Snake Agent: A Detective Inspector Chen Novel (28 page)

Then the small door at the end of the verandah burst open and something whistled over Chen's head. A lizard spirit was catapulted, hissing, into the leaves of the vine. The dragonfly sailed up as if pulled by a string, a long spine whip cracking against its carapace. The tendrils of the vine shriveled back and Chen was free. A hard hand caught him by the wrist and pulled him unceremoniously upright. Staggering back against the wall, he found himself looking into the wild, molten eyes of Seneschal Zhu Irzh.

Sergeant Ma had spent the morning painstakingly filing traffic violations. It was a boring job, but Ma did not have a problem with being bored.
Boring
meant familiar, comfortable and safe. It did not mean golden-eyed demons with sharp and dangerous smiles, or the flittering ghosts of murdered teenagers. It did not mean kidnapped houses whirled up into the darkness between the worlds. It did not mean the utterly pedestrian, yet somehow deeply sinister, presence of Detective Inspector Chen—now who knew where on who knew what supernatural errand. As a lowly sergeant, Ma had largely been left out of the urgent series of talks that had taken place between the captain, Chen, the lugubrious exorcist Lao and the madman from Beijing. This suited Ma very well. He could continue to potter about the office doing routine (but necessary) tasks and pretend that the nightmare world that perpetually hovered just beyond his dreams had never even existed. In a moment, Ma thought, he might even go and get another cup of tea.

It was therefore with a sinking sense of dismay that he glanced up to see No Ro Shi, the demon-hunter, looming over him. The man seemed to carry with him a constant aura of night; he was even worse than Chen. No Ro Shi's eyes were the dead black of old stone, and his face was as pale as a cadaver's. No Ro Shi said, "Sergeant Ma? The captain asked me to have a word with you. Says you've worked on a case with Detective Chen."

"Only because there wasn't anyone else," Ma said, fear easily overriding pride.

No Ro Shi gave a swift grimace that passed duty for a smile.

"You are commendably modest, Sergeant, a quality that is all too rare in these self-aggrandizing times. Hubris is a certain path to Hell, you know." He glanced swiftly over his shoulder. "However, the captain tells me that you acquitted yourself moderately well on previous occasions, and even Chen spoke highly of you once or twice when recounting his report of your adventures. The captain thinks you might be the ideal man for the job."

"Oh? What job?" Ma asked, with a sinking heart.

"Chen thinks something serious is about to happen. Something cooked up by Hell that could affect all this sorry world. It may even have started already and that's what you and I are going to find out. I'd take the departmental exorcist, but the captain wants Lao for a case of exorcism in the Business District."

"I—I don't think—"

"Good man," said No Ro Shi. He clapped Ma on the shoulder and even through Ma's regulation shirt his hand felt icy cold. "Get your jacket. And your gun."

The demon-hunter said nothing more on their way to the car, which Ma found ominous. No Ro Shi had said nothing about where they were going, nor why. That was the problem with these supernatural types, Ma lamented; they never told you everything, so you were left to wonder, and panic. Even Chen was better than this. In fact, Ma admitted to himself, Chen was actually a pretty decent bloke, behind all the spectral stuff. He wondered how Chen had got into this sort of thing in the first place: How
did
you get recruited by the gods? Did you dedicate yourself? Take a vow? Was it some kind of penance? And that last thought made him wonder what Chen might have done to pay so heavy a price.

"I'll drive," No Ro Shi said, unlocking the car door. "Get in. And keep your window up."

Nervously, Ma complied. He did not like the thought of being at such close quarters with No Ro Shi. He squeezed himself tightly into his seat, trying to keep as far away from the man as possible without actually causing offence. He glanced at No Ro Shi, but the demon-hunter didn't seem to have noticed and Ma felt a little reassured.

No Ro Shi swung right off Shaopeng Street, into the series of congested underpasses that ran beneath the city. Driving down here always made Ma nervous: the lower they went, the closer to Hell he felt he was getting. He knew the relationship between the worlds was not nearly as simple as up and down, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. It was the same on Singapore Three's rather unreliable metro. Moreover, the traffic in the underpasses was usually dreadful, especially at rush hour, and Ma had never grown used to driving in such claustrophobic conditions. Out in the countryside of Da Lo, where Ma had grown up, the roads were dusty and narrow, and the few vehicles moved at an uncomfortable bumping crawl. No Ro Shi paid no attention to the traffic. He shot between two lumbering buses, overtook a Mercedes on the inside and came out of the other end of the underpass onto the Ghenreng arterial like a cork out of a bottle. A few minutes later, Ma opened his eyes to discover that they were already halfway along the coast road that curved out from Singapore Three's long shore to lead up into the mountains.

"Where are we going?" Ma ventured to ask.

No Ro Shi took one hand off the wheel to gesture vaguely in the direction of the container port, which shimmered in the afternoon haze. Ma could see the dim shadow of the typhoon shelter beyond, and then the immense expanse of the sea. They hurtled into yet another tunnel, angled into the hillside and framed with mirrors to placate any negative
ch'i
. No Ro Shi took a bend at speed, still one-handed. Ma's eyes screwed shut once more.

"We're going out to Danlien."

"Danlien? But there's nothing there—it's just warehouses, isn't it?"

"A lot of the container cargo is stored there, but recently they've been converting spare warehouses into something else.
Gherao
dormitories."

"
Gherao
dormitories?" Ma echoed. He had not really followed the communications revolution very closely, preferring to take the attitude that if the bioweb worked, it worked, and if it didn't, it didn't. As far as Ma knew, the old electronic system was good enough, and he didn't really understand why human beings had to be used as nexi points. But people seemed to think it was a good thing—employment had soared since the
gherao
system had been introduced, and the Chinese government had even been fleetingly popular as a result. Besides, the newspapers said, the
gherao
system was ideal for poor youngsters who lacked skills and qualifications: a year or two in the dormitory, acting as nexi nodes for the bioweb, and they'd earn enough money to set up their own small businesses. In India, so Ma had read, girls were earning their own dowries through the system, and easing the burden placed on their families. It wasn't supposed to do the nexi any harm, either—scientists had done tests, and proved it. Ma trusted scientists: he wanted to believe in reason, and logic, and all the things that were antithetical to Hell. But he couldn't see what a bioweb dorm had to do with the current case, and he didn't want to look even more of an idiot by asking No Ro Shi further questions. Instead, he gazed out at the passing view and wondered uneasily what might be happening to Chen.

Shrieking and chittering, the animal spirits swarmed up the side of the building and vanished sullenly into the hanging mass of the vine. Beneath the verandah, Chen gaped at Zhu Irzh as though he'd never seen him before. The demon's hot golden gaze seemed to burn even more brightly, fierce as fever, and the skin of his face was tight and damp. He was holding one hand close to his body, cradling it protectively.

"Zhu Irzh?" Chen said. "Are you all right?"

The demon spoke quickly, the words running together.

"No. No, I'm not. I had a most unwelcome visitor, a salamander creature—I touched its tail and it poisoned me. I was on my way to an alchemist's when I saw it again, or something like it, that lizard thing, it was sliding under that gate, so I followed it to order it to tell me who'd sent it, and I found you. What are
you
doing here, Chen?" he added, as if in afterthought.

"I came after our mutual friend," Chen said, with a warning glance upwards. "Did you get my e-mail?"

"Yes. I took it to the—the proper authorities, I didn't tell them where it came from."

"Which authorities? Did they believe you?" Chen asked, taking the demon by his uninjured arm and steering him through the gate. The demon's arm was radiantly hot beneath his hand, as though he was holding his palm above a stove. Zhu Irzh nodded.

"My employer. And yes. Yes, he did." He stumbled as they stepped through the gate and leaned back against the wall.

"Where's the alchemist?" Chen asked urgently. The demon was obviously not in a very good way.

"That's the fucking problem, I don't know," Zhu Irzh said wildly. "I went to some apothecary, some quack, and he refused to treat me. I'm damn sure the thing that attacked me was sent by Epidemics, and all the doctors here are under license to them. The whole medical profession has probably been ordered to give me the runaround until I fall down dead and end up Imperial Majesty knows where in some horrible lower level for the next few hundred years."

"That's not going to happen," Chen told him.

Zhu Irzh snorted. "So you say. I don't know how long I've got. Not long, probably."

Looking at him, and allowing for the usual hyperbole of the supernatural, Chen was inclined to agree. The demon's hand was so swollen that his talons protruded from his fingertips like pins from a pincushion, and the flesh was shiny and cracked.

"Look," Chen said, taking a deep breath as he made his decision. The goddess wouldn't approve, but then Kuan Yin hadn't approved of anything he'd done in the last year, so what else was new? He'd just have to square it with her on some yet-to-be-determined day of reckoning, along with everything else. One thing was certain, however: Kuan Yin wouldn't like it. Healing demons was definitely not within his job remit. He glanced quickly around him. Twilight was falling fast, and the glowing red lamps of Hell were casting bloody shadows around them. Squalid buildings lined the street, and across the way Chen glimpsed the neon sign of a demon lounge.

"Have you got any money?" he asked Zhu Irzh.

"Some," the demon replied.

"Go over there and hire us a room."

Even in his anguished state, Zhu Irzh's mouth twitched in a smile.

"Detective Chen. I'd no idea you thought of me like that."

"I
don't
think of—oh, never mind. Make sure you get a room facing the street, on the ground floor. Tell them you're on your own; show them your badge if you have to. Then open the window."

Zhu Irzh stared at him for a moment, then apparently decided that trust might be an appropriate emotion. "All right," he said. Wincing with pain, he ran across the street and hammered on the door of the demon lounge with his good hand. The door opened. Chen saw the demon speaking to someone within, then reaching awkwardly into his pocket and extracting a handful of notes. He vanished inside. A few minutes later, a window just above the street flew open.

Chen sprinted over the road and, followed by the badger, hauled himself across the sill. The room was a standard one, bare except for a wide couch and soft rugs. For Hell, it was almost salubrious.

"Now," Chen said, rolling up his sleeves. "Sit down."

Obediently, the demon did so. Chen crouched beside him and lightly touched the injured hand, which Zhu Irzh snatched hastily away.

"Okay, okay," Chen said soothingly, as if to a wounded animal. "All right. I know it hurts. I'm going to have to cut your sleeve off, I'm afraid."

"You seem literally hell-bent on ruining my entire wardrobe," Zhu Irzh said bitterly.

Chen smiled. "Vanity's a sin, you know. Not that it matters here. . . I'll do this quickly. I warn you, it's going to hurt."

Taking a small, folding pair of crane scissors from the pocket of his jacket, he slit Zhu Irzh's sleeve as far as the elbow. The demon made no sound, but he grew as still and stiff as stone.

"I wouldn't worry about being brave," Chen murmured. "It's a bit late for
face
now."

"It's not a matter of honor," Zhu Irzh said through gritted teeth. "Someone might come in if I start screaming the place down."

As gently as he could, Chen examined the injured hand. Despite the swelling, and the darkness of the demon's skin, he could tell where the spines had gone in. A series of little holes marched in regular array across Zhu Irzh's palm.

"Have you done this before?" the demon asked nervously. "Whatever it is you're going to do, that is?"

Chen nodded.

"Yes. Once or twice, and not under similar circumstances, but I have done it."
And with the goddess' protection and favor, both times,
he thought. He drew a flat packet of acupuncture needles from his pocket and opened it.

"I think perhaps I ought to tell you," the demon said rather weakly, "that I don't like needles very much."

"Don't look, then," Chen said. There were five holes in the demon's palm. Chen took five slender needles out of the case and laid them carefully across the top of the box. The kit contained a minute autoclave, and he didn't want to run the risk of the needles touching anything that might contaminate them. "You won't feel a thing," he told Zhu Irzh encouragingly. The demon sniffed in disbelief. Taking Zhu Irzh's arm, Chen placed it across his own knee, then took the longest of the needles and inserted it into the first hole in Zhu Irzh's hand. The demon's swollen fingers curled slightly, but he made no sound. Taking the rest of the needles, Chen placed them in the holes, working fast and murmuring the shortest and most potent of the Healing Mantras as he did so. Once all the needles stood quivering in Zhu Irzh's wounded hand, Chen took a box of spirit-matches from his pocket and lit one. Breathing across the demon's hand, he lit his own human breath so that the needles were ringed in fire. Then he resumed the mantra: holding Zhu Irzh's wrist lightly between his fingers and concentrating ferociously on healing. Not having the rosary was a blow, and he was painfully conscious of the goddess' absence, but as he came to the end of the fifteenth recitation of the mantra he was suddenly aware of a minute stirring at the edges of the universe: a note plucked in the eternal strings of the Tao. It did not have the familiar warm presence of Kuan Yin's favor; it was nothing more than a quirk of interest on the part of the Tao itself, but the needles flamed up into five thin columns of golden fire and fell away, consumed to ash. There was nothing left except Zhu Irzh's smooth, long-fingered hand, patterned by five tiny holes which, as Chen watched in fascination, closed like flowers in the cold, leaving only the smallest frost-scars in their wake. Zhu Irzh opened his eyes and stared down at his healed hand.