Monkey Around

by Jadie Jang

  I looked up and found a cloud, called it down to me, and stepped onto it.

  “Last chance, Shady. If you don’t let him go, you’ll give me time to get away and I won’t come back. Ever.”

  Shady hesitated again, so I ordered the cloud to rise and that decided him. The creature released Tez all at once and leapt over to me, almost appearing to teleport, he moved so fast. He walloped me so hard I left the cloud and flew backwards up the hill to the street entrance the gangsters had used, hitting a tree trunk full with my back and knocking the wind out of me. The cloud skittered away.

  And then Shady was on me again.

  He flipped me over so I was face-down on the ground. I shifted into a knife-thin wall of flame, reaching for the sky as high as I could go, my flames passing right through the branches of the tree and not catching them. Shady backed off again, but then stopped just short of touching me and looked at me with that same, creepy, considering air.

  Then he walloped me with his shockwave, and—I couldn’t help it—my wall of flame bowed in as if someone had punched it in the stomach. In fact, that’s what it felt like. I rolled myself up into a fruit-roll-up of flame, and somersaulted down the hill back to the flat stage area. But Shady followed, and arced over me before I could re-form into a high wall. Through his smoky mass—now in the form of a smoky arch over my roll of flame—I saw Tez run up, take a stance, and then open his mouth. I expected some incantation to come out, but instead, like a dragon, Tez roared out a torrent of fire. Wow, I thought, remembering my research: I guess naguals can spit flame.

  But, as cool as that was, it didn’t work anymore. Shady shuddered, but didn’t retreat. And, even while he walloped Tez again so hard that Tez staggered back nearly to the edge of the stage area, he sent a finger of shadow to probe me again, and that feeling of despair rose in me.

  I changed back into human form, so I could have a mouth.

  “Tez!” I cried, as loudly as I could. “It’s too strong! You have to complete the ritual!” And then I was overcome by a choking inability to breathe. I was overwhelmed by my own uselessness. Tez would never complete the ritual. And then the creature would consume me and him too, and would go on to eat every shapeshifting thing in the Bay Area. Then he would go on to consume the world. And it was all my fault. All my fault.

  At a distance, through the smoke of the creature eating me, as if in a fading dream, I saw Tez reaching toward me, his face a picture of alarm.

  And then the despair retreated again, although this time, I was too depleted to do more than lie there, wondering what had happened. Slowly turning my head, I caught sight of a familiar blur of reddish-blackish fur, followed by streaks of orange fire arcing toward the amorphous cloud that Shady had become.

  How did Todd get here? I thought to myself. Everyone is here. It’s a party. Then I noted the distant shrieking of Monkey in my head.

  “Okay, okay,” I slurred, sitting up. “I guess I can throw some fire balls.”

  Which I started to do from my head hair, slowly, and at first ineffectively. I felt a hand on my arm. I turned, too slowly, to look, and heard Tez’s voice asking me something urgently. I was too depleted to try to understand him.

  “No,” I said. “No, you have to finish the ritual. We’ll hold him off.” And I gathered what was left of myself and started aiming fireballs at Shady more carefully.

  I distantly noted that Tez was now kneeling upright, taking up the stick, and beginning to chant. I felt that attention—that conscious intention—coalesce around him again, more quickly this time.

  I turned my attention—so slowly—back to Shady, who was no longer avoiding Todd’s kitsunebi fire-streaks, but bearing the strikes of them, seeming to absorb these strikes, and, with increasing frequency, hitting back. Was I mistaken, or were Todd’s strikes growing weaker and Shady’s wallops stronger?

  I threw a handful of fireballs, then dragged myself to my knees—standing was out of the question—and threw several more. But Shady had clearly taken the measure of my strength and Todd’s, and we were no longer a match for him. As I watched, too slow to react, Shady seized Todd by the tails and hurled him … directly at me! I only had the energy to watch, not to get out of the way, as Todd crashed painfully into me, and we dissolved into a tangle of furred and skinned limbs, and bruises.

  Wow, I thought, slowly. Todd sure is heavy. And his bones are sharp.

  And then the now-familiar, and almost welcome, weight of Shady’s despair settled in a bowl over both of us and I felt my joy in the world draining away at a faster rate than ever before.

  Through the tangle of Todd’s furred legs and Shady’s smoke I saw Tez lift his arms and the stick.

  Tez did something, said something—I didn’t know and hardly cared anymore, I was more focused on trying to breathe, and then trying to figure out why I was trying to breathe—and the consciousness shot into the stick, and through the stick into Tez, and through Tez, downward into the earth and upwards towards the stars.

  What was left of Monkey cheered.

  Tez stood and walked toward Shady. I noted blearily that his eyes were lit up from inside with starlight, and his skin was the color of freshly turned soil. How handsome, I thought. Tez is the whole universe.

  He took the Huexotl, now an enormous staff, barely containing all the earth and starlight within it, and planted the foot of the staff into the flat dirt. The pressure on us seemed to halt for a moment, and I could feel Shady’s attention turn toward Tez. The dirt at the foot of the staff split open, like a fruit splitting its rind, or skin opening on a wound. The split ran along the ground a few feet until it reached the skirt of the nalusa chito’s shadow. Then it stopped, widened, and … seemed to surround the creature, to surround all three of us. Beneath me was still dirt, but inside the split it seemed more … more essential, more elemental.

  All at once the pressure stopped entirely, and the creature threw its bulk upward, trying to escape, becoming unformed in the process. But he didn’t escape whatever was happening. A tail of the smoky shadow had become fixed into the dirt.

  Tez said something in an unrecognizable, guttural voice, and the billows of Shady’s smoky darkness began to flow downward into the earth. The shadow attempted to struggle, but the slow flow downward was insistent.

  I lay gasping in the middle of Shady’s dome, nearly desperate with the pain of hollowness within me, Todd squirming on top of me, trying to get up. I watched as the creature was drawn down into the soil, like an inky waterfall all around us, while I remained untouched.

  “What is happening?” I cried at Tez.

  But it wasn’t Tez who answered me.

  The voice came as a voice in my head—familiar, not alien—in fact, it was the voice of despair I heard whenever Shady touched me. The only thing that allowed me to distinguish it from my own thoughts, in fact, was no doubt the creature’s desire to be understood.

  I am being dispersed into the earth, Shady said.

  “I’m … sorry?” I gasped. It’s hard to be antagonistic to someone speaking into your mind.

  This is powerful magic. I do not belong here. This earth will end me. It sounded curiously unconcerned.

  “Is there … is there anything I can do for you? I mean, not rescue you or anything …” I gasped for breath again.

  I am content. You have released me. Now I can speak.

  I felt a sudden surge of interest strengthen me. “Oh! So you were enslaved! By whom? And why? What were you eating souls for?”

  Not eating. Collecting. You were eighth and last needed. But now they will be released. He will not get them.

  It was going faster now. I needed to … I shuddered. “What were the souls for?”

  Spell.

  Half of the creature had been pulled into the soil. The remaining shadow was less dense, less dark somehow. I could see Tez more clearly. He muttered something and and settled into his stance.

  “What was the spell for?” I asked, somewhat frantic now.

/>   Power, the creature said, and its “voice” was almost sardonic. What else? More power.

  It was disappearing now. I almost couldn’t see it anymore.

  “But Who?” I shrieked.

  Someone powerful. Someone like you. He knows you now.

  And then, just like that, the creature was gone.

  All at once, the self-doubting voice disappeared from my mind like a bubble popping, and I felt all my stolen strength return. I scrambled backward out of the rough circle inscribed by the nalusa chito’s dome. It felt tainted. Almost in the same movement, Todd leapt out of the circle as well, and took off running into the night, his two tails tucked between his hind legs. I didn’t blame him.

  And just as I stepped off that ground, an energy burst through: an energy, a light, a … a soul. I couldn’t see it so much as feel its presence, but somehow my mind translated its presence into a visual form. It resolved itself into a crocodile with a thick, fleshy seal’s tail, which turned into a brisk-looking, dark-haired woman. I recognized Maral, the Nhang from Mission Bay. She nodded at us. Then she dispersed like smoke, rising as she went.

  I was in too much wonder at her appearance to be prepared for who came next. The next burst of energy coalesced into a form: first a large, lithe doberman, out of which stepped a beautiful, familiar young woman.

  I was still too out of breath to say anything, but Tez’s anguished cry of “Chucha!” felt as if it came from my own heart. As if she heard me, she turned to me and gave me that perfect little sister smile, and it lit up the entire hill. Tez stepped forward and she turned that smile on him, reached out a hand I knew wasn’t there, and touched him over his breastbone. The starlight in his eyes pulsed, then dimmed as Chucha, all at once, dispersed.

  Tez slumped.

  The next burst was Aahil, who smiled only at me, then Bu Bu and Justin, both of whom ignored us in their hurry to be released. Next, a white tiger stepped powerfully out of the ground, transformed into a distinguished-looking older man, nodded formally to Tez and me, and went on.

  Finally, an impression of leathery flapping resolved into a rail-thin woman with a long nose and the ghost of bat wings on her back. Dalisay. She observed me, she observed Tez, acknowledging us both. Then she disappeared.

  The tainted ground seemed to close, somehow. The soil rolled back against itself, although the dirt was now a bit cracked and dry around the shape of the nalusa chito’s dome. Tez’s staff shrank back down to a baton size and Tez let it tip over onto the ground.

  We both sat there, collapsed in on ourselves. All of my essence had been returned to me, but there was considerable wear and tear, and I was exhausted. Tez was no longer starry-eyed and earth-skinned … he looked blank.

  All at once, he heaved himself upright, swept up the Huexotl and bowl and accoutrements into his bag, turned around, and marched down the hill away from me, stepping over a few unconscious bodies as he went. He didn’t indicate in any way that he was aware of my continued presence, and I was unsure if I hoped that he was faking it or not. I watched him until he stepped through the foliage in the yard below and back into 19th St., but he never once looked back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Wednesday, November 2, 2011

  Port of Oakland, Oakland

  In the days following the raids on the Occupy encampments, the feel of the movement changed from the giddy joyousness of experimentation and initial success, to a more dug in, hunkered down, committed seriousness. The Spirit of the Bay didn’t visit, and I was glad of it. I was, at the moment, pretty sure I preferred communing with It more distantly, through my community and through activism. Talking to It directly had caused me only trouble.

  The kid we’d seen go down with a head injury turned out to be a veteran, and his wound was critical. The mayor apologized, the police backed off, and statements of support flooded in from all over the country, and as far away as Tahrir Square. We reoccupied the plaza the very next day, and voted nearly unanimously—and with a sense of purpose that was almost grim—to stage a general strike a week later.

  My clan was more excited than I’d ever seen them, and started showing up to the GAs and rallies in force, unlike the sometimes grudging trickle I’d seen during the first two weeks. I was still somewhat numb. I’d had to fake enthusiasm more than once to keep up with my folks.

  Nevertheless, I got to the plaza early the day of the strike, and, as the day wore on, and more and more groups joined, I could feel my numbness start to break up like a fog bank in summer. Ayo joined around noon, bringing sandwiches and occasionally even smiling. Sanc-Ahh was taking part in the strike, of course, and my eyes flared at a few knots of magical critters that Ayo’d no doubt been the one to light a fire under.

  Shortly before the march to the port began, two thirds of Cerberus arrived, as well as Baby and Mari and the marketeers.

  “Is Todd coming?” Baby asked me.

  “No,” I said. “He emailed me that he’s got a family emergency and he’s not going to make it. He didn’t specify what and I didn’t want to bother him.” Todd had emailed me that morning, actually, and had said nothing about the big fight the previous Tuesday night, or what the hell he’d been doing there. I’d figured that he’d probably never actually left on Tuesday night, but had hidden and followed me when I left Sanc-Ahh for Tez’s, tho’ how he’d followed me across the Bay on my cloud was beyond me. Magic, no doubt. My eye-flares were pretty potent, but I had to actually look around for deception if I wanted to catch it; and I’d been very distracted that night. I was grateful for his intervention, but I wasn’t sure how much I liked the idea of Todd following me without my knowledge.

  “Okay,” she said and looked at me slantwise. “Is … uh … Tez coming?”

  “I doubt it. It’s all hitting him hard right now and I don’t think he’s even capable of leaving the house.”

  “Did you … do something … wrong? Are you guys … okay?” she asked hesitantly. She knew me way too well.

  “… I mean … I don’t think he’s okay … with me. But I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Okay,” she said again. She sounded actually relieved.

  The march started and we focused for a while on keeping our group moving and together. The plaza and intersection were wall-to-wall people. Twitter was giving numbers anywhere from ten thousand to one hundred-thousand.

  A chant went up and we chanted along for a while.

  When it quieted again she said, with no preamble: “I’m sorry.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, too, Baby.”

  I was about to move on with my life, and the march, when something Baby had told me years ago echoed in my head. I didn’t remember the words, but when she was doing the training in conflict resolution, she said that making active amends after a conflict was resolved was key, even if it was small, and even if you felt more sinned against than sinning.

  I hefted my picket sign over the opposite shoulder and stepped closer to her.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been helping with the fundraising, Baby,” I said.

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it really isn’t. You’re right that I’ve been spending way more time with Ayo’s work. But you need to understand: I’m getting more deeply into her work and I … I think I kind of had a breakthrough … you know, while I was working with Tez. I’ve always been Ayo’s assistant in … well, whatever she needs done: taking care of the cafe, doing research, being a spiritual guide. But with Tez, I was building a relationship myself, offering help and guidance directly. And it’s not just because it was Tez, although it started out that way. I was doing it with Chucha as well, before she …”

  Baby nodded, intent.

  “Baby, I think there’s really something in this work for me. I know I seem like the last person to be a spiritual guide for anyone—”

  “No, I think you’re perfect for it.”

  “What? Really?”

  “You see people more clearly than most, Mai, even m
e. I pride myself on my people-wrangling skills—and they’re awesome,” she said facetiously, sweeping her hair back, “but you can look at people and cut right to the heart of their bullshit. It’s intimidating, but when people need a spiritual surgeon, it’s you they turn to, not me. They come to me to be validated, and to you to be … cleansed? No, that’s not the word. To be … fixed, I guess. You’re the mixie fixie.”

  I was astounded, and gawked at her, while our group took up another chant. I’d been using “spiritual work” as a euphemism for the supernatural shit I did, but Baby sounded sincere about me being some sort of spiritual surgeon. Could that even be true? I was able to cut through their bullshit because I knew, magically, when people were lying. And transforming. And … creating … Did that give me a special insight that was more than a simple lie detector? I marched silently for a time, turning that over.

  “Anyway,” I said, finally, “it wasn’t how I did with Tez; the jury is out on that, but I suspect they will convict. It was more how I did with Chucha. I was starting to reach her. And it felt really— … no, I was helping Tez too, before I … before I shat the bed. It just seems like there’s something here for me and I want to explore it, figure out where I am in all this. That means that I’ll still be spending a lot of time doing Ayo’s work. Only I’m going to be doing it more on my terms now.”

  “Good,” she said firmly. “And don’t get all guilty about the fundraising. I need to you pay attention, because this is your magazine, too. But I don’t necessarily need to you start organizing fundraising or anything. I mean, we all have to fundraise, but …”

  “I will,” I said.

  “Good,” she said again, and tucked my arm into hers. We lifted our signs again and marched on.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Monday, November 14, 2011

  Sanc-Ahh Café, Oakland

  I was making up another endless round of free, relaxing mugs of herbal tea, when I felt a displacement of air, and knew instantly that Tez was there. I’d been waiting for him to come in for over two weeks. Knowing Ayo, there was no way she’d sent me out on Tez’s errand without asking him for some sort of return. I knew he’d have to come into the cafe to make good sometime, I just hadn’t expected him to show up when shit was going down (again) with Occupy.