Chapter Two

"Mojave Blues."
By
DS Baker.

"Yes go bring me my shotgun

Yes man and a pocket full of shells

Yeah you know I'm gonna kill that woman

I'm gonna throw her her in that old deep dug well

Hide her from everybody they won't know where she at”

-Lightnin Hopkins

          I took one last look at the Kitowski's home, and with a deep sigh of regret, had Max port us back to the station house and began digging through the mountain of electronic paperwork I had to sign off on. Yes even with all the advanced tech the Terran Federation of Aligned Worlds brings to the table, documenting and filing crap out in triplicate is still a requirement. And our DA's are only allowed to assist. Otherwise you get lazy detectives who are apt to miss something during an investigation, when instead of doing their work they are sucking down dog-nuts at the local coffee shop. (Sorry but its true. Maybe not my partner but human nature is like electricity. We love the path of least resistance.)
     When I had finished I called up my boss Maj. Casey, and gave him the incident report. All in all it was a crappy ending to a really bad day, not that I minded fourteen hours in the saddle, that was considered normal in a normal homicide. But this was a hell of a long way from normal, and we knew magic, powerful magic had been used that left the proverbial forty eight hour clock stopped cold and frozen.
     "Fuck this shit. I hate killers."
     <Max my old man, I need you prepare a briefing. I get the feeling we are going to need all of us meat-sacks up to speed on their motivations and psychological profiles.>
     <Gotcha Boychik. Mary and I are combing through the FBI database for hints on this guy, we will pull their latest conference notes as well. Oh! and Sibylline just notified Molly and me. You are now in charge of 'Team Angel' per Major Casey.>
     <Great! Can you tell Mary I won't be coming home tonight? I am going to be running long on time.>
     Even with Yueh's patented happy pills, I felt like shit. Horrible murder. Seeing something like that just takes the piss out of you. Don't believe the hype and the fiction. If someone's murder doesn't affect you, guess what? It's time to get out of the game.
     Leo and I arrived back at HQ. Stepping through the portal, the sense of normality and purpose gave a nice counter balance to the feelings of surreality and how I felt off my stride. I looked over at Leo, "You OK mate?"
     Leo smiled his patented wide smile, nodded his head and said, "No. I feel like a Dobhar-cu grabbed me by the back of the neck and has wrung me dry like dishrag." Taking his mocha colored hands, Leo began massaging his neck. "I need a short power nap and a cup o tay, with sumat a bit stronger swirled around." 
     "Right. Go take forty five, and meet me back in the conference room, with the rest of the team. I expect Molly can help you round them all up. Although I expect it will be like herding cats after what we just went through."
    Leo O'Brian my black Irish partner from a different reality, who next to my wife was my best friend just nodded his head and disappeared into our office down the hall.
    I felt like I was coming down with the flu. Whole body ached and I could the stirring of a fever. "Shit, I hate getting sick!"
     "Well you look like you have had the shit kicked out of you and then dragged through the resulting mud hole." Major Casey my short rotund commanding officer said as soon as I walked through his office door. Imagine a nearsighted turtle wearing glasses, who smoked a black briar pipe with the ever present writhing tobacco fumes coiling around his head like a turban.
     -Thank the creator of all, for medical nanite protocols. 'Cause coffee and cigarettes were often the very fuel that kept this office running. 
    "I take it Max informed you of the status of yourself and you have acquired a team?"

     "Yes sir. I have called for a team meeting, roughly forty minutes from now in the conference room. Most of us just need a few moments to ourselves."

 ****

(Conference Room Vegas Station)

 The conference of what our Digital Assistants were calling 'Team Angel' was winding down. Before excusing everyone to go take care of their allotted tasks I asked Miracle Max Bialystok my personal DA to give a short precis' on the basic parameters of what a Serial Killer was and wasn't. Even though we were all police in one form or another sitting around the conference table, repeating something we knew or thought we knew didn't hurt. And unlike a large number of other commanders in the IDPF, I believe in my detectives doing as much of their own leg work as possible.

“I know we are tired. But before we call this a night, or day, I want you to listen to the basics. It is the fundamentals that keep us sharp. It is reviewing and reading profiles, being compulsive in our quest for details.  If I may mangle Flaubert for a moment, ‘God is in the details.’ So let us review the very basic concepts and their fallacies concerning serial killers. To that end, I give the floor over to Miracle Max Bialystok.”

<Thank you Captain Greene,

Ladies and Gentlemen, here are but a few highlights from the current FBI symposium on Serial Killers:>

<Myth Serial killers are dysfunctional loners>

<Nothing could be further from the truth. True some are. However it is the Serial Killer's ability to blend in with his natural environment which makes his such a deadly predator.

Economic environs are just camouflage...>

****

Meanwhile across the planet in the countryside of Belgium...

The tall aristocratic man who called himself Michael d'Mort stepped out from the estate managers work shed dressed impeccably in a four thousand dollar wool dark gray bespoke suit, with a Burberry camel hair trench coat, cashmere lined pig skin gloves, and faintly smelling of an exotic custom blended cologne. Virgin Shetland wool scarf and handmade Italian loafers from an exclusive private house completed his assemble. A modern aristocrat strolling through the garden.

****

<Myth serial killers are white males.>

<Contrary to movies or television, serial killers span all race and or ethnicity.

Although white males do tend to make up of the majority of killers.>

****

     The estate was old. It had belonged to his family since the largest oaks had been acorns planted in the garden. His family's people and those who served them had formed their own private world and community. The formal French inspired estate outside of Liege was cold. It was always cold. It being winter, doubly so. The garden had pulled in its rainbow colors and the world was now sepia collage of gray, deep umber, and olive. As if an artist had delicately painted in the subtle nuances of winter, light drifts of snow lay in gentle crescents underneath hedge and tree. The path leading up to the manor through the towering columns of flanking Italian evergreen Cedars, made crunching noises as he walked its crushed oyster shell path.

****

<Myth serial killers are motivated by sex.>

<Not all serial killers are motivated by sex. However those that are

tend to be particularly violent. Several killers have been motivated by

revenge, anger, the thrill of getting away with their crimes, and the absolute

power they are able to have over their victims.>

****

     He despised the fact he could not come and go from his quarters as he liked. Yet again, another control this bitch has over me. Raged fueled thoughts ran through his mind. She created me. Made me, crafted me out of her own will and spite, and then forbids me to be what I am. I have to be quiet, submissive, her beck and call boy toy. Give her what she wants, never what I want. She likes it when I tell her of my kills, it makes her want me. I hate her. I would kill her if I could... Mother you scheming bitch. I am tired of being your puppet, and keeping your bed warm.

     His rage cooled by the time he arrived at the servants entrance to the Manor. Unlocking the 14th Century wooden door studded with nails and hand crafted wrought iron hinges, Michael d'Mort stepped into his mother's kitchen.

****

<Psychopathy Personality Disorder>

<Psychopathy is a personality disorder manifested in people who use a mixture of charm, manipulation, intimidation, and occasionally violence to control others, in order to satisfy their own selfish needs. And in our case, our serial killer is also using some unknown forms of magic. He may be driven by his needs or he may have a set agenda. Make no mistake this killer is extremely likable and confident. His victims are his playthings, his enjoyment for living a painful and or constricted life. He and we are assuming it is a he is acting out as he wishes. Not living under some form of constraint or restriction society might wish to impose upon him.>

****

Because she was the teacher, and he the eternal student, she knew when his portals opened or closed on her property. There was no hiding this fact from the Countess Marissa and so, she deactivated her stasis chamber and rose, stepping from its embrace to don her silk house coat. She loved how the silk caressed her naked body as if a hundred tiny fingers tickled her skin. She thought of her boy who was home from his latest round of passion.

”He has become as sharp and deadly as an obsidian blade. His power is strong!” Right on heels of that thought came another realization, “But he is weak. Weak men are dangerous and deadly, and like an obsidian blade, they can shatter at the wrong angle. I must allow him his temper tantrums.”

     Combing her hair with clawed fingers A complex set of sexual desire signals flowed through her body as she stood on her toes stretching like a cat.

“I can't wait for his latest story. I want to feel him inside of me as he tell of his kill.”

****

< Myth serial killers do not evolve.>

<This is very important for all concerned.-Serial killers do evolve. They can change tactics or grow in their methods with just one killing or through an entire arch of murders. It is one of the more interesting aspects of a serial killer. Not unlike the Velociraptors in a certain set of pop movies who are testing the fence line of their enclosure, they evolve and get better at what they do.>

****

     “She always wants me to come to her in her suite upon my return. She will not participate in the kill herself, but she takes great pleasure in tasting my victim's pain. I am so heartily sick of being her Thrall.”

     Anger gripped his muscular frame like a high voltage ground fault. The man known as Michael d'Mort, the Angel of Death, disrobed in the front entrance of his mother's bedroom suite. Neatly folding his clothes into separate and tidy parcels he placed them on her settee for the servants to take away to be cleaned. He was never allowed to enter her private chambers clothed, He had to be naked and vulnerable. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom.

     “She is in a playful mood. She only wants to play in the shower when she is in a good mood.”

     She met him naked as he was, together they stepped into the sauna shower. Without saying a word, he stood beneath the shower heads and passively allowed her to wash his body. When he was clean to her satisfaction Michael's mother took her fingernails and carved bloody magic symbols in his flesh. The pain was exquisite but as fleeting as the blood washing down his body. When the ritual was finished he was aroused by its power. She led him to the bedroom where she would use his body and thereby by dint of sympathetic magic, relive the murder he performed at her behest as if, she herself had committed it. The experience always left him drained and feeling like a used piece of luggage which had been packed almost beyond its capacity to carry its load, and was now sagging and empty.

****

<Serial killers are apprehended by lone wolf police officers.>

<A romantic and frankly insipid idea storytellers in the various forms of the media have continued to propagate. Leadership, dedication, communication, a willingness to work with other jurisdictions and entities are what helps to catch a serial killer. It is never a lone operative situation. It is however always a team effort.>

****

      With the meeting finished, I clocked out for the day, messaged Leo I was going home and I would see him in the morning. I had been popping Yueh's candy in my mouth all afternoon, in the vague hope it would help. It was not working. My temples continued to throb and I knew I was feverish. 

      I drove my truck to Mary's restaurant "The Golden Dragon"  in Little China Town off of Paradise Road. Slipped in the back door. My wife upon marrying me had revealed one of her closely held secrets she possessed while growing up in the palace. She loved to cook. And not just boiling some water for noodles or pan fry the odd dumplings. Real exotic foodstuffs. Maybe after interdimensional travel went official, we could introduce some of her Grand Dragon Shrimp dishes. 

     We loved each other that was not an easy way to describe. Because we had bonded, we were slowly becoming emotionally one unit. And actually I think that is the way its supposed to be. But you know it was also a match made in heaven or hell, depending on what each day brought. Chinese wife who loved to cook who also was a high level magic user, and Jewish cop who loved to eat what his wife served him. Go figure the odds. 

     "Ben' Dan! Stupid Idiot!" My wifes fury filled voice rang through my ears, as I tried to ease my way into the back private booth reserved for our use. 

     Mary “The sunshine kissed peach blossom” of the Imperial Court of Wuhan, and sole daughter and heir to the Emperor of Wuhan took one look at my gray potato nosed face and made a growling noise in the back of her throat. 

     She had felt sick all day long.  Her nervous system shorted and jangled up under her skin. Borer worms in my brain! Oh Celestial Lords what is wrong with him? He is sick!

     Mary  took one look at me and fire flashed in her eyes. That's not an exaggeration. The world started tilting sideways, as the strings holding me up, were being snipped one at a time. 

     Mary grabbed my Digital Assistant Max off my belt and began literally screaming at him in Mandarin. 

     When she paused for a breath, Max commed her <Mary! Quit screaming! I am right here. I assure you madam I have perfect hearing.>

     “You better listen to me Max Bialostok! This morning my husband left his house in perfectly good working condition. Now look at him! He looks more like a ghost that he ever did. I can tell by his Qi, that he is ill or cursed. So you better tell that Maj. Casey he is calling in sick tomorrow and possibly the day after that! Or I will have Wang Long Shin Shen use you as a digestive aid in his belly furnace!"

     Being in the presence of my wife was like someone pulled the plug on an old fashion bath tub The tension of the day finally melted away and with it my ability to stand or function properly. I felt drugged and sleepy. I remember mumbling something to Mary about taking a nap on the table top.

****

     I woke up in our home in Wuhan. Wuhan exists in the quantum foam between dimensions. My wife is a potent and puissant magician in her own right. She knew something was up, and after I had passed out she had grilled Max my DA ruthlessly. She has this way of using her index finger, where she points it at you and a glowing ball of plasma hangs in the air waiting to find a home. Max fell apart like a cheap suitcase and spilled the details of the murder, hexing of the crime scene, and everyone's reactions. I don't think he left any detail out the little SOB.

     As a wedding gift my father-in-law spent a month and a half crafting our very own palace. As far as size goes, it is the smallest imperial residence in Wuhan. It is simply called the Water Palace. In the center of this lake sits a traditional Chinese Tea house. It has just enough room for four people to sit comfortably. There is a hidden button on the nose of one of the water dragons carved into the pillars supporting the roof of the pavilion. Press the button and stairs appear leading downwards into the lake itself. 
       All pretense of ancient Chinese or Han culture stops at the staircase. My wife likes clean post modern lines and Scandinavian designed furniture. It has an open floor plan with subdued lighting and shoji style screens that can be moved around to change the layout of the house. The truly unique aspect of the house is there are no external walls. Just magical screens that keep the water out. But because it is Wuhan, and Wuhan is a magical place, the aquatic life freely swim through our house as if water and not air was present. I won't tell the grumpy SOB but my father-in-law did good. I love our home here. Beats living at the base of Black Mountain in Henderson NV all to hell and gone.

     I woke up with a concerned wife standing over my side of the bed.
     “Nǐ xūyào kàn dào de yù yī.” Mary said to me....and then it dawned on her Max my DA was not in the room with us. “You need to see the court physician. They have made a special time for you. So you need to get dressed.” She then made shooing motions with her hands like she was scattering chickens.

      My father before he died, could see I was getting to an age, where fatherly advice was going to be needed. He relayed to me the only thing I know my grandfather ever said to him, “Marcus my son your grandfather gave me the best advice in the world when it comes to a wife. If she isn't happy. You will not live in a happy home.”

      I have never forgotten that particular bit of wisdom. I looked at Mary and said, “Yes ma'am. I am moving.” I put action to words and went into my dressing room.

      <Is it safe to come out Boychick?> Max queried me on our secure channel.

     < Yeah. Where the heck are you anyways?>

     <The princess of the Jade Court, The Sun Kissed Peach, The Ambassador without Portfolio to the Terran Federation, And to all the magical Squib Worlds, Daughter of the Heavenly Blessed Emperor of Wuhan, and your wife has put me in a locked box in your dressing room.>

     <Did this teach you anything? Maybe some humility?>

    <Yeah. Two things. Don't piss your wife off. And you threatening me won't work anymore, not after staring down her plasma ball of doom. I'll let you guess about the humility part.>

    <Wussy. If she had been really peeved. She would have just turned you inside out like a sock and have been done with the whole thing. I saw her do that once. Still makes me want to pee thinking about it.>
     Did I mention my wife was a powerful and puissant magic user? Our courtship, wedding and all the cultural bull shit we had to go through in order to get married would fill a book in of itself. While I was busily kvetching with Miracle Max Bialystok, my constant companion and Digital Assistant, I was putting it on. The costume. The Rig. Otherwise known as court robes. My robes were made out of the deepest blue, almost black silk, with the Star of David woven into the fabric with gold bullion thread, and as a counterpoint silver bullion had been used to spell out the Hebrew word Chai.
     The Emperor's craftsmen in a special nod, even went to Terra one one six, and talked to the Chief Rabbi of Solomon's Temple... yeah they have their own version. (Don't even get me started on the implications of someone finding out there is a Jewish Empire on another version of Earth. Oy Freaking Vey!) The artisans with the help of magicians wove tiny Hebrew and Aramaic words of protection in black silk all throughout my robes. I don't wear slippers but chewed goatskin riding boots, with soft fleece linings and red cotton pantaloons with threads of gold silk running throughout in a vertical pattern. And I wore my pants stuffed into the top of my boots.

<Aren't you Farpitzs! You look good for a Hebrew who hasn't been to the synagogue in years...But the cowboys at the roping arena would just love this outfit.>

     As a matter of course I can make rude gestures with my neural processor and Max can “see” them. He sent one back which was a physical impossibility.

    <Thanks Max. I think I look spiffy myself. And when did you become my mother?> I said letting a bit more annoyance and irritation into my tone.

     Lastly I rescued Max from his box. Doing his best Yiddish Lower East Side voice, <Vell since it's been such a long toime. Maybe you should talk to a Rabbi? Eh, get some of dat oyld toimey religious protection, maybe I dunno call me meshuggeneh, but I think der might be sumtin to dis magical business. Fight fire wit fire neh?>

    I looked down at my DA's hard case in my hand and thought, The wonders of the universe are manifestly amazing. Here I have an Artificial Life form who had decided on his own to become Jewish. Truly there is a G-d and his ways are infinite as the worlds he has created.

   < Yeah Max, I think there might be something to this magic business. Maybe latter I can talk to a Rabbi. Right now I have a date with a Doctor of Wuhan and my lovely wife.>

   <Wake me up after. I don't want to hear you screaming or see your blood spilled by some witchdoctor in a black funky outfit. If they pull out the leeches let me know. I'll take bets to see who dies first, you or the leach.> 
     He then started playing some Hans Zimmer tune which was suitably techno and creepy at the same time. Then he turned off his display, and with that, my peevish DA went to sleep. Or at least pretended to. He might be an Alter Cocker but he is my old fart. I smiled. The crusty creature makes me do that.

    I met my wife in the hall and she was looking stunning in a Turquoise Silk gown with hundreds of five toed gold dragons hiding and playing amongst tiny pink peony blossoms. The gown was a gift from the people of Wu-Luoyang. She had her hair up and dozens of tiny plums and plum blossoms carved from light green jade were pinned in her hair.

    My wife held out her hands and I took them. She smiled sweetly and lifter her face. I leaned down and kissed her.

    She said after our embrace which left us both dazed, “You look pretty good for a potato nosed Latke cowboy from Las Vegas.” She reached up and pinched my nose and the slapped me on my butt and finished with, “Let us get you to the doctor.” And then she summoned a portal of green colored ice fire and we stepped into the Imperial Jade Court.

****

    The Jade Court of Wuhan is a massive space. It is supposed to make a person feel small and insignificant as one gets closer to the dais where the emperor sits. 
     The court they say, once was full of light, life and a rainbow of colors. But the emperor's wife, died under mysterious circumstances. Mary won't talk about it. Because the Imperial household and its family bond with their mates, there is no second spouse. You can get divorced, live separate lives, but you will always be bonded to your mate. If they die, you feel them die. If they are sick, you feel their discomfort and vice verse.

     Which is why Mary freaked out when I came home. She knew I was sick. So she took immediate action. On a related side note: my father-in-law because of his bonding has never recovered fully from the loss of his spouse. As a result the Jade court is filled with subdued and very deep greens, and variations of black and silver, and it always cold as hell inside the main hall.

    Our portal by Imperial law, decree and magical wards will only open halfway to the throne. Even half way it is a three minute walk. The onyx columns are covered with antique style Shang and Zhou bas-relief carvings of dragons and demons, they fade away into the distance in every direction you look. With half seen sinuous shapes in the roof trusses moving and coiling. Massive fire baskets are alight with resinous aromatic woods but appear to only be tiny lanterns of light flickering in the distance.

    Silver slate floor tiles are incised with flowing black script warding off evil. It is old magic from the very mists of early Wuhan when sigils and pictographs were carved on oracle bones; back before the time men and dragonkind became friends. Each step caused them to utter a word just barely heard in the audible range. As you walk across the floor of the court, you cause spells of protection to be spoken. Some people referred to it as the hall of whispers. Whether from the mass of humanity who sat in serried rank upon rank, with their body heat steaming off their backs as white vapor while they whispered prayers for the well being of the Emperor or the court intrigue which surrounds all such places.

    We were met with a delegation of forty black clad fawning courtiers. None of whom were allowed to look at us in the eye or talk to us. But they were more than communicative with hand gestures.

    Mary waved to me and said, “Don't worry my love, I will see you in a little while.” Please by all that is merciful let him find healing. I don't want to live without him by my side. Mary whispered silently to herself.

    I was led to a dark and foreboding passage that sloped down below the level of the court. The ramp was lined with softly glowing strips of neon jade and jade colored demon masks. Presently we came to an iron bound and strapped door with spikes and roundels of bronze some five meters high by five meters wide. The air in the passage had become moist and musty. Two incredibly large Imperial Battle Trolls stood guard with their halberds crossed in front of the door.

    We waited for someone or something to open the door, I was getting increasingly nervous, and there was a building tension in the group of courtiers.

    <I'm Batman> Max whispered into my ear and I just about levitated a foot off the ground.

    <Jebeus on a pogo stick! You scared the shit out of me!> I all but screamed back at him through our private communication channel.
    <You didn't think I had actually gone to sleep did you Boychik? They get funky with you, I port us both out of here and back to Vegas station, quicker than a change girl can swap out hundred dollar bill for quarters on an all you can drink night at the Conquistador.>

    <Thanks my friend I appreciate it.> 
     I actually started chuckling and I think that disturbed my Wuhan escorts. They started giving me dirty looks. Apparently I wasn't as appreciative and solemn as a patient for the great Court Physician who Mary apparently forgot to tell me his or her name was. Screw em sideways with Fungo bat! I thought.

     Two large baskets attached to the wall flared to life,and the immense Imperial Battle Trolls snapped to attention, as the door which it turned out to be was a gate opened revealing a large and I do mean large midnight blue and gold dragon. The dragon was so big it looked like it could barely fit into the five meter by five meter tunnel I now saw. Then I had another one of those “Welcome to Wuhan” experiences happen. It was a she. Because the dragon morphed into an incredibly good looking and sexy woman person thing with blue skin with gold eyes and hair.

    <Hello Noise! You know if humanoids did it for me I would be in a lot of trouble right now.> Max all but barked into my ear as he started play “Striptease” by David Rose.

    <Knock that crap off. I am not sure she can't hear you.> I all but hissed at him.

    Like Moses parting the Red Sea, The Elegant blue woman with gold hair walked through the courtiers and they fell away from her, as she glided towards me. Her golden hair was loose and it floated as if it was underwater waving in a gentle current. She was the most mesmerizing creature I had seen to date.

    <I can hear you and your mechanical friend with the interesting way of expressing himself>
     To tell you I was surprised would be the understatement of the century. Especially when I realized her lips had never moved and she was using the same private channel Max and I used.

     <Relax my Prince. You're safe with me. I am a doctor and healer to the Emperor himself. You should follow me. We have work to do.>

    <Fugggg...> Max started to curse.

    <Shaddup Max. Let's go see what the lovely doctor has in store for me.> I smiled at her and followed her into the tunnel that took us further into the intestines of the imperial court complex. I looked behind me and saw I was alone. All of the courtiers had fallen on their faces and were prostate and chanting.

    <Do you have a name I might address you by M'lady?> I asked in my best and smoothest mental voice.

    < Greeszzzrphtzzx Is my name I share with Dragonkind. To know a person’s name is to have power. So I will keep my true name to myself Marcus Greene Prince of Wuhan.> She paused for a moment and continued on < It doesn't translate very well into your English but you may call me Longti Furen. Roughly it means Dragon's Health Lady. And from now on I shall refer to you as Dianxia or my Prince.>

     Her voice was calm and soothing in my ears. The nervous sick energy I was feeling began to ease in my chest. We continued to speak in this manner as we circled ever so gently downward. Deeper and deeper into the basement levels of the palace we traveled. Every twenty meters or so a hidden gate or portcullis would close behind us.

     Finally I stopped and looked at the last gate to close behind us and said to my companion, “Excuse me Longti Furen, but is there something I should know about where we are going and why are gates and doors slamming shut behind us?”

     <Dianxia, we travel to where demons are kept. You have a curse laid upon your very soul, designed to leach away your Qi and cause you to eventually kill yourself from despair. It is a serious curse. It has been attracted to you specifically and to a lesser extent to your coworkers on your home reality. Chen Yisheng has seen to your comrades but for some reason it has attached this curse directly to you. So we go where demons are tamed and captured.>

    I stood there in shock. Holy Moses! “Are you telling me I have a demon attached to me somehow?” My guts did flip flops and I sort of blanked emotionally.

    <Yes Dianxia.> Was all she said.

    Too stunned to do much more than run the fact I had a demon attached to me through my brain, she gently took my hand and led me down the curving tunnel to an oddly shaped door. It wasn't square the sides were uneven giving it a strange Alice in Wonderland look to it ala classical Disney animation. In blood red glowing paint the radical for “Ghost” stood thrumming in my conscience like a beating drum. My skin became slick with flop sweat. My heart was in my throat and my limbs were becoming weak. The door opened wide and a blinding white light speared itself into my eyes and I screamed.

****

     When I awoke I was laying on padded table in the Water Palace with a towel wrapped around my waist and a blind court masseuse by the name of Sun Yaoting who was busily working the kinks out of my muscles and I felt like I had been pulled through a knot hole in a fence sideways. My wife was sitting on a chaise lounge with her hair up in a towel and wearing one of her fluffy bath robes she bought from the Savoy hotel in London during our honeymoon. She looked as pale and just as wrung out as I was.

    “Are you alright my love?” I asked.

    “Yes my love I am. I am a bit tired but we are both safe and healthy. Remember a slight to one is a slight to both. When you are sick so am I. When I am threatened you will be too.”

    “Mary what happened? I saw the door and it made me freak out, and then the light hurt. What was that all about?”

    “Marcus I don't know where this monster you're hunting found this demon, but in Chinese the description name is a E gui. A hungry ghost. It is another type of vampire. It feeds on anything, it will even eat feces and garbage. But if it attaches itself to a human it will suck their spirit dry. They are always hungry. They never stop. And I am tired. I used a lot of energy keeping it from getting to your soul. So enjoy your body rub.”

    And with that my wife smiled at me and closed her eyes. Sun Yaoting worked his body magic into my muscles. I was glad to be able to drift off.

    A familiar voice cut through my fugue and I shot bolt upright. “Daddy!” I opened my eyes and walking into the room was my father-in-law 'may my eyes forever be lowered', carrying my daughter and his constant companion Wang Jin Long Shin Shen or Mr. King Golden Dragon. He allows me in private to call him Goldie. We named our restaurant after him, “The Golden Dragon.”

     “GrandpagavemeaFoxIamgoingtocallhimFurtercausehetoldmehelikesFrankenfurters!” It all rushed out in a torrent of three year old speak.

     Clutched in her hands was a beautiful stuffed toy fox. She wriggled around in the Emperor’s grasp and he finally let her down. She ran full tilt into my arms and gave me a hug and I felt like my heart had been reattached to my body. I looked at my father-in-law and he gave me the look. The look only parents know. The one that said, Now you know what I entrusted to you when you married my daughter.

     Goldie walked in and bowed to Mary and then looked at me and said, “Dianxia I have two gifts for you today. The first, is to show you this.” He clapped his hands and a small sphere appeared and inside it was a mottled green brown creature with no eyes and a sucker shaped mouth with sharp teeth. It made a squealing noise similar to a wounded pig. Goldie the Dragon in his human mask smiled with a mouth too full of teeth and squeezed his hands together. There was a popping noise and the E gui, was gone forever.

     “And I wanted to give you this.” With a twist of his right wrist he opened his palm and on a golden chain was one of the longest and scariest looking canine tooth I have ever seen. “It is one of my own. It shall ward you, and ward the Princess of magical attack in the future. It will stop all but the most ferocious of attacks. Wear it with my blessings.”

     He handed it to Rivka my daughter and she took it from him with one of her patented shy heart string twisting smiles and placed it gently around my neck. It immediately felt like it belonged there.

     Goldie held out his hand to my daughter and said, “Come little one. Let your mommy and daddy speak to grandfather. I will take you to meet the air dragons who live on top of Huangshan.”

     With a voice as powerful as you might imagine my father-in-law began to speak and then he saw my wife's face and he cleared his throat and dialed it down several notches. He went from being the lord of the universe to the Etonian Undergraduate who went to Oxford. “Marcus my son. I now believe it is time we talk about protection for you and your family. I know you have eschewed the advantages a household wizard would provide for you and your family, as you believed your technology could compensate. My daughter's uncle Bao will be joining your household. Rivka is old enough to start training in the most basic of Wushu and your house needs protection that, you and or your IDPF can't provide.”

     I believe my own intransigent attitude came from three places. Being an American, and our non elitist attitudes. Growing up in the west, where it was what you Did, which mattered more than who you knew, and lastly I resented the fact my Father-in-law was right. Then I looked over at my wife and I realized she was not happy. I looked at the Emperor of Wuhan, and just nodded my head.

     He reached out in a rare display of affection and touched my head and said, “A gem is not polished without rubbing nor a man perfected without trials.” Then he paused, looked down on me and said in a normal tone of voice, “Enough of the fortune cookie crap. You have a family. A really large family now. You are my son. My son. The only one that is bonded to my daughter and the father of my granddaughter. An injury to one, is an injury to all. They threaten you, they threaten the entirety of Wuhan as well. That is my final word on the matter.”

     Then the peanut gallery spoke up in my private communication channel, <Adokter un a kvores-man zeinen shutfim. Doctors and Grave-Diggers are partners. You have had enough lately of the one, don't give the second one your business.> Miracle Max Bialystok said gruffly.

     So that is how I ended up with my wife's Uncle Bao moving in with us. Family. Go figure. One minute you want to choke the life out of them, the next they come riding to your rescue.

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