The Demon and the City

still in charge, and mortal humans just didn't get to be consorts of Celestial princes. "But I don't think I can. And besides, Mhara, it really isn't my kind of place. Maybe when I die . . ."
    Mhara was looking at her strangely. "You haven't realized, have you?"
    "Realized what?"
    "You're already dead, Robin."
    "What are you talking about?" She looked down at her own apparently solid flesh. "It looks real enough to me."
    "But it isn't. You died in Shai. Senditreya killed you."
    "Why aren't I in the Night Harbor then?"
    "Because I'm keeping you tethered here. But you're free to go wherever you want now. Heaven, if you wish."
    "But I can touch things, pick things up."
    "I said you were dead, not that you were a ghost. You just can't die again, Robin. You'll remain in this form, forever, until you should choose to move on."
    "But people can see me?" Robin was still grappling with the concept.
    "Yes, you're quite visible."
    "I need some time," Robin whispered. "Time to think about all this."
    "Then you shall have it. I'll come back tomorrow." Slowly, he faded away until there was only a faint shine upon the air.
    When he had gone, Robin rose from the steps of the little temple and walked out. She walked past the shattered shops and collapsed awnings of the upper half of Shaopeng, past the dust-covered parks and gardens, all the way to the port. She stayed there for a long time, looking out across the harbor, the emergency shipping dashing to and fro, the helicopters soaring overhead. And gradually, over the course of the day, she knew what she must do, and when night eventually sank over the port, she walked all the way back again to the temple, to tell him.
     
    He came back the next day, as promised. She told him then.
    "You're sure?" Mhara said. He was leaning on the ruined framework. Robin had already made a start in cleaning the temple out. The broken bricks had been removed, and she had discovered a kind of hut at the back, equipped with a sink and other facilities, half-covered in vines. Presumably, it had been the home of the previous priest. She felt light and clear and not hungry—better than she had felt for some time. If this was what being dead was like, then she could live with that.
    "I think so. I need some space, to think about things. What I've done, how I can make amends. I need some space away from you, and some time with you. So that's what I'll do, Mhara. I'll keep your temple here on Earth, turn it into the sort of place that's worthy of you. I think you've earned your worship now, and with one less goddess on the scene, they'll need all the help they can get. The people round here look as though they can use it. And maybe I could come and see you?"
    "Or I could come here," Mhara said.
    "We'll work it out," Robin said, as she kissed him a temporary goodbye. After all, it would really be just like any long-distance relationship.

Sixty-Four
    Paravang Roche sat back in the armchair and stretched his feet toward the fire. At least it was warm. Dark, though, but he didn't mind that. There were a few things he missed about his little apartment, but not many, and he had to admit that there were compensations. As long as Mahibel wasn't fussing too badly about the forthcoming wedding, they got along well enough and he had to admit that it was pleasant, being looked after like this. Somehow, he'd always expected the food in Hell to be terrible, but the dishes served up every night were surprisingly good, although he couldn't always tell what they were. And the neighborhood bar was full of elderly gentlemen who held a rather similar view of the world to himself. He and his new bride wouldn't have to worry about money, since the goddess' partners in this neck of the woods regarded Paravang as having conducted their vengeance on Senditreya on their behalf and had been generous in consequence. A good thing that the lords of Hell could be both opportunist and lazy. There had been no reliance on living relatives, which was just as well, since Paravang couldn't see his father parting with much cash in the world of the living.
    Even his mother's frequent visits were less unwelcome than they might have been. She was obsessing about the marriage ceremony, of course, but that was only to be expected and it would be over soon. Paravang was letting the women get on with it.
    Rising to fetch more tea, he glanced out of the window into the yard. Senditreya was grazing placidly on the little patch of grass. As he