A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [59]
“You don’t mean that literally, Tiny.” I said, knowing that Wan would take it as such.
“Well, no, ma’am, but just the same.” Tiny dropped the chair back to the floor with a thud and slapped the table with his palm. “What kind of dirty, thieving lowlife scum would be stealing our rides?”
Well, in point of fact, it had been a possum and his ninja rats, but damned if I was going to tell them that. I just shook my head, kept my mouth shut, and ground the beans for another pot. As the riders all agreed with Tiny, I took a quick survey of the kitchen and the great room.
The damages in the house from the epic battle between us and the ninja rats weren’t really obvious. The broken glass had been swept away, the blood mopped up. I’d put the toilet brush back into its holder in the bathroom. But I still didn’t have a clue as to what the hell was going on, and Wan, who may or may not be the “Lord of Ten Thousand Years,” had better provide some answers and soon.
But first, I had to get rid of the bikers.
It took the rest of my precious stash of coffee to get them on their way. I told them where I bought the coffee at a place up in Dundee. They gave me the name and phone number of the impounded lot where my van was. Tiny winked at me, and slipped me his cell number as he walked out the door.
Oh yeah. That was happening.
I closed the door firmly and leaned my forehead against it, listening to the rumble of their hogs as they pulled away.
“We must talk, Kate.” Wan wiggled out from under my collar to stand on my shoulder. He stood upright, his tail whipping back and forth. His sword was on his back, the bright red tassel hanging from the pommel. “There is much you need to know.”
“Oh sure,” I snapped, as I turned back toward the kitchen. “Now you want to talk. Now, after we’ve fought off possums and ninja rats and wrecked my van, damn it.” I started to gather up the coffee mugs and load them into the dishwasher.
“The Honorable Doctor McDougall—”
“Do we know he is honorable?” I growled.
“—has warded this house,” Wan said, easily balancing as I moved back and forth. “We cannot be complacent and assume that those forces allied against us will—”
“And what forces might those be, Wan?” I stopped abruptly.
“Kate,” Wan’s voice was soft. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment I could swear that he was looking at me with pity in those small black eyes. “Perhaps we should sit, Honorable Lady.”
I sighed. “All right.” I dumped soap into the machine and got it started. The familiar sound of water was comforting in an odd way.
I went to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Itty and Bitty ran for their usual spots, each on one side of me. They jumped up, circled around, and then settled down for a nap.
Wan leapt for the coffee table, standing on a pile of magazines next to the remote.
“Okay,” I said, sagging into the cushions. “Explain.”
“Let me begin by asking you—what do you know of the history of the Middle Kingdom?” Wan asked.
“China?” I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. “Well, let’s see. There’s the Ming Dynasty and the Han Dynasty. The last empress, the Opium Wars. Lao Tzu, Confucius, Mao Zedung, and Ho Chi Minh . . . no, wait, I think he is Vietnamese.” I opened my eyes. “That’s about it.”
Wan was frozen in horror, his mouth gaping open.
“Er . . .” I thought about it a minute. “General Tso’s? Dim sum? Moo shu? There was that Disney movie . . . what was the girl’s name?”
Wan put a paw over his eyes. “The level of your ignorance is appalling.”
“Oh, excuse me,” I said.
“What of its religion?” Wan asked, keeping his paw over his eyes.
“Mythology?” I asked.
Wan dropped his paw and glared at me. “Shall we offer comparisons with Christian mythology?”
Eeep. “Point taken,” I felt guilty. “Wan, I’m sorry, but—”
“What happened when you touched the talisman?” Wan was staring at me intently. “Tell me, Kate.”
My mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. How could I