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<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I spend the following morning preparing for the inevitable.<\/p>\n
When I wake up, I meditate and run through a panoply of deep breathing and energy exercises, leaving my body warm and humming. I lay out candles and water at my altar, dedicating them to the Buddha. I restrict myself to nuts and granola for breakfast, and I prepare vegetable stew with eggs for lunch.<\/p>\n
Pure, but not too pure.<\/p>\n
I layer on shield after shield on myself and my home, replenishing and reinforcing the ones expended during the encounters with the nagas. Then I take a piece of paper, a paint brush, and a set of watercolour tubes.<\/p>\n
Magic is the art of impressing your will into the universe. The first step is to understand your will. I frame a statement of intent in my head, expanding and paring it down, until I\u2019m satisfied. Then I translate it into a sigil, a visual representation of my intent.<\/p>\n
I dip my brush in a pool of black ink, touch the brush to the paper, and draw. Sharp jagged lines flow into swooping curves and back again, zigzagging down the length of the paper before curling back up again. I lift my brush from the paper and feel the energy humming from the paper, waiting to be released.<\/p>\n
The sigil is my backup plan. Just in case everything goes wrong.<\/p>\n
I spend the rest of the day turning to secular affairs. Accounting, emails, appointments, inquiries and cryptocurrency investments. When I was a teenager I\u2019d heard a little voice urging me to buy Bitcoin. I did, and promptly forgot about it until the crypto boom of recent years.<\/p>\n
That money allowed me to live independently of my parents. If I\u2019d wanted to, I had the capital to become a full-time crypto investor and trader. I still could.<\/p>\n
But my soul demands a different way to live. My crypto earnings are simply for sustenance, to cover my expenses and to ensure I could continue doing what I do. Without magic, without spirit, without the ability to serve and protect in my own unique way, I\u2019d be lost.<\/p>\n
The hours crawl past, and the sun creeps slowly towards the horizon. When it was time, I packed my kit, folded up the paper and slipped it into my bag, dressed up appropriately, and hit the streets.<\/p>\n
I arrive at Aljunied MRT station at 6.20 pm. No one had arrived yet. I set up next to the ticketing machines and waited.
\nDiana is the first to come. In her blue long-sleeved blouse and subdued grey pants, her rashes were almost completely covered up. But pink patches peeked out from her neck and spread to her face. The rashes hadn\u2019t spread, but they weren\u2019t getting better either.<\/p>\n
Shun Tian arrives next. His faded white T-shirt hung loosely from his frame, and his baggy pants sagged past his ankles. On his left wrist he wore his watch, on his right a mala, a bracelet of twenty-one prayer beads. The mala was made of black onyx, meant to repel negative forces.<\/p>\n
Last of all is Eleanor, dressed in a flowing red dress. She wore her EZ-Link card, Singapore\u2019s contactless fare card, on a lanyard of alternating sky blue and rose pink quartz beads. As she approached, I saw red blooms on her joints and flecks of skin peeling from her face.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you okay?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cHad a flare-up today,\u201d she said, scratching at her neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow bad is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s okay. I have steroids.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ll harm your kidneys.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI need them. Just for today.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAny sign of nagas?\u201d Shun Tian asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Eleanor replies. \u201cThis has nothing to do with them. I just\u2026 I think I ate some nuts.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sigh. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy colleagues offered me a biscuit. I didn\u2019t know it had nuts until I ate it\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Maybe it was mundane. Maybe it was nagas. Malign spirits have a habit of arranging \u2018accidents\u2019 and \u2018coincidences\u2019. But she survived, and there\u2019s no time to waste.<\/p>\n
Cutting through the empty field outside the MRT station, we head south. On the roof of the Geylang Chinese Methodist Church, a simple cross stands alone, gazing down on us as we enter the heart of Geylang.<\/p>\n
Down the narrow streets, condominiums and offices sit side-by-side with two- and three-story shophouses. Patrons pack restaurants and eateries, indulging in everything from multi-course Chinese seafood dinners to Indian Muslim fare to Western delights. A modern bar offering grills and skewers coexists peacefully with a long-established coffee shop. Wide-screen televisions hanging from the ceilings broadcast the news in subtitled Mandarin. Old-timers gather in their groups and cliques, ordering the first of many beers for the night.<\/p>\n
Other pleasures of the flesh await in Geylang. Tucked away in red-lit alleys, brothels welcome the first wave of customers for the night. Johns of all ages and races furtively sneak down cramped roads, anticipation and anxiety naked on their faces. Skinny women, and men resembling women, in scanty clothes and too-bright makeup prowl the streets, stationing themselves at their favorite corners and greeting their fellow night dwellers.<\/p>\n
In this wasteland of hedonism, holy places stand like bulwarks against the dark, defying the devils that roam here. Our route takes us past the Coronation Baptist Church, and across the road, the lit windows of the Buddhist Library welcome all passers-by to enter. Heading down the street, I spot an old man seated on a plastic chair outside a tiny shophouse converted into a Buddhist shrine, puffing contentedly on a cigarette.<\/p>\n
Down the road, a sharp turn to the right, and the atmosphere changes. The air grows heavier and damper, weighing my clothes down. Sweat gathers in my armpits. The women scratch away. Shun Tian pretends not to notice.<\/p>\n
One last turn, and we head down a short side street. Two- and three-story semi-detached houses line the street. All of them are old and run-down. Paint peels from time-weathered walls, chainlink fences sag and rattle, Mandarin music from the seventies and eighties drift through open windows.<\/p>\n
At the end of the road, Diana says, \u201cIt\u2019s here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Once a two-storey semi-detached house, it is now a temple to the Buddha and stranger beings. A red banner with gold Thai script hangs from the porch, illuminated by a pair of red lanterns. A van sits idly in the driveway. Clouds of incense hang in the air. Through the front door, inside the living room, a statue of a Buddha scrutinizes our approach.<\/p>\n
This is it, Lupin whispers in my mind.<\/p>\n
Go ahead, Leonhard adds. We\u2019ll cover you from above.<\/p>\n
Diana hesitates at the gate, clutching her handbag to her side, scratching furiously at the crooks of her arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not sure we should be here\u2026\u201d she begins.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe are here,\u201d I say. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n
I enter the temple. The rest of the group follows. I leave my shoes by the door and enter.<\/p>\n
Gold. A room filled with gold. Dozens, hundreds, of tiny golden statuettes sit in cubbyholes lining the walls. The chandelier basks the room in warm gold. At the far end of the room, the golden Buddha sits atop a golden altar, itself carved with sunken reliefs of row upon row of tiny seated Buddhas, arranged like a pyramid. Nine massive cobras fan out behind and above the main Buddha, their hoods fully extended, sheltering him like a living umbrella.<\/p>\n
The Buddhas\u2019 eyes are empty, but the eyes of the snakes meet mine.<\/p>\n
By the door, a young woman mans the welcome desk. A logbook, a pair of pens, and stacks of brochures await our attention. A pair of elderly volunteers circulate throughout the room, tending to the figurines and chatting with devotees. A dozen people are seated on the floor, some on small cushions, others on the hard marble.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello!\u201d the woman says cheerily. \u201cAre you here for tonight\u2019s puja?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re here to see Phra Somchai,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease sign in here,\u201d she says, indicating the logbook.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat won\u2019t be necessary,\u201d I say. \u201cWe won\u2019t be staying.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow come?\u201d she asks. Looking over my shoulder, she blinks. \u201cDiana? You\u2019ve come back?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUm\u2026\u201d Diana says.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened to you? Are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
I cut in. \u201cWe\u2019re here to see Phra Somchai. We won\u2019t be long.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you need to see him for?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA personal matter,\u201d Diana replies. \u201cWe prefer to speak to him privately.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUh\u2026 that will be a bit difficult. He is busy right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBusy with what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPreparations for the puja. He asked not to be disturbed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe only need a few minutes,\u201d I say. \u201cWe can speak to him before starting the puja.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUm, it\u2019s not\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
A ripple passes through the crowd. The people go silent. Looking over my shoulder, I see a man step through the door.
\nHe\u2019s a short man, coming up to my chest, wearing a pair of thin-framed glasses. Much of his hair is shorn, leaving a thin grey mat covering his head. Wrapped in resplendent yellow robes, he could almost be mistaken for a monk.<\/p>\n
But there was no mistaking the powerful aura radiating from his frame.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s him,\u201d Diana says.<\/p>\n
The devotees quiet. Standing tall, they press their palms at chest height and bow. Somchai mirrors the gesture and bows back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think it\u2019s a bit\u2026\u201d Diana begins.<\/p>\n
I cut through the crowd.<\/p>\n
\u201cPhra Somchai Saechao?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes?\u201d he replies.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to speak with you about a private matter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt can wait until later. We have puja now.\u201d<\/p>\n
He doesn\u2019t speak so much as sing, his accent sending golden chords vibrating in my mind.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is about Diana Ho.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes widen. \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n
I gesture the group forward. \u201cOver here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Diana approaches the monk hesitatingly. Eleanor stays close to her. Shun Tian hangs back behind the women, checking his back.<\/p>\n
Somchai\u2019s face lights up. His lips smile but his eyes narrow.<\/p>\n
\u201cDiana! You\u2019ve come back! And you brought friends!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2026\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome, sit, sit. There\u2019s always room for you and your friends. We can\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPhra Somchai, I don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have lots to talk about, I can tell, but you can wait\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
Somchai blinks. He turns to me, eyes barely hiding a cold fury.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d he asks bluntly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m here to ensure Diana tells you what she needs to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPhra Somchai,\u201d Diana begins.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d Somchai asks, the cheer draining from his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cI came here to cut ties with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou WHAT?!\u201d he roars.<\/p>\n
The women shy away. I stuff my fingers into my ears. He\u2019d gone from zero to hundred in a heartbeat. I hadn\u2019t seen this coming.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou cut ties with ME?! How could you! I taught you so much, and this is you repay me! You cut me off, you will go to Avici for thousands of kulpas! You can\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
I slide up behind the monk and pat the small of his back. He startles, jumping up off the floor, and shouts something in Thai. It sounded like a curse. I sidestep away from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re not here to argue with you,\u201d I say. \u201cWe\u2019re here to tell you not to disturb Diana again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d Shun Tian says. \u201cWe know what you\u2019ve been doing. You\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did I do? Huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve been harassing her,\u201d Eleanor says.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou where got proof?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI reported everything to the police,\u201d Diana says. \u201cThe phone calls, the emails, everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat calls? What emails?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t lie to us,\u201d I say. \u201cDiana has identified the callers and mailers as members of your sect. And I know what else you\u2019ve done.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
I grin. \u201cI see you like snakes. Or, should I say, nagas.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes narrow. \u201cI don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s funny; the nagas were awfully talkative.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou talking rubbish!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you\u2019re saying the nagas are talking rubbish? Interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
I hold up my hand. \u201cYou and I both know what I\u2019m referring to. There will be no more of that, or you\u2019ll soon discover you\u2019re not the only one who can speak to the divine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2018Ey, that\u2019s enough!\u201d someone shouts from the back.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, leave Phra Somchai alone! You\u2019re disturbing us!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll of you, get out now,\u201d Somchai says.<\/p>\n
\u201cSure, we\u2019re going to leave,\u201d I say, \u201cbut Diana is done with you. No more phone calls, no more emails, or the police will come for you. Am I clear?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is between me and her. Not you. You, get out.\u201d<\/p>\n
Diana straightens. She holds her head high, her spine erect, her jaw set. In that moment I see a mouse becoming a woman.<\/p>\n
\u201cPhra Somchai, I no longer wish to follow you,\u201d she says. \u201cYour conduct is unbecoming of a monk, and the harassment I\u2019ve suffered is not aligned with the Middle Way. From this day forward, we are done.\u201d<\/p>\n
Somchai scowls. \u201cYou dare talk back to me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
He raises his hand, cocking it back. I step in and slap it down. He recoils from me, shouting something in Thai. I slide away, staying out of range.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s enough,\u201d I say. \u201cWe are\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
He bares his teeth. Puffs up his chest. Lunges in at me, grabbing for my chest.<\/p>\n
Closing in, I swat his hand away with my left hand and ram my right palm into his shoulder. The shock arrests his arm and pushes him back against the altar. He catches himself with both hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cEnough,\u201d I say. \u201cWe are leaving. You will not harass us. You will not disturb us. Stay where you are.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOi, you dare to hurt Phra Somchai? Who do you think you are?\u201d<\/p>\n
A strapping young man barges past Eleanor, waving his finger like a club. In my mind\u2019s ear, I hear the hissing of a thousand snakes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho the fuck you think you are, huh? Some kind of gangster is it?\u201d he continues, advancing on me, and pokes my chest. \u201cYou think you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
I slap my chest, pinning his hand against me, and flick my fingers at his eyes. He recoils away. I grab his trapped finger and wrench it back and down.<\/p>\n
He screams and swears, going down on his knee. I keep up the pressure, keeping him down, looking for more customers.
\n\u201cYou hurt him for what?\u201d another man yells, stepping through the crowd. \u201cLet him go!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShun Tian!\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
As the new challenger approaches, Shun Tian intercepts him.<\/p>\n
\u201cEasy, easy,\u201d Shun Tian says. \u201cWe don\u2019t need to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
The guy reaches up to grab Shun Tian\u2019s shirt.<\/p>\n
Shun Tian explodes into motion, stepping out and circling his left arm up and around the threat\u2019s. Seizing the other man\u2019s shoulder, Shun Tian sweeps his legs out from under him and dumps him on a cushion.<\/p>\n
The ground shakes. The challenger yelps in pain.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry!\u201d Shun Tian says.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese people attacked us!\u201d Somchai yells. \u201cWe can\u2019t let them escape! Fight back!\u201d<\/p>\n
Eleanor grabs Diana and hustles her to my side. I release the man I grappled, shove him aside, and step back, bumping against the altar.<\/p>\n
The devotees look at each other in confusion, but a couple of the men work their way through the crowd. Reaching down, I draw my Benchmade, hold it up to eye level, surge energy down my fingers and pop the blade open.<\/p>\n
Bright white light flashes through the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cFREEZE!\u201d<\/p>\n
The room freezes.<\/p>\n
I hold up the knife, showing the flat to the crowd. In my second sight, White Light supercharges the blade, extending it to the length of a longsword. The mundane humans couldn\u2019t see it, but they would surely feel the psychic pressure of the ethereal energies.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s been enough fighting,\u201d I say, waving the Benchmade about. \u201cWe are leaving. Step aside now. Attack us again and you will bleed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Passing through the crowd, I hold the knife high, glaring at everyone nearby. It\u2019s the worst place to chamber and retain a knife, but this was intimidation, not combat.<\/p>\n
The civilians retreat, backing up against the walls.<\/p>\n
I stand by the door and wait until Shun Tian, Diana and Eleanor pass.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re done here,\u201d I say. \u201cDiana is not coming back, and will never come back. Leave her alone and this will be the end of it. If you insist on harassing her, the police will come for you. All of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put the knife away and leave.<\/p>\n
We hustle. Any second now, a swarm of angry nagas would come swarming down on us. The shields I\u2019d cast would only buy us time; it wouldn\u2019t stop a concerted attack.<\/p>\n
At the end of the street, I call for a halt. Reaching into my backpack, I remove the folded up sigil paper. Unfurling it, I stuff it into a nearby storm drain and ignite it with a lighter.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Diana asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cConfusion spell,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
As I speak, the sigil activates. Rays of multicoloured astral light spray from the burning paper. A thick smokescreen blooms in higher and lower dimensions, shielding us from sight. Snakes hiss in outrage, and in my peripheral vision I see a throng of tiny dots streak crazily about, flashing in and out of this world.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
We return to the MRT station in peace. No hostile nagas, no pursuing mobs and no angry demons chase us. We halt near the Geylang Chinese Methodist church and double up our shields. Just in case.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it over?\u201d Diana asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope so,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe knife was dangerous!\u201d Eleanor complains.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you rather fight everybody else in the temple?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you could be arrested.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomeone will have to lodge a complaint with the police first. When the police speaks to Diana, she\u2019ll tell them all about their harassment campaign, and their cult. It\u2019s not going to end well for them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut the police will catch you too?\u201d Diana says.<\/p>\n
\u201cNobody died. Nobody went to hospital. It\u2019s their word against ours.\u201d<\/p>\n
Diana looks aghast. \u201cAre you saying we should lie to the police?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf they have no proof, they have no case against me. And besides, all of you were behind me when that happened. You were all looking at my back. How could you have seen what I had in my hand, if I did have anything at all?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUnbelievable\u2026\u201d Diana says.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf the\u00a0mata<\/em>\u00a0come for you, don\u2019t come crying to us, okay?\u201d Shun Tian says.<\/p>\n \u201cThey won\u2019t,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know?\u201d Eleanor asks.<\/p>\n I smile. \u201cAm I not a magician?\u201d<\/p>\n We part ways at the train station. During the ride back, I war-game scenarios in my head, mapping likely police responses and my countermeasures.<\/p>\n I hadn\u2019t killed anyone. All I did was cast a spell to make a pocketknife appear more threatening than it really was. Sure, using a knife that way was a crime, but it was infinitely preferable to getting tangled up in a multi-way melee. All of us got out safe, and no one died. That was the important part.<\/p>\n If I were arrested, I could live with the consequences.<\/p>\n And to prevent myself from getting arrested\u2026 I needed a new knife. Or maybe a different knife.<\/p>\n I sigh. Spending money was never a pleasure, and in truth I didn\u2019t make enough money to be able to afford high-dollar expenses without months of preparation.<\/p>\n Then again, what\u2019s done is done.<\/p>\n Back at my home, I allow myself to unwind. I open the window, set my backpack in the corner, set my kit down\u2014<\/p>\n Powerful winds howl outside. The air chills rapidly. Trees rustle in the breeze. One window slams shut by itself. As I race to the other, the windchime falls off and clatters against the floor.<\/p>\n A huge wave of energy rushes through the room. The gust slams the other window closed. In my second sight, I look out and see\u2026<\/p>\n Nothing.<\/p>\n The shields are down.<\/p>\n WARNING WARNING WARNING!<\/em>\u00a0Lupin screams.\u00a0NAGAS INCOMING!<\/em><\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Previous parts:\u00a01<\/a>,\u00a02<\/a>,\u00a03<\/a>,\u00a04<\/a>,\u00a05<\/a><\/p>\n For more magic, martial arts and mayham, check out my latest novel\u00a0HAMMER OF THE WITCHES<\/a>. Please nominate HAMMER OF THE WITCHES for the Dragon Awards\u00a0here<\/a>.<\/p>\n![\"Cheah](\"https:\/\/steemitimages.com\/0x0\/https:\/\/cdn.steemitimages.com\/DQmcSX4MiYdPvqUChc7eBRiaSvNLAb2vT71wFubG75cArg8\/Cheah%20Git%20San%20Red.jpg\")
<\/p>\n