She tilted her head, completely flummoxed. “My task was to bring back the Monkey King. And you, favored nephew, were the one we picked to serve that wonderful purpose. Are you not pleased?”
No, he wasn’t pleased, but he could tell that she couldn’t possibly understand that. To her, being taken over by a demigod was the epitome of glory. But it was like having his favorite relative serve him up as a sacrifice for her god. He wasn’t a person in her mind, just an offering. And that shattered him to his core.
Cut deep, he turned to the one place he always looked when he floundered—to Bing. This time, the man was there, already coming around the bench to stand next to him. “You’ve got this,” Bing whispered. “She’s not important. You are.”
Did he?Washe?
He wasn’t at all sure, but Bing embodied confidence even against ridiculous odds. And so Walter took strength from him, straightened his spine, and managed to pull himself together—at least enough that he could throw the ball to his partner.
“Can you get her to do the villain monologue, please? We need to find out what’s going on with this kangaroo bullshit. I’m going to take the next five minutes to have a nervous breakdown.”
Bing’s brows rose. “Forget her. Do what you need to do. Kick out Monkey.”
Definitely. Absolutely. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. The only reason he hadn’t rejected everything he’d seen and heard these last two days was because Monkey was inside him telling him at a gut level what was true. Without that clarity, he’d be completely lost. “Five minutes,” he rasped. “I swear. It’s all I’ll need.”
Bing frowned. “You are the screenwriter.”
Walter released a near-hysterical laugh. “Not right now I’m not. This second, I’m a traumatized nephew.” He glanced over Bing’s shoulder, back at his aunt. “It really doesn’t change anything. I knew she was using me for something weird the whole time. I just….” He shrugged. “I need a moment to process.”
“Don’t wait. Do it now—”
“Five minutes!” he shouted.
Bing recoiled, and no wonder. Walter had just yelled in his face. But his friend didn’t react with anger, though his mouth pressed into a flat line. In the end he nodded. “Five minutes,” he said. “I will get her to explain the rest.” He squeezed Walter’s arm. “Listen and understand what she is. This is not your fault.”
Walter nodded, then leaned back against the bench and focused on watching Bing. The man was solid, and he was here, backing up Walter. It was wonderful to know he had a partner to lean on again while his whole childhood shifted before his eyes. Which sucked. But it didn’t have to destroy him.
Bing sauntered up to the witness box. “You got what you wanted, General Sand. Monkey is here in your nephew. We’re all in this kangaroo court.” He spread his arms wide, and the jury grunted or cheered, depending on their species. Except for the plants. They just sat there. “What exactly is the plan?”
Sand pursed her lips and shook her head. “Stupid man. Do you think I answer to you?”
“Not at all. But you said this whole courtroom was a trap. Who are we trapping? How?”
“You met him!” she said with a hiss. “You gave him an interview.” She said that last word like it was bad meat.
Bing nodded. “Gator. The disaster tourist, right?”
“He is a new god.” She spat on the floor in disgust. “He feeds on the stories people see on their phones. The videos he uploads. The interviews that celebrities give him.” She leaned forward. “He will take everything! We have to stop him. We have to destroy him!”
Bing shrugged. “I don’t understand. That’s how everything is these days. On the internet. We give our time and attention to whatever is on there, and—”
“It is my food! My life, Monkey’s life, maybe even your life!” She curled her lip as she pointed at him. “Red Wolf—” She sneered. “You will be the shortest-lived of us all.”
Walter sighed. That was a typical villain threat, complete with bad writing and an inhuman glare. The only difference was that this was supposed to be real life. But how could that be? They were in a literal kangaroo court. And frankly it didn’t make any sense.
“Why Bing?” Walter pressed. “Why is he different?”
She rolled her eyes. “I am Sand because your aunt remembered me. She believed in me.” She lifted her chin. “Such is the way with gods. If you are remembered, you live. And with this”—she held up the necklace—“I was able to come through and live in her.”
And obliterate her, Walter realized. Because he saw none of his loving aunt in the woman who sat there now.
“But I didn’t believe,” Walter said. “Not really. So how did Monkey…. How is Monkey inside me?”
She grinned. “Because there is magic in the air in Wisconsin. So much magic, thanks to that lake. I used it, and I used your magic. With those two things together, Monkey was born in you.”
Walter shook his head. “I don’t have any magic.”
“Tsst!” Sand gestured in a way that was so familiar to him. A hiss and flick of her fingers, just as his aunt had done whenever he said something stupid. “What you believe comes to life. He is Red Wolf because the stories you created had such power that he became what you wrote.”
