The Spirit from the Ninth Heaven — William F. Wu

EXCERPT:A gentle arm sliding under his neck woke him. He felt his head turned slightly to his left. Long hair tickled his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw the faint outline of the woman's hair and shoulder as she lay next to him. The pendant in the shape of a Chinese character glistened at her throat in the moonlight."You think if you kiss enough of them, they'll make you a white man?" Her voice came in a whisper, warm against his face. "Can you kiss yourself white?"He just looked at her."You like dinner, handsome?"Uh, yeah," he whispered sleepily. "But who-or what-are you? Or am I just crazy?"Don't I seem real?"He paused, thinking of how impossible she was. "Yeah," he whispered finally. "But. what do you want?"Do you think I'm pretty?"Yeah." He spoke reluctantly, suspicious of the question."You like my body?" Her voice had a hint of laughter."Well. sure." He realized that Amy was right, though; hehad not been interested in a woman of Chinese descent since CindyHan had broken up with him. Ordinarily, he still might have found this particular woman very attractive; certainly her style of dress was eye-catching. Under circumstances this weird, though, he could hardly enjoy her presence at all."No, you don't."Huh?"You don't like your own, either."I never said that."You've been having bad dreams, handsome."The room seemed to be floating around him. He felt lost in darkness. No one else knew about his bad dreams. He had never said a word about them."You know what they mean, don't you?"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered. It sounded unconvincing even to him."Of course you do."Come on." A flash of anger roused him. "I'm sick of this game. Anyhow, who are you?"I'm the one you don't dream about." She walked two fingers around on his chest.