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was none of Yún’s business. But Yún looked cranky and tired, so I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Sorry. Any new business?”
    â€œTwo astrology readings and one Elixir of Eternal Happiness.” She shuddered. “I don’t know why anyone would order something that nasty.”
    The Elixir of Eternal Happiness was our shop’s best-selling product, brewed from licorice, black pepper, and fermented rice—plus whatever magic kick Mā mÄ« added that week. Like Yún said, it was nasty stuff.
    â€œPeople are strange, that’s all I know,” I said. “Is my mother back yet?”
    Yún frowned. “No. She said something about visiting the herb markets. Here.” She handed me a sheaf of papers. “Tell your mother I finished the inventory. Here’s what we need for restocking. I’ve marked the items we can buy in the city markets. The rest we need to order special from merchants up north or from the Phoenix Empire.”
    I scanned the top sheet. Lots of items had checkmarks, but lots more had none. “We need all that?”
    Yún rolled her eyes. “What do you think? I have better things to do than make these things up.”
    â€œIt was just a question.”
    â€œSo nicely asked, too. By the way, I hope you had fun with Gan and Jing-mei and Danzu. Thank you so very much for inviting me.”
    â€œYou were busy .”
    â€œAnd no one can ever change their plans to later.”
    â€œThey might if you—”
    I stopped myself before I said anything truly unforgive-able. Yún still carried her knife from our gang days, and she knew how to use it. Besides, her eyes were shining. If she didn’t stab me, she might start crying.
    We both glared at each other instead.
    â€œI have to get home,” Yún said. “Auntie needs me.”
    She stomped out the front door. I threw the bolts and flipped the sign around to CLOSED. BACK SOON. Mā mÄ« would peel the skin from my butt for closing early, but it wasn’t as though clients were banging on our door. A part of me wondered why she needed so many new magical ingredients, but my head hurt too much to think about it.
    With a sigh, I shooed Hsin from her perch and pulled out the account books. They made a huge boring heap on the counter. But I promised, I told myself.
    You didn’t promise, Chen said. She ordered you to.
    Where have you been? I asked.
    Around. Looking in corners and holes.
    Chen, being cryptic again. I set about sorting through our students’ accounts. By the time I finished with them, my brain would start working more clearly. Maybe.
    Once I settled into the routine of checking numbers, the hours slid past like oil. Yún had turned the radio station to something dull and meditative, which suited me just fine. Once or twice, someone rapped at the front door, then cursed loudly when an invisible pig poked his snout into their backs.
    When I couldn’t read the numbers anymore, I switched on the wall lamps. Brown shadows spilled away from the light. Outside, the skies were violet and shading into gray. A few stars speckled the clear skies of early autumn, but I noticed a fringe of clouds by the horizons. Soon the rains would start.
    Very slowly, my brain clicked over a few key thoughts.
    Dark. Watch-demons. Mā mÄ«.
    Once the sun set, and twilight poured over the horizon, the royal guards released the watch-demons of Lóng City to patrol the streets. They were better than any human sentries, and twice as dangerous. Only the bravest thieves dared to venture out after dark. Most of them didn’t survive. Yún and I had once, along with Princess Lian, but that was a different story.
    I poked my head into the kitchen. “Mā mÄ«?”
    No one there.
    My heart thumping double-time, I ran up the stairs to the second floor, where my mother had a private workroom. No one answered my knock. I pressed the latch down, sure it would be