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Ten

"Well," Zhu Irzh said, his sharp features creased with smugness. "It seems Fate is kind, if not the gods." He bent his head and flame flared briefly from a talon as he lit a cigarette.

"How so?" Chen said, more to hear what the demon might say than anything else. He had his own ideas as to the nature of the opportunity presented to them.

"My prisoner has been delivered to me. Little Pearl Tang, trussed like a sacrificial chicken and ready for her plucking in Hell."

"Forgive me," Chen said with utmost politeness. "But I consider that to be a touch optimistic."

The demon turned to face him, frowning.

"I thought we were in accord, Detective Inspector. Two hearts beating as one? At least, if I had a heart. . ." he added as an afterthought. "What's the problem? I'll return the young lady to her rightful domain, and you can arrest your human suspect on the usual charges. Unlicensed trafficking with the netherworld, or whatever the offense may be. I'll even give you a hand."

"Hell is not that ghost's rightful domain, as you know very well. If it hadn't been for the machinations of her own parent, she'd be strolling through the orchards of Heaven at this very moment. In fact, she'd probably be alive. I'm sorry, Seneschal. I don't know what you want with that ghost, but you're certainly not entitled to her."

"You're questioning my authority?" Zhu Irzh said. There was a dangerous glint in the long, golden eyes.

"I'm afraid that I most certainly am," Chen said, equally mild. He met the demon's gaze. He could feel compulsion growing: a weakness spreading throughout his stomach. The smell of the demon's opium cigarette was suddenly overpowering. His heart fluttered. Chen took a deep breath, marshaled ch'i, and silently uttered a warding mantra. The weakness dispelled. The demon's eyes widened with honest respect.

"Look," Zhu Irzh said, placatingly. "I've no wish to argue. Let's rescue our distressed damsel first, shall we? And then we can talk about what we're going to do with her." He stepped through the door.

Chen, following, knelt by the ghost's side. "I know this is frightening," he whispered, "but please try to keep calm. Nod if you can hear me." The ghost managed a tight little gesture. The bond tightened around her throat. "Can you speak?"

The ghost whispered something, but her voice was as dry and faint as a breath of air. The noose slid tighter. Zhu Irzh reached out and touched the bonds: there was a sizzling sound, like meat placed on a griddle, and the demon snatched his hand back.

"That hurt," Zhu Irzh said, surprised.

"We're going to have a problem moving her, in any case," Chen said. "If we could release the bonds, she could go back in the jar."

The demon's eyes narrowed in thought.

"I don't know what this is," he said, indicating the fleshy thing that was tightly wound around the ghost's form. "It looks like something from one of the lower levels, but I've never seen anything like it before."

"Neither have I." Chen stood and looked around him. The chamber was dusty and smelled of mould. There was nothing to suggest that magic was practiced there regularly: the place was devoid of the usual accoutrements. Perhaps Tang pursued his dark arts elsewhere, or maybe he did not practice much at all but simply engaged the services of other people's skills. At the far side of the chamber, one of the floorboards had come loose. Chen went across to investigate. He could see a shadowy hole underneath the loose board. Something glinted. Curious, Chen tugged at the board, snagging his hand in the process. Rusty nails gave way and the board broke in a shower of rotten wood. The source of the gleam was revealed: nothing more than a Shenzen dollar. Chen plucked it out from its resting place and noted the date of minting: 2017. In irritation, he tossed the coin to Zhu Irzh. The demon caught it so swiftly that Chen did not even see him move.

"You're bleeding," the demon said softly. The tip of his black tongue flicked across his lower lip.

"Don't get any ideas," Chen said, dabbing at his hand with a tissue.

"Sorry," Zhu Irzh murmured. He appeared momentarily, but genuinely, embarrassed. "Bit of a delicacy, you know, where I come from, and—"

"I know," Chen said sourly. "My—that is, an acquaintance of mine used to work in an emporium in your neck of the woods. Rhu Shu Street. He sold human blood."

"Tso's?" the demon said, clearly delighted. "But I know that place! It's been going for years. And you know the proprietor?"

"Certainly. Although rumor has it he's not in charge anymore."

"Small worlds," Zhu Irzh said, then hissed in surprise.

The end of the bond that secured the ghost had begun to move. It quested out across the air, like a vine seeking light. A bolt of energy shot along its length, causing the ghost to wince. Chen could see the row of spiny feet on the underside of the tendril. He was reminded of lampreys, of centipedes. A round mouth opened with a sound like a suck.

"I think it's alive," the demon said. "It seems to like you."

Chen forced himself to stay still as the probing mouth wove in front of his face. But to reach him, it would have to uncoil further; realizing this, Chen moved warily back. The tendril followed, until only its tail remained, hooked in the noose around the ghost's throat. Its legs waved gently, like a rag worm in the tide. The ghost watched, wide-eyed.

"It's after the blood," said Zhu Irzh. Chen flicked an experimental drop onto the floorboards, and the blind, narrow head moved after it. The mouth opened wider and the blood was gone. "Never seen anything like that," the demon echoed. "Must be something from the lower levels."

Chen's uninjured hand crept towards the pocket in which he kept the scalpel. Moving backwards, he held out his bloodstained thumb to the creature, which pulsed and flashed with energy. The tail slithered free of the ghost's throat and the creature slid forwards in a rush. Chen struck down with the scalpel, cutting the creature neatly in half. A bolt of energy shot up the metal blade, numbing Chen's arm and throwing him backwards. He felt as though he had plugged his hand into the mains; his hair stood fleetingly on end. Zhu Irzh gave a quick, astonished hiss of laughter.

"Some help would be appreciated," Chen said, through rattling teeth. The two halves of the creature thrashed about in front of him, but the light that ran along its side was beginning to flicker and die. Gradually, it became still and gray, like dead neon. Zhu Irzh reached across and hauled Chen to his feet.

"There," the demon said with mock solicitousness, dusting Chen down. "Well done. I like a man who can think quickly—and where do you think you're going?" Striding across the chamber, he seized the little ghost by the wrist and dragged her back into the room. The ghost squeaked.

"Careful!" Chen barked.

"Oh, really," the demon said, irritated. "She can't feel anything. Not like that, anyway."

"Nevertheless, Zhu Irzh. . .Let her go."

The ghost ran to Chen and hid behind him. She seemed to be growing smaller. "Honestly," the demon said. "Anyone would think I'd done something barbarous."

"We'd better leave," Chen murmured, deeming it best not to reply to this remark. "Tell me, Seneschal, how did you get here?"

"I entered your world through one of the temples. But I got into the house through the sewers."

Chen looked at Zhu Irzh. The demon's long, silk coat was immaculate; his boots shone and his hair was sleek. He smelled faintly of opium and the incense of Hell, but nothing more unpleasant.

"Vice Division, you see," Zhu Irzh said, by way of explanation. "They do say that shit doesn't stick."

Chen sighed. "Not to you, perhaps. Ah well. I suppose it's the most unobtrusive route out."

"Aren't you going after Tang?"

"No, not now. Not yet, anyway. My principal concern is his daughter's safety." He lowered his voice, hoping that the ghost could not hear. "And I want to find out exactly why he killed her, dispatched her to Hell, then brought her back again. I want to know why her father wants to keep so close an eye on her."

The demon nodded reflectively. "I'd like to know that, too."

Swooping suddenly at the little ghost, he turned her face to the light. She ducked out of his grip and dodged away again, but not before Zhu Irzh had given a hiss of irritation.

"What are you doing?" Chen demanded.

"Looking to see if she's still got her p'o."

Chen glanced down. The glow of the ghost's soul was still faintly visible, a miasma behind the wreck of her skull.

"You can see that she still has her soul. Why?"

The demon's eyes narrowed. He seemed to be debating something with himself, but after a moment he said, "I saw the ghost of another of Tang's victims. Her p'o was missing."

"Odd," Chen said. "Usually, the p'o only goes when they've gone the legitimate route to the otherworlds. But Tang's victims were illegally processed."

"I know. Which suggests that something else removed her soul once she reached Hell."

"Soul trafficking," Chen said. "That's really serious, even more so than the ghost-trade."

"And indicates that our Mr Tang is involved in something very dark indeed."

"Any idea what that might be?"

A shadow crossed the demon's face. He shook his head. Chen was certain that Zhu Irzh was holding something back, but it would have to wait.

"Talking of Tang," he said, "we can't stay here. . . But I want to get a watch on him. I want to see what he does, where he goes. I am beginning to think that he's more useful to me if he's walking around as a free man."

"Up to you," the demon said with a shrug. "He's your suspect, after all."

The emphasis he placed on the words carried the subtle implication that the ghost was the demon's own. Chen glanced down and saw that Pearl's fragile hand was clasped firmly around his arm; he felt nothing.

"You'd best show us the way," Chen said. Inside his pocket, the rosary was still wrapped around his hand. The only way that he was going to bid farewell to the little ghost would be to wave good-bye as she left on a boat for Heaven. He considered the demon's retreating back. Zhu Irzh moved with a sinuous litheness that suggested powerful ch'i, and Chen had already noted his strength. If it came to a fight, he thought uneasily, it may very well be that Zhu Irzh would be more than a match for him. But then again, he had beaten Zhu Irzh once already, and any fight would take place on Chen's own earthly territory, which evened the odds. Chen preferred realism to pessimism; he would see, he thought, but he was determined not to let the ghost of poor Pearl Tang go back to Hell without a struggle.

The demon stopped, and pointed. Chen saw a round iron hatch set level with the floor. "Sewers?"

The demon nodded.

"Indeed. Very well, Detective Inspector. Down we go." Bending, he hooked a clawed finger around the hatch and hauled it from its resting place. Chen took a step back at the resulting smell, and even Zhu Irzh's aristocratic nose wrinkled. Only the ghost remained unmoved, staring numbly ahead of her.

"All right," Chen said. "You first."

The demon smiled. Teeth glittered in the darkness. "But I insist. After you."

They glared at each other over polite, rictus smiles. Chen was hardly obsessive over the matter of face, regarding it as at best a necessary courtesy and at worst a neurosis, but dealing with Hell was all about power games and he had decided to concede as little ground as possible to Zhu Irzh. After a moment's standoff, however, the ghost seemed to make a decision. With a sudden touch of hauteur, she stepped onto the empty air above the hatch and descended as smoothly as someone stepping into an elevator.

"Oh," Zhu Irzh said, somewhat discomposed. Chen's smile widened, in mimicry of the demon's own. He sat down and lowered himself through the hatch. The shaft was shallow. Chen landed in a foot of unpleasant water. The smell was overwhelming. Chen clapped a hand over his mouth and gave vent to a prolonged fit of retching. The hatch clanged shut overhead.

"Do you think you might try to be a little quieter?" the demon's voice said, inches from his ear. Zhu Irzh's eyes resembled an eclipse of the sun: the pupils expanding until only a thin, bright corona remained.

"Sorry," Chen muttered through the sleeve of his coat. After a few moments he adjusted to breathing through his mouth, but the smell was still noxious.

"Can you see me?" Zhu Irzh said.

"No. Not unless you turn your head and I can see your eyes."

In his dark clothes, Zhu Irzh was lost in the gloom. It was easier to see the ghost, a faint dim gleam. Something thin and hard wrapped itself around Chen's wrist with a hiss like a whip; he could not restrain a cry. A moment later, he realized what it was: the demon's tail.

"My uncle has an excellent apothecary," Zhu Irzh remarked, irrelevantly. "He sells remedies for all manner of ills. I can procure you something, if you like."

"For what?" Chen replied nasally.

"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem to suffer a trifle from nerves. . . I've got a cousin like that; always starting at every little sound."

The demon stepped delicately forwards into the darkness, pulling Chen with him in a rustle of silk. Ahead, the ghost emitted a faint phosphorescence, like radiation.

 

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