Red Phoenix

me. Much the same thing.
    I would have preferred it alive; the feeling of its tiny wings and legs thrashing inside my throat would have been exquisite. But I didn’t want to wake the other two. I would eat the last one alive and take my time about it.
    I unlocked my jaws and pulled the little one in. I wiggled my head from side to side as I sent it slowlydown my throat. The feathers were thick and delightful in my mouth. I sent my breathing tube out around it; so clever. My mouth was full of satisfying textures and I could still breathe around them.
    When I had it all the way down I closed my neck onto its body and the soft bones collapsed with a satisfying crunch. I tasted the blood as it trickled down my throat and wished that I could close my eyes with relish.
    I turned to the next one. Another tiny luscious sleeping ball of fluff.
    I reared up and opened my mouth to strike the second one. They were so adorable. And delicious.
    I woke with a start, spun onto my belly and banged my head on the pillow a few times.
    I did not want to eat the Phoenix’s babies. I was vegetarian.
    Maybe I needed to go to the fast food and have a soy sauce chicken leg.
    Nope. The idea made me feel quite ill. I was definitely vegetarian. Definitely.
    I glanced at the clock. I’d been sitting for an hour staring at the sheets, unable to concentrate. The numbers seemed to be meaningless hieroglyphs. My thesis was due next week, and there was still so much more that needed to be done. I couldn’t let things like this take over my life.
    I made a snap decision, and for the first time actually did what the stone wanted me to do.
    I threw myself out of my chair and stormed through the door of my office. I thumped down the hall, ignoring the greetings from the demon and human staff in the top-floor administration area. There was a pleasant, constant bustle of work. Normally I enjoyed the sound of the soft conversations and the smellof the tea and coffee brewing, but instead I felt slightly sick.
    John had strongly resisted when Gold and I had designed his office. We’d given him a whole corner of the building on the top floor. His office was nearly as big as my old flat back in Sha Tin. Half of it was a normal office with cabinets; the other half was fitted with white training mats. Both Gold and I knew that he liked to be up high, and that he needed the space. He often held meetings with all of the senior Masters over a conjured conference table in his office, and he and I would occasionally spar together in there when the burden of administration was too much for either of us.
    When we’d shown him the plans he’d angrily demanded a small office on the first floor next to the armoury. Both Gold and I had easily acquiesced and then ignored him. He needed the space, he needed to be up high, and he needed to be able to shut the door and practise the Arts in private.
    Both of us needed to be able to shut the door and wave a sword around sometimes.
    When we had finally moved him into his office he hadn’t said a word. But Gold and I both knew that it would be a long time before he forgave us for doing this to him.
    I stalked past John’s demon assistant, a smiling young Chinese girl in her mid-twenties, and slammed John’s door open. He was reading some papers on his desk; probably reports on the rebuilding. As I walked in he glanced up and smiled at me, unsurprised. I flung myself into one of the visitor’s chairs, then watched him for a while, not knowing where to start.
    He didn’t give me any help whatsoever. He sat behind his desk waiting silently and patiently for me.
    ‘Tell me about serpents,’ I said.
    ‘About time,’ the stone said. We both ignored it.
    John leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. ‘You tell me first. Tell me what you know about them. You used to keep one as a pet; tell me about it. What are snakes like?’
    ‘Lousy pets.’ I smiled as I thought about the snake. ‘Absolutely non-affectionate. Don’t care about anything except where their next meal is coming from, and once they’ve been fed they just sleep until they’re hungry again. Rather like men,’ I said, but he didn’t rise to it.
    ‘What about their nature?’
    ‘Quiet,’ I said, pondering. ‘Silent. They hide their intelligence.’ I stopped and winced but his face didn’t shift. ‘And they can be very single-minded. Fast,’ I winced again, ‘and merciless.’
    ‘You’re not very quiet,’ he said with a