Walter just shook his head, not bothering to respond. He got halfway across the parking lot when the director ran up to speak with him. Even with Bing’s werewolf hearing, he couldn’t make out the words because the lot was starting to get clogged with people. He heard off-color jokes, griping about bad coffee, and whining about the weather. And he saw Auntie Sand’s gaze skim the crowd, obviously looking for someone.
Then Walter held up his hand and the people nearest him quieted, which allowed Bing to hear what he said.
“You can shoot that with one less camera,” he said to the director. “I believe in you.” He turned to one of the girls asking about costuming. “Don’t worry about the rips. Do what you can and we’ll fix the rest in post.” When Auntie Sand opened her mouth, he pointed directly at her. “I’m not demon-hunting!” he snapped. Then, at her outraged expression, he moderated his tone. “Not until after today’s shooting, okay?”
“And if that’s too late?”
“Then we’ll all get sucked into the Hellmouth.” He turned on his heel and headed to the soundstage.
Meanwhile, Sand stood there looking lost and frustrated. It seemed like the perfect time for Bing to find out more of what was going on. When he crossed to her side, he wasn’t at all surprised that she shot him a glare full of hatred.
“Get away, wolf, unless you wish for death.”
“Yes, yes, you’re very dangerous,” he said, waving her threat aside. “I could leave, or maybe I could help you figure out what’s going on with Monkey. Walter is a lot stronger than you expected, isn’t he?”
She sniffed. “My nephew was meant to be the Monkey King. He has the talent of a Creator. No one else.”
That was interesting news. He had no idea what a Creator was, beyond the obvious definition. He filed that away as something to ask Yordan or Nero. Meanwhile, he focused on getting Sand to explain her plan.
“But Walter’s not falling in line, is he?” Bing pressed. “He’s making his movie instead. Your whole plan was to get the spirit of Monkey into Walter’s body. That’s what all the bowing and whatever the hell he was doing with the egg was all about, right? But he’s got Monkey inside him now, and he’s not hanging out with you. He’s off making his movie as if nothing has changed.” He fixed her with a challenging look. “What is supposed to happen instead?”
Sand didn’t answer. Her expression was stubborn, with her mouth tight and her nose scrunched. If he recalled the story correctly, Sand was a follower. The character had its own personality, but at the end of the day, Sand followed the dictates of Monkey or the monk Tripitaka. Without either one of those around, Sand was lost.
“There has to be a task,” he said, thinking about the tale.Journey to the Westwas an epic quest to recover Buddhist sutras from India. “What is your quest?”
She turned to glare at him. “To live again.”
“And do what?”
She threw her arms out wide. “I want to fight, to breathe, to feel.” She waved her arms around wildly. “We will use all the mystical energy here in Wisconsin and live again!”
“And do what?” he asked again. She didn’t answer.
Then he realized she couldn’t. She was afollower. She was meant to follow Monkey, but Walter wasn’t allowing Monkey to control him yet. That left her with nothing to do but search for a demon to fight.
“It isn’t working, is it?” he said. “Walter isn’t letting Monkey take over.”
“I need more mystical energy.” She cursed under her breath and spat at his feet. “I need more, but the demon is taking it.”
Great. Another bad guy. Bing didn’t really want to know, but he tentatively asked, “What demon?”
“You can’t feel him? He’s close.”
He couldn’t sense anything. That wasn’t one of Red Wolf’s powers. “What kind of demon?”
“It’s that,” she said, pointing at his cell phone. “And that.” A couple of the stagehands were laughing as they hunched over another phone.
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand,” she mocked, her gaze moving over everyone around them. “I see the effect but not the demon. I have to get Monkey to listen.” She grimaced. “I picked a movie to manifest him because Monkey loves an audience, but I didn’t think he would be so easily distracted.”
Bing shrugged. In his opinion, Monkey could be the poster boy for ADD. “He’s never had impulse control.”
“He did at the end!” She huffed out a frustrated grunt. “That’s the problem. There’s the Monkey I know and the Monkey from the book. But now there are also movies and television shows.” There was real distress in her tone. “I don’t know which Monkey I brought forth.”
That was good information and made complete sense to him now, thanks to Yordan. Like Batman—there were multiple versions of the hero. Adam West, Keaton, and Clooney, just to name a few. If someone was to put all their magical power into manifesting Batman, there would be no telling which version of Batman would show up. Apparently Sand was having the same problem with the Monkey King.
“So which version of Sand are you?” he asked.
