by Liz Williams
“What is wrong?” asked a thick voice behind him. It was as though Earth had spoken. Zhu Irzh turned to see the badger-teakettle, Inari’s family familiar, standing four-square on the deck.
“I attacked someone today,” Zhu Irzh muttered. “For no reason, with no warning, and in an embarrassingly uncontrolled manner. I’m never going to live this down.” And what would Chen say? The demon realized with a degree of amazement that he actually cared what a human thought of him. He groped for the bottle and poured another measure.
“You do not know why?” The badger’s dark gaze was as opaque as obsidian.
“I haven’t the faintest.”
“Perhaps you are changing.”
“Changing? What do you mean?”
“Those who have visited the lower levels find that their form begins to alter after a while. A demon countenance forms a muzzle, small eyes, thicker blood. Humans change, too, become more bestial.”
“I know, but I’ve come to Earth from Hell. If any changes were to occur, you’d think I’d become more human—oh.” Zhu Irzh stopped.
“Is that not what humans do? Demons are cruel, rarefied, cunning. They devise magnificent punishments, vindictive and baroque. Is that not the very essence of Hell? While humans are merely slaves to their instincts. Perhaps your instincts are changing.”
“Perhaps,” Zhu Irzh said dubiously. It was a possibility, but not one that he really wanted to entertain. He gestured toward the bottle.
“Want some?”
The badger’s pointed head shook from side to side.
“I do not take such drinks. Only blood.”
Zhu Irzh regarded the creature with a sudden spark of speculation.
“Human blood?”
But the badger did not reply. Change shimmered the air, and Zhu Irzh blinked.
When the demon once more opened his eyes, there was only an old iron teakettle sitting on the deck.
“Suit yourself,” Zhu Irzh remarked to the weighty air, and turned disconsolately back to the bottle.
20
When she got back to the penthouse, Jhai went straight to the bathroom and spent twenty minutes in the Jacuzzi, soaking away the day. Then she walked slowly into the dim expanse of her bedroom and stood before the mirror. Her reflection captured her movements, and nothing more, but in the depths of her own gaze, she could see something golden and old. She smiled, a quick grimace, knowing that Zhu Irzh had seen it, too. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek.
“For fuck’s sake,” she said aloud, disgusted with herself. She’d realized what Zhu Irzh was as soon as she’d set eyes on him: a combination of things, all intriguing.
A potential enemy: the person who could, if he chose, bring all of her plans crashing down around her.
A possible ally: the person who could, again if he chose, secure those plans and help them become real.
A hunter: uniquely placed to track down the missing experiment that Robin Yuan had so disastrously let slip through Paugeng’s fingers. Whatever Zhu Irzh might be, Jhai knew that he would be of use. How stupid Ei had been to capture him and attempt to bluster. Jhai had been furious to discover this on her return from Beijing.
But all those useful things that Zhu Irzh might be had completely gone out the window, now, because … Jhai sat heavily down on the bed and put her head in her hands. How ironic. She knew what the demon must be thinking: she’d used some form of pheromonal glamour, hormone enhancement, on him in a calculated attempt at teasing seduction to throw him off balance. She had done it before, after all; the city was littered with Jhai’s conquests, male and female. She’d gained the reputation of South China’s most heartless flirt, bringing entire boardrooms to their knees. Literally, in some cases. But boardrooms weren’t bedrooms, Jhai reflected bitterly. This time, the glamour with which she’d dazzled Zhu Irzh had not been intentional; he had summoned it forth all by himself, and there was nothing she could do about it.
On the few times when she had allowed relationships to get as far as the actual bedroom, her abilities had deserted her. She’d had to pretend, to avoid the threat of a rumor that she was nothing more than a frigid cock-tease. It was the drug, of course, that held her power, and therefore her sexuality, in check. Without the drug, she could be as uninhibited as she chose, but without the drug, she wouldn’t be quite human any longer, either. She knew what her ancestresses had been, long ago in ancient India. They had been devas: demon courtesans, wielding enough sexual and sensual power to control emperors. In the Hell that corresponded to Singapore Three, Jhai would be an Imperial whore. Here on Earth, if she gave her powers their full rein, she could have an empire of her own to control. It was illegal for demonkind to live unlicensed on Earth, yet Jhai knew for a fact that there were more than a few magnates who possessed unnatural concubines. But such a role wasn’t good enough for Jai. She wanted her own empire; not just to be an adjunct, some kind of supernatural grande horizontale … And now that Paugeng was established as one of the principal corporations of Asia—and perhaps, if her plans came to pass, the world—Jhai was about to blow it completely by getting involved with a policeman. No, she wasn’t, she told herself sternly. Zhu Irzh was dangerous: to Jhai, to Paugeng, to the schemes that she was so carefully nurturing. She would stay well away from Zhu Irzh in the future, if she had any sense.
She got up from the bed and crossed to the wardrobe.
“Open,” she murmured, and the doors slid smoothly aside. Her saris hung in a neat, multicolored line along one end of the spacious closet; she preferred them for work. The Indian dress was like a badge, setting her aside from the mainly Chinese personnel. But she had plenty of Western clothes, too, ordered from New York and Paris over the Net. She would not be wanting any of those tonight, Jhai thought. Soon, she would be going back down to the office, and working. Her hand snaked out and plucked a little spangled dress from its perfumed hanger. Thousands of tiny beads rustled as she pulled it over her head. Unbidden, the image of Zhu Irzh sidled into her mind: pale, handsome face alight with amusement, the gilded gaze fixed on her face and leaving no doubt as to what was going through his mind. He was taller than Jhai, too; surrounded by short men, she had reason to appreciate the fact. And he as a demon … she’d heard stories, erotic and disturbing. A policeman, Jhai thought, shaking her head. How in all the worlds did someone like that get to be a policeman? He looked as though he should be propping up a couch in some seraglio. Her thoughts drifted away into uncharted territory. She took some trouble over her make-up.
When she had finished, Jhai looked at herself and abandoned all pretence that she had any intention of working. Before she left, she looked in on her mother, dressing for the opera.
“You’re dressed very smartly tonight,” Opal had replied, without even looking round. How did she do that? It unnerved Jhai.
“I’ve got a meeting with someone. Anyway, I think it’s good for company morale if I dress for the evening.” It was a pathetic excuse, an attempt to stave off the lecture which inevitably followed.
“This is foolish! He is a demon, like—well, anyway, not a stupid man, even if he is not on our level, Jhai. He knows what you are doing.”
Her daughter took a deep breath. Once again, her mother, who had been nowhere near recent events at Paugeng, had proved that she knew exactly what Jhai was up to. “I know what I’m doing.”
“There is nothing there for you—just lust. It is not clever.” Opal segued into the wider argument, a hardy perennial these days. “You should find a nice girl and settle down.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mother!”
“You’re twenty-nine years old.”
“I’m sorry, Opal, who did you say was primitive?”
“I am talking about a political connection.”
“I know what you’re talking about. You want to fix me up with Aily Pardua. Last year, I seem to recall, it was Beth Murriday from that oil company, and look what happened to that. I’m not going to be a l
aughingstock just because you start parading every available young woman in town in front of me.”
“It’s not as though you don’t like girls…” her mother mused, brutally. “But all the ones you choose seem so…so…”
“Poor?”
“Perhaps not very appropriate. But at least they were female. Not some unhuman gentleman from who knows where.”
“One presumes that my father is out there somewhere.”
Her mother bridled. “I chose very carefully from the implant clinic. Your grandmother and I went to the cache together, the most selective place. I was twenty-three, a very good age.”
“I don’t see why it was a better age than any other. I mean, I wasn’t in you for long, was I? I was in some test tube!”
Her mother’s artfully outlined lips compressed.
“Oh, look, I’m sorry.” She put her arms around Opal’s shoulders.
“I know.” Opal’s face became indulgent. “You want to enjoy yourself a little. Well, so did I.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Go on. Go and have fun. But be careful.”
Downstairs, Jhai called for a car, asking for the anonymous black Mercedes coupe, without a driver. She picked up the car on the Paugeng forecourt and took the coast road to the address that Ei had given her. She left the car at the side of the wharf.
The houseboat floated some distance away, and she would have to negotiate a series of pontoons to reach it. Jhai slipped off her heels and stepped gingerly off the wharf. The first pontoon rocked gently beneath her slight weight. The last of the sunlight sparked from the lapping water. The far islands were blocks of twilight shadow. With high heels in hand, Jhai took a deep breath, and clambered across the row of pontoons.
“Zhu Irzh?” she called when she reached the houseboat. There was no reply and she froze, thinking: the bastard has stood me up. Then a familiar voice came from below deck.
“Hello?”
“Zhu Irzh? It’s Jhai.”
There was an unnervingly long pause. “Come down.”
When she reached the bottom of the steps she saw that the room was dark. After a moment’s adjustment, she saw the demon sitting on the windowsill. She shut the door behind her.
“Turn the light on,” he said mildly. He involuntarily ducked his head as the light went on and Jhai saw a dark membrane slide across his eyes and back, like an animal’s eyes. Like her own. She went to stand by the window. Beyond, the harbor lay like a field of shadow, sparked with the lights of ships.
“Do you like sitting here?” she asked, and instantly regretted it. What a fatuous thing to say.
“I can watch the ships, sit in the breeze. You can see Lantern Island from here. Come here, I’ll show you.” Reaching out, he drew her close. Jhai stiffened for a moment, then relaxed against him. It felt alarmingly natural to be so close to him. His skin was smooth and cool, and the silk jacket was soft against her skin. Zhu Irzh bent his head, and kissed her. There was a familiar tightening deep within her; she stepped quickly back.
“Would you like a drink?” the demon asked, after a slightly bewildered pause.
“Yes.” Jhai said shortly. She felt as though she’d been hit by a sledgehammer.
“Wine? Brandy?”
“Whatever.” She leaned back against the windowsill.
Zhu Irzh came back with a bottle.
“It’s brandy. Hell’s own. A little rough, perhaps, but it grows on you. Here.” He held out a generous measure. Trying to get me drunk, Jhai thought, but suddenly it seemed like an excellent idea.
“You look very nice,” the demon said admiringly.
“Thanks.” She took a large swallow of brandy and choked. Tears streamed down her face, so much for the make-up. She’d look like a panda.
“Are you all right?” Zhu Irzh asked, in some alarm. Jhai leaned against him, mastered the coughing with an effort, then reached up and pulled the demon’s head down to kiss him. Zhu Irzh put the bottle on the windowsill and responded with enthusiasm. Then the tension was back, lust jerked into submission by the iron pull of the drug, and Jhai found herself struggling.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Zhu Irzh reproachfully.
“Don’t we?”
“I mean, I may be from Hell, but I can still behave like a gentleman if the occasion demands it.” He looked as though it had cost him quite a lot to say that. Doubt assailed Jhai. She used people so much that she wasn’t sure anymore whether she’d know if they were using her: this is the trouble with power, the small voice said in the back of her mind. Zhu Irzh was watching her, his golden gaze shadowed, and it had been a bad idea to drink that brandy, because she wasn’t sure what was real and what was not, and she had given him control. She turned away from him and stood looking into the room, and felt his hands take her by the shoulders and run lightly down to her waist, making her shiver. Then he turned her around again and drew her against him.
“What do you want me to do?” he whispered against her throat. “Tell me what you want.” Anything, she wanted to say, anything you want, and shut out the voice inside her head and the insistent wire-taut singing of the drug. “Do you want to go and lie down?” he asked, and she nodded against his shoulder. Zhu Irzh put his arm around her waist and led her to the bed, where he sat beside her.
“What do you want?” she asked in a very small voice.
The demon considered this. “Apart from the obvious? I’d like you to enjoy yourself.” He kissed her, and she put a hand over his. As she did so she felt the claws slide out from his fingertips. Her hand jerked.
“What’s wrong?”
“Zhu Irzh, I’m afraid of you,” Jhai said, horrifying herself.
There was the sudden glitter of teeth in the dimness.
“That,” said Zhu Irzh softly, “is very wise. Now, will you let me make love to you?”
So she lay back and let him. He was very gentle, taking a lot of time, and eventually she was amazed to find that his hands and his mouth were drowning out the tug of the drug. Lost in desire, she ignored the fact that its control was slipping away until Zhu Irzh rolled over, pulling her with him so that they were both half-sitting. He cupped her breast in one long hand and reached behind her with the other, stroking her back.
“Well, well,” the demon said softly. Jhai felt a twinge at the base of her spine, and then something … unrolled. It happened very fast, with a twinge not unlike neuralgia. Jhai and the demon looked down. A tail was coiling around the demon’s wrist. It was not like Zhu Irzh’s own whip-thin tail. It was sleek, and tiger-striped. Jhai glanced down. Her rib cage was banded with shadows. She opened her mouth and her incisors slid neatly down behind her upper lip.
“I must say,” Zhu Irzh remarked, as if commenting on the weather. “This does explain a lot.”
“Zhu Irzh—”
“You,” said the demon reprovingly, nipping her throat, “are a very bad girl.”
“Don’t patronize me! I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t suppose you did.” Zhu Irzh hissed. His erection slid along her thigh. A swift movement took her onto her back, tail lashing, and then the demon was hard inside her. She’d had no idea that demons would make so much noise, snarling and growling like that, but then Jhai glanced up into Zhu Irzh’s abstracted face and realized that it wasn’t him, it was her. And that was the last thought she had, for some time.
When it was over, she sat up and looked at him. Zhu Irzh was lying with one arm flung up over his head, staring at the ceiling. She ran her hands down his chest. His breathing began to deepen.
“Why do men always go to sleep?” She could feel his body starting to shake. It was a moment before she realized that he was laughing. He pulled her down beside him and stretched out. She thought he was watching her but his breathing slowed again and she realized that although his eyes were open and reflecting the starlight, he slept. And after a few moments, with her tail entwined with his, so did Jhai.
HSIAO CHU:
THE TA
MING POWER OF THE SMALL
21
Robin must have fainted, because she could not remember leaving the cemetery. When at last she regained consciousness, she was lying on something soft that smelled familiar, a warm, reassuring smell, and the bags beneath her were full of something scratchy. She perceived that she was lying on a bag stuffed with hay, and the dusty darkness about her was a cattle shed of some kind. She could see the beasts themselves: horned, matted, with long, ruminative faces.
Someone came through into the stall and the cattle stamped nervously, tapping their hooves against the rough concrete. Someone murmured something. A calm blue gaze shone through the gloom.
“It’s you,” Robin said. Her victim had come back, free and predatory, and she was aware only of relief.
“I came back,” Mhara agreed. The blue eyes were wells in the darkness, the color of the indigo washing powder that spilled across the market stalls.
“What happened to me?” Robin asked. He had bound up her knee, which was stiff and sore.
“I don’t know. You were with—people, I think, but the dead. Ghosts.” Mhara took her chin in his hand and turned her face to the light from the street that crept in between the slats of the go-down shed.
“Your face is burned. I don’t know how it happened.”
“It licked me,” Robin whispered, remembering. She heaved herself to her elbows and looked at him. “Oh, Mhara,” she said, before she could stop herself. “I’m so sorry. For what I did to you.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
“Why did you come back?” she asked in a small voice. “You should kill me, by rights. I tortured you.”
“Do you think so? Not as much as you fear, perhaps. You don’t know much about me, Robin, the kind of person I am.” The predatory hand stroked her hair. “Do you want to rest some more?”
“No … I think we should make a move. Paugeng security will be looking for you. And me.” She stood and the bound knee gave way. Mhara caught her arm.
“I’m sorry,” Robin whispered. “It really hurts. I think you’d better leave me, Mhara.” He gave her a long, contemplative look. She amplified: “I can’t walk very far. And we can’t take a taxi or a tram.”
