Shadow Pavilion by Liz Williams Read Free Book Online

got a present for you.”
    â€œHello,” said Inari. The girl reached out her hand and then her head burst like a melon, blood and gray matter erupting in a gushing fountain of blood that covered Inari. It reminded her forcibly of her brother’s establishment: he had owned a blood emporium, back in Hell. She was too startled to scream. She simply stood, looking numbly down at the crumpled corpse of the girl, except that it was not a girl, but an armored man—no, a demon. There were claws. She did not recognize the breed but that meant nothing; Hell was filled with all manner of persons. One hand clutched a rattle. Inari bent down and picked it up. It was a hollow sphere, made of stretched skin and from it depended many tiny bones. Someone reached over her shoulder and took it from her hand.
    â€œBetter let me have that, miss. Are you all right?”
    The voice was sharp with concern. It added, into a handheld radio, “Hostile is down. One victim, probably in shock. I need a medical team.”
    Inari turned. “It’s all right,” she said. “My husband—he’s not far away. Detective Inspector Chen.”
    The man—tall, with iron-gray hair and a long, harsh face—said, amazed, “You’re Chen’s wife?” And then, more sharply yet, “And you’re a demon!”
    Oh, thought Inari, Oh dear . She’d seen this man before, and moments after that first appraisal, the badger had pitched him off the deck of the houseboat and into the harbor. His name was No Ro Shi, principal demon-hunter of the Beijing government.

11
    G o and Beni stood at the center of the room, their hands linked by a long red sash. Around them burned candles, crimson and gold, sending tongues of tiger-colored flame up into the smoky air. Beni had thrown a handful of incense on the brazier and it smoldered, filling the room with a pungent, gingery scent.
    â€œWe’re only going to get one shot at this,” Go warned his colleague. “We’ve got to get it right.”
    Beni looked uneasy. “I still think she should actually be here.”
    â€œYeah, right. That’s entirely realistic. Lara, darling, just come and participate in this ritual for us, would you? It’ll send you back to Hell and your unloving family and seal you there forever.”
    â€œI understand the reasons for it,” Beni remarked. “I just think it would stand a much better chance of working. Couldn’t you have slipped her something?”
    â€œLike what? I tried that once, when she was being particularly difficult—put enough valium in her tea to knock out an elephant and what happened? She stayed wide awake and chattering on. She’s not human.”
    â€œCouldn’t you have asked a remedy man or something? An expert?”
    â€œAnd tell him what? ‘My friend and I, we conjured up this tiger spirit from Hell in India, and now she’s a famous movie star, but she’s gone bonkers and we want to get rid of her.’”
    â€œYou don’t have to tell them the truth,” Beni said, exasperated. “Make something up. It’s what you do for a living, after all.”
    â€œI don’t want any openings for blackmail. You know what these people are like. Look, we don’t have infinite amounts of time. Are you going to help me or not?”
    Beni gave a sullen nod. “Yeah. I suppose.”
    At the other end of the room, lit by a hundred candles, stood a shrine to Lara. Go had raided the archives for stills and these now adorned a wooden frame: Lara in black and white, posing like Ava Gardner; Lara in Bollywood Technicolor, a fuchsia sari whipping around her; several shots from a Vogue shoot and images from her latest movie. The only pictures that Go had failed to come up with had been images of her tiger-self. Lara was cagy about that, too aware of possible consequences, and although Go had surreptitiously tried, he’d never