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Xuanzang might have gone all the way to the West and back purely out of noble intentions, with no expectation of a reward. But it sounded like everyone still got what they wanted at the end.
That settled it then. I happened to want this.
I grabbed Quentin by the collar, leaned down, and kissed him.
He was a little startled at first, but then he kissed me back, hard. Like real hard. Like he’d been waiting for this moment since the day we met.
I felt his strong arms circle my waist and cinch tight, lifting me off the ground. I grabbed fistfuls of his hair, which I’d always secretly dreamed about doing, and crushed his lips to mine. Kissing Quentin was as rough and as confrontational as any of our other interactions, and I loved it.
“This is so wrong,” he said, his words slightly muffled as I bit him in the mouth. “It’s like King Arthur having feelings for Excalibur.”
Eh. From my perspective it was more like Jane Goodall hooking up with King Kong. You know, if King Kong were hot and infuriating and oddly supportive of Jane’s feelings over time.
Quentin went for my neck in a way I was highly looking forward to, but then he suddenly stopped.
“Uh, Genie,” he said, pulling away. He peered over my shoulder at something.
“Do not give me bad news right now,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare.”
“All right,” said Quentin. “Good news, then. We found what we were looking for.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how there were one hundred and eight escapees from Hell? And we only took care of a handful at most?”
I groaned. “And I said that the rest were probably hiding here under the cover of the smoke, waiting for Erlang Shen to call upon them as needed.”
“Yeah,” said Quentin. “The good news is that you were right, as usual. Yaaay.”
The wildfires had receded without Red Boy there to sustain them. They mostly just disappeared instead of burning out, leaving behind brush that didn’t even appear scorched. The smoke that had been clogging my true sight rolled up and left, drawing back the curtain on . . .
Demons. Lots and lots of demons.
“There’s the Black Wind Demon,” said Quentin. “Lingxuzi as well. The Golden Horned King. Xiong Shanjun. The Scholar in a White Robe—”
“Quentin, I get it.”
They could have been a crowd sitting around an outdoor concert waiting for the band to appear. The smoke clearing up got them on their feet. Maybe the show was about to start.
A few of them tapped tentatively at the air, expecting there to be a barrier of some sort. If Erlang Shen had been using one to contain them, it was gone now.
I could tell the figures were all yaoguai without true sight. They fit the profile—human forms, with one or more monstrous aspects. Clothes that were just slightly off-kilter somehow. An expression of intense hatred once they spotted Quentin.
I seethed right back at them.
“This is bull crap!” I shouted. “I’m tired! I don’t have the energy for this!”
“Genie,” Quentin said. “Please stop telling the swarm of yaoguai how weak you are right now.”
“I don’t want to deal with you!” I hollered at the demons from afar. “Screw everything! Evil wins, are you happy?”
“You know, if you’re not up for another fight, you could let me take care of it. Like in the old days.”
And here I thought our make-out session had signaled progress.
“Oh my god fine,” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “I will let you use me as a stick. I’ll be the Ruyi Jingu Bang again. Get it out of your system just this once, and then shut up forever about it.”
I was even more disappointed than I was letting on. Getting closer to Quentin didn’t mean much if he’d been simply playing the long, long game to get his staff back. I didn’t know what the process was for turning into the iron staff of yore, so I shut my eyes and held out my arms angrily as if I was demanding a hug.
