White Tiger

widened. ‘Wait a second, you moved in with this man?’
    ‘Let me! I wanna see!’ David shouted. Mark had opened the zip pocket in the lid of my suitcase and found my sword. He waved it triumphantly, and David jumped with frustration as he tried to get hold of it. ‘Let me see!’
    I quickly rose and grabbed the sword from David. Before I had a chance to rezip the compartment, David had pulled my nunchucks out and was squealing over them.
    Alan took the chucks from his son and held them, shocked. My father peered inside the case, then reached in and pulled out the pair of butterfly swords: short-bladedweapons with hooks on the guards specifically designed for close combat against long blades. He held the weapons up, his face rigid. ‘Emma…’
    I sat on the couch and rested the sword across my knees. I put my head in my hands.
    ‘I wanna play!’ David shouted.
    ‘I don’t think these are toys,’ Alan said softly.
    I ran my hands through my hair and glanced up at them. They stood around me, watching me as if I was some sort of monster.
    ‘Please don’t look at me like that,’ I said.
    ‘I’ll take the boys out in the yard so you can talk,’ Amanda said. She glanced back over her shoulder as she led them through the door.
    After a few moments of uncomfortable silence my father spoke. ‘What the hell are you doing with these?’
    I opened my mouth and closed it again.
    ‘Are these yours, Emma? Tell us the truth,’ my mother said gently.
    My father moved to pull one of the butterfly swords from its leather scabbard. I raised my hand. ‘Don’t take that out.’
    ‘Why not?’
    I took a deep breath. ‘Because,’ I said, and hesitated. ‘Because…’
    ‘Why, sweetheart?’
    ‘Because it’s as sharp as a razor and I don’t want to see you hurt.’
    Alan put the chucks onto the floor in front of him. ‘These are all real, aren’t they?’ He pointed at the chucks. ‘These are hardwood. You could break somebody’s head with them.’
    I nodded.
    ‘Tell us, Emma,’ my mother said. I thought quickly. I needed to put a believable story together, and cursed myself for not being prepared. Of course they’d find my weapons. I’d brought them to train with, and Mr Chen didn’t mess around with blunt padded training stuff; once we were at a certain level we used the real thing. Blunt weapons were useless against demons. The butterfly swords were my newest weapon and I needed the most practice with them. Ever since Simon Wong had turned up with his Wudang sword we’d done a lot of work on defence against a long sword with the butterfly blades.
    I couldn’t lie to my father, he’d see right through me. He always had. I looked from one of them to the other, desperately trying to think of a story they would accept.
    ‘You’ve moved in with this Chinese man. You’re working as a nanny—something that you’re far too good for, Emma. And now this. Tell us what’s going on,’ my father said.
    ‘Okay.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I was working part-time for Mr Chen, looking after his daughter, Simone. But she needed full-time care, so I moved in to look after her.’
    ‘Is there more to this than an employer-nanny relationship?’ my father said sternly.
    I hesitated, then looked him in the eyes. ‘Mr Chen and I do not have any sort of physical relationship. He hasn’t touched me, and he never will.’
    My father glared at me. He saw straight through my careful phrasing.
    ‘So why nanny?’ my mother said. ‘Surely you can do better than that?’
    ‘He pays me very well, Mum, and his daughter needs me.’
    ‘How well?’
    I hesitated again.
    ‘How much does he pay you, Emma?’ my father persisted.
    I dropped my head and mumbled, ‘Five thousand dollars a month.’
    ‘That’s pathetic,’ my mother said. ‘That’s less than a thousand Australian dollars a month. You can’t let him pay you so little, Emma. What’s going on?’
    I dropped my head even further. ‘Five thousand US.’
    ‘What’s that in Australian dollars, Alan?’ my father said. Alan was an insurance assessor and knew the exchange rates off the top of his head.
    ‘Five thousand US…’ Alan worked it out, then stared at me with wonder. ‘That’s nearly a hundred thousand Australian dollars a year.’
    ‘That’s ridiculous!’ my father snapped. He glared at me. ‘What the hell is going on, Emma?’
    ‘Okay, let me explain.’ I looked at them; they all appeared outraged. My father in particular was