The Devil wanted the bright and lovely Cassy for a bride. Instead, he got a neurotic trickster as a roommate for six months out of the year. He's not happy about it, and neither is Louie.
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China has a land mass of—well, I only skimmed the Wikipedia article. But it's big. The Devil has sent me on a fool's errand, or rather, I've chosen the fool's errand of finding the paperweight he lost 'somewhere in China.' Easy enough.
We're starting in Hong Kong. As good as any place to start, I suppose, though when people mean Hong Kong, they say 'Hong Kong,' not just 'China.' That's already diminishing my hope, but I try to stay positive as Cassy teaches me some Cantonese on the plane.
As soon as I was given the challenge to find the paperweight, she was the first person I called, not only because she's well-traveled and can afford the airfare, but because I missed her.
"I can't believe he lets you go sometimes," she says.
"Well, he doesn't exactly like me." I don't tell her about what it feels like now. This odd bond that's built between me and Lucifer. Is it Stockholm Syndrome? I don't know. I've never felt much like his prisoner, not even when he tries to flaunt my status as such to win an argument. Maybe I'm just too cocky to allow myself to feel subdued. Fair enough. "And he only lets me go to do tedious bullshit, which is basically hell."
"An interesting point about the nature of hell. Is it really that bad down there?"
"No. Well, maybe. I stay in the palace. They're building condos nearby, though."
Her eyes sparkle. "The palace!"
"Could've been yours. He still asks about you, you know."
She closes her language book. I can feel my ears crackle, the plane beginning its descent—and not a moment too soon. For eighteen hours, we skirted the inevitable (and uncomfortable) conversation.
"You didn't have to save me, you know. I mean, I appreciate it, but every time you're down there I feel so terribly guilty. I should be with the Devil."
I shake my head. "I hold my own with him just fine. I-I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I think living with the guy has just made me a little more snarky. Just know, if he somehow gets you, it's really not that bad."
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "So, what's up with the extradimensional dragons?"
I happily change topics to humanity's potential doom as we land and exit the plane. We bounce together through the sparkling-white airport, talking of dragons and sightseeing. Everything is quickly forgotten.
Hong Kong is truly beautiful, an ocean jewel. A glittering crown of skyscrapers. But oddly, it's hot. Blistering hot. And the sky is brilliant and clear when it was supposed to be cloudy on a cold and gray January day. Cassy wraps her arm around my waist, walking me through the streets.
"This is weird," she whispers. "I snuck a peak at a bunch of peoples' phones, and my Cantonese sucks, but they all say it's June."
We walk along the channel. And that's when we see it—Cassy stumbles back, a gasp tearing from her mouth, but I rush up along the river's edge.
On the surface of the water, large snake-like dragons. Beautiful and majestic, with koi-like colors, sparkling scales, and handsome mustaches, at least six of them, racing each other with laughing riders on their backs. They must be at least thirty feet long.
"The Dragon Boat Festival! But with real dragons!" Cassy is absolutely breathless.
I rub my face. "The extradimensional dragons must have altered reality. I mean, it was January and now its June. And no one seems alarmed by there being real dragons." As if to prove my point, two teenagers shoulder past us without even glancing at the channel.
"Well, I'm going to take a picture!" But when she turns her camera on, it only produces a dark hissing tactic.
I roll up my pants and unbutton my shirt, exposing my binder. This grabs more eyes than the damned dragons do. Cassy takes my hand. "Louie!"
"Hold on to my clothes for me."All I can think about is how awful putting my clean jeans on over my soaked boxers will feel. I don't know what I expect, just know I have to touch the dragons, have to see if they can speak to me the way my friend from heaven did.
The drop is from twenty feet up and the water's cold, the frantic speeds of the dragons causing desperate, sweeping tides that plunge me below dark and murky depths.
I can't keep my head up. Water rushes to my lungs; I scream up bubbles.
There's nothing to be afraid of, young mystic.
A large gold nose nuzzles me. I can't tell what way is up or down. If I'm sinking or if I'm floating.
We will protect your realm even if your deities cannot.
I try to respond, my thoughts feel weaker. Protect it from what?
Your realm is being torn apart by the very things you creatures dreamt up in stories. We dragons have been the fictional guardians of your kind for centuries. We will protect you.
My heart smashes up against my ribs. Why can I talk to you? Why is no one scared of you?
The time and space barrier is broken. Yesterday there was a bitter wind and soft snow, and today it's the summer solstice. I'm sure to the other humans, it's as if we've been here forever.
My head hits the surface of the water, crisp air rushing to my lungs. The dragon nuzzles me one last time as my brain spits one word at me on repeat. Bad. Badbadbadbadbadbad.
To answer your first question, I believe it's because you are part mortal and part not. A traveler between worlds, just like us.
I gasp for air, for a moment unable to comprehend anything but the golden sun streaming through my wet lashes. For a moment, all I can see is the beauty of the dragons themselves.
