The Dragons of Heaven (7 page)

Johnny ignored the question. Sort of. Seemed he was still in a teaching mood. “Missy, what do I say about pre-fight banter?”

I almost pitied the looters. If they hadn't already gone wrong trying to loot the emporium across the street from Johnny's studio, then their spokesman had sealed the deal when he opened his mouth. Call Johnny Bruce Lee. Call him Jackie Chan or even Dragonball-Z. But don't ever call him Mr Miyagi.

“That it's a good time to take off your watch so it doesn't break during the fight?”

“No.”
Wham
went looter number one as Johnny blurred into motion, grabbing him by the Virgin Mary and flipping the attached body over. The man convulsed on the pavement, struggling for air. The other looters looked almost as shocked as their friend. They backed away from Johnny. Well, and who could blame them? Johnny was out of their league. “Don't bother with it unless you're good at it.”

Johnny hauled the downed man up and shoved him toward his buddies. “Anyone else want to give old ‘Miyagi' a try?”

Nobody did, not even the ones with the tell-tale bulges of weapons under their wife-beaters. They scattered. I golf-clapped. “Have you ever been in a fight that lasted longer than ten seconds?” He hadn't even broken a sweat.

Johnny's eyes flicked away. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not a real one. Not in a long time. I prefer this kind of fight. They're easier to walk away from.”

“Hey, guys?” Andrew's voice interrupted us from the doorway of the Pearl. The entire Han clan had gathered behind Doris, including the girls. I guess the Girl Scout thing was over.

Andrew beckoned us in. “You're going to want to see this.”

“
T
his” was the television
, but it turns out that there's a lot of space between seeing something and understanding it.

Doris was the first to break our silence. “How… how is this even possible?”

The talking heads continued to yammer Orwellian newspeak: saying much, meaning nothing. They couldn't answer Doris's question any more than Johnny or I could. We'd been huddled around the flat screen in her living room for I couldn't begin to guess how long, gaping in silent disbelief apart from the occasional “oh god” When faced with the incomprehensible, language didn't just become inadequate. Sometimes it broke down completely.

It said a lot about what a rock Doris was that she could manage any kind of coherence. “This has to be a joke, right? A hoax?” She turned to Johnny, then to me, the only other adults – since her baby, Andrew, didn't count and never would.

Stage one: denial.

I shook my head. I didn't have an answer, but I knew it wasn't a joke. Johnny's connection to China was blocked, and now we knew why.

“…Repeat, some sort of barrier has gone up, encircling the entire nation of China. We're getting initial reports from correspondents in Taiwan, India, the Philippines, and Kazakhstan that this… this… force field… does in fact seem to be blocking the whole of China, including Tibet and Hong Kong. We don't yet have any…”

“I don't think it's a hoax, Mrs Han,” Johnny said, turning away from the streaming commentary. Some enterprising soul had already thrown together some shock graphics asking “
Great Wall or Great War?
” I hoped there was a special hell for people like that, stirring the pot when the crisis was less than an hour old.

“Then… How? How could something like this be possible?”

Johnny didn't have a chance to answer. Andrew already had his laptop open and seemed to be getting information more quickly than the network news fellow.

“There's a blogger here in Thailand who says it's dangerous but not fatal. Some farmers sent their chickens running into it. They bounced off. Singed a few feathers, but they're mostly fine. There's pictures.”

We left the television and crowded around his Mac. The pics were cell phone quality: a broad-faced Thai farmer holding up a hen with a bare, singed patch of feathers on her breast. An arrow laid over the images pointed to a supposed shimmer behind the farmer's shoulder that I could imagine seeing if I stared long enough.

The page blanked away, replaced by another one.

“Hey!” I protested. Andrew shushed me.

“These guys are live-blogging the whole thing. They're geology students from Laos, just happened to be near the border doing some surveys on electromagnetic variation. They're running tests with their equipment.”

“Any results?” I asked, trying to read over his shoulder. The technical terms were flying fast and furious as one of the students recorded their findings.

“Whatever it is, it's not electromagnetic,” Andrew said, skimming back over the record. “Not even measurable by most of their equipment, though they had some recording stations on the other side, and now they can't get a signal. So it's cutting off communication.”

Another window popped up, showing video of a shipping barge. I leaned to one side, as if that could let me see the window that had been obscured. “What are you–”

“Watch,” Andrew said. I did, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. A minute passed in silence before any of us figured it out.

“Oh god,” I whispered as we watched the front end of the barge crumple like a tin can. The video was silent, taken from too great a distance to tell how the people on the barge fared. In some ways, that was worse.

Behind us, the television kept spewing its form of news: “…Emergency meeting of the United Nations. The Chinese representative to the UN has released a joint statement signed by the Chinese ambassador to the United States and several other prominent Chinese officials denying any knowledge of or collusion in the creation of this New Great Wall, and requesting the aid of the world community to find the terrorists responsible…”

“There's a site here that says it's India's fault ‘cause they're jealous of China,” said one of Andrew's younger sisters, who had followed her brother's example and pulled out her tablet.

“Michelle, put that away!” Doris snapped.

“But Andrew–”

“We don't need gossip and fear. India didn't do this. It's inhuman.”

Johnny caught my eye again. We both knew that Doris had meant “inhumane”, that she couldn't conceive of a person who could do something so evil – something so sure to cause worldwide panic and war and collapse. But Johnny and I knew of a wider world. We knew there could be explanations that went beyond the scientific. And we knew that if this was magic, Doris was absolutely right. No human sorcerer could have created a ward on this scale.

I touched Johnny's elbow and pulled him away, leaving the Hans to huddle around Andrew and his laptop like refugees around a garbage-bin fire.

“What was the ritual Lao Chan was trying to do?”

“It didn't cause this. Couldn't have. Caging a bunch of local guardians…” Johnny shook his head. “It couldn't create a ward that strong. Besides, you stopped it.”

True, but I refused to believe the timing was coincidence. So what had I stopped? How was it linked?

“I should go,” I said, little more than a movement of lips. “You-know-who should be a presence out there tonight.”

“Yes, because Mr Mystic is known for his fair and balanced attitude toward China.”

Given the state of his world at the moment, I could forgive Johnny the sharpness of that comment. “And in this case, that might be a good thing. He's positioned to speak to both sides. Maybe he can nudge the warmongering extremists somewhere closer to center.”

Which was possibly true, but wasn't why I needed to leave. I couldn't sit around and do nothing. Finding Lao Chan had just become my top priority. Maybe San Francisco's Incense Master didn't have the power to do this, but the head of the Shadow Dragons? Yeah, this had his stink all over it.

T
hen

Jim and Jill were on their honeymoon. They were from LA. Tanned and fit. Jim was an editor at one of the studios, and Jill taught t'ai chi and power yoga. As the only other person under fifty on the tour, I became something of a lifeline for Jill. I got to hear about their wedding in excruciating detail. Jill referred to herself as Bridejilla, which made
her
laugh, Jim wince, and me want to vomit blood.

It might be assumed from this that I didn't like Jim and Jill. On the contrary. I loved them. When everyone else was visiting whatever indigenous attraction deemed appropriate by our tour guide, Jill would drag Jim and I to yet another obscure little shrine that even the locals probably didn't know about. Over tea and rice, Jill would practice her broken Mandarin with the confused owners, while Jim and I kept up a running commentary on what they might be talking about, based on gestures and my equally shoddy understanding of Cantonese. Like all good Americans, Jim only spoke one language – English – but he had a wicked sense of humor, and he adored his new bride.

Our sleek tour bus drove into the Huanglong valley just as the morning sun burned away the mist. I pressed my face to the window, rubbing it with the cuff of my coat in a vain attempt for a better view. No amount of rubbing would erase the cloud of scratches on the Plexiglass. I fidgeted in my seat the entire twisted ride up to the valley, and I was in the aisle the moment we pulled to a stop at the base of the valley. I had to make my escape before–

“Missy!” Jill's call grabbed me moments before she did. She was slight, but daily yoga meant that every slight inch of her was superhero strong. There would be no escape.

Oblivious to my intent, Jill slung her day-pack over her shoulder and pulled me down the aisle and out of the bus.

“Good idea, getting out of here before we run into the geriatric bog,” she said. “We need to get a move on if we want to have any quality time at the tea house and still make it back before the bus leaves.”

I sighed. This is what I got for letting myself get dragged along on Jill's other field trips. I had no good excuse for ditching her on this one.

“Tea house?” I pretended like I didn't know her alternative itinerary inside-out. “Actually, I was thinking I'd go with the group today. After all, seeing the pools and poking around the three temples, that's pretty much why I came to China.” A half-truth. I'd come to the Huanglong valley because of my grandfather's stories and journal entries. I wasn't sure how I was going to find a dragon based on this sketchy evidence, but I figured the Buddhist monastery was a better place to start asking than some obscure little tea house.

Jill waved away my protest, “You can go there tomorrow after we leave.” I'd told her of my plan to jump ship in Huanglong; the last thing I wanted was her and Jim raising a fuss over my disappearance. “Today's our last day together, so today you're mine. Besides, the cousins said they wanted to come, which means Gunther is coming too. It's the cool-people group. You want to be part of the cool-people group, don't you?”

The cousins were Anita and Claire from Suffolk, seventy years if they were a day. Gunther was a retired businessman from Hong Kong. He was sweet on Claire, which would have been adorable, except…

“He still hasn't figured out that they're gay?”

Jill shrugged. “Different era. He's used to women traveling together. Probably doesn't think anything of it. Anyways, he says he wants to keep Jim company. Save him from too much frou-ferrah.”

“He actually used the term frou-ferrah, didn't he?”

“Maybe it's German? Frou?”

I chuckled and let myself be dragged along. Sure, I was antsy to get started on my search, but the promise of watching Gunther trying to manly it up with tech-geek Jim was too good to resist. One more day wouldn't kill me.

“
W
e're lost
.”

Heads turned at my pronouncement. Gunther lowered his topographical map. Jim stopped waving his cell around in the vain hope of reception. The cousins nodded, and Jill grinned as if getting lost was just the beginning of a grand adventure.

“Maybe we should head back? We don't want to miss the bus,” Jim ventured, earning a frown from his bride.

“We can't do that. We're almost there, I'm sure of it,” Jill said. “We just passed the shrine they mentioned in the directions.”

“I have not seen this fork we are supposed to follow,” Gunther said.

“To be fair, dear, we've passed three shrines.” Anita looked to Claire for support, but Claire just shrugged.

“I don't mind being lost. It's a lovely day, and we have time enough to head back before we get left behind.”

Jill's grin brightened at this tacit support, and Gunther nodded, though the slump in his shoulders said he dearly wished to side with Jim and Anita, rather than the object of his affections. As one, all eyes turned to me.

“What's your vote, Missy?”

Uh… when did this become my decision? “We're voting?”

“Of course,” Jill said. “Me and Claire are for forging ahead, and Gunther's with us. Jim and Anita are for wussing out and heading back.”

“Hey!” Jim said.

I hitched my pack, wishing I could put it down. Wishing I wasn't still recovering from being shot so I could swap it to the other shoulder. “But even if I vote for going back, it's still a tie.”

“Sure, but as Bridejilla, I get to cast any tie-breaking vote.” Overbearing bullies should always be this charming.

I snorted. “So, it doesn't really matter which way I vote.”

“Course it does. You want to be on the winning side, right? Not with the wuss brigade under Captain Jim.”

“You're going to pay for this later, Jill. In I-told-you-so's.”

“Nope, you are. When we find the teahouse, you're treating us all to lunch.”

“And when we don't, I'll buy you a nice helping of crow, instead.”

“All right!” I said before the cute got any thicker. “We still got some morning daylight to burn, and we've missed the monastery tour, so I say onward ho!” I pointed in the direction I was pretty sure we were headed; it was the only other direction to go besides the one we'd come from. With varied degrees of enthusiasm, the rest of our group trooped out.

A half-hour later, that enthusiasm was as beat down as the rest of us.

“I think that's the same shrine we passed before,” Claire said. She and Anita kept flagging behind. I guess being spry at seventy only took you so far. Even I was having trouble keeping up with the power-house that was Jill. Both my shoulders were aching.

“Which one?” Anita asked with a glance at Jill. Nobody could do pointed and polite like the Brits. “We've passed several.”

“Not sure. All of them, maybe?”

“Has anyone thought to leave an offering? We could check for it.” Heads shook at my question.

“I think it's time we headed back,” Jim said, taking Jill's hand to stave off her disappointment. She opened her mouth to protest, but then she caught the glances Jim and I both gave the older member of our crew. Anita leaned against a nearby rock taking sips from a water bottle. Gunther mopped sweat from his brow with a soiled kerchief, his face red from either flushing or burning. Hard to tell. Claire poked around the dense foliage that lined the trail. It took me a moment to realize she must be looking for a private spot to take a piss.

“I suppose you're right,” Jill said. “I'm just so bummed. I really wanted to see this place. It's been here since… well, forever.”

“We'll go to two places that have been around forever when we get back to Chengdu. Promise.” Jim slid his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Anita and Gunther hid relieved looks as Jim guided Jill back the way we'd come.

“Wait!” Claire's excited cry emerged from the forest. A few moments later, her head popped into view. She beamed at Jill, blue eyes bright. My aching shoulders twitched with foreboding.

“I found something! I think I found it!”

Jill slipped out from under Jim's arm and skipped over to Claire before he could stop her. He sighed and followed.

“I saw a little trail,” Claire explained as we gathered, “so I went down it a way to see if I could… er… to see where it led. And there's a neat little cottage tucked back there in a glade.”

“I knew it was here!” Jill crowed, flashing Jim a triumphant look. She waved at the shrine behind us. “I bet that
is
the same one we've been passing, and we've just been going in circles this whole time.”

“Which is the beginning of her argument for why we have time to stay because it's not as far to get back as we think,” Jim announced to no one in particular. “So we might as well save her the breath and go along now.”

Claire and Anita were already gabbing about Claire's find, heads bowed close together. Gunther nodded along with an avuncular smile. Jim slipped his hand through Jill's and let her drag him through the trees.

I paused at the edge of the track. Something was… off. It was similar to the feeling I got when I stepped into shadow, a tenuous gravity tugging at me that seemed innocuous, but wasn't.

“Missy, you coming?” Jill's voice drifted back to me.

“Y-yeah,” I called back, trying to shake off the feeling. It had clamped onto the nape of my neck and wouldn't budge. I pivoted and glanced back at the little shrine. Our way marker.

I travel light. I don't carry a bunch of crap around with me unless it's necessary crap, so it took me a moment to dig a suitable offering out of my pack. I had my grandmother's pearls, but they were going back to the dragon, assuming she existed. Assuming I could find her.

But being a magician meant I always kept a few trinkets on me for sleight-of-hand tricks. I'd picked up the scarves at a souvenir kiosk in Shanghai. They were thin silk, red and green, and stamped with gold foil carp. Cheap, but pretty in a flashy sort of way. I knotted them together and tied them around a limb of one of the little trees flanking the shrine. They fluttered in the light breeze.

I knelt before the shrine like it was the mat at my
kwoon
. “Uh. Ms Lung Huang? Hi. This is your valley, so I'm hoping this is your shrine. I'm Missy. Missy Masters. You knew my grandfather. Anyways, I have a bad feeling about whatever's going on. So, if you're listening and could offer any guidance, that would be great. Uh. Thanks!”

Totally inadequate, but the offering was meant to assuage my paranoia as much as anything. Rising from my crouch, I shrugged on my backpack and trudged into the forest.

The clearing Claire had found wasn't more than fifty yards from the track, but the foliage grew so dense that I wasn't surprised we'd missed it. Claire must have really wanted her privacy to have wandered so far.

Scant sunlight pierced the gloom of the canopy. The clearing was limned green, like the Emerald City before Dorothy removed her spectacles. I wrinkled my nose against the moldy smell, which was punctuated by a sharp, rancid stench from the half-rotted pile of refuse edging up against the side of a shack that huddled in the middle of the clearing.

There was nothing quaint or appealing about the shack. The walls were a patchwork of rough wooden planks, cobbled stone, and corrugated tin. The structure listed to one side; the roof looked like it was about to slide into the compost heap.

“Missy, come meet the owners!” Jill waved me to the entry, where everyone had gathered. They parted as I approached, revealing a bent old hag and her equally bent… husband? Man-servant? Troll? I like to think I'm egalitarian about my standards of beauty, but these folk would have been outliers on almost any scale.

The woman reached out a clawed hand to grasp mine. She had some sort of skin ailment that turned her flesh scabrous and even more greenish in the dim light. Up close, she smelled worse than the trash pile. I expected missing teeth when she smiled, but instead was treated to gleaming rows of teeth, serrated like a shark's. I glanced around at my friends, but everyone else smiled along with her as if nothing was amiss.

“Jill tells me you find us on the Internet. This is good. You follow directions, you find us. We make you tea. Come inside.”

Non-plussed, I let myself be dragged into the hovel. Of all the anomalies, the fact that she spoke understandable, if broken, English was the most unsettling. Jill and the rest followed us in, all of them still grinning like Stepford tourists.

The inside of the hovel was bigger than it should have been, but that's about all it had going for it. The stench of rancid garbage and moldy mushrooms hit me square in the gag reflex. I closed my mouth and tried not to breathe too much. A cloud of gnats rose into the air at our entry, their individual forms visible only when they flew near the single lantern that hung from the loft crossbeam. The corners of the room remained in shadow, but with my improved vision I could see… things. Moving. I wasn't sure what, and I didn't want to know.

“Oh, how lovely!” the cousins exclaimed together. It was eerie, how similar they looked, hands clasped to their chests, dopey smiles on their faces.

“Sit, please. I will make tea.” The old woman waved us to a long, low table flanked by ratty cushions. The man-thing trundled past us and settled into one of the corners to glower at us. He licked his lips, and I caught a glimpse of teeth, sharp like the woman's.

“Jim,” I hissed as he moved to his seat. “Don't you think we should leave soon? You don't want to miss the bus, do you?”

“Hm?” His smile faltered for the briefest moment, then returned. “Oh, it's no worry. Mrs Hu says we have plenty of time.”

My friends settled at the table, blind to the skittering of insects, the creepiness of the whole situation. This was not good.