DAC 3 Precious Dragon (12 page)

Miss Qi was looking out the window with her mouth open, revealing teeth like little pearls. "It's horrible," she whispered.

"It's Hell," Zhu Irzh replied, without opening his eyes.

The grim suburbs were passing by. Further on, Chen could see the great summits of the central city, the Ministries and Departments that ran the rest of Hell. He had never got to the bottom of why these buildings were here, rather than in the Hellish counterpart to Beijing—Zhu Irzh, when asked, had professed not to know—but he'd heard rumors about an enforced relocation, continual problems with the Communist administration that had obliged the Ministries to move. Singapore Three was an economically free zone, answerable to the Chinese government but largely separate from it, and Chen suspected that this in some manner gave Hell a lot more leeway.

There on the horizon was the Ministry of Epidemics, now rebuilt after an earlier disaster. That massive ziggurat was the Ministry of War, bristling now with high tech defenses and plated with enormous slabs of iron: a literally armored building around the summit of which lightning played in a constant eye-splitting panorama. That fleshy, pulpy red building was the Ministry of Lust, and around these were innumerable subdepartments, metal turrets and stone columns haphazardly placed with no regard for the harmonies of feng shui and monstrously displeasing to the eye.

"Are we nearly there yet?" Zhu Irzh asked.

"Take a look. You're home."

"Oh god."

"Do you want me to see if there's anyone who might be your mother waiting on the platform?"

"Yes," said the demon, opening his eyes and sitting upright. "Actually, I do want you to do that. You can look and I'll hide."

The train was slowing to a halt. It stopped, disgorging a horde of passengers, but there was no one waiting on the platform and Chen relayed this to Zhu Irzh.

"Perhaps you are simply being paranoid," Miss Qi said to the demon.

"No such thing where my family is concerned." But Zhu Irzh stepped down from the train and made his way into the station concourse with the others.

Chen kept a lookout, partly for anyone who might be Zhu Irzh's parent, but also to see who—or what—else might be lurking in the concourse of Hell station. There seemed to be a lot of shadowy forms milling around the ticket offices, an ambience of despair and disappointment, but the concourse itself was empty once the other passengers had hastened through the vast iron doors. Above, the ceiling of the concourse disappeared into what looked like a stormy sky: Perhaps there was no ceiling after all. It was hard to tell—like many of the civic buildings of Hell, the station was difficult to look at directly.

"Where must we go now?" Miss Qi faltered.

"Someone was supposed to meet us," Chen said. He followed Zhu Irzh through the doors, ushering Miss Qi ahead of him, and was hit by a blast of heat. The station was evidently air-conditioned in some manner, but this weather was typical of Hell: sultry, stuffy, humid, and stinking, with the feeling of an approaching storm continually hovering at the edges of consciousness. Miss Qi's face grew even paler and Chen noticed a film of moisture across her brow. Glowing, again.

In front of the station stretched the distant arch of a main road, with traffic hurtling along it: enormous limousines, and other vehicles, too, drawn by beasts: drays loaded with barrels, chariots, private coaches. One of these coaches was standing patiently in front of the concourse, a round black thing, with two horned beasts between the shafts. They were like gigantic, demonic deer: red-and-black-striped nightmare zebras. One of them stamped at the pavement and caused a little crack, then tossed its horned head. Miss Qi blanched even further.

On the side of the coach was an insignia: a spiked symbol that was vaguely familiar to Chen. Zhu Irzh brightened.

"Ah! That's the symbol of the Ministry of War. It must be for us."

Chen was not inclined to be as optimistic—things rarely went so smoothly in Hell—but just as Zhu Irzh spoke, the door of the carriage opened and a young female demon, wearing boiled-leather armor in spite of the thundery heat, stepped down and approached Chen and his companions.

Usually, when dealing with underlings in Hell, Chen had grown accustomed to surliness and indifference. A smarmy obsequiousness was generally the best that one could hope for, and even then it was customarily followed by an outrageous demand for money or an outright stab in the back. But the chauffeur from the Ministry of War was of a different order altogether.

"Detective Inspector Chen, Seneschal Irzh, Miss Qi? Good day. I'm glad you have arrived on time. I trust your journey was a smooth one?"

Chen was so taken aback by this that he did not immediately reply, leaving Miss Qi to say, with manifest gratitude, "Why yes. Our journey was most interesting. Have you been so kind as to come to meet us?"

"I am Underling No," the demon replied. She pushed back the flaps of her helmet, revealing a dark red face, a thin and elegant nose, small, sharp fangs. To Chen, she looked even less human than many of the denizens of Hell, and yet she was not unappealing, with huge black eyes and a bouncy step. "I have been sent to collect you, by the Ministry of War, and to take you to your hotel."

"I've never stayed in a hotel in Hell," Chen remarked, somewhat impressed, at the same time as Zhu Irzh said, "Which hotel, exactly?"

"The Superior Palace," No said.

Zhu Irzh arched an eyebrow. "That's—quite good."

"The Ministry is most anxious that you should enjoy your stay," No explained. Chen nearly commented that if he did, it would be a personal first, but he felt that this comment was a little impolite and might cause him to lose face. So he simply complied with Underling No's invitation and clambered up the steps into the swaying coach.

Inside, it was not unlike the train: a lot of black leather and dark red velvet. Underling No had evidently been chosen to accessorize her vehicle. Once Zhu Irzh and Miss Qi were safely inside, Underling No clucked to the deer and the coach set off at a smart pace, cantering down the sliproad to the main artery and keeping up with the rest of the traffic. The air reeked of unrefined petrol: Hell, it seemed, had not gone over to unleaded gas. The coach bounced but Chen had to admit that it had good suspension. Miss Qi clung to one of the struts, all the same.

"The Superior Palace is one of the best hotels here," Zhu Irzh shouted above the roar of passing cars. "It's where they put all the visiting dignitaries from other Hells. A lot of diplomats stay there."

"I wasn't expecting this," Chen shouted back.

Zhu Irzh shrugged. "So far, so good."

Chen watched the scenery of the central city unfold, streets lined with sinister mansions behind huge gates and black lawns, the towers of the Ministries growing more overwhelming as they grew closer. It was odd to be treated as honored guest rather than human infiltrator and he did not trust it. But so far, it was a more pleasant stay than any he'd had in Hell so far.

The Superior Palace turned out to be situated in its own parkland, just behind the Ministries of War and Lust. Neither was attractive, but Chen could at least find a moment to be grateful that they were nowhere near the Ministry of Epidemics, which stood some distance away across the square. Having been instrumental in its destruction, he considered that the less he had to do with it, the better. But the Ministry looked just the same as it always had, as though it had never been blown apart.

"They raised its counterpart from a lower level," Zhu Irzh told him, when he remarked on this. "Caused a huge crack in the continuum fabric, apparently, and left one of the lower levels rife with unrestrained diseases, but it'll all sort itself out in a few hundred years."

Miss Qi shuddered. Chen couldn't help feeling vaguely guilty. But if the Ministry of Epidemics hadn't made its disastrous bid for power in the first place, then it would not have sown the seeds of its own destruction. A lifetime of considering karma had left Chen particular about the true causes of things.

"Here we are," Underling No called back from her seat on the top of the coach. She reined the deer to a flashy gravel-scattering stop in front of the hotel and swung down in a creak of leather armor to open the door.

Chen was obliged to concede that the Superior Palace was, indeed, superior. The coach was whisked away and parked by a junior demon, while Underling No accompanied Chen and his party into the foyer, a rich and rather overwhelming mélange of embroideries, wall hangings, oriental carpets, and mahogany.

"Delightful," Miss Qi said, faintly.

"Isn't it lovely?" Underling No's face was a fanged beam. "I'm sure you'll have a comfortable stay here."

A maid hurried forward with room keys and showed them up a sweeping flight of stairs to their rooms, all next door to one another. Chen's room turned out to enjoy, if this was the correct word, a view over the backs of the Ministries. Staring at the Ministry of War made him feel lightheaded, and looking at the Ministry of Lust, merely ill. So he drew the drapes closed and turned his attention to the room instead, a paneled chamber of no small gloom which managed to be both grand and uncomfortable. The bed seemed relatively hard, however, which suggested that at least he wouldn't have to put up with back trouble. Rather than spend too much time in the room, he went next door to find Zhu Irzh.

The demon was sitting glumly on his bed, studying a square of ornately printed cardboard in black and gold.

"What's that?" Chen asked.

"What do you think?" Zhu Irzh tossed the card toward him.

Chen picked it up from the thick pile of the carpet and read:

YOU ARE INVITED TO BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS

OF MADAME ZHU FENG LI

BLOODLILY MANSION, ENDLESS LANE

7:30 P.M. ON THE LAST DAY OF STIFLEMONTH.

"This is from your mother?" Chen asked. The demon nodded.

"I can't even pretend I haven't seen it." He turned the invitation over and pointed to a glittering sigil on the back. "As soon as I opened the envelope, the hex flew off, out the window. It'll inform my mother's staff that I've read it." He gave a dramatic sigh. "Just what I need. Mum snapping and bitching at Dad for buying her the wrong birthday present, my sister sulking, my little brother—god knows what he's up to these days. I don't even know if he's still living at home."

"You've never spoken much about your family," Chen said, sitting down in the armchair.

"There's a reason for that. You know, Chen, I don't think I've told you how much I've come to appreciate living on Earth."

"You didn't live with your family, though, did you? I seem to remember you having your own apartment."

"I did. Nice place, actually. If I ever did move back here, I'd consider trying to rent it again. Bit of an issue with the landlady over something I slew in the living room, but apart from that . . ." Zhu Irzh gave Chen a curious glance. "You've never said much about your folks, come to that."

"I've got very few relatives left," Chen said. "I was an only child—the one child policy, you know? My parents were getting on when they had me and they died a peaceful natural death within several months of one another."

"Where are they now? In Heaven, one assumes, not here."

"Yes, in Heaven. But in a remote part and I don't know whether they've been reborn. Their shadow-personalities may live on but I stopped hearing from them some years ago. They never knew about Inari. I haven't asked to look them up, though I loved them a great deal. Apart from that, there are a few distant cousins, and that's it. Inari is my family now."

"You are a lucky man, Chen," the demon said, and Chen replied:

"I agree. So, do you think you'll be going to this party?"

"I'll have to."

The demon looked so gloomy that Chen said, "Want me to come with you?" His motive was not simply to be supportive of a friend, but also, he admitted to himself, wanton curiosity. He wanted to see the kind of background from which someone as complex as Zhu Irzh had emerged.

"Would you?" Zhu Irzh, normally so insouciant, looked pathetically grateful. "I could use all the support I can get."

"Well, let's go, in that case. Miss Qi will be fine here in the hotel." One hopes. But before they were able to discuss it at any length, there was a knock on the door and Zhu Irzh opened it to reveal a smiling Underling No.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?"

Apart from the fact that I'm in Hell and have just agreed to go to a demon's birthday party. "Perfectly fine," Chen said.

"I'm so pleased. I've spoken to Miss Qi. You are to be taken on a short tour of the Ministry of War, and then you will go out to dinner."

"Sounds lovely," said Chen.

"What a horrible story," Mai said, when Pin had finished his tale. "You poor boy." She squinted into his bottle, her eyes appearing as huge as the moon. "There must be some way we can get you out of there, anyway."

"Try taking the stopper out," Pin advised. "I'm not sure if there's a spell on it or anything."

"Well, let's try," Mai said. She seized the stopper and the bottle and gave a sharp tug. The stopper flew out and Pin flew with it. His spirit surged out of the bottle and hung in the air.

"What do I look like?" he asked Mai. He felt so ephemeral, so diffuse, that he wanted proof of his own existence.

"You look like a ghost of a boy," Mai said. She frowned. "I suppose that makes a kind of sense, given that you're not actually dead, are you? You're still alive, so I suppose that makes you seem insubstantial."

Pin didn't really understand, but so much had made so little sense recently that he decided to simply accept it. At least she could see him. He sat down on a nearby couch, floating slightly above its surface.

"I don't know what to do," he said. "I think my mother is here, but I don't know where to find her." It embarrassed him to sound so lost, but Mai's kind face drew it out of him.

"How did she die?" Mai asked.

"She was ill. I thought she might be somewhere in the Ministry of Epidemics, but I don't know . . ."