Meeting Chun

Content warning: Language, threat of violence

Meeting Chun

A History from the Strength of Old

By Mark VanTassel

Date: 960

Annabeth carved the meat on the counter. It was half of a cow, and she loved that they had a butcher-block countertop to do her butchering on. Jhon would praise her for this. At least, he would praise her if she lived.

Jhon was off to pick up a man, a new agent for their fledgling Bureau of Antiquities, and when he had departed for the airport he had forbidden her from carrying a weapon on his return. Particularly knives.

That was curious. Why knives? She was an expert with anything. Or nothing.

The meat broke down into steaks, ribs, and briskets. She rolled each cut in wax paper, then set it aside for transport to the freezer in the basement. Jhon had paid through the nose for that. Cooling that came through wires instead of daily ice deliveries.

The earliest moment they could arrive passed, and she did a bit of cleaning. It would be any time.

Her hair stood up. All of it, everywhere. Time seemed to slow. Something awful was watching her.

Annabeth picked up a butcher knife and turned to face the danger. The angle kept changing, and she realized this must be Chun, and the car wasn’t quite home yet. She picked up a smaller knife and slipped it into her right boot.

Jhon said Chun was dangerous. He’d undersold it by a mile. Annabeth had seen a demon up close, and it hadn’t affected her this strongly.

She wiped her hands on her pants, then ran her tongue around to work up some saliva in a mouth gone dry.

“Never let them see you sweat,” she said in an effort to summon some courage.

Her heart pounded, and her chest felt strangely light, as if she could breathe in all of the air in the world. There was no way she was letting him trap her inside.

Going through the back door into the darkness felt like leaving protection at the time she most needed it. She clenched her jaw and forced herself along the side of the house toward the street.

The car came to a stop about a hundred feet from the driveway. Her nephilim eyes pierced the gloom, and she could see Jhon in the driver’s seat. The blocky man in the passenger seat looked tense.

Annabeth put on an easy smile and sauntered past the light on the front of the house, making certain they saw her.

Chun got out of the car, and her knees tried to buckle. He was only an inch taller than she, but he weighed close to four hundred pounds, roughly double her weight. He tried to shield it from her, but he held a bayonet in his right hand. His hands were huge.

Annabeth laughed, making certain he could hear it, and twirled the knife across her fingers. He might be stronger than she was, maybe, but biomechanical cutting would solve that problem.

Jhon got out of the car and looked back and forth between his daughter and his guest. “Calm. We’re all friends here.”

He walked to Annabeth, and she turned slightly, to acknowledge him. Her ears picked up an intake of breath from Chun. The hair on her body rippled, and her skin developed an itch. If he could set off her senses from so far away, he was far more powerful than any of the wizards she’d met before.

 “Jhon. I see you brought him.” It took discipline to keep her voice level. She wanted to fight.

“Let me have the knife, Annabeth.”

Chun tensed, and she could almost hear his grip tighten on the handle of his bayonet.

“I don’t think he likes me.”

“The knife, Annabeth.”

She took her eyes off of Chun and looked at Jhon. “He’s about to strike.”

“Knife.”

A second passed, but Jhon’s hand did not waver. She slapped the handle into his palm, then hung onto the blade. They played tug-of-war for a couple of seconds before she managed to order her hand to let go.

Jhon took her hand in his and pulled her toward Chun. His hand was warm and dry, and steady. She wanted to punch him for taking this so calmly.

Chun stepped a foot away from the car, turned his right shoulder to her, and transferred the bayonet to his left hand. Her skin was almost painful, and it felt like the little hairs across her body were trying to get away.

He was dressed in a button down shirt, slacks, and an overcoat. His face bore the scars of knives or swords, as did the hand she could see. He was the survivor of many battles. She should run.

Jhon stopped about five feet from Chun. His grip on her hand had grown tight, so at least he was feeling some pressure now.

“Chun, I would like you to meet Annabeth Toy. She is my adopted daughter. Annabeth, this is Chun Fan, wizard from Fu Tan.”

“You seem a little on edge,” Annabeth said. “It’s not me, is it?” She shifted her weight slightly onto her right foot. 

Chun responded by moving back a precise inch. “I have met your kind before.”

“Women? I should hope so,” Annabeth laughed.

“Annabeth,” Jhon said in the tone he used to warn her.

“Nephilim,” Chun said, tone flat and humorless.

“I didn’t choose what I am.”

“Neither does a snake.”

Anger flashed through her, and her nerves vanished. If he wasn’t even willing to give her a chance, then fuck him.

Jhon pushed her back a step, and placed himself between them. He held his empty hand out to Chun. “Give me the knife.”

Her little hairs rippled again, and then Chun squatted and put the bayonet into his boot. Annabeth tensed. He knew about the knife in her boot.

“Chun,” Jhon said, hand still out.

Chun straightened. “She has a boot knife.”

Jhon turned back to Annabeth. “I told you not to show up armed for your introduction.”

“I’m not. It’s just a little thing, in case I need to clean under my nails.”

Jhon looked back and forth between them. “You won’t start it?”

“No, sir,” Chun said.

“No,” Annabeth said.

“Annabeth, would you please park the car?” Jhon asked.

She walked sideways, moving around Chun so that she could keep her eyes on him. He moved to keep Jhon between them.

The car started with a smooth purr, and she pulled around the men as they walked toward the house. She parked in front of the garage, then got out.

Jhon walked up to her, but Chun worked his way around in a broad circle that took him onto the lawn.

“What’s your knife for?” she asked, trying to put a bit of teasing into her tone.

“In case I need to clean under your nails,” he said.

Annabeth laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

She turned and walked by Jhon and into the house, feigning composure, expecting a knife in the back.

Jhon stood, one hand on the door, looking at Chun still standing on the grass.

“Well?”

“I’ll sleep in the yard,” Chun said.

“Suit yourself,” Bonga said, and closed the door.

“I think I’ll collect him,” Annabeth said, startled at the words.

Jhon gave her a grim look. “You have promised yourself to Abraham.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. He’s a nephilim hunter. Imagine if I can convince him to work for me.” It was a lie, and she did mean it like that.

“Never play games with him, Annabeth. He won’t take it well, and you don’t want to make an enemy of him.”

“No games,” Annabeth said.

Abraham didn’t understand her. Jhon didn’t either, though he was a little closer. They were friends with her because she had tricked them into thinking she was better than she was. It was a lonely existence.

Her instincts were nearly perfect, and they screamed two things at her. Chun was the biggest threat she’d ever faced, and he actually saw her. Not some image based on wishful thinking, but the real Annabeth.

If she could make friends with him--someone she couldn’t trick--perhaps she wasn’t completely evil after all.