The Demon and the City

feel that gaze boring a hole between his shoulder blades, as though Ei had stabbed him with an icicle. He supposed that he could not blame her. Ei motioned to the vehicle, a long, black limousine, with the gun.
    "Get in."
    "Thank you," the demon said politely. He felt that he ought to make up for his earlier lapse. Ei's face became even more pinched and sour, like a collapsing lemon.
    "And shut up."
    Zhu Irzh started to say something, but nodded instead. He climbed into the vehicle and Ei got in behind, still with the gun pointed unwaveringly at the demon's throat. She knew where to strike, then. And he was also sure that Ei felt herself to be good enough not to miss. The limo set off through the Paugeng compound and out into the port area. Zhu Irzh studied the vehicle with interest: it was certainly a fine car. He was tempted to play with the gadgets on display, but thought better of it.
    There was a carton on the seat next to the driver, filled with sticky pink glop. Zhu Irzh tried not to concentrate on the insipid odor of warm shrimp congee that filled the vehicle. Zhu Irzh's stomach contracted in longing. The muzzle of Ei's automatic remained pointed at Zhu Irzh's throat. Ei watched him with an impassive lizard's gaze, and Zhu Irzh saw her fingers tighten rhythmically against the butt of the gun.
    "We're nearly at your home," Ei said. "Don't think that I don't know already where you live. I know everything about you, demon. I have made it my business. I'll be watching you."
    "Madam," Zhu Irzh informed her as the limo slowed, "I wouldn't doubt it for a second." He suspected that Tserai had chastised her, but why? Why have him arrested in the first place, then let him go? Because Tserai knew that she couldn't hold him? Or was there some other reason. Zhu Irzh was getting the distinct impression that Ei had acted on her own initiative, and that she was somehow not quite in the loop.
    The door snapped open, releasing Zhu Irzh into the day. He decided that it would give Ei too much satisfaction if he watched the limo slide away, and so he turned his back on it and went into the local chophouse. Congee porridge, he thought, would do nicely for breakfast. Perhaps with a side dish of blood.

Seventeen
    The hospital wing had fixed Paravang's ribs and bound up the scores in his flesh under a protective coating of synthetic skin. They kept him unconscious for a day or so, to let him mend, and woke him up on the following day. He was sore, but his ribs had healed and his worst afflictions were a severe itching and an unpleasant harsh taste in his mouth, soon removed by several cups of tea.
    "You can go home now," the nurse said. He smiled brightly at Paravang, who grunted in reply. They had sent round a car, and so he traveled back to Bharichay in comparative splendor. Once he was back in the safety of his small flat, he breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps things would quiet down now. He spent a peaceful couple of days or so, reading and practicing Hsing-I to loosen his aching muscles. Paravang's neighbor fed him throughout his indisposition, producing bowls of chicken breast soup and noodles on the hour. Paravang grinned grimly at the thought. She probably wanted something.
    He had just returned from one of his exercise sessions in the local park when the doorphone rang. Paravang got stiffly to his feet to answer.
    "Who is it?"
    "Jhai Tserai," purred the phone. He was so startled that he pressed the button to admit her.
    "Mr Roche," she said, once inside, and her voice held that low note of concern which Paravang so much distrusted. "I'm so terribly sorry."
    She sat down in his armchair and proceeded to explain a number of things. Everyone knew how much stress he was under, what with the temporary removal of his license, and it was completely understandable that he had reacted negatively to what he perceived as provocation. She'd done that herself on occasion, she confessed, it was very natural. The demon detective, too, was under a great deal of pressure, a long way from home and so on, and although his attack on Paravang was unpardonable, she hoped that Roche would manage to rise above it. A complaint had been made to the police department. Paravang was still a part of Paugeng—they didn't forget old employees, even under currently embarrassing circumstances—and Tserai wanted to recompense Paravang for his dreadful ordeal and offered him: three days' worth of trauma counseling, which he could select as he chose, a bonus