Monthly Drawing 40: Cultural Exchange (Patreon)

“Now, you’ll be sure to wear the amulet grandfather gave you?” Xiu said with motherly affection as she looked up into Decon’s face. Lit by the sodium lamps, her round face showed deep concern and love.

“Yes, Mǔ jī” Deacon replied in mock subservience.

Xiu slapped his chest and glared up at him with genuine concern.

“Deek, I mean it!” she scolded, “It’s important that you wear it. Do it for me, please?”

“Qīn,” Deacon sighed, “I’m wearing it right now. And you know I’d do anything for you.”

Xin moved into him and hugged him, her face on his chest. She squeezed with a strength that was gentle and desperate at the same time.

“I know. you would.” She whispered and Deacon imagined he could feel her smile on his chest. He bent to rest his chin on the top of her head as he stroked her shoulder. “And I’d do anything for you.”

She extricated herself from the embrace gently and looked up at him, her hands on his hips.

“But, this is important. We live in interesting times now and we need to be careful, okay?” Deacon looked into her brown eyes and saw how strong she was for such a little thing and he loved her all the more.

“Okay.” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders in a gesture he regretted for is condescension, “I’ll wear it whenever I’m out. I promise.”

“Good.” Xiu stepped away and moved to the door to her grandfather’s workshop, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t go to too many parties without me!”

Deacon watched her open the steel door and pass through the custom-made curtain. The curtain was made from iron and jade beads strung on silver wire and made an odd, metallic clickety sound as she passed though. The door closed on its well-oiled spring.

He shook his head as he turned to walk back to the subway station. The things some people believe. He would never, ever say that to Xiu or her grandfather but, he’d still think it. 

‘Interesting times’, indeed, he thought. Stories of ‘the magic returning to the world’ had started in the countryside and now began to filter into Shanghai. Stories of ghosts and demons, actual ghosts and demons attacking people. People being cursed by drinking at certain springs. Sightings of strange monsters in the hills. 

To Deacon it was all too silly. China was a place of legends and misinformation. He’d learned that as soon as he’d arrived two years ago to teach English. Listen twice and speak once became his motto. 

These tales were just rural legends like Jenny Greenteeth or faerie circles and the news stories that spotlighted them could not be real. The government said they were responding but, could one trust any government, let alone the Chinese government?

Then there was Xiu and her grandfather. Her grandfather was a folklorist and believed deeply in these events. Xiu was a writer and historian, smarter than any girl he’d ever known but, she was in total accord with her grandfather. They’d been poring through countless old documents to ‘fight’ the ‘magic’. Tonight, she’d told him, was an important breakthrough and might even solve the problem entirely.

Suddenly, he stopped and swore to himself. He’d forgotten to get the apartment keys from Xiu! He turned to walk back, feeling lucky that he’d remembered. If he’d gotten all the way home and found the keys missing, he’d have had to find a hotel and it was very late for a good hotel.

He turned and began walking back to Xiu’s Grandfather’s workshop. His Blundstones made muffled tok-toks on the wet pavement as he hurried back. He slowly became aware of a second set of footsteps behind him, keeping exact pace with his, almost inaudible beneath his own. After a minute or two, he’d convinced himself he wasn’t imagining it. 

Shanghai wasn’t more or less dangerous than any other mega-city but, a mega-city it was. So, he stopped abruptly and turned fast to confront his stalker. 

And froze.

He was expecting a mugger but, what he saw in the pool of light not ten feet away was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. His mind struggled to process it but, it couldn’t and he let out a small, subconscious whimper.

The light revealed what could only be described as a demon. a lumpen, bulbous body stood gently moving on legs covered, incongruously, by what looked like a 19th century dress. The dress was a faded green, the cloth rotten and stained; Deacon could smell the mold. 

Spindly, spider-like arms poked out from the puffy sleeves and too-long bony fingers seemed to taste the air. The creature’s neck was far too long and moved with a spastic grace, like a zombie snake. The head at the end of the neck was invisible beneath a filthy lace veil. The shape of the head could be dimly seen and it seemed to Deacon that it was staring at him.

Deacon could not move. He wanted to run, but the utter unreality of the thing made his brain feel short-circuited.

It began to move towards him. Slowly, at first, it’s invisible feet tok-toking. Still, Deacon could not move. He was mesmerized by the movement of the head. His eyes widened and he began to shake.

It was close now. The smell of mold had become a stench and Deacon could hear its raspy breathing. Without warning, it spoke. It was old Mandarin but, Deacon understood it immediately. He thought that even if he knew no Mandarin, he would have understood it.

“Come, little one,” Came the insinuating voice in his head, “Let us embrace.”

A spidery hand reached out, its index finger moving towards his chest. The ragged, dirt-encrusted nail touched his jacket just at his breastbone.

There was a sound, or an absence of sound. A ‘whump’ that was more force than noise. With an angry, anguished cry the creature stepped back. 

For Deacon, the spell was broken. He turned and began sprinting to the workshop. He did not look back.

He heard the tok-tok of the creature following him. Felt its voice in his mind.

“Leave your trinket and let me drink your soul!” It screamed. 

Still running full speed, Deacon reached the end of the alley and the workshop’s steel door. He wrenched it open and flung himself through the curtain. 

Before the door closed, The creature tried to sneak through. It struck the curtain as though it had struck a wall. It fell back, holding its head in obvious pain; Deacon put his own hands to his head as the creature’s scream echoed in his head. 

Then the steel door swung closed and the sound was gone. 

Panting, Deacon stood and on shaking legs went in seach of Xiu and her grandfather. As he made his way around the warehouse-like workshop, he noticed light coming from the entrance to the basement. It was a strange, golden light, almost palpable. 

Still reeling a bit, he began to make his way down the stairs. 

“Xiu?” he whispered, his voice barely audible but, sounding like a yell in his own ears, “Mr. Chen?”

Then, he lost his footing. 

He began to half-fall half-run down the stairs, desperate to keep his balance. As he careered into the basement he had a fleeting glimpse of Xiu standing naked in a glowing,  painted circle covered with symbols. Her grandfather stood before her and had just slammed a book closed.

“Xiu-“ was all he had time to say as he plowed into her, knocking her out of the circle and himself to his hands and knees. 

He managed to stand up, still shaking. He tried to speak but, suddenly the glow intensified and he was overwhelmed by a sensation stranger than anything he could imagine. 

It was not pain, not really discomfort but, it was so intense his hands again went his head and he nearly fell to his knees. Then, the sensation changed.

He was warm, comfortably warm. But, somehow getting warmer without getting uncomfortable. The warmth and golden light so filled his world that he did not notice he was rising from the floor…