One Hella Lucky Goddess

MARY PRISCILLA WAS laughing her head off again, and I had a feeling one of these days she'd end up doing just that. Literally. In our world, things like that were just a matter of finding the right magic spell, and speaking of spells...

I waited until the giant temple gates had swung close before making an all-important announcement: "I think I should go back to the other Underworld."

As predicted, the words had the brat go from laughing to groaning in record speed, and to forestall her protests, I hurriedly launched into a detailed explanation of my decision-making process.

"You heard what Madam Xi told us earlier. Divinations are not admissible in any supernatural court in any realm, which then means the Four Cardinal Gods confirming my suspicions about you-know-who isn't enough, and so we need more proof, and with my court date set for tomorrow, I have no time to ask for Hadrian's opinion about this, and that's why even if it means risking getting cursed or trapped in another realm, I really have no choice but to do this now, and oh my God did I just say all of that in one breath?"

Mary Priscilla only gave me a dour look in response, but since I was now gasping and wheezing like crazy with my lungs seemingly on fire, I think it's safe to assume that yes, I did say all of that in one breath.

Also, note to self: ask Hadrian why gods needed lungs in the first place. Seriously.

"You haven't heard a single word I said, have you?"

Shit.

Mary Priscilla's dark tone had me quickly looking back at her and lying through my teeth. "Of course I did, duh!"

"So what did I say?"

"You said...all the things I expected you to say!"

The brat rolled her eyes at me. "I knew it."

"Well, whatever you said, I'm sure it went along the lines of my idea not being a good idea—-"

"Because it's not," the little girl retorted. "It never is!"

"I beg your pardon!"

"Don't you remember what the Man in Black told you?"

"Hadrian," I automatically corrected her. "My husband's name is Hadrian."

But the kid just ignored this and went on with her tirade like she was the adult one between us. "Your powers won't be what they usually are when you're not in your realm—-"

Gong! Gong! Gong!

Mary Priscilla abruptly stopped speaking at the series of heavy banging sounds, and we could only watch in confusion as ghosts from everywhere went flying towards the open field across us. A makeshift stage had been set up at the center, and the rows of wooden chairs prepared for its audience were quickly filling up.

Looking around, I saw a ghost waiting for his order by a milk tea stall and floated over to him. "Hi."

Instead of answering, the guy looked around as if looking for someone else I could be talking to, and I had to fight back a smile when he turned to face me again, stammering, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yup."

He started blushing right away, and I would've been tempted to tease him a little more if I weren't a respectable married woman...and an ill-mannered brat didn't just happen to be making gross retching sounds between us.

Mr. Shy looked at Mary Priscilla in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Just ignore her," I advised him, and leaving him no choice to decide otherwise, I quickly pointed towards the outdoor theater and asked if he had any idea about what was going on over there.

Mr. Shy appeared surprised then sympathetic. "Are you a new ghost?"

Mary Priscilla burst into laughter before I could answer. "Saoirse died middle-aged," the kid declared gleefully. "There is nothing new about her—-"

I let out an outraged gasp. "Thirty-eight is not middle-aged—-"

Mr. Shy gaped at me. "You're thirty-eight?"

"Forty-two," Mary Priscilla clarified with a snicker. "She's actually in her forties now, which is so old—-"

I cleared my throat loudly to drown her voice out. "Anyway..." I gave Mr. Shy my most dazzling smile and felt gratified when the boy appeared properly dazzled. "About that, um, Get High. Is it like some special type of musical, and that's why everyone's in a rush to watch it?"

"I guess you can describe it as special," Mr. Shy allowed. "It's the only play that's specially prepared for ghosts like us, and this year's even more special. Yan Wang is this year's special guest—-"

Mary Priscilla and I turned to look at each other.

Did Mr. Shy just say...Yan Wang?

JUST AS MR. SHY TOLD us, the Chinese Lord of the Underworld was seated alone in the front row, and because he was in my realm this time, it felt a little surreal to see Yan Wang in full vivid color. His military uniform, which I had imagined earlier as something black, was apparently navy blue, and surprisingly enough, this was also the same shade of his long, silky hair, which was currently combed back in a half-ponytail.