Shadow Pavilion

by Liz Williams

  “Thank you,” the badger said. It would have been wrong to say that he was touched, but as they left the parking lot, he was aware that the demon had become slightly more incorporated into the list of those he was obliged to protect: not of the same status as Mistress or Husband, obviously, but still. At the thought of seeing Mistress once more, he was filled with a distinct satisfaction. He and Zhu Irzh had survived and things were returning to the way they should be.

  “I need to find a phone,” the demon said. “I lost my cell somewhere along the way—I think one of those bitches took it. I’ll have to reverse the charges. I haven’t got any money, either. I wonder where we are?” He squinted into the smog. It felt like early morning, and the sea was not far away.

  “I recognize this place,” the badger said. “Look, there is Men Ling Street. Lord Vishnu has returned us almost to the point at which we left.”

  “You’re right,” Zhu Irzh said. His footsteps quickened. “Hey, the crime scene people are there. I can see Lao and Ma.”

  Exorcist Lao’s jaw dropped when he saw Zhu Irzh and the badger coming toward him. Ma, on the other hand, greeted the demon like a long-lost brother. Zhu Irzh appeared faintly surprised.

  “Ma? What’s happening?”

  “We’ve been investigating a series of murders,” Ma explained. “Chen and I found bodies here, lots of them, under that house we sent you to. Where did you go?”

  “Bodies,” the demon echoed, without answering Ma’s question. “What sort of bodies?”

  “Human ones. It looked like a sort of meat locker. And where have you been?”

  “Did it, now?”

  “What happened, Seneschal?” That was Lao, rather more demanding.

  “We got snatched into a dimension of Indian Hell and hunted by tigress demons.”

  Lao appeared impressed. “Seriously?”

  “Well, yeah. What do you think I’ve been doing? Taking the badger on a bar crawl? What’s the date?”

  “The twenty-third. You’ve been missing for three days.”

  Ma snorted. “Been an interesting three days.”

  “Where’s Chen?”

  “At home, I presume. Hasn’t come on shift yet. I got a message from him last night to say that he and Inari were visiting the temple­—you know, the one belonging to the Celestial Emperor.” Ma spoke as casually as someone referring to a bar owned by a friend. “I’d better call him, let him know you’re back. He’ll be so relieved.”

  Lao was looking narrowly into the middle distance. “Tigress demons, eh?”

  “Several of them. And a demigod prince. It’s a whole other world down there, Lao—they’ve got a lodge, hunting grounds, everything. It’s like a fucking safari park. Only the other way round.”

  “What’s the prey? You?”

  “Yes, and the badger. But it’s a whole setup—they had guests. I don’t imagine the party was laid on just for us. I got the impression it was a regular thing.”

  “I’m wondering about this,” Lao said, gesturing to the crime scene behind him. His long, gray face twitched.

  “What, you think the bodies are connected?”

  “Did you go directly to this hunting ground?”

  “More or less. As far as I could tell, anyway. There was a bit of a journey.”

  “But you didn’t stop off anywhere?”

  “No. You said: meat locker.”

  “I wonder how long this hunting ground has been in operation?” Lao mused. “Whether they started off on human spirits, the kind of people who wouldn’t be missed?”

  “But why here?” Zhu Irzh said, although given Krishna’s theorizing, the badger thought he already knew. “This isn’t a Chinese Hell. There’s plenty in India who wouldn’t be missed.”

  But the badger was watching Ma. The big sergeant was staring into his phone as though it had just bitten him, and when his attention turned back to his companions, it was not Lao or Zhu Irzh to whom he said, “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry,” the demon kept saying, all the way through the city. “Don’t worry. We’ll get her back, we’ll find a way. This is a temporary thing.”

  Why did humans—or their cousins—always feel the need to talk so incessantly, when something terrible had happened? Why did they babble on? Pain was to be endured, not discussed. The badger ignored Zhu Irzh’s attempts at reassurance and stared out of the window of Ma’s police car, watching the morning world pass by. Useless to wish that they were once more waking up on the houseboat, with Husband about to go to work, the badger, teakettled, humming on the stove, Mistress padding about, alive.

  Mistress, alive. Alive. Not anymore. And in that case, Where was she?

  Ma said, over his shoulder, “You know, I heard what you were saying to Lao. There have been reports coming in all night about tigers on the loose.”

  “Oh, shit,” Zhu Irzh said.

  “One has to assume that it’s connected.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? There can’t be two lots. Has anyone been hurt?”

  “Rather a large number of people.”

  “Great. You can run, but you can’t hide. They probably followed us up—or maybe they didn’t bother, just decided to extend the hunting grounds. Kri—someone we met suggested that might be the case.”

  The demon continued to discuss the situation with Ma, but the badger had stopped listening. It was as though the last few days had been nothing more than an unpleasant dream; to be vaguely recalled, but no importance attached to it. Now, his focus had narrowed down, condensing all of reality into a single sharp fact. Mistress, gone.

  It was a relief to reach the temple and see Husband standing on the steps, talking into his phone. When he saw Zhu Irzh and the badger getting out of the car, he ran down the steps to the vehicle. He clapped Zhu Irzh briefly on the shoulder. “Glad you’re back, Seneschal.”

  “Glad to be back,” the demon said. “You can’t imagine how much.”

  The badger spoke for the first time. “Where is she?”

  “We think she’s in between.” Husband spoke calmly, but the badger could sense how greatly this had affected him: a crimson jangling around the man’s spirit, and the badger felt a great affinity with him. Husband was the only person who knew how the badger felt and this was an unexpected comfort.

  “Where is that?”

  “It’s a kind of—land of gaps, neither Heaven nor Hell, where things go if they are neither one thing nor the other.”

  “But Mistress is Hellkind.”

  “The person who killed her is not, however. Half-Celestial and half-demon, born on Earth.” Husband sat down on the little step of the temple, to address the badger more directly. “I’ve called Inari’s brother, in Hell. The one who works in the Blood Emporium. I didn’t tell him why I was phoning—let him think we’ve had a row or something. Anyway, she might feasibly be down in Hell but she didn’t go straight home.”

  “That is a blessing,” the badger said.

  “Yes, it is. I don’t fancy trying to get further information from Inari’s family.”

  “Could the brother have been lying?” Zhu Irzh asked.

  “He could, but on this occasion, I don’t think so. He’s got no particular reason to lie unless the rest of the family are leaning on him, and—would probably take some delight in going behind their backs, given the indignities that he’s undergone over the years. Anyway, I also checked with the Night Harbor and she didn’t pass through there. She won’t be in Heaven—they don’t let demons in, at least, not under those circumstances. That leaves the possibility that her spirit is wandering around Earth somewhere, but why should she leave the temple, in that case?”

  “People can get very confused when they die,” the demon pointed out.

  “True, but I don’t think Inari is one of them. She’s a demon, after all, not a human new to the Wheel. I think, from what Mhara and I have put together, that she has gone to between. It’s Seijin’s—the assassin’s—home.”
/>   Zhu Irzh said, “The Lord Lady killed her?” He looked astounded.

  “You know about this person?”

  “When I was a little boy, I was obsessed with warriors. Like most kids, I suppose. I did a lot of reading about them and sometimes my tutors indulged me. One of them told me about Seijin, where he/she comes from. Impressive individual. Eats people’s souls. When I grew up a bit I discovered that becoming a warrior meant discipline, austerity, not drinking, that kind of thing. So I joined the vice squad instead.”

  Husband did not seem too interested in Zhu Irzh’s career choices. “Do you know anything about Seijin? Any weak points?”

  “Hasn’t got any. At least, unless one counts the whole package. Can’t be too stable, being male and female, mixed-species like that.”

  “There are those,” Husband remarked, “who would say that this provided an ideal balance.”

  “Seijin kills people for fun. How balanced does that sound to you?”

  Husband sighed. “You may have a point. Seijin’s after Mhara. Inari got in the Lord Lady’s way.”

  “I want to see her,” the badger said. Husband looked at him.

  “All right.”

  She did not look dead, but then, the death of demonkind was not like the death of things that had truly lived. The badger said as much.

  “I know,” Husband murmured. “And she’s under a spell, remember. It’ll preserve her until we can get her back.”

  To the badger, the matter was simple. “Then we will go to between, you and I, and we will bring her home.”

  46

  “Look,” Jhai Tserai said. “Can’t we discuss this some other time? I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.” She turned to Zhu Irzh. “At least you’ve finally shown up.”

  The demon looked wounded by this. “You make it sound as though it’s all my fault.”

  Pauleng Go was having a hard time with all this. Knowing that Lara had come from Hell was one thing, but now he was surrounded by demons, what with Zhu Irzh and Jhai herself. And Zhu Irzh—from the admittedly brief time that Go had spent in his company—seemed like such a normal bloke, bumming Go’s cigarettes and commiserating over his recent circumstances.

  “Having survived the setup they’ve got down there—man, you don’t want anything to do with that. I mean, really. The badger and I barely escaped by the skin of our teeth.”

  Go found his perception shifting to an unnerving degree: one moment he saw the two demons as normal people, and the next, as Hellkind. It was almost like a kind of racial awareness: he’d had a couple of German friends, once, and at first you noticed all the time that they were white, but then it wore off and you stopped noticing. Dealing with demons was similar; it had been like that with Lara. Until they turned into beasts and started killing people, that is.

  “I didn’t mean that. You know what I mean.” Jhai was impatient. To Go, she said, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I don’t either.” Zhu Irzh dropped the stub of his cigarette on the temple step and scoured it out with the sole of his boot. Then, apparently struck by some pang of conscience, he bent down and picked it up. “As I said, I’ve seen the Hunting Lodge. Freaked me out and you can imagine what I’m used to.”

  Go nodded. He thought he could.

  “Trust me, Go. I don’t know you, but you seem like a nice enough guy. You made a mistake, well, that happens. We all do that.” Zhu Irzh gave a slight frown, as if suddenly uncomfortable in this role of spiritual counselor. “Theologically, it probably is enough to get you sent to Hell.” The demon paused, possibly entertaining the thought that the conversation was veering into an unfortunate direction. “That is, I mean …”

  “Darling,” Jhai said,” You’re digging a hole.” To Go, she remarked, “It’s all very well being noble. It’s also all very well thinking that noble might get you killed. But that’s not what it’s about, as you ought to have realized by now. It’s what happens after death that matters.”

  “Yeah,” Zhu Irzh agreed. “As I said, I’ve seen it.”

  “Zhu Irzh is trying to avoid telling you this, but I will. Given your actions, and the fact that you’re Indian, the chance that karma will send you straight down to the Hunting Lodge is kind of high.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen,” Go said, stubbornly. Somewhere at the back of his mind, an astonished voice protested: that would be Go’s usual self, flabbergasted at this sudden shift to responsibility, facing the consequences of one’s actions, all that kind of thing. “I brought her here. It’s me she wants.”

  Beni was one thing. He’d been Go’s co-conspirator and there was probably a school of thought that said that they both deserved what was happening to them. It hadn’t been until Lara had started killing other people—completely unrelated people—that Go had experienced this uncharacteristic change of heart, and it had taken him by surprise. Maybe his parents had managed to instill some values into their son after all; maybe this was what people meant by a midlife crisis.

  Or an end-of-life crisis, as seemed more likely.

  “Anyway,” Jhai said now, “from what my fiancé’s just told me, this isn’t necessarily all about you. Lara’s sisters don’t seem to want her back, but they do seem to want to increase their sphere of operations. That’s got nothing to do with you or anything you’ve done.”

  “It would probably have happened anyway,” Zhu Irzh said. “It’s more about me than it is about you. Agni—that’s the guy in charge of the Hunting Lodge—wants Jhai.”

  “Agni,” Jhai said, “has proved to be a tosser. But this isn’t your problem, Go.”

  “I called up Lara,” Go said. “I ought to be the one who deals with her.”

  At this point Chen appeared on the temple steps and asked for a word with Zhu Irzh. Jhai went with him, leaving Go alone. Jhai was taking her role as protector seriously, Go thought; she’d done a lot for him already, but she was right: she had problems of her own. And he could not shake himself of the conviction that he ought now to face up to what he’d done. With the stiletto of conscience pricking at him, Go went quickly and quietly down to the roadway and got on the next tram to the port.

  He had expected to find the port deserted, shutters barred, police everywhere. But although some shops had been barricaded up, most were still open for business and there were a surprising number of people on the streets. Go kept his ears open but he only heard one conversation, between two elderly women, pertaining to recent events

  “Well, there’s always something,” one old lady said. “If it’s not mad gods, it’s tigers.”

  “I don’t take any notice.” The second woman snorted. “Can’t let it get to you, can you?”

  “No, you can’t. Too much else to worry about.”

  Go sidled up to the two women and said, “About these tigers. Have you heard anything?”

  “Oh, there was a terrible fuss last night. Sirens screaming, policemen with guns. All over the place!”

  “Did they shoot them?” Go asked, hoping against hope. Maybe there had been something on the news that he’d missed; things happened so fast in this city.

  “Oooh, no, dear. All the tigers got away—I don’t know what these policemen were thinking. Very inefficient. But the tigers went away, anyway. This morning’s been ever so peaceful.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” Go said, with perfect truth. Thanking the women, he wandered away down the street, feeling slightly deflated. Typical: you made up your mind to see things right, even at great personal cost, and it turned out to be a complete anticlimax. But something in him told him that Lara would not be far behind, all the same. He could almost feel hot breath on his neck.

  His initial assessment of the number of people around had probably been flawed. It was bustling, certainly, but he remembered coming down here one day in the late summer and it had been nearly impossible to move, such were the crowds around the market. Now, though crowded, Go was able to make his way unimpeded by
the flow of humanity.

  If humanity was the right word.

  This street led along the harbor itself, culminating at the market building: a huge, hangar-shaped structure with a metal roof. Go had heard somewhere that it had been erected early in the city’s short history, intended as a temporary shopping center before the installation of a swish new mall. But the contractors for the mall had run off with the money and the makeshift market had stayed. Periodically, there were discussions in the media about tearing it down and putting up something nicer, but nothing had come of this. It was ironic, Go thought: during last year’s earth tremors, some of the new, ergonomic high-rises had collapsed like decks of cards, while the rickety market had merely flexed on its pilings over the water and settled back, like an old toad. Having approached the doors—still at this point of anti­climax—Go meandered in.

  This was the hardware section of the market: brooms, mops, cleaning equipment, all jumbled together in the stalls. Go made his way between bargaining shoppers, avoided the pleas of stall owners to purchase revolutionary washing powders, and generally let himself be calmed by the outstanding normality of it all.

  Normality, however, did not last.

  Go was halfway to the vegetable stalls when he first became aware of the uproar. Someone was screaming. There was a kind of ripple in the crowd, a butterfly effect that ran down the row of stalls, causing shoppers to scatter and reform and scatter once more. Go was instantly alert, senses ringing as though his spirit had been struck like a bell. He knew immediately what this was, even before he heard the roar.

  Just do it. Don’t give yourself time to change your mind.

  “Lara!” he bellowed, causing people to look at him askance.

  “It’s me you want, you bitch! Here I am, then! Come and get me.” Folk would think he was mad but that didn’t matter anymore; he was going to die anyway and personal reputation had ceased to be of much significance. Go felt as though he had stepped through a door and entered a strange alternative realm: he now could do nothing other than the course on which he had embarked. The removal of choice was oddly soothing. He began to push his way through the now-panicking mass of shoppers, moving salmonlike against the flow, toward his death.