Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness (13 page)

Minutes later they were in a taxi. If Hong Kong was awesome from above, it was mind-blowing at street level. The skyscrapers gathered over the sky like an army of cyber-titans, clad in glass, steel and beams of light. People jostled and crowded out every pavement; there were shops, stalls and outside tables with diners queuing, and all around huge billboards shone with a million dazzling lights. Signs were in Chinese and English and were everywhere. Ashoka peered out of the window as they crossed over a bridge and watched a helicopter landing on a cruiser, which drifted among the sampans and ferries like a vast white whale among minnows.

Parvati directed the driver in Cantonese as he came off the bridge on to a slip road. Suddenly the scenery changed to shambolic, rundown blocks with steel bars on the windows, mountains of rubbish piled outside the doors and dimly lit teahouses and restaurants. The dazzling wealth of Hong Kong still shone above them, but there were deep shadows too, all the darker by contrast with the lights above. Here a vast, winding under-city existed beneath the flyovers and bridges.

How had he ended up here? Just a few days ago the biggest problem Ashoka had ever had in his life was asking Gemma out on a date. Which he’d utterly failed to do. One thing was for sure – if he got through this, he was totally going to ask her out. Somehow all the school stuff, all the ‘who’s cool and who’s not’ stuff seemed so not important any more. Not when his family’s lives were at stake and there were rakshasas and dragons roaming the world.
Dragons
. Insane. Insanely insane.

“Where are we going?” asked Ashoka. “Guess it’s not the Hilton?”

“Nathan Road. It’s the home of the Indian population in Hong Kong. Somewhere for us to hide out, and the only place east of Singapore you’ll get a decent curry.”

Ashoka looked in the rear-view mirror. “Is that Mercedes following us? It’s been with us since the airport.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure. Recognise the model. Dad wanted one just like it. Mum vetoed it, said it was a mid-life crisis thing.” They turned into a tunnel.

“Turn around,” ordered Parvati. “Now!”

The driver slammed on the brakes.

A car blocked the road ahead. Its headlights glared through their car’s windscreen and Ashoka could just make out the men inside. Men with guns.

The Mercedes stopped behind them, pressing its bumper up against theirs.

“I thought you said you’d made friends when you were here?” said Ashoka.

“I thought I had,” muttered Parvati. “Maybe they just want to say hello.”

“They don’t look very friendly.”

Ashoka and Parvati opened their doors and stepped out slowly.

The driver ran for it, and they didn’t stop him.

Ashoka surveyed the scene. Seven men, four emerging from the big black SUV in front and three from the Merc behind. Smart black suits and slick hairstyles and shades that just screamed ‘gangsta’ right down to the tattoos that peeked from beneath the double cuffs and collars of their ghost-white shirts.

“I bet they’re packing some serious gats,” whispered Ashoka.

“What?”

“Gats,” he repeated with a trigger motion.

Even through her dark glasses, Ashoka could feel Parvati rolling her eyes.

The SUV tilted as its final passenger got out. He had to squeeze out of the door and the ground shook as he dropped to the tarmac.

This guy looked like he ate sumo wrestlers. His huge jowls wobbled with each step, his stubby fat arms stuck out from his almost spherical body. His skin had an unhealthy, oily yellow-greenish tinge and warts covered his face. His eyes were a pair of ping-pong balls stuck under a heavy brow, swollen and ready to pop. Ugly veins pulsed along his temples and along his forehead.

He glanced at Ashoka and dismissed him with a click of his tongue. He stopped before Parvati. Gold-plated teeth gleamed. “I am Toad, chamberlain to the Court of Dragons. You are not welcome here, princess.”

“I want to talk to Ti Fun,” Parvati insisted. “It’s important.”

“That’s not possible.”

Parvati took off her glasses and the tip of her forked tongue touched her lips. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Ashoka backed away a step or two. Parvati looked as if she was about to unleash a whole galaxy of trouble right now. Much of it bone-splintering. If this Toad guy was smart, he would give her what she wanted, now.

But he wasn’t, and didn’t. He snapped his fingers. “Escort the princess and the mortal somewhere discreet. Do them extreme harm, then put what remains on a plane back to India.”

Pistols came out. One man held his sideways, and Ashoka wondered if he wasn’t the only John Woo fan here. Then he forced a reality check. People. Pointing guns. At him. Super-bad thing. One of the gangsters took Ashoka’s arm. He didn’t resist. Another two stood behind Parvati. One pushed her, his pistol wedged between her shoulder blades. She did resist.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Ashoka.

The man pushed her again.

Parvati twisted, spinning almost a full circle and sweeping her arms like whips. The man’s shades flew off as her fist shattered his jaw and she used his body to deliver a kick that lifted the second guy two metres off the ground. She caught a pistol as it whirled out of his hand.

Ashoka ducked behind the taxi before bullet time started.

Instead there was a heavy thud and a long, evil hiss.

Ashoka waited. And waited. Where was the gunfire? Wasn’t there meant to be screaming, the sound of shattering glass and bodies flying spinning through the air perforated with bullets and such? Instead there was a tense silence. Like a storm waiting to break.

“Drop your guns,” said Parvati. “I won’t ask twice.”

A dozen or so weapons clattered on to the ground.

Ashoka slowly stood up.

Toad lay on his side. Parvati crouched behind him, using him as cover. She jammed her pistol barrel behind his earlobe.

“Are you all right, Ashoka?” she asked. “You haven’t fainted again?”

“No!” he snapped. Right now? Feeling about five centimetres tall. Still, at least he still had his pants up, metaphorically, unlike these guys. Their brains were still trying to work out how they’d just lost.

“Pick up a pistol. Take the Beretta – it’s lighter and you should be able to handle it,” she said, still not moving from behind Toad.

“Are you saying I should take the girls’ gun?”

“Just get it, and put a bullet in each of the Mercedes tyres. Then the same with the taxi. Then collect all the other firearms and put them in the back of the SUV. Understand?”

It was heavier than he’d thought it would be. Ashoka had never fired anything more than an air pistol. The metal was cold and the grip hard and cumbersome. Ashoka carefully pointed it at the first tyre.

What did you do? Line the rear sight up with the front? He held the pistol with both hands and squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot boomed and bounded a dozen times between the tunnel walls, the echo taking its time to die. Ashoka’s ears rang. Smoke unfurled from the barrel and the tyre had a fat hole in it. “Cool,” he said. “Let’s do that again.”

Seven bullets later and Ashoka had done it. He gathered up the rest of the weapons and chucked them in the back of the SUV. “Now what?”

“Get in the passenger seat. You …” she gestured at the gangster nearest the SUV, “… drive.”

Ashoka got in and a minute later the vehicle dipped as Toad clambered into the back.

Parvati joined him, squashed into the seat as Toad filled most of it. “Tell the driver to get a move on,” she said.

Toad sneered, but only until Parvati shoved the barrel up his nostril. “Take us to the Hurricane.”

T
hey drove into the heart of Hong Kong Central. Bars heaved; shops with screens twenty metres high threw colours over the crowds. It was 2am, but busier than London during rush hour. Black was the new black and the men wore tailored suits and the women … well, the women made Ashoka blush in strange ways. Were those skirts or belts they were wearing? Didn’t they feel cold?

Parvati kicked the back of his chair. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Er, course I did. Actually no. What?”

“We’re getting out. Focus.”

The car turned a corner and entered the underground garage to one of the skyscrapers. There weren’t many cars down here, but those that there were counted for more than most. Ashoka gazed at Ferraris, two Lamborghinis, a couple of Porsches, a McLaren, an Aston Martin and a Bentley. A few he didn’t recognise looked like they were out of a science magazine, one-of-a-kind concept cars, too expensive, too far out ever to make production lines.

The SUV stopped and Parvati jabbed Toad. “Out you hop.”

He grimaced, but did as she said. Parvati followed, the pistol left on the seat. She saw Ashoka reach for it. “Leave it.”

“But we might need it.”

She glanced towards the steel doors of the lift. “We’re going to see one of the four dragons, Ashoka. Leave it.”

Toad typed in the PIN and a few seconds later the lift doors opened. Ashoka and Parvati peered in. It was compact. She turned to Toad. “You’d better take the stairs.”

Ashoka’s heart was beating hard as the numbers on the display pinged. The lift accelerated past the thirtieth floor and kept on climbing. “Tell me about this Ti Fun.”

“He’s one of the four elementals. Lord of the skies and winds. The others are lords of the earth, fire and water. Ti Fun rules southern China. The rest of the Middle Kingdom is divided between the other three.”

“Dragons. Wow.” Ashoka couldn’t get past that. The counter flickered past fifty and the lift wasn’t slowing. “I mean, wow.” He leaned against the glass. “I can’t breathe.” He adjusted his collar. Didn’t help. “I think it’s the altitude.”

“No. It’s fear. Don’t be surprised if you soil yourself. Most humans do when they first meet a dragon. You might faint.” She looked at him, slightly worried. “Or have a heart attack. Try not to die.”

“Maybe I should wait downstairs and keep an eye on Toad?” His legs were shaking.

The lift slowed. They approached the two-hundredth floor. It stopped at 201.

“Too late for that,” said Parvati as the doors slid open.

It could have been an art gallery. Spotlit marble pedestals stood like soldiers over a floor of dark granite. There were statues, vases, ancient Chinese pottery, and Ashoka recognised a trio of life-size terracotta warriors from the famous dig at Xi’an. Uncle Vik had promised to take him there one day, to see the tomb of the first Chinese emperor. Columns rose up into the high ceiling, inlaid with mosaic dragons of gold, sapphire, emerald and ruby, swooping through glimmering mother-of-pearl clouds. Incense burned, thin weaves of smoke unwinding from sticks sitting in small vases and pots. Something fluttered overhead and Ashoka glimpsed a leathery wing darting among the darkened column heads. Eyes blinked down at him. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave a vertiginous view over the city. The streets lay far below in the canyons between the towers, and humanity seemed very small and insignificant from up here.

The heat was overwhelming. The thermostat had been set at sauna level and steam hissed from bronze floor vents, clouds obscuring the furthest corners of the gallery.

Ashoka’s stomach tightened until he could barely stand, the blood pounding in his temples. His heart hammered and, yeah, he thought he just might have a cardiac. Parvati took his hand. Hers was cool, dry and firm. How could she stand it? He gulped, tried to wet his mouth, but it was stone dry. He tried to laugh it off. “Oh, I get it. There’ll be this fiery head, but it’ll turn out to be some old git hiding behind a curtain, right?”

“You’re not in Oz,” said Parvati.

“
Parvati
.” The steam ahead trembled and a massive black silhouette stood on the other side. “
Welcome
.”

How big was it? It refused to settle into a single shape, or at least not one Ashoka understood. It could be humanoid, and maybe four or five metres tall, or it could be long and serpentine, as great as the mountains.

Yeah, there was definitely a pain in his chest. Breathing hurt, as if his ribs were being crushed. He stood, hand in hand with Parvati, drenched in sweat and fear.

“Stop it, Ti Fun. Come out and talk.”

Oh God, no. He could barely stand it here already. Ashoka backed away, wanting to run back into the lift, but Parvati held him.

“
Very well
.”

“No,” whimpered Ashoka. “Stay where you are. Please.”

The vents stopped. The distant humming of the fans faded to silence and the clouds dispersed. The shadows coalesced into a single, distinct shape.

The pain clenched around Ashoka’s heart.

The last of the clouds parted and there stood Ti Fun, the dragon of the skies.

But instead of a massive fire-breathing dragon covered in scales, there was a ten-year-old Chinese boy wearing a
Kung Fu Panda
T-shirt. He pushed a pair of round spectacles up a stub of a nose. Then he pointed one finger imperiously to the floor. “Kneel before me and tremble, mortal.”

Ashoka stood there, gobsmacked. He’d been so frightened he’d thought he was going to faint. Or die.

“Were you just winding me up?” Ashoka stared at Parvati. “That’s not funny.”

She burst out laughing. “Your face!”

A
shoka knew his mythology; after all, he’d been playing Dungeons and Dragons for years. It was a well-known fact that dragons could change shape, could adopt any form.

But considering Ti Fun was one of the elementals, shouldn’t his human form be some jade-armoured warrior? Or some kung-fu
sifu
type? At the very least, an inscrutable mandarin in flowing silk robes.

He should definitely not be some snot-nosed kid who barely came up to Ashoka’s elbow.

Ti Fun sipped at his vanilla milkshake. “I know what you want, Parvati, but my hands are tied. Savage has made a deal with the Court. I cannot interfere.”

“After all the trouble he caused you in the Opium Wars and you’re just going to let him off?” She was angry, but holding it in. “The man grew rich through the misery he brought upon your people.”