The Demon and the City

unfortunately."
    The demon narrowed golden eyes. "It isn't. But I know what you mean. I had a dream last night in which we were wandering through Hell, looking for her, but she wasn't there."
    "It reminds me of Pearl Tang," Chen said. He smiled, remembering the first case that he and Zhu Irzh had worked on together. "There must be something about young female spirits that leads to trouble."
    "Of course there is," the demon said gloomily. "They're women, aren't they?"
    "Well, there is that," Chen admitted, thinking of Inari and feeling just a little treacherous. Goddess knew that Inari had caused trouble enough, poor love. But she hadn't meant to.
    "I think we need to talk to that boy again," Zhu Irzh remarked. "I called the Opera, by the way. The girl hasn't shown up."
    "We're next door," Chen said. "And there's no time like the present. In fact, there really isn't, because I've no idea how long Sung expects us to remain in Hell on this bloody fact-finding thing."
    "As long as it takes, I suppose." The demon downed the last of his beer and stood up. "Okay, let's do it."
    Chen was not a lover of opera per se but he had always been rather fascinated by the life of the Opera House. Backstage was another world, of giant chrysanthemums, huge cardboard clouds, twirling parasols. It smelled of face powder and cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. Zhu Irzh was smiling.
    "This is fun!"
    "It's got a certain charm," Chen said. He addressed a passing stagehand. "Excuse me. I'm looking for a young man named Pin."
    "Oh. The flute player. You're looking for him." The stagehand gave what could only be described as a smirk. "Very popular, he is."
    "We're with the police department," Chen said.
    "Done something, has he? Doesn't surprise me. Always thought he was up to no good. I—"
    "Actually, he hasn't done anything," Chen said. "It's about a witness statement. Now, is he here or not?"
    "Don't ask me. You'd need to speak to his chorus director."
    "Then we'll do that," Chen said, with a faint degree of froideur .
    "Why, no," the chorus director said, once they'd tracked her down. "I'm afraid he hasn't been in for the last couple of days. I was really becoming quite concerned." She perched on the edge of her chair, blinking behind large spectacles, her legs demurely crossed at the ankles.
    Chen frowned. Miss Jhin's protestation of concern seemed genuine—a nice woman, in his professional assessment, probably born into respectability but fallen on hard times. There was something a little faded about her.
    "Where does Pin live?" Chen asked her.
    "Why, here, at the Opera. A lot of them do, if they've been orphaned—Pin's mother died, you see, a few years ago. She'd been one of our chorus girls, and Pin knew all the traditional songs, so it seemed natural for us to take him on. But—you see, there are so many people here, it's so busy—I should have realized sooner he was missing." She rubbed her eyes. "I'm making excuses for myself, aren't I?"
    "I'm sure you did your best," Chen said. "I don't mean to alarm you, but when was Pin last seen?"
    "When he went to the party."
    "What party was this? Do you mean the one at Paugeng?"
    To Chen's surprise, Miss Jhin blushed a deep, rusty red. "No. You see, the young people are very popular, and they get asked out a lot. Of course, we're careful, but if they are over age, then—"
    Chen was beginning to get the picture. "I see. Who was it who held the party?"
    "It was at a club. Called Cloudland, I believe. The manageress phoned me to arrange it."
    Zhu Irzh leaned forward in his seat. "Cloudland? That's a demon lounge."
    "Is it, now?" Chen asked, intrigued and appalled. He'd visited a demon lounge on a number of occasions in his career and none of them had turned out particularly well.
    "Yes, and quite a famous one, too. I've heard mention of it in Hell—" At this point Miss Jhin gave a little squeak, although she must have been aware of the demon's origins, since she was evidently able to see him clearly enough.
    "And Pin didn't come back?"
    Miss Jhin blinked again. "Well—I don't know that he didn't. I'm afraid I wasn't here when the party was due to end—he was only booked for a couple of hours. But he wasn't here the next day. I thought that perhaps he'd taken the day off . . ." Her voice trailed away.
    Taken the day off in order to recover, Chen thought. He supposed that he ought to caution Miss Jhin for what was, essentially, pimping, but he doubted whether she had any real control over