Neither did I. Instead I mulled over his words, listened to what Professor Pops and Christopher had to say.
We arrived at Kenmei’s and I was surprised. I hardly recalled getting there.
“Come in. Come in,” Kenmei said with a bow.
We entered his home, and took off our shoes. Then he led us down the hall we’d come through last time. As with last time I visited Kenmei’s house, I was struck by the feeling someone watched my movements, like those paintings in old movies where the eyes moved.
I didn’t see any moving eyes though.
At the end of the hallway, we turned left. I didn’t think there’d been a hallway to the left last time. Nervous tingles raced along my skin. Did his house move?
You probably just forgot, my inner voice chided.
I shrugged.
Kenmei took us left, and then left again.
The room we entered was glorious, like an Asian garden and a sitting room combined. All three walls were painted green. The exact color of the bamboo sticks vertically lining the walls. Lotus flowers adorned the walls, as though they grew from the bamboo.
In opposite corners of the room stood cherry blossom trees. A tan leather couch sat in front of the wall directly across from the entrance. A matching love seat on the left and right. In the center was glass-top coffee table. The glass rested on an intricately carved wooden dragon.
Christopher and I sat on the love seat to the left, and Kenmei and Professor Pops took the one on the right.
I kept expecting to see Hiro, but realized he was probably at school since it was close to nine in the morning.
A beautiful woman brought in a tray of tea. I studied her; curious about whether she was Kenmei’s wife or daughter. Her looks were fresh, classic. She could’ve been thirty or fifty. I didn’t have to wonder long.
“Adam, you’ve already met my wife, Mulan.”
Adam stood, and bowed. “Hello. So nice to see you again.”
Mulan bowed. “And you, Adam Henry.”
Mulan wore a turquoise silk blouse, black pants, and black slippers. She didn’t have any makeup (and didn’t need any) on. Her hair was long, straight and black, except one thick streak of grey. It started above her right eyebrow and went all the way down to the ends. She held an air of innocence, except when she caught my gaze. Her eyes were like two black pools, filled with wisdom and knowledge.
“Christopher Charming, this is my wife, Mulan.”
Christopher rose, and bowed. “Lovely to meet you. And may I say you’re more beautiful than the stories tell.”
She snickered. “A sweet talker, huh.”
Christopher’s face flushed, the tips of his ears turned red.
I hid my surprise, highly entertained at how much meeting the Mulan affected him.
Then Kenmei introduced me.
“Snow White, this is Mulan,” Kenmei said.
I bowed. “Nice to meet you,” I said, realizing she must be thousands of years old. And, how was that possible? Was she a vampire? Or… a chayot?
Mulan returned my bow and said, “It is a great honor, Snow White.”
Nervous, I smiled.
Anyone would be hard pressed to get something past her, I thought, taking the cup of tea she presented.
After she left, Professor Pops and Christopher told Kenmei what happened. I let my mind wander. Occasionally sipping the tea. It wasn’t bloodlust, thankfully. This smelled like lemons.
“Snow?” Kenmei asked, bringing me back to the conversation
“Hmmmm?” I answered, and then flushed. Kenmei must’ve asked me a question because Christopher and Professor Pops were staring at me. “What did you say?”
Kenmei smiled. “I asked if Christopher’s blood tasted different when you drank from him?”
I thought about it. “No. It tasted the same.” I gave Christopher a glance. But, if my blood tasted different to him, I wondered if his blood might taste different. He smiled.
Kenmei said, “I think we should try an experiment.”
“Okay,” I said, but was nervous. “What do you need me to do?”
“You healed Christopher with the power of the Seal. Yes?”
I nodded.
“And before you healed Christopher, your blood burned him?”
Christopher answered this time. “That’s right.”
“But you drank from her since she healed you, and it didn’t burn.”
“Yes,” I said, seeing his mind was on the same metaphorical page as mine. I knew what he would request, but I wasn’t sure now was appropriate.
Kenmei continued, “I want you to taste his blood. Tell us if it’s different.”
“Right this second?” I asked, my face flushing. When Christopher and I drank from each other it was very intimate.
“Don’t be a child, Shiryo-san,” Kenmei scolded. “Take his wrist.”