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Seven

Seneschal Zhu Irzh knocked on the door of the demon lounge and waited. The towering clouds of Hell raced high above his head, shrouding the metal towers. Lightning snapped on the wind. Zhu Irzh shivered pleasurably. After a few moments, the door was opened by a young woman. She bestowed a long and appraising look upon Zhu Irzh, who gave her his most charming smile. The girl grinned back, revealing lacquered black teeth, each one ending in a delicate point. Her eyes were as dark and pellucid as oil and her skin was dusted with lotus powder. Beneath his silk coat, the tip of Zhu Irzh's tail twitched once, in appreciation.

"Can I help you?" the girl said in a little, breathy voice.

Zhu Irzh stared demurely down at his feet and murmured, "I was hoping for an evening's entertainment. I don't know if you might be able to provide something diverting?"

The girl's opaque gaze took in Zhu Irzh's expensive silk coat, his black brocade waistcoat and gilded teeth, as well as the ruby that dangled from one earlobe.

"This is a poor establishment, hardly worthy of your attention. Nevertheless. . ."

"I knew you would," Zhu Irzh said, and stepped smartly through the door.

Inside, he found himself in a hallway decorated with metal panels and thick with the musky scent of incense. The girl swayed closer, enchanting him with her perfume. Zhu Irzh smelled amber and blood. He murmured into her ear:

"You're very lovely, and if I didn't have very particular tastes, I'd ask you to be my companion, but. . ."

With a faint hiss, the girl withdrew. "What is it that you want, Lord?" she said, winter beneath her words.

"Something closer to life than you or I, alas. Something fresh."

"Something to share?" the girl said, drawing closer once more. Zhu Irzh laughed.

"Later, perhaps. There are certain desires I'd like to satisfy first."

The girl stood on tiptoe and he felt the sting of her teeth in his ear. His senses swam. His hands closed around the girl's waist: she was cool and hard and flexible. He thought with distaste of soft flesh and warm blood; eyes that saw so little. Some people might get off on ghosts and humans, but he wasn't one of them. The thought of sleeping with someone only recently mortal was less than appealing; at least he wouldn't actually have to go through with it and then, perhaps, he could return to this young lady. . . The visage of the First Lord of Banking swam, unwelcomed, before his mind's eye. Zhu Irzh reminded himself sternly that he had a job to do.

"Do you have such creatures?" he whispered. "Human ghosts?"

The girl gave a sniff of contempt. "Upstairs," she said, and taking him by the hand, led him up a narrow, turning staircase. Zhu Irzh could see his own face reflected in the metal panels along the walls: his features blurred to nothing more than a bright-eyed shadow. Something seemed to rustle and whisper, just beneath the edge of hearing. Zhu Irzh smiled. The girl stopped outside an iron door.

"In there." She tossed her elaborate, lacquered head. "Have fun."

Zhu Irzh stepped through the door and found himself in a narrow room lined with stifling velvet drapes. In the middle of the room stood a divan. The room was empty. Puzzled, Zhu Irzh looked about him. From the corner of his eye, he could see an unnatural shiver of the air. Zhu Irzh strolled across the room, as if heading for the divan, then turned and struck out. His taloned hand closed on a frail wrist. Something shrieked and squirmed.

"Hold still," Zhu Irzh said, irritated. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The ghost wailed aloud. Zhu Irzh could not see her very clearly; she seemed to merge with the shadows and the drifting dust.

"Stay still." Zhu Irzh hissed. The ghost became quiet and limp in his hands, and solidified a little further. Zhu Irzh saw a small, thin child, with wide eyes. He was not good at guessing the ages of humans; to him, they seemed to have such brief, dragonfly lives, but she was certainly very young.

"Listen, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," Zhu Irzh repeated. "I just want to talk."

"Talk?" the ghost faltered. "What about?" The words were strangely accented; she spoke Gweilin falteringly, marking her as one who had only recently come from life. It always took a while before the language of the otherworld took root in what remained of their brains. Looking at her more closely, Zhu Irzh could tell that she retained a degree of her hun, her personality, but her p'o, her animating spirit, had entirely gone. He frowned. He wasn't entirely clear about human spiritual anatomy, but that didn't seem quite right.

"Come and sit down. There. That's right. Sit by me and we'll talk. Now, when you died, you were supposed to go to the Celestial Realms, is that right?" Mutely, the ghost nodded. "But something went wrong and you ended up here." Another nod. "Do you know why?"

The ghost burst into suddenly impassioned speech.

"No! No, I don't know why. I always tried to be good; I really did. I don't know why I'm in Hell. . ." Her face crumpled. Zhu Irzh almost felt sorry for her. This pale little thing ought to be skipping among the fragile peach blossoms of Heaven, not servicing demons in some netherworld seraglio. Some people certainly had weird tastes. Any sexual favors from this one would be subtle to the point of vapidity; one might as well not bother.

"Are you going to take me away?" The ghost faltered. Zhu Irzh looked at her. He could almost see straight through her. That uncomfortable, nagging sensation was back. He'd suffered from this on and off since childhood, like the prick of a pin inside his mind, and had even gone so far as to visit a remedy maker. What had the old man called it? Conscience, or some such—a human disease, anyway, and there was apparently nothing that could be done about it. It irritated Zhu Irzh. To make it go away, he said, "I'll see what I can do."

The ghost clutched at his arm like a moth. Zhu Irzh brushed her away.

"What's your name?"

"Xi Fu."

"Xi, have you ever met a young girl named Pearl Tang?"

"Yes," the ghost said, surprised. "We were in the same class at school; I used to go to her house. In fact—" her spectral brow furrowed with the effort of fading memory. "I think I might have died in her house. . .And I think she was here, but I don't know when. . ."

"Do you have any idea where she is now?"

"I thought she was still here. There were others, too, but they took them away. I saw them. Pearl wasn't one of them."

"They?"

"Some—some people. Like you, your kind. They came from the Ministry, someone said."

At this, Zhu Irzh frowned. The message that Pearl Tang had smuggled out to the First Lord of Banking had mentioned a Ministry. The ghost went on: "I overheard them in the hall. They came and looked at me, and made me open my mouth so they could inspect me, and then one of them said something like: I'd do for the next batch but they wanted the stronger ones first."

"And you say they came from the 'Ministry.' Did anyone say which one?"

"No. But they had badges on their coats."

"What sort of badges?"

"I don't know," the ghost said.

"What would any of the Ministries want with the ghosts of the virtuous?" Zhu Irzh wondered aloud. The girl stared at him vacantly.

"I don't know."

"No," said Zhu Irzh with a sigh. "No, I don't suppose you do. All right. Thank you."

"Are you going now?" the ghost asked, with unflattering eagerness.

"Yes." Zhu Irzh turned and took her fragile chin in his hand. "Now, stay still." He could see the memories of life chasing around in her translucent skull like tiny sparks. It would be doing her a favor, really, if they were no longer there to torment her. He reached through and snuffed them out between the claws of finger and thumb. The ghost's face grew utterly blank. "Goodbye," Zhu Irzh murmured, and left the room, leaving the ghost sitting numbly on the divan.

Once outside in the corridor, Zhu Irzh looked about him. There was no one in sight. He sidled up to a neighboring door and opened it, cautiously. The room was similar to the one he had just left. Quietly, Zhu Irzh closed the door and tried another. This one was occupied. He could see the elegant curve of a scaly shoulder and the long arch of spine, tapering down to a coiling tail. As he stared, the girl mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over to reveal a pretty, Pekinese face and small breasts. One hand plucked fretfully at the fallen cover with claws that were long and spiraled like a mandarin's nails. Zhu Irzh backed quietly out of the doorway and at the sudden movement the girl awoke. She uncurled sinuously up from the couch and gave him an inviting smile. Her small mouth parted and the tip of a dark tongue protruded for a moment. Then, before Zhu Irzh could move, the tongue uncoiled, flicked out and licked him wetly in the ear. Zhu Irzh leaped back and slammed the door shut. From inside the room, someone gave a silvery laugh. Exasperated, he hastened to the top of the stairs and stopped. In the hallway stood a short, squat woman, overbalanced by a towering coil of hair. Zhu Irzh could not see her face, but her rigid back was eloquent of disapproval. Before her stood the black-toothed receptionist.

". . .seems to have come looking for one of the little ones, the fresh spirits. . ." the squat person was saying, in a voice like the sound of a wasp buzzing in the rafters.

"He asked for one of the new ghosts," the receptionist replied, in evident bewilderment. "They've been very popular, and—"

"What has happened to the ghost of Pearl Tang? Is she safely returned to Earth?"

"Her father came for her this evening."

"To the counterpart of this establishment?"

"No, it was done through the ministrations of the gwei s'sa. Tang's father did not deem it wise to return to the funeral parlor; there was trouble, he said. He planned to take her back to Earth and hide her there. He was angry about her collusion with that client, the one who was carrying messages from her. He said if we couldn't guard her properly then he wouldn't have bothered sending her here in the first place."

"Trouble? From humans? Or Hell-kind?"

"From both."

"It is not good news," the squat woman said, "when humans and Hell-kind begin working together. It betokens a lack of harmony in the universe. Now. Where is the young gentleman who showed such interest in fresh ghosts?"

"Upstairs," the receptionist said. "Room three—I'll show you." Hoisting the heavy skirts of her robe, the squat woman turned to the stairs, accompanied by the receptionist. Zhu Irzh melted back among the draperies until he was no more than a shadow against black velvet. He listened to the wheezing breath and heavy tread of the squat woman; peering out, he saw that she had a wide, flat face, as though something large had sat on it, and eyes like small black seeds. Someone from a lower level of Hell than himself, Zhu Irzh thought. That was not encouraging. He waited until they had passed his hiding place. He could hear them knocking on the metal door of the ghost's room, a harsh, tinny sound, and then the soft click as the door opened. Zhu Irzh slipped from behind the draperies and slunk down the stairs. He recalled the little ghost upstairs, with her missing p'o, and bit his lip, wondering what it might mean. If he had not exactly found the missing spirit of Pearl Tang, at least he knew where she might be. Her father had taken her back to Earth, it seemed, and it would be a simple enough matter to locate the father's house. He hoped the First Lord of Banking would be sufficiently pleased to grant him authorization for an exit visa. He had taken rather a fancy to the world above. And it would be most interesting to see what it looked like at night.

 

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Framed