Charis laced her fingers into David’s, more to keep him from suddenly wandering off in the crowded restaurant than for affection’s sake. She liked him, but she still thought of him as her charge and responsibility, and he would remain so until she dragged his skinny rear end back to Nythe and sat him in James Castle’s office. Luckily for her, the Asset responded very well to flirtation.

  The restaurant was noisy and crowded with tables shoved as close as physically possible together. People sat thigh-to-thigh and back to back, crammed in like sheep, but didn’t seem to notice. That was the biggest difference for Charis: in some parts of the world there was absolutely no concept of personal space. So much the better for the pick pockets.

  “Mmmm, they have fried prawns!” Miradon exclaimed.

  Dusty, ahead of them all in line, finally reached the long cafeteria-style stainless steel counter protected by glass hoods, and ordered his food in perfect Cantonese.

  Charis raised her eyebrows and glanced at him. Dusty always surprised her with how many skills he’d picked up over his thousand year lifespan.

  “Ooo, I like those pineapple things,” Charis pointed one sparkle-purple nail, ignoring the fact that she towered head and shoulder over nearby local men near her. The glass counter protected a buffet of typical Chinese food with a few interesting local additions including tiny octopus which made Inu’s eyes light up. Food was continually brought from the steaming kitchens and dumped into buckets from which middle-aged women with hair nets scooped blobs of stuff straight onto trays, minus any plate.

  Mimicking Dusty, when she reached the glass counter Charis began to rattle off her order in Cantonese. She didn’t actually know the language like he did, but she could ‘borrow’ it for a while after hearing someone close to her speak it. A handy little trick. She pointed and bossed the local women around like an old pro, ordering for her ‘boyfriend’ as well, still tightly holding his hand. The bored, red-rimmed eyed workers hardly give her a glance. Tall platinum blond chick yelling at them in Cantonese. Yah. Whatever. Plop, food on the tray.

  Dave seemed a bit distant. He stared at the food but didn’t pay much attention to it. Now and then he would close his eyes for a long moment. Charis picked up from him the sense that he was taking the time to contemplate the God-shaped hole in his vision, the noise and lights in the sky, archangels of lost shit, and what this all meant in relation to Dave.

  She shook her head, thinking that men were always so self-absorbed it was pathetic. Didn’t he have a clue that the universe didn’t revolve around Dave? Honestly. She sighed with womanly impatience.

  Arriving at the cashier, Charis shouted over the old ladies screaming in that particularly amazing cat-yowl kind of voice to the cooks in the back. She popped out her credit card and then pointed out all the members of her group that she was paying for, and the ticket was rung up.

  Taking their trays, they followed Dusty and Miradon toward a stair. The bottom floor was completely packed.

  “Looks like there’s four stories,” the British professor called. “Do you want to head for the upper levels?” He had the grin of adventure on his face and his tray of food balanced on one hand. After so many years teaching in Nythe, he was an old hand at any sort of unexpected weirdness. Plus he loved to travel and had circled the globe dozens of times.

  Dave stared contemplatively at the food on the tray he held, hardly sparing a glance for the rich exotic atmosphere. Compared to the stuff he’s been seeing lately, a wildly crowded Chinese restaurant wasn’t even registering on the weirdness meter. Instead he turned to Miradon. “What about Jesus?”

  Everyone just stared at him for a moment. Then Scott turned to Miradon. “Yah. Let’s go for the top, maybe it’s less crowded.”

  They all followed Miradon upward.

  On the way Dusty asked Dave, “What about him?”

  Dave shook his head, gesturing briefly with one hand toward the crowded stairwell. “I don’t mean Jesus is upstairs, I mean… at least, I hope Jesus isn’t upstairs, but what I was asking is: is he like running around somewhere? I mean could you walk into a corner gas station store and run into Jesus?”

  Dusty hooked his elbow around Dave’s arm. “Come on, man. We’ll talk when we get to a table.”

  The fourth floor was stifling. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room which was packed like all the other floors with far too many bodies. Four ancient ceiling fans spun just a little too low for comfort, and there was hardly enough room between tables and diners to thread their way through them.

  There seemed to be a little space near the four open balcony doors—not that the humid, hot outside air would improve anything.

  “I just want some warning,” Dave complained as they picked their way across the room, trying not to jostle the locals. “I don’t want to turn around one day and bump into a guy and then realize, hey, it’s Jesus.”

  “I know what you mean, man,” Dusty sympathized, holding his tray over his head. He was short enough he could do that and not have his coke knocked down by a ceiling fan.

  The red ribbons hanging off one of the fans slapped the taller men in the face as they reached the table for four… which was promptly and rudely filled by native invaders from the stairwell seconds before they could sit down. The group of foreigners glared at the locals, then looked around again, foiled.

  “There’s a table!” Charis pointed toward one by the inner wall.

  “I want a window seat,” Dusty complained.

  “Look, Dusty,” Scott said sharply, “we’ve hiked through the desert all day long, it’s like midnight, and if we don’t eat I am going to turn cannibal. Who cares where we sit, okay?” He headed for the last open table.

  “What about Mary? And the saints? Didn’t you guys say you worked for saints? My grandma was Catholic, and most of the shit I picked up from her was just freaky. I’m not going to see people missing parts that were chopped off to be kept as relics in churches, am I? I mean I heard there’s a human tongue in the cathedral in Padua.”

  Charis laughed as if that was hilarious. “Oh, no. Don’t worry. The Saints all got their parts back!”

  Dave groaned and said “Eew.”

  Miradon ducked under ceiling fans and across the creaky, sagging floor covered with ancient worn-out red carpet and millions of grease stains. “Don’t worry, good man, the Saints we work for aren’t dangerous if that is what you’re thinking.”

  “I wonder if they ever go by the churches where their parts are on display. Like, hi, I’m Saint Bob, and that’s my foreskin. I bet you don’t have a foreskin worshiped by thousands of adoring masses.”

  Miradon frowned. “I don’t think there’s a foreskin in the reliquaries, is there Scott?”

  Scott shot Miradon a look of disgust, and gestured to his tray with his chin. “Man, I’m about to eat here!”

  “Yes, but this is a matter of great spiritual importance,” Miradon replied as they pushed past a traffic jam business meeting of guys in suits yelling over one another to reach the only open table in sight.

  “Nah,” said Dusty, “they lost Jesus’s foreskin a long time ago.” Then Dusty looked thoughtful. “I guess that means Lord Madrik has it.”

  They finally sat down, cheap metal stacking chairs creaking and greasy under them. The sticky table surface hadn’t been washed in a while. There was a vase of faded, greasy plastic flowers which Dave pushed toward Dusty. Dusty put it on the floor somewhere so they could fill up the table with trays.

  Miradon began scarfing down food like the beast he often was. He has more food on his tray than anyone else, enough to feed at least three large men.

  Dave folded his long body into the undersized furniture, which squeaked and shifted underneath him. “What about Satan? Do I run the chance of going to a rock concert and meeting the superman of evil?”

  “Not likely,” Miradon assured him with his mouth full, “since he’s mummified. I think he is afraid of losing something should he be bumped too vigorously. He’s rather vain, you know.”

  “Good to know. If I meet Satan, I’ll just threaten to snap off something important.”

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  “He thinks he looks good, but I think he looks like the Crypt-Keeper,” Charis said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Well, he IS all about self-deception!” Miradon laughed, a high lilting sound that carried above the mayhem.

  “You’ve met him?” Dave looked ill.

  “No,” she rolled her eyes, “Sheesh. I’ve only seen video footage.”

  “Eeeh,” he protested.

  Scott growled, “Can we talk about this later? Like, after we have eaten?”

  “I’ll talk about it with you, man,” Dusty told Dave, patting his arm.

  Dave was determined, as usual. He peered at the Morians. “What about you guys, you aren’t saints, are you? You aren’t, like… dead people, right? Nobody here has something moldering in a church somewhere?”

  “Well, I guess not. We haven’t been, what do you call it, canonized or whatever by the Catholic church, no,” Charis said.

  “Saint-ized?” Scott laughed.

  “Sainted,” Dusty corrected through noodles.

  “You haven’t been killed in some horrific way and then came back, like… holy night of the living dead?”

  “Nope. Although a friend of mine…” Miradon started.

  Scott kicked him under the table.

  Dave fumbled for a while with the chopsticks, then tossed them and ate with his fingers like some of the other locals. He was just too tired to play with the damn things.

  There was a moan of pleasure from Scott. “God. Chinese food is so freaking good when you’ve almost died in a desert after a UFO crash.”

  Charis ate with the cheap wooden chopsticks like a pro. “You have to smack,” Charis told him, smacking loudly as she ate. “It’s only polite.”

  Local people all over were turning to look really hard at Inu, but briefly and not too closely. Dave turned his attention that way as well, leaving the saint topic alone. “What about you? You aren’t human. And you’re not a mutant bodysna… er… demon. So… what exactly are you?”

  Inu smiled through his egg foo young topped with mini octopi. He had four sets of pointed canines, top and bottom. “I’m Ssaya.”

  “And that means…?”

  Scott started giggling despite himself. He stifled it behind his knuckles. Charis grinned, knowing that she was about to enjoy this.

  Inu looked a little uncomfortable. “A… uh… sea person.” He immediately dug into his food with gusto, trying to completely ignore Dave.

  “Sea person. Sorry, I’m a little dense. What do you mean by sea person?”

  Inu blushed a little more, face turning dark blue. “You know… sea person.” He looked at Dave with a small frown. When he saw Dave is not getting it, he grew even more flustered and leaned toward him to whisper, “You’d call us mermen.”

  Charis giggled along with Scott.

  Dave stared at him with absolutely no expression, blinked slowly, then asked in a deadpan voice; “You’re telling me you’re a mermaid.”

  Itty bitty bits of Chinese food shot out of Scott’s mouth as he burst out laughing. Charis went into a wave of shrieking giggles. She leaned against Scott.

  Inu looked completely disgusted. “Maid!!?? Do you see breasts here??” He waved at his flat chest demonstratively.

  “Sorry.” Dave blinked again a few times, his mouth twitching as he tried real hard not to laugh. “I’ve just never met a mermaid before. Do you… ah… have special parts?”

  Inu looked thunderstruck with horror. “Special parts?”

  “You know… transforming parts?”

  A huge snort came from Scott and he burst out with, “Yah, he can transform into a mermaid! They call him Inu-ette!”

  Inu was NOT amused. He glowered over the table, not eating.

  “I wondered about the super long hair. I’m glad something is beginning to make sense.” Dave glanced at Inu’s long tresses apologetically. “But seriously, do you grow a tail?”

  Shrieks and gales of laughter from all of the others.

  Inu yelled, “I AM NOT A CHICK!!”

  “But you do the water-swimming tail thing and hair thing with sailors, right?”

  “That’s it.” Inu fetched his tray and got up, looking around for another table while everyone else laughed.

  “Girl sailors. Of course.” Dave corrected himself.

  The Ssaya realized there was no other table, gave Dave a murderous glare, and sat back down. “Look, can I just finish my food?”

  “So… how does a mermaid, I mean merman, get into the UFO business?” When Inu stonily didn’t reply, Dave plowed on. “What do you guys do for fun? Other than crashing UFO’s. Do you, like… scrounge in sunken ships? Like in the Little Mermaid?”

  Inu just stared while everyone laughed. The Ssaya finally ground out through clenched teeth, “I HATE that movie. Never mention that movie again.”

  Dave raised his eyebrows, looking innocent.

  Inu went back to eating. “That movie was an abomination. And yes, we do… you know… find things.” He shoved a whole tiny octopus into his mouth.

  “Do your thighs fuse together and turn into a fish tail? Does it happen whenever you get wet? What happens if you’re caught in the rain? What if you’re wearing jeans, do they rip?”

  All of the Morians almost fell off their chairs laughing.

  Inu just slapped his face into his hands, elbows on the table. He sat that way for a while, suffering.

  “What if someone hits you with a garden hose?” Dave fingered his glass of water, giving Inu a long speculative look.

  After enduring the laughter of the Morians for a while he finally muttered through his fingers, “when we want to go back to our natural form, we just … do.”

  “So you do have a tail?”

  “No!” Inu shouted. “Could we please go back to eating now?”

  “He doesn’t have one NOW,” Charis corrected, pointing with her chop sticks.

  “Are your women really super horny like in the stories? Do they really eat men after they… you know.”

  “Actually you don’t want to know,” Scott informed Dave wryly, laughter gone.

  Dave looked horrified. “They eat people? Oh my god. Black widow fish women.”

  “We are NOT fish!”

  Dave turned to Dusty. “What about you?” He motioned to the pointy ears. “So you’re not human?”

  Dusty grinned. “No. But our women are hot too.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “Edor.”

  Dave gave Dusty a beckoning gesture, trying to draw out more information.

  “Uh… yah. Uh… I guess you would call us elves. Not like Santa’s elves,” he snickered, “but like… uh… forest elves. Sort of. Except we don’t all live in forests. I live in Phoenix. I’m like a city elf. I guess. Yah, I’m a city elf.”

  Dave was quietly thoughtful for a long moment, and then leaned on the table to pin Dusty with his most serious look. “Are we talking immortal Lord of the Rings hot blond elf women in long flowing robes?”

  Dusty lit up with a huge grin. “Yah, man!”

  Dave returned the grin. “Know any that are single?”

  “Not exactly hot blond women,” Charis scowled at Dusty reprovingly. “Some of them are green, and some of them eat people too,” she added smugly.

  “Oh.” Dave’s grin died. “That’s too bad.”

  “Not all of them! Only the bad ones that live in Chicago,” Dusty muttered dourly.

  “Right. Avoid Chicago elves. Especially the green ones.” Dave nodded.

  “Mermaid,” Scott whispered and giggled at Inu.

  The ufo driver gave him an acid look and flipped him the bird.

  “So you’re an elf… do your kind have to hang around nature?” Dave asked Dusty.

  Dusty shrugged. “I don’t know. I only hung around the other skater dude Edori. The only nature they hang around is pot.”

  Dave turned his attention to Charis. “But you’re human, right?”

  She adjusted her boobs confidently. “One-hundred percent!”

  “I am as well,” Miradon smiled, holding up a pinkie from his chopsticks. His red eyes almost glowed in the slanting light from the windows.

  “And you aren’t dead,” Dave continued to stare at Charis’s boobs, ignoring Miradon.

  “Nope, never been dead. Although I know a few guys who have.” She sucked up some noodles.

  Dave’s lip curled into a little smile. “And you don’t have a boyfriend?”

  She gave him a lidded, undecipherable stare. “Not that I know of.”

  “Do you want one?”

  Miradon and everyone at the table started to groan and to look away. “Come on guys, I don’t want to lose my appetite now, I’m almost done eating!” Scott protested.

  She smiled cutely at him, and sucked noodles out of her soup fetchingly.

  “Ignore him.” Dave told her. “They’re all just jealous because their girlfriends pull out the fork and the A-1 sauce after they have fun.”

  Miradon giggled.

  “I’m a good Ssaya,” Inu protested.

  Charis whispered to him behind her hand, “that means he doesn’t eat people.”

  Dave turned back to Charis. “Well?”

  “Are you asking me out?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh come on!” Scott yelled. “I said…”

  “And if I was?”

  Inu spotted another table, just now vacated. “Look! Quick!” He got up and ran for it with his tray. Scott followed, along with a hesitant Miradon.

  Dusty didn’t get the hint… he just sucked noodles and watched the two flirt, shamelessly fascinated.

  “Well? Are you or aren’t you?”

  “I think I am,” he grinned.

  “Well then I’d say then I’d have to think about it.” She flounced, flicking her hair.

  Dusty looked back and forth from one to the other when they spoke, like he was watching a play.

  “How long do you think you’d have to think about it?” his hand crept over to catch hers.

  Her only response was to suck down a very long noodle slowly. She chewed and stared at him, silent. Somehow she made it erotic.

  “Dusty,” Dave said without looking away from Charis. “Go join Scott.”

  Dusty grinned at him and kept eating. “Don’t worry, elves keep secrets.”

  Charis ignored Dusty and answered Dave cautiously. “That depends. I’ve only known you for four days.”

  “Yeah. But what days. We’ve killed goat suckers, been chased by giants, survived a UFO crash… come on, babe, we’ve bonded.”

  She was leaning slightly toward him now, looking at him under her long dark lashes. “Maybe, but I hate it when guys call me ‘babe’.”

  “What do you want me to call you?” He actually fluttered his eyelashes at her.

  A few of the locals grimaced at the overt public display of affection, becoming grossed out and starting to point and make comments. One old Chinese guy made fun of them with gestures and fluttered his lashes. The other old men snickered at him.

  Dave flicks the local the bird with his free hand behind his chair, but kept giving Charis what he hoped were puppy dog eyes.

  The old men at the next table consulted and agreed with excitement. They all flipped him the bird in return, grinning and nodding and making noises of encouragement.

  Charis grinned as if this were a great opportunity and made a big show of thinking. She poofed her lips, put her finger to her chin, rolled her eyes heavenward. “Hmmmmmm. Maybe Glorious Goddess of Passion?”

  Dave seemed mighty interested in that name. He scooted closer, chair makes creaking noises, and bent toward her to start murmuring goddess words in her ear. Charis sopped it up, lidding her eyes and watching him sidelong with a mischievous expression. “You forgot ‘perfect’,” she told him.

  “Sorry. Would the glorious perfect goddess of passion and beauty feel inclined to accept little old Dave as her boyfriend?” He gave her the eyebrow, his best attempt at slick. It came off a little more like slapstick.

  Unknown to Dave, it wasn’t suave men that attracted Charis but humorous ones. She had to smile. Even though he was doing it by accident, he was definitely amusing her.

  Dusty grinned at her expectantly, waiting to hear the answer.

  She cast a wry glance toward his lap. “Little?”

  “Big. Big!” he exclaimed. “Really, big. Big Dave.”

  “Big Dave, huh?”she purred.

  Even Dusty was starting to look a little grossed out now. He began to rethink his decision to remain at their table.

  “Absolutely. For you, I’ll be gigantic.”

  She simpered at him.

  He scooted toward her again with a loud SQUEEE! from the chair.

  Dusty thought better of it and bailed, picking up his tray. “Hey, guys?” He wandered off to seek shelter with the rest of the group and leave the two lovebirds alone.