The hallway or tunnel or whatever-it-was wasn’t level.

  It seemed to turn, to go up, to go down, to run crooked, then straight for a long while. It was like a hundred different hallways all strung together, each of them completely lightless.

  He smelled wet stone and breezy city night, heard far-off dripping like water into a lonely cavern pool, then the rushing of water in turns. Underfoot he heard the crackle of old dirt and gravel, then trash, then dead leaves. There were sudden turns, doors creaking, the clatter of subways somewhere nearby, below, above… it was confusing and felt like a dream. Were they walking through a forest? Or a blacked-out hospital? He heard the sounds of cities and jungles, felt hot winds and cold winds, rain, smoke… they walked on the ceiling… through a cavern… through a warehouse…

  ...and ahead of them was always the creepy, sing-song singing of the voice of Lord Madrik, Archon of the Lost, “Deeper, deeper, ever deeper… twisting, turning, never ending!”

  Dave wondered if they were walking through an endless sewer, except it didn’t smell bad… it just smelled forgotten and mildewed. Creepy. Eerie. Like ancient abandoned basements, and the back corner of sheds that hadn’t seen daylight in fifty years.

  While everyone else was blinded with darkness, Dave became blinded by lights. As his cursed mantle turned on again, he could see Madrik far ahead as a shaft of yellow gold light, and his realm was the same. Crazy lights, everywhere. He threw his arm over his eyes to try to block it out.

  And then suddenly they stopped in a basement of some kind. High up were windows shafting late traces of daylight into the room. The space was crowded with junk and crates and boxes and smelled exotic. Beyond the windows the noise of a buzzing city beckoned.

  They had emerged from a doorway in the back of the basement. It was a relief to have escaped that endless black crooked hall.

  Madrik swatted a dangling string of firecrackers away from his face as he strolled into the middle of the room and turned to face them with a sinister smile. “Now, be good little children and don’t go trying to be found. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

  Scott gives him a salute. “Yes sir.”

  Dusty sniffed the air curiously. He smelled something… cooking? or burning?

  Madrik returned to his eerie little crooked door which led back down the rabbit hole. “No phones, no talking to locals to ask directions, no computers, no GPS, no street signs, no hotels.” He reached into the darkness of the doorway and pulled out a long red leather jacket with a flourish, tossing it to Scott. “And whatever you do, don’t travel too far from this spot. I have to go tell our boys where to find you.”

  “Excellent! My jacket!” Scott snatched it out of the air and looked it over lovingly. Then he made a face. “Jeez, what is that smell?” He began sniffing the jacket all over. While he did that, the guy in the leisure suit casually swiped Scott’s Super-Mart jacket. Scott didn’t seem to care.

  “What about Charis?” Dusty asked.

  Madrik paused to look at her, a faint frown of disapproval on his face. “Astrologists are the bane of my existence. Do tell her to be a good girl, and not to use her skills. Maybe you should try to get her drunk. Help will come soon,” he promised and stepped into the doorway. It turned into a shadow and vanished before their eyes.

  Scott scowled at the red jacket but put it on anyway. “Too bad he didn’t grab my hair gel and wallet.”

  “What good is the wallet? Your card is no good now anyway,” Dusty said, looking around curiously.

  “I liked that wallet.”

  Dave sat on a crate trying to be careful not to look up or down. Instead he stared at the shadow where the door had just been, but there wasn’t a door there now. “Okay. Maybe I was right the first time. I’m insane.”

  Dusty wandered toward a different door, which creaked as he opened it a little. Bright light ran along the open edge as he stared out. “Wow. Fun! Guys, I think we’re in China.” He looked up little cement steps that led up to a Hong Kong style back alley.

  “No guessing!” Scott ordered, pointing at Dusty.

  They all heard it; the shouting of some angry old woman in what sounded like Cantonese, the rush of cars, the barking of little dogs. Smells came through the door as well: definitely Chinese food, along with a plethora of other things uncommon in America. Through the crack of the door they could see part of the sky, or rather the upper reaches of the deep alleyway they were in, strung with clothes lines full of colorful items flapping like flags.

  “Yup, that sure ain’t New York,” Scott confirmed, and straightened his long red jacket with the wide brown leather lapel and cuffs. He gave it one last sniff under the armpit and made a face. “Come on, guys. I’m starving.” He headed for the door.

  They wandered into the big city morning light. By the time they climbed to the alley, Charis woke up. She yawned, cracked open her eyes, and looked curiously at Inu, whom she’d been sleeping against for hours. She frowned and pulled away from him, looked down at the horse, then asked, “Where…?”

  Scott shouted, “DON’T!! Don’t try to find out! Just blank it out!”

  She stared at him dozily for a moment, then gasped. “Oh! Right!” She put her fingers on either temple and chanted, “stay lost. Stay lost. Stay lost. Stay lost. Stay lost.” Then she grinned. “I guess it worked then, huh?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Sure did. He even gave me my jacket back… but man, it stinks. I don’t know what the cops did to it! Damn it. You know how hard it is to clean leather?”

  Charis dismounted and with great effort stopped herself from looking around curiously. She kept her eyes on the ground, and now and then muttered her little ‘stay lost’ chant to herself. It was obviously going to take a lot of focus and concentration for her to remain clueless.

  Miradon the Horse trotted around a corner. Inu followed, carrying his bundled clothing. Miradon returned as a human being in a scuffed red top hat once more with the blue guy following.

  Their new blue-skinned companion stared around at the world with fascination, his whiteness blue eyes wide. “Cool. They never just let us wander around on Earth. I haven’t been here in decades.”

  David glanced at his floor-length blue hair and muttered, “strange, that. Can’t imagine why not.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Dusty, “he looks like Bobby Redford right now.”

  “Hey, when do I get to look like a sex icon?” Dave demanded.

  An old Chinese woman, probably the owner of the strident voice they’d heard earlier, suddenly opened a door in the alley and dumped out a trash pail, then glared at all of them. She started jabbering in Cantonese, making a shooing motion with her hands.

  They hastily complied, hurrying out of the smelly little alley into the bright sun of a big city street. All the signs and neon were in Chinese but for a couple which they carefully avoided reading.

  “So,” Dave cleared his throat, trying not to look up too high, “Can somebody explain the Lost dude and how we got to China?”

  “No guessing!” Scott yelled, pointing at him.

  “Yah,” Charis answered, “that was Lord…”

  “…Lord Madrik, I got that. But how the hell did we get to China, and why is it so important we don’t figure out where exactly we are?”

  “Did anyone explain this to him yet?” She looks at the others, startled.

  Everyone shrugged. “I tried” said Dusty. “A couple of times.”

  Charis said in a businesslike tone, “Short course in Authorities: As long as we are lost, he knows exactly where we are. The moment we get found again, he can’t find us. And he’s working with the good guys who can come help us. Get it?”

  “What good is an angel of lost shit? What does he do, collect loose change?” Dave stared at the crazy rag-tag bunch of Morians in disbelief. “That has got to be the stupidest angel job description I’ve ever heard.”

  “Like you’ve heard about so many!” Scott mocked.

  Miradon gave David a wise look. “Believe me, he is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Just think about what is lost! The Ark of the Covenant? Untold billions of dollars lost in sunken ships?”

  “He’s the richest guy I know,” Dusty admitted. “You should see how much loose change he has.”

  “That must account for the leisure suit,” Dave grumbled.

  “The true cross? The holy grail?” Miradon added gleefully.

  Scott interrupted, “well, actually, that and the ark are technically found…”

  “Oh. Well. You get the idea.” Miradon waved him away. “Anyhow, the location of the ark and the grail are only known by a handful of people so that hardly counts.”

  Dave just stared at them all with a blank expression. He just didn’t know what to think about that.

  “You know what,” Charis took Dave’s arm in hers, and started lightly flirting again, “just do what I do when I don’t understand something about the universe. I just ignore it.” She winked at him.

  Dave heaved a heavy sigh and followed her advice. He stared around him at the noisy, dirty city and had to stop himself from wondering where they were every five seconds.

  The place had an exotic, wild, frenzied feeling and there was something about the air that was heavy, and important, and dangerous, and made him feel wide awake. All of the makes and models of car were alien to him, as were the strange fashions sported by young teens moving this way and that. There were red paper lanterns hung from gates to apartment buildings, and scooters everywhere. And laundry. More laundry hung from balconies and buildings than he had imagined possible. Did no one in this city own a dryer?

  “Hey! Look! A 7-11!” Dave pointed, recognizing a sign.

  Scott slapped at his hand. “Don’t try to identify anything! I mean it!”

  Dave glared at him, feeling protective of his little buddy Dusty.

  Other than the fact that almost nothing was recognizable, the city was remarkably… city-like. All cities are identical in certain ways. The brick sidewalks downtown trying to make the place look trendy, the towering old buildings badly in need of a wash and some paint, streets busy with cars, yellow stripes for a cross walk, yellow (and red) taxis, pathetic little plantings of trees and foliage in a failing attempt to break up the concrete monotony. City busses rumbled along and people waited for them with bored expressions, patrons filled up little cars at gas stations, shoppers chatted on cell phones while striding along with their best fast-city walk, and school kids ambled along in gangs of four or five… but here they wore matching uniforms.

  Dave almost started to relax in the familiar-ish surroundings until he saw a shrine on a street corner full of little clay huts and incense. There were dark creepy things living inside the tiny clay huts, glaring at him with malevolent alien eyes.

  He shuddered and hurried to keep up with the others.

  The God-shaped blur was still there inside his eyelids, but it had turned white and was growing faint now. Still, when he closed his eyes, he could still make out the outline of it. “Hey guys,” he said, closing his eyes and letting Charis guide him, “did you know that God has long hair? And he looks a lot younger than I thought…”

  “Yes, we knew that,” Scott snapped, looking up at various signs and sniffing. “I smell food.” The aroma of noodles and spicy beef wafted down the street. It came from a three story red-banner draped restaurant.

  Dusty rubbed his stomach as it roared loud enough for everyone to hear over the car noise. “Mmmm. Guys, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Everyone was sucked toward the noisy, crowded entrance as if by an irresistible force.

  “I’ve never been to China.” Dave mused, sniffing at the restaurant.

  “No guessing!” Scott yelled, pointing at him.

  As they entered the restaurant with the crowd, Dave was startled by the sight of a massive, elaborate shrine to one side of the door. It was overflowing with ashes and squirming with fat wet little frog demons, each the size of a grapefruit.

  He flinched away from the shrine. Some of the frogs glared at him and hissed, the rest breathing in the smell of the incense deeply. One of them had a tiny sun tanning lounge chair and tiny sunglasses. It seemed to be soaking in adoration like sunbeams as it rubbed it’s little pot belly and grinned at the crowd.

  “It’s a frog.” Dave stared blankly at the shrine. Ugly little frogs in traditional Chinese clothes. “They worship frogs.”

  “They call them House-Spirits,” Charis corrected him with a cute smirk.

  “Why on earth would anybody worship a six inch frog with a hairy chest?”

  “It’s like a mafia ring really,” Miradon explained cheerily as they shuffled forward in the line, straining to see over the short little Chinese people to the counter. “If they don’t give them adoration and incense and coins — not that the frogs can use them mind you — the frogs will do their darndest to cause boils and sicknesses and poverty and disasters to fall upon the household that has neglected them. Ever heard of the Yakuza? This is where they get their idea. The frogs call in bigger demons who will do the dirty work for them.”

  “Paying protection money to frogs. Yeah.” Dave rubbed his tired eyes and gave up. “Whatever. I’m so done.”