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“Maybe a little,” Sun said.
“Who are you? What are you, some kind of ninja?”
“Um, no.”
The musty corridor continued. Ahead, Grace’s candle shone, but the light seemed dampened. Maybe it was just my outlook.
Ben and Cormac pulled up short; I almost ran into them. Sun was behind me, looking back. He held his staff in both hands, blocking, waiting for attack.
Ahead of us, Grace stood in the middle of the hallway, and Anastasia leaned against the wall. She looked exhausted and still fuming, like she wanted to run right back to take on Roman.
“You waited,” I said to Anastasia, startled.
She nodded at Grace. “Chen wouldn’t let me leave. What happened?”
We all looked at Sun, who scuffed a sneaker on the stone floor and winced. “Well. First I had the pearl—I took it from the safe to protect it. Then I lost it.” He shrugged.
I was used to seeing vampires as calm and imperious, moving serenely through the world, which crashed like waves around them. Pillars of stone, unmoving and unfeeling.
Anastasia closed her eyes and wilted. Shoulders slumped, head bent, face drained of what little life it had. “Then it’s over,” she whispered.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “There has to be a way to find him. We can still get it back, we can still stop him. We got away from the cabin in Montana, we can get away from this.”
“Kitty—” Anastasia breathed.
“We can kill him, we have to—”
“Are you sure he can be killed?” Ben said.
Anastasia railed. “None of you understand. None of you know what we’re up against.”
“I’ll go after him,” Sun said. “I’m the one who lost the pearl, I’ll get it back, no problem.” He leaned casually on his staff as if it was an extra, familiar limb.
“What can you possibly do?” Anastasia spat.
Sun waved a confident hand. “Leave it to me. That way the rest of you can get out of the tunnels entirely. Go home, have a cup of tea, and forget you were ever here. And you—” He pointed at Grace. “You should know better than that, bringing these people here. You know what’s down here, and I’m not talking about crazy Western vampires.”
Grace had been staring at him, mouth working like she wanted to say something but couldn’t decide what. She finally shot back, “Who are you?”
I looked at him. “I thought you said you knew her.”
He shrugged. “I said I knew her. I never said she knew me. But I think she does—she just doesn’t know it yet.”
Riddles, conundrums, secrets. I hated it. We’d had our chance to finish off Roman, and we’d lost it. We’d tried to fight him, and we couldn’t. We’d lost Henry. It was time to go home, circle the wagons, and hope Roman didn’t come after us. I went to Ben and Cormac, who slouched against the wall, looking terrible. Ben guarded him. I touched their arms, as much for my comfort as for theirs.
Anastasia lunged toward Sun, hand outstretched and pointed as if dispensing a curse. He stood his ground.
“How old are you?” Anastasia said to him.
“Really old,” he said. She stared, but her vampiric gaze had no effect against him. “Older than you, even.”
“All right,” I said, turning on them. “What the hell are you? You’re not a vampire. What else is that old?”
“Yeah, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he said, his smile growing broad. Still smiling despite everything. Made me want to either punch the guy, or laugh.
Anastasia backed away, suddenly fearful. I’d seen that expression on her before—when we’d seen the nine-tailed fox in the cage.
While Anastasia showed fear when regarding Sun, Grace showed wonder. Maybe even a little hope. “Sun Wukong.”
