Chapter Thirteen Arun
The deafening clang of clock-tower bells shook Arun awake. The sound echoed all the way through his bones.
Kasu was peering down at him from behind her exchange desk. For someone who worked in a gambling parlour, she had to practise her poker face. He could almost feel the disdain oozing from her expression.
“It’s midnight,” she said tartly. “Apologies to our honoured guest, but I’m afraid Camellia House is closing. You’ll have to leave now.”
Arun didn’t know why she was still irritated with him about the whole “not gambling” thing. It had all worked out in the end, hadn’t it? Not only had he returned all the tiles Kasu had given him, he had brought her tiles to spare.
Tiles that had belonged to Hanyu.
The ghost’s final screams echoed in Arun’s skull.
Maybe he should have listened to Kasu.
“Meet me on the street, but don’t talk to anyone. I’ll see you there in a few minutes.” Kasu began wiping down her counter. Humbled, Arun merely nodded.
Kasu gave him an odd look before turning her attention back to the countertop.
Ghost City was covered in a thick, red haze. Dangling lanterns blazed through the soupy darkness, their yellow lights shining like the eyes of enormous beasts.
The streets were busy and full of chatter.
It reminded Arun of Bakrute’s market square – though admittedly with fewer royal guards and a lot more murder.
Ghosts hurried this way and that, going about their business despite the demons that would occasionally grab one of them like a squawking chicken and run off.
No one seemed to mind when fights broke out in the middle of the street.
Or when flaming headless horses ran someone down, leaving an awful splatter of blood and guts on the road.
Even Kasu did little more than wrinkle her nose in disgust.
Broken dolls decorated the steps of nearby buildings, grinning at Arun as he passed. One caught his eye and winked at him, laughing with the others as Arun averted his gaze and hurried away.
Overhead, bone bridges arched like spines, connecting opposite sides of the road.
Flowers encircled the railings – an oddly pleasant decoration for such a gruesome city, he thought, until he noticed the small, screaming faces in the centre of each blossom.
Their cries of agony were partially drowned out by an ox demon stomping past them while singing a crude song.
It didn’t feel real. Arun wasn’t sure whether he had wandered into a nightmare. He kept his hand close to his sword and his nails buried deep into the flesh of his palms as if he could force himself to wake up at any moment.
What had possessed his mother to come to a place like this? Perhaps she hadn’t had a choice. Was she hiding from someone? From the heavens?
There’s a lady who will let you walk through the wheel for a price, Hanyu had said.
Arun knew what it sounded like. A thief had stolen a reincarnation wheel and was charging ghosts and demons money to be reborn. But that couldn’t be his mother. His mother was a good person.
“Hey there, young man, why not come over and play?” A woman wearing a butterfly mask sat on the corner of the street. Red butterflies flitted around her, tied to her wrists with string. “If you can catch one of my butterflies, I’ll give you a prize! How about it? Would you like to try your luck?”
“Don’t.” Kasu grabbed Arun by the arm. “It’s a trick meant to ensnare new ghosts. She might not look it, but that woman is actually a demon. Those butterflies are part of her body and will drain the qi from you the moment you touch one.”
Arun glanced back at the masked woman. It was only when he looked closely that he realized the butterflies had childlike faces.
“Demons will eat anything that has qi. Humans are their favourite, but demons who aren’t strong enough to reach the mortal realm or don’t have the money to buy food from the meat market will settle for ghosts.
Of course, there are some demons who just eat ghosts for the thrill of it.
That’s what makes the city so dangerous.
You can never trust anyone. Even other ghosts might lure you into a trap on behalf of their masters. ”
“Noted,” Arun muttered.
Kasu led him to a wide river that seemed to split the city in half.
Red spider lilies grew in abundance on its steep banks, fed by the dark waters that flowed slowly from the east to the west. It was too muddy to see the bottom, but if Arun squinted he swore he could see horned carp swimming through the waters, their silver scales as sharp as razors.
A demon with a long trunk for a nose had set up a fishing pole by the side of the bank, singing as he waited for a bite.
“Moon fish, gloom fish! Cut open their bellies and the skulls pour out!”
White bridges criss-crossed the water, illuminated by pale yellow lanterns that emitted a sickly, sulphuric glow.
The smell of cheap incense curled through the air, the scent different, sharper, than Arun was used to.
It was colder in the under-realm than it was back home.
Funny – he had always heard people say that hell was hot.
“So, where is this theatre district?”
“In the west,” Kasu said. “The city is split into four quarters – north, south, east and west – with a demon lord in charge of each one.”
“Four quarters, four demon lords.” Arun committed the information to memory.
“The north belongs to Lord Onyx, who runs the fighting pits. The east contains the meat market run by Lord Cobalt. The south belongs to Lady Camellia and, well, you’ve seen what she’s like.”
Arun wished he hadn’t. He had never wanted to know what it looked like for a demon of that size to eat a ghost. How small Hanyu had seemed in Lady Camellia’s skeletal hands.
“The western theatre district belongs to the Pale Lady.”
“What’s it like?” Arun wondered what interest ghosts and ghouls had in the arts.
Kasu paused in front of a looming archway. Beyond the stone pillars, Arun could hear the faint sound of drums pulsing through the air like a heartbeat.
“Come and see for yourself.”