The Demon and the City

not. "So let me get this straight. At the moment, we're looking at Jhai Tserai as a chief suspect? And we're working on the hypothesis that she is at least heavily implicated in both murders, even if she didn't carry them out herself."
    "Yes, we are."
    "And am I to assume that, cultural differences aside, your division in Hell considers such criteria as objectivity, neutrality and so forth critical when interrogating a suspect?"
    "Yes, to some degree," Zhu Irzh said warily, not liking the turn that the conversation was taking.
    "So having established Jhai Tserai as principal suspect, you brought her back here and spent what is by all accounts an active night with her? In my bed?"
    A distant part of Zhu Irzh noted that it was an interesting sensation to experience all the blood draining out of one's face.
    "How did you—?" He could not go on. Chen pointed at the silent, accusing presence of the iron teakettle upon the shelf.
    "Oh, fuck."
    "So I am given to understand. Sergeant Ma is not the only being capable of using a telephone. And why, exactly, did you consider that becoming Jhai's lover was crucial to the course of this investigation? Some disarming ploy, no doubt? A subtle maneuver designed to throw her off guard and elicit the truth from her?" Chen enquired, still terrifyingly bland.
    Belatedly, Zhu Irzh resorted to the truth. "No. She has this—this effect on me. When I see her, all I can think of is sex."
    It was clear that Chen was sorely tempted to make the obvious retort, and Zhu Irzh winced in anticipation of being told that this was all he ever thought about anyway. But Chen said nothing, and the demon went hurriedly on: "It seems to be mutual; I'll explain why in a moment. She turned up here, one thing led to another, and next thing I knew, we were in bed. And I'm sorry it was yours, but it is the only bed here. I promise I'll wash the sheets."
    "That would be nice. Why is it mutual?"
    "She's not human."
    That got Chen's attention. His eyes widened. "Then what is she?"
    The demon told him.
    "That," Chen said, unwittingly echoing Zhu Irzh on an earlier occasion, "would explain a lot. About her family's origins, about their rise to power . . . She's in a startlingly vulnerable position, isn't she, even with all her influence? And she's risking that for you?" His eyebrows rose.
    Trying to ignore the unflattering implications of that remark, Zhu Irzh said, "It's because I'm Hellkind, I think."
    "And you know, don't you?"
    "Know what?"
    "You know, Zhu Irzh, just what Jhai's role is in all this. I can see it in your face. The badger passed on some remarkably disturbing hints, about what Jhai said to you the next morning."
    "Was that damned creature spying on me all night?" Zhu Irzh bridled. He had no objection to voyeurism, as long as he was the voyeur. At that point, the teakettle , at which Zhu Irzh had been staring accusingly, blurred and became badger. The night-black eyes were cold. The badger gave a soft, slow hiss.
    "Yes," said Chen, coolly. "He was. And just as well. Now. Out with it. What is Jhai planning? I should add, Zhu Irzh, that although I hold you in rather higher regard than you probably think, and I might—under certain circumstances—even view you not only as a colleague but as a friend, I'll have absolutely no hesitation in binding you here and summoning Exorcist Lao back from Waikiki to drag the truth out of you by magical force if I have to. But I'd rather you just told me—not for the sake of the world, or Hell, or Heaven, but for my sake, and Inari's."
    Of all the appeals Chen could have made, this was the one that dived under the demon's defenses. Not for the first time, Zhu Irzh had reason to deplore those unnerving elements within his own character, that made him more than demon, yet less than human. Conscience, and affection, and a desire for someone else's respect. Perhaps he should look for a good therapist to eradicate these personal failings when he finally got back to Hell.
    "All right then," he said miserably. "I'll tell you."
    After what amounted to the demon's confession, Chen sat silently for several minutes. The demon was expecting an outcry: recriminations, blame. But to Zhu Irzh's surprise, Chen mildly suggested that they take a walk. With the badger following, he led the demon down Lower Murray Street to Ghenret and followed the path that led out onto the market wharf. Out on the boards, the walk was slippery with spray: the tide was high tonight. Beyond the