbled, rambling. She started looking for the same path Bobby took to get to the bar. At an intersection, she paused and put her hand against the wall. Slumping against the solid structure, she took deeper breaths, gasping for water and fanning herself. It felt like pins and needles were running down her legs. By now, Bugsy should know she was gone. She needed to get to the hospital, but it would take about four hours on foot. He could get there in thirty minutes.

"Why'd I dump the keys?" she admonished. "I could have used the car." And gotten caught by Bugsy before I drove out of the hotel.

Straightening, Ming turned into the alley where the bar was located. She coughed out the dust and found the same door set in the basement. She pounded on it and waited.

"I know it's late afternoon, but c'mon," she yelled. "Where's the rude shit from yesterday?" Pounding again, the tears blurred her vision. "Open up! Please, help me. I need to get Bobby. I don't want to stay here." She was blubbering, but she couldn't spend the rest of her life here and never see her parents again. Ming missed her mother, even with the woman's incessant desire to marry Ming off to a rich man. She would even be willing to try and thaw her father's cold attitude. Most of all, she missed Dean. She had avoided thinking of Dean the whole time she was here. Even her letter to him said she would get home. She needed to stop playing around with him and take their relationship to the next step.

"I need my family." She started crying harder. "I don't want to be alone."

"Whatcha doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

The voice came from above. She wiped her tears on her sleeve and turned to see Apprentice standing at the top of the stairs. He had a bandage around his temple, black eyes and a split lip with a small stitch to keep it closed. He stared at her like she was a plague and the tax man rolled into one.

"You're okay!" She laughed as she stumbled up the stairs and gave him a bone-squeezing hug. "I was so worried about you." He stiffened, then relaxed and put his arms around her.

"It takes more than a beating to bring me down." He pushed her back. "Again, whatcha doing here?"

"I need some help, Apprentice. Kansas Joe was here yesterday. Bobby's in the de Lima hospital, and it's only a matter of time before Bugsy'll get to her." It all rushed out. Ming told him about getting kidnapped, what Bugsy said, and beating the two men. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, but they soon softened, and he was nodding at the end.

"Jim. Call me Jim," he said, looking away. "Apprentice sounds stupid."

"Jim." Ming smiled. "Thank you. It's a nice name. I'm Ming, although she's Jessica." Ming pointed to herself. "I'm rambling, I know. I feel like my chest is clenching up and threatening to go all explodey like in the movie, which won't exist for another thirty or so years." Jim's face was so absurd it kicked her brain back on track, and she remembered where she was.

"Sorry, I wasn't speaking straight. You know where we come from, right?" She narrowed her eyes and stared back at him.

"Somewhat. Joe let me know before he and Millie went back home. They couldn't stay. His heart is getting real bad." Jim frowned. He shook his head. "Anyway, let's get you to the hospital. I've got a car." He took her hand and led her away from the jazz bar.

The ride was silent. Jim was concentrating on the road, and Ming needed to organize her feelings. She had to admit that magic was real. All the evidence was pointing towards it being the truth. It was disguised as science and computer code, but how else could she explain it? "The evidence is only leading me one way." And she trusted the evidence.

"What'd ya say?"

"Nothing."

She pulled out the letter she'd written to Jessica. "Can I ask you a favour?" Ming asked Jim, staring at the envelope.

"Depends on the favour," Jim said, not looking at her.

"If we get out of here or disappear, can you make sure Jessica gets this letter?" Ming held it out. "I left some things in here about what happened to her and how she can help us in the future."

Jim grunted. "That's a pretty big favour. What's in it for me?"

Ming opened her mouth and closed it again. "Nothing. I can't give you anything, but my thanks." She put the letter back in her purse.

"I'll do what I can," Jim said. "There is something you can give me, though."

"What?"

"A promise is very powerful among us. One day, if not me, possibly my descendant, depending on when you're from, you'll have to pay this favour back, no questions." He turned to her. "Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, of course." Ming was ready to pay anything for this. The one thing she realized about magic was that almost anything was possible if one was willing to pay the price.

Jim held out his hand, and Ming shook it.

"Ow! I was shocked. Static electricity?" She rubbed her palm.

Jim smiled. "No. That was the soul binding. The promise is now a part of who you are and will follow you everywhere. When the time comes, you'll know what it means."

Ming continued to knead her fingers into her palm and stared out the window. She smiled. At least Jessica would be all right. The pins and needles feeling started travelling up her arm.

Reaching the hospital, Ming pointed to the entrance and ducked down in the seat.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"The men over by the front. They're Bugsy's. He's here." Ming pushed herself into the brown leather, hiding behind the door. "Find a parking space away from the front."

"No problem. They don't let blacks in there anyway."

Ming heard the contempt in his voice as he drove away from the front. She peeked over the seat, but they weren't following. Twisting back around, the butterflies in her stomach grow. The tingling feeling from the binding had spread through her chest and settled into her head. It was contrasting with her stomach.

"I feel funny," she said, rubbing her stomach.

"How so?" Jim asked. He was parking the car on a side street, away from the main doors. He put his arm over the headrest.

"Like I'm going to fly away and fall at the same time. I feel all tingly from the binding and flighty. It's weird."

"That shouldn't be happening," Jim said, putting his hand on Ming's forehead and closing his eyes. She heard him mumble something, but couldn't make out the words.

"What is it?"

"Shush!" He opened his eyes and grabbed her face, turning it to look at him. His eyes were crimson, but they were shifting to lavender.

The butterflies changed into birds. Ming grabbed her stomach but couldn't look away from Jim. "What's going on? Am I going to die?"

"I couldn't say. When I saw your lifeline, it still had some space to grow. But it looks like your time here is up, miss. Your body is rejecting the extra soul, and it's being forced back to where it came from."

Ming nodded. She reached into her purse and pulled out the letter. She placed it in Jim's hands. "How about Bobby?"

"I don't know. I'll check on her, hell him, whatever she is."

"Thank you." Ming winced and doubled over. The pins and needles were poking every part of her body now and stretching it out into space. "Dammit! I wanted to interview that bastard just once." A knock on the car door distracted her, but before she could turn, the feeling engulfed her toes, driving everything out. She gave a small squeak-like shout, and everything turned black.

Bobby

February 18^th^, 1947

Bobby blinked slowly. Lead weights were holding his eyes down. He raised his hand to rub them, and something pulled at it. Looking up, there was an IV drip in his arm. Wincing, he turned and looked at his shoulder. It was bandaged, but he could still feel the bullet in it.

"Where am I?" he groaned. "Nurse?" he tried to shout, but it came out as a croak. Struggling to sit up, he reached for a buzzer. "Nothing." Looking around, he found a string with a loop at the bottom. Yanking it, he heard bells ring somewhere. The room was spinning, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Are you awake?" A young doctor came into the room. He was tall and handsome with perfect teeth. Bobby wouldn't be surprised to see him on the cover of a magazine.

"Yes. Where am I?" he asked, squinting. The man's teeth were starting to give him a headache. "Have you seen my daughter?"

"In de Lima hospital." He picked up Bobby's hand and checked his pulse. "Someone shot you. Do you know who?" He looked at Bobby with worried eyes.

"No. Didn't see a thing, Doctor Teeth." It didn't matter how cute he thought he was; there was no way he was getting any information out of him. Bobby's eyes widened. Why am I thinking a guy is cute? Fuck! I've been in this body too long.

"I see," the doctor said, marking a few ticks on Bobby's chart. "There is someone here to see you." He replaced the chart and smiled.

Bobby didn't like his smile. "Who?"

"He says he's a friend." The doctor leaned out the door. "You can come in now."

"Thanks, doc." Bugsy placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder as he and three of his men walked in. "I owe you one."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Siegel. After all, you've done so much for me." The doctor nodded and stood in the corner.

"Never trust the pretty ones," Bobby grumbled. "They'll always fuck you in the back while smiling to your face."

"That's no way for a dame to talk," Bugsy said, feigning indignation.

"Wow! If you were any sexier, I'd be looking for the vibrator to finish myself off."

Bugsy frowned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Mind if I smoke?" He lit one and took a puff.

"Why the fuck did you even ask, you cock-sucking son of a bitch?" Bobby sneered, then smiled when the cigarette dropped from Bugsy's open mouth. "Oh, going for a new look as a flycatcher, or would you like me to shove the catheter in there? Just replace that bandage across your nose with some flypaper, and you're set." He laughed and held his stomach. The bandage on his shoulder pulled at him.

"That felt good. I've had a lot of stress these last few days," Bobby said, pursing his lips. "So, Mr. Siegel, what would you like to know?"

Bugsy took out another cigarette and lit it. "First, you won't use that kind of language again. Understand?" He wrinkled his nose at Bobby.

"Yes sir, sir!" Bobby saluted. "Did they give me some drugs? I'm feeling really good here. Can I get some more?" He smiled and let out a sigh as he snuggled into the bed.

"Doc?"

"Well, we gave her some opiates for the pain. It should keep her lucid and might explain her mouth," the handsome doc said, running his hand through his hair. He gave a nervous laugh.

"You want to know about Slazney, right?" Bobby said, pushing himself up. "What is my connection to him, right?"

"Yes." Bugsy turned to one of his men and pointed at Bobby. The man scrunched his eyebrows.

"He wants you to get on the other side of me, Brainiac. In case I make a break for it, tied to the bed like I am, I could still break his other nose." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I don't have all day." He turned back to Bugsy. "As for Slazney, well, he fucked up my life, made me remember a bunch of useless shit I had blocked out for my safety and sent me here. Probably tried to hack my code." Bobby spat on Bugsy's shoes. "The useless prick could never do anything right."

"You speak as if you know him?" Bugsy asked. He was frowning.

"I should. He's got to be my fuck-wit brother. I'm ninety percent sure." Bobby clicked his tongue. "I thought he was dead. When I see him again, I'm going to feed him to the pigs." Bobby flopped backwards onto the pillow, wiggling deeper into the covers.

Bugsy squirmed and gave a lopsided smile. "Used to being in control, ain't ya? Oh no," Bobby said, poking his pointer fingers to his dimples and twisting them. "What are you going to do, Mister Mobster Man?"

"If you ever want to see your daughter again, you'll stop acting like a blasted clown and pay attention!" Bugsy bit down on his cigarette, snapping off the filter.

Bobby stopped twisting in the bed. "Yesli ty prichinish' yey vred, ya skormlyu tebya svin'yam." (If you hurt her, I'll feed you to the pigs.)

"What language was that, boys?" Bugsy turned to his men. "She ain't speaking American." They started laughing.

"It's Russian, you son of a whore."

Bugsy slapped Bobby across the face. "You will never insult my mother!" He stuck his fist in front of Bobby's face. "Next time you'll get a closed one."

Bobby spat out some blood. "Then I expect the same consideration for my daughter, you donkey."

"Very well." He smiled. "Speaking of her, would you like to meet her? One of the men saw a coloured driving a car. They followed them and found a present in the front seat." He waved to the door. "She was worried about you."

The pit of his stomach dropped and kicked him in the crotch. The door opened, and Ming walked in. She was trembling, swinging her head between the two men. When she shifted her head to Bobby, she let out a gasp.

"Mother, what happened to you? Were you shot?" She twisted her shoulders out of the men's hands and ran to Bobby's side. Grabbing his hands, she asked, "Who did this?"

"I'm okay, Ming. Don't worry."

Ming twisted her head to the side, and a puzzled look flashed across her face. "Did you hit your head, Mom? It's Jessica."

"Fuck," Bobby groaned, covering his face with his hands. His stomach dropped further, but now a pit of acid replaced it, tearing up his insides.