On the central table, golden statues of several major deities, like the Jade Emperor and Xi Wangmu, stood alongside the newly placed statues of Erlang Shen, Nezha, and Guanyin. Food and candles, offerings for the gods, filled the surface. On side tables stood the statues of minor deities, like Mazu the sea goddess and Leigong and Leizi, the god of thunder and goddess of lightning.
I couldn’t even look at the statues of the Jade Emperor or Xi Wangmu without my stomach turning.
The Jade Emperor ruled Heaven and Earth, making him the ultimate boss man of all the gods. His wife, Xi Wangmu, was powerful in her own right—which she’d proven during the Lunar New Year, after revealing that she’d been controlling me when I was the Heaven Breaker. Oh, and minor detail, they were planning to erase both demons and disloyal humans from the face of the planet so the gods could reclaim their old power.
Yeah, those two were real fun at parties.
The air buzzed with nervous energy in anticipation of the Hungry Ghost Festival. Growing up in the Jade Society, I’d helped with preparations every year. The warriors of the New Order likely planned to light incense; then they’d burn lots of paper money so our ancestors could buy some flat-screen TVs for broadcasting Netflix with all their dead friends.
The men, women, and children stared as the red temple doors swung shut behind us.
“Everyone’s looking,” Ren whispered unnecessarily.
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.” I shuffled out of sight behind the large statue of the warrior god Erlang Shen, with his three eyes and a wicked, gleaming double-edged spear. I grabbed Ren’s sleeve and pulled him toward me. Maybe nobody would notice us back here chilling with Erlang, and—
“You’re late, Jade Society warriors.”
I flinched. Ren groaned. A couple of teenagers snickered.
Over the heads of the crowd, Xiong’s black eyes pierced into mine. Xiong wasn’t the tallest man in the New Order or even the strongest-looking one. But his presence commanded attention from everyone, from the smallest child to the most muscular warrior.
Xiong was an old man with a white beard long and luscious enough to rival Santa Claus’s. He was the leader of the Elders and took charge of everything that happened in the New Order. Xiong reminded me of Ye Ye, my tough-as-nails grandfather.
“I’ll speak with you two about your tardiness later,” Xiong declared.
“At least he isn’t making us run ten laps around Chinatown,” I whispered to Ren.
He gulped. “Not yet.”
“Right now, we have more important matters at hand,” Xiong continued. “I’ve just returned from the Yuē Huì with the other warrior societies.”
The masters of the three warrior societies across the United States—in Chinatowns in San Francisco, Manhattan, and Seattle—had an annual meetup, or Yuē Huì, to discuss the state of their societies. Until I’d arrived at the New Order, I’d had no idea about any of this. Mao, the mistress of the Jade Society who’d dedicated her existence to making Alex and me miserable, had kept the warriors in the dark about the meetup. It was her way of denying that the demons had been growing stronger in recent years and that the warrior societies needed to band together once more, as they had in times of old.
There had once been a fourth warrior society in Chicago’s Chinatown, but according to Xiong and the Elders, it had been buried by corruption and the loss of tradition. No warriors remained in that city—which really did seem to be the case, since we’d visited it during the Lunar New Year and found no sign of warriors.
“During the Lunar New Year, we warriors defeated the demons soundly enough that they’ve stayed quiet for the past six months. But they won’t be out of commission forever. The other society leaders and I agreed to tighten defenses against the growing threat of the demons.” Xiong gazed around at us with a warning look on his face. “Today is the day before the Hungry Ghost Festival. Tomorrow, and for the next two weeks until the fifteenth of the month, ghosts and demons will grow stronger. It’s been many, many years since our prayers have summoned our ancestors, but given the return of the demons, this may also be the year that the spirits become strong enough to roam the earth once more. If so, we’ll welcome our ancestors back into our midst—and solidify our protection around Manhattan’s Chinatown.”
Whispers broke out among the crowd. Across the room, I made eye contact with an all-too-familiar face—my father’s. Ba gave me a smile and nod, like acknowledging a friend, before turning away.
I returned the smile a little sadly. Six months had passed since I’d arrived at the New Order, and Ba still hadn’t regained his memories. After he’d protected me from the demon’s attack when I landed in Manhattan’s Chinatown, I’d hoped that deep down, Ba still remembered me. At least once a week for the past half a year, I’d made it a point to visit Ba just to talk to him.
Two of the warriors closest to me turned to each other, and when the light hit their tan skin and black hair, I recognized Ashley and Jordan Liao, siblings around the same age as Alex and me. They stood slightly apart from the crowd—also like Alex and me, always hovering on the outskirts of their warrior society.
“You think we’ll get to see Jinyu again?” Ashley whispered.
My heart stuttered in my chest. Jinyu. Xiong’s son, and the boy who’d died six months ago—to save me.
“Probably. Everyone else is coming back from Diyu, right?” Jordan’s voice cracked, and he turned away from his younger sister.
