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Zhu Irzh protested. Sung gave him a long, level look. "I suppose you'd like me to alert the family?"
    Sung sighed. "Actually, no. Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I'll have to put some of our top people on the Sardai case. It's high profile. It was one thing to send you out on a murder investigation when we didn't know it was such an important victim, but now—"
    The demon bridled. "It's an embarrassment to have me on the case, is that what you're saying?"
    "I'm not saying you haven't been useful, Zhu Irzh. The fact that not everyone can see you is often to our advantage, but you can see how it might be a bit of a handicap if I were to put you in charge of the investigation. Besides, your specialty is really vice, isn't it?"
    "I see." Impossible to resent it, really. Sung's reasons were good ones and now that Zhu Irzh thought about it, he couldn't see a couple of socialites wanting a demon investigating their daughter's death.
    "Although how we're going to tell this extremely rich and powerful clan that we've managed to mislay their daughter's mutilated corpse, I have no idea. I suppose I'll think of something. Leave it with me." For which small mercy Zhu Irzh found himself extremely grateful.
    Leaving the captain's office, he returned to the more amiable company of Ma.
    "Very helpful, that magazine," Ma said. "Gave me several names, they did." His face wore a small, smug smile, somewhat foreign to Ma's usually anxious countenance.
    "Well?" the demon asked. He'd break the news about the body in a minute; why spoil Ma's moment of triumph.
    "I think we might have a lead," Ma said.
    "What, already?" After the news that the main piece of evidence had gone astray, this was welcome.
    Ma nodded. "Deveth Sardai was a close friend of Jhai Tserai." He glanced expectantly at Zhu Irzh, as if anticipating explanation, but the demon was ahead of him.
    "The Paugeng heiress. Even I've heard of Jhai Tserai." He grinned. "Most of Hell has, as a matter of fact. She's got a number of interesting contacts down there."
    "Do we go and see her?" Ma asked rather hopefully. Zhu Irzh caught his lip beneath one pointed tooth.
    "Tserai's one of the most powerful industrialists in this city, even if she is only in her twenties. She's got a lot of clout. I know for a fact that some of that extends to the police department . . .I think I'll pay Jhai Tserai a visit, Ma. Alone. Sort of off the record." There was no need to tell Ma about his conversation with Sung just yet. It would show initiative if he were to go and see Tserai. He paused, still smiling. It didn't hurt that Jhai Tserai was also remarkably beautiful, and—according to persistent rumor—unattached. But perhaps she wasn't interested in the opposite sex. Fair enough, Zhu Irzh thought, but then again, he enjoyed a challenge.

Seven
    High in the Paugeng tower, on the terrace of the penthouse, Jhai sat and gazed out over the twilight city. The penthouse was silent; her mother was visiting one of her innumerable charities and the servants had been dismissed for the evening. Jhai wanted to make sure that she wouldn't be disturbed. After the difficulties they'd had with Deveth Sardai, it seemed reasonable to downsize a bit, proceed on her own rather than using hired help. She'd been a fool to rely on Deveth, though. She should have realized that the woman was unstable. Deveth had not possessed limits, that had been the trouble. Jhai's own limits might lie far beyond the edge of human morals, but nonetheless, they were carefully and precisely defined.
    She looked down at the little, black capsule in her hand, weighing it in her palm. It was as light as air, yet for Jhai it was a burden as heavy as a world. If anyone ever found out . . . She and her mother, and her grandmothers as far back as the seventeenth century, had taken such care, such pains. They had bred selectively, never marrying, always choosing the most auspicious elements of the gene pool, revealed through reliable oracles;