“Every supernatural being I’ve met so far has been in disguise, or hiding,” I said. “Or concerned to some degree with not being found out by a normal human. Why do they care whether people on Earth know about gods and demons?”
Quentin scowled at how quickly I’d given up trying to sit still, but he kept his eyes closed as if he could still salvage the session for himself. “In the case of yaoguai, the simple answer is because it’s easier for them to hunt if no one knows about their existence.”
“And the complex answer?”
He drew a deep breath. Either because his exercise required it or he was about to say something serious.
“At their core, every demon desperately wants to become human,” he said. “Even if they’re in denial about it.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Are you sure? You are what you eat. There’s a psychological drive behind a demon’s hunger, besides the powers they might gain. The yaoguai who wanted to consume Xuanzang’s flesh also wanted to become more like him, in a way.”
I shuddered. That was the logic of cannibal serial killers.
“That’s also why they wear disguises even if they can’t really pull them off,” said Quentin. “Back in the old days, the few demons who could successfully pass for human sometimes built entire lives inside monasteries and villages without being discovered. The really disciplined elite were able to manage it without eating anyone.”
“Sounds like it would take a lot of willpower, fasting right next to your food source.”
Quentin nodded. “Those demons tended to be either relatively decent beings, or the most dangerous monsters of all.”
“Okay—but why would the gods bother with hiding? Why not reveal themselves in a big, glitzy display across the sky? The world would get pious in a hurry.”
r /> “More worshippers equals more work. More prayers to answer, more dynasties to support. The Jade Emperor got sick of it at some point and withdrew his direct influence from Earth. Now he can spout ‘wu wei’ as an excuse for not interfering with human matters, while laying back and enjoying the endless bounties of Heaven.”
“Ugh, that’s privileged BS if I ever heard it. ‘Hey, I’m personally doing fine so let’s not rock the boat, okay? You people who have nothing just need to wait and it’ll all work out somehow.’ ”
Quentin’s laugh petered out. “If you don’t like it, you can wait a couple hundred eons until the Jade Emperor steps down and another god becomes Supreme Ruler of Heaven.”
Huh. That got me thinking.
“Does that mean Guanyin could be in charge?” I asked. “I can’t imagine she’d be so passive if she were the leader of the celestial pantheon.”
Quentin frowned and opened his eyes at the mention of Guanyin.
“I asked her about it once,” he said quietly. “She refused to think about leading the gods. She said it would keep her from tending to the suffering of ordinary humans.”
“Too busy doing actual work.” I replied with a sigh. Verily, on Earth as it was in Heaven with some people. I went back to my poor excuse for meditating and focused on my—
“Aaagh!”
Quentin suddenly leaned across the small gap between us and seized me by the shoulders. The shaking traveled from his body into mine, rattling my teeth. There was nothing I could do except hold him steady until the tremors passed.
“Sorry,” he said once he’d settled down. “I didn’t mean to grab you like that. The yaoguai alert doesn’t hurt like the Band-Tightening Spell, but it hits me deep down in my body the same way.”
I didn’t mind. Mostly because his aftershocks resembled a dog twitching adorably from a vigorous petting session. I had the overwhelming urge to rub his belly and ask him who the good boy was.
But as enjoyable as that would be, it would have to wait. “All right,” I said, getting to my feet. “We’ve got an hour and a half at most before I have to be home. Dial me in.”
Quentin gave me a funny look, but if he thought I was being too cocky he didn’t say so.
The two of us stood on the sidewalk, craning our necks upward to look at the grand stone residence framed by the evening sky. It was much smaller and older than the glass towers in the financial district of the city, but also much more elegant. The exterior was styled in fanciful Art Deco, as if to say, Have fun in your liquefaction zones, losers—we’re on bedrock.
“Is he still there?” Quentin asked.
I touched my temple like a mutant with eyebeams; I’d found that the gesture helped me manage my newfound supernatural vision. The floors of the building dissolved away until only the penthouse remained. Sitting on a couch in the living room was a glowing green man with a face as blank and smooth as an eggshell. He had no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Nothing.
“He’s still there,” I said. “I think he’s watching TV.”