Chapter 24 Zizi #2
insect. Her pupils narrowed into slits, and she didn’t look so childlike anymore.
“Stop it, Seven,” Zizi said, shuddering as her reptilian stare slid up and down him. “It’s me.”
She pouted. “You look different. You talk different too.”
“It really is me, little bug,” he said.
The nickname didn’t soften her. Instead, he felt the full weight of her power crushing him. Ten could be a real jerk, but
Seven was just as difficult to please. Zizi relaxed, allowing her to do what she was supposed to do. If she believed him, the others would soon follow suit.
Seconds later, he felt her power retreating.
“It is you,” Seven concluded.
He had passed his test. But he had a feeling it was only the first of many. He stretched delicately, his nose scrunching in
disgust at the rags he was wearing. “You could’ve dressed me in something prettier while you were torturing me.”
“I wanted to,” Seven told him. “And so did Five. But Two thought it would make a mockery of your punishment if you looked
beautiful.”
Zizi sniffed. “Then you should’ve fought harder for my dignity, little bug.”
He closed his eyes, feeling his power spike as he drew the spiritual essence from the crevices of the underworld and deep unknown.
With a sweeping flourish of his arm, he exhaled and opened his eyes, heady from the rush of energy inside him.
And because he couldn’t help it, he fluttered his fingers.
A full-length mirror appeared.
Zizi stood in front of it, preening happily. Neatening the assortment of glittering chains hanging low around his neck and
the jeweled brooches on the peaked lapels of his jacket, he did a graceful twirl and took a step back to admire his handiwork.
“So much better,” he remarked, striking a pose as he noted the pleasing shine of his pointed-toed boots, sharp enough to kill.
He had mostly retained his Zizi appearance. Wavy and disheveled, his dark hair was only streaked with silvery-white strands, and his eyes remained that startling
shade of icy blue. But there was an inauspicious spot of black in his left iris. The more he stared at it, the more it seemed
to grow.
Perplexed, Zizi waved his hand, and the mirror vanished.
Grinning toothily, Seven removed a brooch from her own cardigan—a sparkly skull with a rose covering one eye socket—and pinned
it to his jacket. “Perfect.”
“Thank you,” Zizi said with much affection. He addressed the cavern. “All right. Show’s over. The rest of you can come out
from your holes now.”
The shadows by the walls of the cavern shifted, and five figures appeared: Two, Three, Five, Six, and Nine. Ten was probably
confined to his throne room because of the destruction he’d wreaked in the human world.
“I see One and Eight have not bothered to show up to my rebirthday party,” Zizi said lightly.
“Devastating stock market crash in the mortal realm,” Five said softly, pulling at her long, ruffled skirts. “Eight is celebrating
the incoming deluge of souls.”
“Disgusting vulture,” Zizi said, but he smiled at Five. She was awfully shy, and he appreciated the effort she was making
by speaking first.
“The First King has only just been released from their Court. I assume they are resting,” Five said. Even though it was technically Zizi’s fault that One had been confined in the first place, there was no admonishment in Five’s tone.
As the other Kings drew closer, an air of suspicion grew. Three, Six, and Nine were staring at him warily. They were triplets
but looked nothing alike. Three was built like a bamboo stick with a spiky mohawk and tattoos. Her torso and legs were encased
in leather, her arms bare and every inch tattooed. She removed her headphones, her knifelike eyes piercing him. Loud punk-rock
music drifted in the air.
“Hush,” said Nine, throwing her an irritated glance. The Ninth King’s body rippled, morphing seamlessly from that of an elderly
man to a young girl, and then a child. With each shift, their features flickered between appearances, and their ever-changing
eyes glimmered with something ancient, as if each transformation carried the weight of countless forgotten lives.
Three shot them a daggered look, but she lowered the volume of her music.
Six smiled genially at Zizi. He was a lovely rotund man in an athleisure outfit, and he had the biceps of a farmer and the
elegant mustache of someone who collected old paintings and good wine. “I say we accept him. He may look a little strange
with those eyes, and his hair is not quite right, but he does feel like Four before his melancholic era.”
Zizi chose not to react. His melancholic era had begun with Lei Ying’s death, when all happiness was ripped from his soul. Even now, the thought of her demise and how
it had happened threatened to sink him into despair. But Rui, the girl with the same soul . . . She was Lei Ying reborn. He didn’t know why she would or could be reborn when her soul had never appeared in the underworld or the Nothing. Maybe the reason didn’t matter.
What was important was that Rui was alive and well, and he held on to that knowledge tightly.
Nine shrugged, indicating their agreement with Six. Three put her headphones back on her head with a curt nod. When one of the triplets spoke about important things, they spoke for all three.
“And I daresay,” Six added, rubbing the curved tip of his mustache, “your new form is a smidgen more handsome than the previous,
Four.”
Zizi fluttered his eyelashes. “I’m very flattered, but I’m retiring the name Four. It’s Zizi now.”
Two looked at him disapprovingly, which was quite a feat, considering there were only empty sockets where her eyes should
be. “Our names were bestowed upon us by the Divine,” she said. “They bear meaning and should not be changed.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Six said amiably. “I am rather partial to the name Alfred myself. Zizi isn’t quite a proper name, I suppose, but if that is how our brother wishes to be addressed, perhaps we can be a little more
accommodating. It doesn’t have to be part of his official title. More like a nickname. Let us focus on the positive things,
Sister. The Fourth King is back, and that dastardly Nothing will stop terrorizing us.”
Seven pointed to her dress. The fabric glistened like new. “I can feel the Nothing retreating from my Court. But look—” She
raised her left hand. The still-decaying one.
Worry prickled across Zizi’s skin like static. Something wasn’t right. Judging by the expressions of the other Kings, they
thought so too.
Three lifted her leather vest, exposing a strip of skin at her waist. She ran a hand over it. The tattoos disappeared, showing
a mottled patch of flesh. Like Seven, she had not fully healed. She gestured at him. “I sense your body isn’t the same either.”
“I know this meat suit isn’t ideal, but it’s all I have at the moment,” Zizi said.
It was apparent that his mortal body would not withstand the spiritual pressure of the underworld for long, but he sought to ease the other Kings’ concerns.
“This problem, if it can even be considered one, is easily solved. I’ll have one of my Reapers arrange regular food deliveries from the mortal realm until my body is restored to its original state.
Trust me, this small inconvenience will be settled soon.
And I’m not above sneaking in a few favorite snacks from the mortal realm for my dear siblings too, if they were to nudge me
in the right direction.”
Six nodded vigorously, and Zizi made a mental note to obtain the finest and most intoxicating rice wine that existed for him.
“I believe I owe you all an apology,” Zizi said, bowing as low as he could with his stiff back and terrible knees. After the
variably reluctant murmurs of forgiveness came, he straightened, trying not to wince, keeping an angelic expression on his
face. “Rest assured that I will make amends for causing all of you such distress. Perhaps a tea party is in store.”
Six’s eyes glinted. “Or a tour of that vault of yours. It has been a while since we have set eyes on those treasures.”
But Three made a skeptical noise. “Can your body be restored to its original state?”
Doubt swarmed in Zizi’s mind. He didn’t know.
“And if part of you remains mortal,” Nine said, “does it mean the Nothing will continue to attack us?”
Zizi was spared the pressure of answering when all the Kings suddenly turned their heads in the same direction, as if they
had heard a silent scream.
His muscles went tight with a different kind of dread. “Please excuse me,” he said, flicking his collar up. “I believe Mother
and Father are calling.”