I knew that two were for my parents. Both of them loved her like a second daughter. Mom had gotten all the “why-can’t-you-be-more-like-Yunie” out of her system by fourth grade, and Dad was resigned to the fact that most of his family photos of me past a certain age also had Yunie in them.
It was unspoken that those two tickets were for me to decide a suitable arrangement. She wasn’t not going to invite them to the most important event in her musical career to date. Nor would she ever show a favorite. But I could freely pick one or none or both of my parents to come, and feel guilty about whatever combination I chose in order to keep the peace.
It was the fourth ticket that confused me. “What’s this for?”
“That one’s for you to give to Androu as your plus one.”
“Why would I take Androu and not Quentin?”
Yunie rolled her eyes at me like I was trying to play checkers at a chess match. “To make Quentin jealous. You really have to get with the program here, because your lack of game is disturbing.”
She slid the ticket back and forth with her pinky. “And way to incriminate yourself. You didn’t even hesitate there.”
I prickled all the way up the back of my neck. My mind had only gone to Quentin because it’d be easier to explain his presence to my mother. And I’d talked to him most recently. And because demons.
“You didn’t tell me the two of you were that far along,” Yunie continued.
Anyone else would have thought she was teasing me. And she was. But my Yunie-sense, the only superpower that I truly believed in, indicated that she also sounded slightly hurt.
“We’re not,” I said. “I mean, we’re not anywhere along. Of course I would tell you if we were anywhere. There’s nothing to tell, really. Really.”
I couldn’t keep track of what I was embarrassed about at this point. I only wanted to make sure she knew that I wasn’t trying to hide something as important as a relationship from her. While at the same time hiding a massive supernatural conspiracy that she could never know about.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should lay off. I just like seeing you without that line of concentration running down your forehead all the time. Sometimes you get so stressed out from studying that you could hold a playing card between your eyebrows.”
I looked at my friend. She was brimming with nervous energy, almost bouncing on her toes. Which meant for once she wasn’t convinced she would win this competition. Yunie showed fear by turning even more radiant and pretty. Judging by the glow on her face, this one was for all the marbles.
I handed her back the fourth ticket.
“I won’t need this,” I said. “I’m going without distractions. You’re the only person who matters.”
She threw her arms around me and squeezed. “Well, yeah, duh.”
“What’s the need for secrecy?” I asked.
“Huh?”
Quentin and I were on the school roof again, giving meditation training another shot. I’d bought us this window of time by telling my mother that all team workouts had been changed to doubles, so I’d be home late every day. She wasn’t happy about it, and I couldn’t help imagining the gross liquid metal escaping my lips as I lied to her, but this was for the greater good.
The roof had become our own private spot, mostly because we could get there without tripping the stairwell alarms. The thrum of the ventilation units provided white noise that I had hoped would drown out my thoughts. That obviously hadn’t worked, but at the very least I found this a relaxing way to cool down after practice.
“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.”
“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.”