Jade Tiger by Jenn Reese Read Free Book Online

thing was certain, however. Shan would happily let Ian carry the crane for the rest of this trip. She couldn't afford to be swayed by its power, to lose her focus. Not when the pieces--ancient and powerful--were finally starting to fall into place.

    "I look like a raspberry muffin," said Shan, regarding herself critically in the mirror of a small tourist shop at the airport. She wore a puffy pink jacket, a striped knit hat, and matching gloves. Price tags dangled as she twisted and turned before her reflection.
    "I'll give you strawberry muffin," Ian said diplomatically, "or even watermelon, if they made such a thing. But you're simply too pink to be raspberry."
    "Gee, thanks," said Shan. "Are you sure this is the only one in my size?"
    "Let me get this straight," said Buckley, leaning against the shop wall near a stack of stuffed animals dressed in skiing outfits, "you have no problem with Ian and me dressed like friggin' Pillsbury doughboys, but you've got a problem with pink?"
    Shan looked at Ian, resplendent in a white jacket with orange lightning bolts along his sleeves, and then Buckley, who was trying to look cool in a light-blue jacket with the words "SKI GOD" written on the back.
    Shan sighed. "We're going to get attacked before we even find the bad guys in these things."
    "C'est la vie," said Ian, with an accent that made Shan melt. "Let's pay and hit the road."
    "Ooh, look who's mister French all of a sudden," said Buckley.
    Ian held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not the one who decided to study Swahili because a certain 'golden-skinned goddess' was in the class. You made your bed, now lie in it."
    "And so I did," chuckled Buckley. Then he said something that somehow managed to sound lewd in what Shan could only assume was Swahili.
    She couldn't complain, though, because Buckley pulled out a credit card and paid for all their clothes without a word. Then again, this whole stop had been his idea, once Ian had said they were headed for the Alps. Shan probably would have trudged ahead without thinking about the cold. It was that damn tiger mentality again. Maybe being around Ian and Buckley was a good thing, as long as she could keep them both safe.
    It felt like five hours before they were finally zooming along the road in their little green Renault 14. Realistically, it had only taken an hour and a half for them to deal with money conversions and arrange for the rental. And, luckily for Shan, both Ian and Buckley possessed international driver's licenses. She would have had to take a train or a bus if she'd come here alone.
    As it was, Shan curled herself up in the claustrophobic backseat and tried to catch some more sleep. Ian, with his goofy hair and playful eyes, drove like a speed demon along the already darkening highways toward the tourist city of Chamonix in the French Alps. At first, Ian's roadway daring surprised her. In her mind, the mild-mannered professor stereotype drove a respectable Volvo at the speed limit or just above it. But here they were in France, less than a day after they'd met, following the trail of an ancient jade dragon.
    It made an odd sort of sense, considering the dragon's powers. While all the other animals were normally associated with concrete aspects, such as the tiger's speed and tenacity, the dragon represented mutability. "Ride the wind," her mother always said. Chinese dragons, unlike their Western counterparts, were long, sinuous things twisting in the sky as they rode the invisible currents of wind. And, also unlike Western dragons, they were wise and often benevolent. Certainly not the types to eat virgins and hoard gold. They took opportunities where they found them, acted swiftly and with great confidence. What sort of man would Ian's friend be, after living with the statue for so long?
    Shan dozed, calmed by the drone of the car's engine and the quiet rumble of conversation from the front seat. They stopped and stretched every few hours, giving Shan a chance to soak