The flames around Mingxia began increasing in intensity. Before she let off heat and seemed surrounded by flames, but those flames were her energy, something that burned but did not consume. Now the nature of those flames changed. Now they were hotter, a variety of new colors emerging from the flames. Now there was smoke. Everyone could smell something burning. As they looked closer, they could see that Mingxia's robes were beginning to burn.
A pillar of flame surrounded Mingxia. Her hands came together above her head, palms clasped together not unlike prayer. Above her the flames formed a gigantic sword of fire, raised high above her head. When it was complete, a massive weapon of roaring fire, Mingxia slammed it downward toward Meilin.
The woman in white did not simply dodge out of the way as all those watching expected her to. Instead Meilin shot into the air, as if some of the white energy around her uncoiled like a spring. As the gigantic sword of fire descended, Meilin flew straight toward it, her fan held in front of her, a thick shell of wind and water surrounding her.
When the two energies struck, both slowed and fought against each other. At first, the raging fire was stronger as it yearned to destroy, as it desired nothing more than to descend and consume its opponent. It was the flames of hatred and rage, strong on the outside, but hollow on the inside. Easily started, but also easy to put out. The fire was used to easy wins, so it was not used to a slow, protracted battle. Even as Mingxia directed all her power into the massive weapon, she found that quick flame running out, exhausted with no new fuel to burn.
And then the advantage went to Meilin. Where fire faltered, water pushed on. Not quick to anger, not raging, her water and wind was not strong at first. Once her power had survived the initial onslaught, the fire diminished and the white cooling power she possessed began to overwhelm. Meilin knew her advantage was because of the reasons they fought. Mingxia was hatred and rage, pain and loss. But Meilin was fighting from the strength of love and family. She fought for her own love, for her husband, for life. And as she broke Mingxia's power, she knew that she fought not only with her own strength, but that of the two growing lives within her.
The fiery sword and its power finally broke with the sound of a thunderclap. Mingxia stumbled backward. Meilin came down quickly, landing in front of Mingxia. She thrust her fan forward in a lunge.
The next moment seemed frozen in time as both women were still and a rain began to fall from the heavens, first light and then heavy. Meilin had stopped at the end of her lunge, her body low, her fan now closed and thrust forward to point at Mingxia. She did not touch her opponent, but to all those around the fight it was unmistakable: a strong white aura that surrounded her was sharpened into a sword around the fan. That white sword pierced Mingxia's chest and exited out her back.
And then in a moment, Meilin relaxed and stood, her white energy dispersing and disappearing. No longer pierced, Mingxia stumbled back, blood spilling out of her singed robes. Her faltering footsteps brought her back to her throne. She tried to grab it to steady herself, but instead she stumbled against it. The impact and the pain caused her to tumble back behind her. Everyone watched with shock as she stumbled a few more steps and then fell off the roof.
All eyes watched the roof's edge, wondering if Mingxia would reemerge in some phoenix-like fire, flying up to resume the fight. Surely the great Mingxia was not so easily defeated. The Thousand Hands would not be dominated in a few short minutes.
But the longer everyone watched the edge, the more the chances of Mingxia's reemergence disappeared. Almost at once, they all came to the realization that nothing was going to happen. Mingxia had been defeated.
A heavy silence hung on the roof, the only sound the rain sizzling as it fell into the braziers of fire. The flames were going out as the rain got heavier.
"It's over," said Meilin finally. She walked over to Wong. The Thousand Hands still held him, but a stern look from her and they let him go. She stroked his cheek lovingly. She glanced at his shoulder wound. "It's not so bad, Husband. You will live."
"Nothing will keep me from our children," said Wong weakly, but with a determined humor.
The Thousand Hands still surrounded them. Abby wondered if they would take the opportunity to attack now that both Wong and Meilin were weakened, but the masked warriors had something else in mind. It took one brave member to act first, but then they all soon followed. They all knelt in supplication.
"Hail, Mistress!" said Mouse Mask. "You are now leader of the Thousand Hands of Fire! What are your orders?"
Meilin turned her head from her husband, her smile fading to annoyance. "Leave! Leave New Avalon and never come back! Should you be needed you will be called!"
"But..." started Ox Mask.
"Leave!" said Meilin. She turned back to her husband and smiled again. She again stroked his cheek and they began to talk about the miracle of the pregnancy with hushed tones.
Obeying their command, all of the Thousand Hands began leaving, carrying off their wounded. Both elevators filled and went downstairs. In a few minutes, the rooftop was empty of all Thousand Hands save one.
Wolf Mask walked to Meilin. "I'm sorry to interrupt -"
"I told you to leave," said Meilin, not looking at him.
"Yes, but..." said Wolf Mask. "I beg your pardon, Mistress. It can't wait. I want to leave the Thousand Hands. And I need your permission to do so."
"Done," said Meilin, uncaring.
Wolf Mask smiled, pulling off the remaining half of the mask. Abby expected him to then get on the elevator and leave with the rest. Instead, he walked over to Scar, who was still naked and in an amused head-shaking disbelief of all he had witnessed this night. Definitely not his normal set of weird events.
Scar raised an eyebrow as Wolf Mask stepped in front of him and then kneeled.
"Please, oh great Wolf Spirit!" said Wolf Mask. "Please take me as a disciple!"
Scar laughed. "You're crazy, kid."
"But earnest," said the former Wolf Mask.
"That's a start," said Scar. "Normally I don't care much for groupies, but for you, I'll make an exception. I just might have a place for you. You speak Chinese, right?"
Scar and formerly Wolf Mask called an elevator and took it down to the ground.
Wong tried to turn and walk, but was faltering. Dane ran over to help him, with Meilin carefully holding his injured shoulder.
"You were amazing!" said Abby to Meilin. "I had no idea you could do that!"
Meilin shook her head. "I only did what I needed for my family. Nothing amazing."
"It still seemed amazing to me!" said Abby.
As Dane helped carry Wong to the elevator, he said, "See, Wong! We did it! I told you there was going to be some other way to get out of this!"
"Dane, I'm sure he appreciates the sentiment," said Abby. "He's alive and everything worked out. But come off it. You didn't do anything! Meilin saved the day!"
"Well, I was also distracted by the werewolf bikers," said Dane.
"You didn't do anything there either! We rescued you!" said Abby.
"Well..." said Dane. "I guess everyone has off days."
Abby just shook her head.
As they neared the elevator, it rose from the bottom. They hadn't pressed the call button, so they knew someone was in it. When it rose up, they saw a strange sight. Barely fitting into the elevator frame was the massive form of the GAURISHAKIR robot. Tightly squeezed into the elevator with the robot and twisted into the only position where he fit was Mr. Douglas.
"Did we miss it? Are we too late?" said Jaya's distorted voice.
Down below the building, a broken body was laying in the rain. Though the life was rapidly escaping her, Mingxia was still alive for the moment. She couldn't move, so all she saw was the dark sky which rained down upon her.
And then above her appeared a familiar face, one she hadn't seen in centuries. Despite the years, she knew him immediately: the old man from the forest so long ago. The one who had given her the gif
t. He knelt down to her, his floppy hat keeping some of the rain out of her face.
"It is you," she said weakly.
"It is," he agreed.
"Where... have you been?"
"Absent," he said sadly. "An absent father. I gave you a gift and then soon disappeared. I've watched you, for your entire life. I thought I was being a good parent by letting you make your own decisions, to take your own responsibilities. I thought that was best for your both: not interfering, letting your lives take their course. I've always regretted it, but that was my choice. Maybe it wasn't the right one. But despite that, at the end of your road, I can be here for you. No one should have to die alone."
"I have felt alone for so long..."
He frowned but nodded. "You've always been loved. I've always loved you and him, no matter how far you've been."
"I wish... I had known that..."
"I know," he said, cradling her head in his hands. "I want you to do something for me. Think back to that forest, so long ago. I want you to think about that time we all spent together. That time where we were nothing but an old man and two little foxes, running around the trees and splashing through the stream like nothing mattered. Can you see it?"
"I can," she said, her voice getting weaker.
"Just hold your mind there, don't think about anything else. Just remember that time, the two little foxes happy with their fool of an old man."
"I see it..." she said, and for the first time in many, many years, a true smile stretched across her face. And then she breathed out and never breathed back in.
Epilogue
The rain hadn't stopped. It was New Avalon's rainy season, so the few days where the sky was clear was more an anomaly than the rain. The rain was simply annoying when you had to be outside for an extended period of time. For example, if you were breaking and entering.
The address that Scar had given Dane for the mysterious buyer was on the south side of the Husks, nearer the highway. This was where there was still some low income residential buildings as it started to transition into vacant factories and warehouses. This was the very definition of a sketchy area, and Abby couldn't decide whether the rain would deter muggers or if criminals would prefer it because shouts would not travel in the rain. She had pepper spray and hoped that would still work when wet.
Dane really wanted this lead to turn into something. Whatever mysterious force that gave Dane his cases had told them to pursue the Armor. When that lead died in a broken and flooded tunnel, they only had the Sphere to show for the trip. Then the Sphere was stolen and later destroyed. The buyer was the only link they had left. He was involved; he knew about the Sphere and had purposely wanted Dane left out of it. That was a clear sign of guilt in Dane's opinion. If this was a dead lead, there was nothing left for Dane to do on the case. The Armor would be lost until something else turned up and he would have failed that mysterious force.
Abby held an umbrella over Dane as they stood on cement stairs on the side of an apartment building. Dane was digging into his satchel to find something to get through the locked door. Why he hadn't fished it out in the cab, she didn't know. Had he expecting the buyer to just open the door when Dane knocked? And that wasn't a sarcastic thought on her part; Dane had already tried knocking.
"Got it!" said Dane triumphantly. He placed the strange polygonal form of the Enochian Omnitool against the lock. After some strangely intoned words which Alastair claimed was the language of angels came from the device, the door unlocked with a click. Abby had seen it work before but still didn't know how. Magic, she guessed.
The apartment was a one room studio that someone was using as an office. There was no bed on the tan shag carpet. There was only a large white L-shaped desk from Ikea in the middle of the room. Dane and Abby walked slowly, in case there was someone here, but the only sound was the pouring of the rain outside. The rain hammered particularly loudly on an old window unit air conditioner that the buyer must have been using for his sole cooling.
Since it was a studio, they quickly checked the bathroom and the closet to confirm that they were alone. Then they returned to the desk and stared at it. Dane sighed.
The buyer had cleared out. Dane could say they knew that by the missing computers and monitors, each signified by the vacancy in the dust on the desk. He might say he knew that by the place being devoid of personal belongings besides unplugged cables. But he really knew that they had come to late by the note.
Laying on the desk in front of the chair was a simple note, written with a black pen in print letters.
SORRY I MISSED YOU. BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME.
The man in the sandy colored suit pulled down the gate, closing himself in the dimly lit area where he had everything stored away. He would need to find a new office to work out of after hastily leaving his last one. Never work out of the place where your goodies are stored, don't leave someone a paper or computer trail right to it. It didn't matter how secure he imagined it would be, someone would show up. According to his surveillance, Monday had shown up at the office already, proving his point. He had already burned his leads to that place, so he would have to rent another disposable office on this side of the river. Inside the city would have more options, but She did not want him on that side of the river.
He took off his fedora and scratched the back of his head. He had been in this form far too long, too many years. It was uncomfortable and the stink was as unbearable as the first day he took the shape. He hated pretending to be human. But this was what those humans would call A Very Long Con, and he needed to be patient to see it all through.
Still, he was lucky to get the old clunker back. He looked over to the large suit of Avalon Brass, the one Dane had been referring to as the Armor. Its massive form was covered with a translucent white plastic tarp. It was the only still functioning suit he knew of. It was quite a stroke of luck when he discovered it had been found in the tunnels. He had orchestrated its retrieval and when Monday came looking for it, he covered the trail. Perhaps it was a bit more clumsy a cover up than he had hoped, but without being able to cross the river, he had to use what he had available to him.
It had been a long wait. The suit was a definite asset, but the endgame couldn't be started yet. There was more to do. He was almost impatient - a quality more known of those he disguised himself as. It was unbecoming one of his race. But it had been so long and he missed home. He shook his head. All things in their time. He had waited a very, very long time - he could wait longer.
Initially, Meilin and Wong wanted nothing to do with the Thousand Hands legacy they inherited. In principle, telling them to get out of town forever would have been their final interaction with the group. But finding themselves now homeless and Chinatown heavily damaged, they began to rethink that blanket decision. Of course they didn't want anything to do with the Thousand Hands itself; they had no use for assassins and purges. Likewise, they wanted nothing to do with the actual activities of the Red Heaven Triad - though they were not foolish enough to try to stop the triad or change its ways. That had the potential to backfire horribly. They could keep their eyes on it and make some high level decisions, but radical changes would mean a schism and Wong knew enough to know that dividing stable organizations led to extreme behavior.
But Jinmu was different. It was an international construction company that already had resources in New Avalon. While Wong and Meilin didn't care whether North Egan was recreated as high rise condos or as low income housing, they knew the area was full of construction vehicles and materials. Meilin gave the order for construction to halt on Egan and instead focus on fixing Chinatown's damage. While some city politicians balked at the delays at North Egan, Jinmu had enough clout and savvy to get the contract for Chinatown rebuilding.
Taking an apartment in one of the non-damaged parts of Chinatown, Wong and Meilin oversaw reconstruction of the neighborhood for themselves and for their neighbors. They also put out some messages via their old networks. New Avalon was now of
ficially a safe place for refugees and animal spirits. At last they didn't have to live in fear anymore.
And with that taken care of, Wong and Meilin could finally prepare to become a family with the two lives growing within her.
Without a lead or some new calamity presenting itself, Dane had nothing to do. So he did what he typically did when he needed prevent boredom - he tried revisiting the last thing he had a lead on.
It was three in the morning on a lonely road in the west Avalon hills. The modified El Camino came to a stop at the red light. Abby was once again behind the wheel, fresh from an argument with her boyfriend and willing to do something reckless. Dane was in the back, between the car and the gigantic engines that had been rebuilt and modified by Jaya. This time Dane was sure they could win. But his own view on the situation had changed. No longer did he think the Ghost Greaser was dangerous. Abby had convinced him that there was no harm in the restless spirit. So Dane no longer carried the Carnacki trap. He didn't want to capture or defeat the ghost. There was no hidden agenda, no desire to change things. This was purely about the race.
Abby looked out the driver's side window as a car pulled up next to her. She knew before she saw it that it would be him. It was the same transparent black Chevelle with flames painted on the side. The same slicked back pompadour, rolled up cigarette pack, and arm hanging off the wheel.
"Good to see you again, Red. Wanna race?"
Abby nodded. "Thank you, by the way."
The Ghost Greaser said nothing, just smiled. "On green, Red." He half chuckled at the juxtaposition.
Abby nodded.
The light turned green.
She stepped on the gas.
A Note From The Author
As you may have guessed, I am not a member of a motorcycle club nor do I have much experience with their members. Any accuracies in my depiction of clubs are completely accidental, and all inaccuracies are completely my fault. No offense was intended to any member of a motorcycle club or their lifestyle. Likewise, if you are a werewolf, a member of a triad, or an adherent of an esoteric Chinese fire magic society, no insult was intended by this book. We're cool, right?
Burning Monday: (Dane Monday 2) Page 26