Chapter 27
Car alarms were going off and sirens could be heard in the distance.
“That fucking boundary…” I swore, holding my hand to my temple. My forehead was bleeding where I had conked myself on the suicide bar. “Why is it that my airbags never deploy?”
Killian was on the alert, looking where the boundary had bulged. It shimmered for just a moment and then went back to normal.
“Another failed portal,” he said.
“Yah, that’s what I was thinking,” I muttered as I looked around at the chaos. Stunned civilians were starting to get out of their cars and exchange insurance information with one another. I got out to see how bad the damage was to my vehicle. I sighed as I eyed the dented-in door, thinking about all the fun new claims I was going to have to explain to my insurance company.
“I’ve never felt such an earthquake!” remarked a pale, redheaded gal in a car one over.
Other than the cosmetic damage, it appeared that my car hadn’t hit anyone, so I was getting ready to hop back inside when I felt a hand grab my elbow.
I turned, ready to nail whoever it was in the face, but pulled my punch when I saw it was Xiaoming.
“Xiaoming? What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I followed SUV following you. Make sure you not big, fat liar. You not liar. You stupid. You come now!”
There was another terrible bulge in the boundary. It sent a VW bug through a live animals market and hundreds of chickens were suddenly flying free. Score one for the chickens.
“That is Jade Lion,” said Xiaoming. “Too much power. Only works with world walker. Cannot work in hands of non-magic without Diamond Lion. But if lion rests eyes on you, border will open. You will be a noodle and the border will be like mouth.” He made a slurping motion, indicating what fun I had in store if I happened to face the wrong way. I needed to train this guy in the fine art of conversation. Ew.
“You must follow me.”
We ducked into a smoky mahjong hall. It was kind of like a church bingo place, long folding brown tables and chairs. They obviously hadn’t gotten the notice on the “no indoor smoking” ban. Old guys chewed on black cigarettes and stared at us suspiciously. Xiaoming spat out something in Chinese and hustled us through. I saw a group pick up their table and stand at the ready to place it in front of our exit spot.
We dashed through the concrete plaza of old Chinatown, past the brightly colored buildings and a statue of some random Chinese leader.
Xiaoming led us over to the subway. He shooed us up to the elevated platform, “I will bring your car to Father Killarney. You go to top of train station and wait for me.”