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disturbed for no good reason, at being called to attend every little panic attack and burst of paranoia.
    No one gets assaulted on Nathan Road in broad daylight. All she needs to do is disappear into the crowd.
    She walks, not fast, not slow: a perfect median average, the natural briskness of any Hong Kong citizen born and bred. Her feet don't stutter, her head does not turn for a glance over the shoulder. Her phone stays in her purse.
    Several blocks later she's in the Shangri-La's lobby, uniformed porter shutting the door behind her. She ensconces herself at a seat by the escalator, facing the entrance. The man hasn't followed her in.
    Her phone cold in her hand, she dials Hau Ngai's number. It rings and rings. Then she taps out a quick message. With a tiny chirp it's gone; she can't even recall what desperate, garbled thing she sent.
    The man is in the chair opposite hers, colossal. He rests his foot on his knee; he annexes the dimensionality of the chair, of the space around him. A scent of woodsmoke and lingzi wafts from him, medicinal, unpleasant.
    Julienne pushes her own chair away from the tiny round table between them. "I'm waiting for a friend. But I'll find somewhere else."
    "You are in mortal peril."
    She grips her bag and cobbles together something like a smile, something like politeness. "I appreciate the warning—"
    "Where is the snake?"
    "I don't know who you're talking about."
    "You gave her aid after I wounded her. It is not good to be friends with demons. They're treacherous creatures, able to think only of base needs and hunger for human flesh. Youthful flesh is best of all and their favorite."
    A hard pressure against her neck. It moves—but looking down she sees nothing, even though she hears it, semi-precious stone beads clicking against each other. Constricting. "She hurt me. If I knew where she is I would tell you."
    He looks down at his Rolex idly. His lips are not moving, even though his voice is clear to her, headset-close. "It is impious to lie to a holy man. You met her a second time and made no move to bring her to justice."
    This time she won't be able to fool her body; this time she will hyperventilate.
    Fire alarms shatter the air. He looks away.
    An unveiling of colors passes through her.
     
    * * *
    The chair falls away. There is no chair. The chair is bamboo painted peridot instead of upholstery. There is—
    Arms clasp her from behind, hold her upright in lieu of the bones in her that have eeled away, leaving her only fat and epidermis tethered to screaming blood.
    "You better be worth the trouble," a voice hisses. She is spun around.
    The woman. The viper. She wears a choker today, a stone furled in its center. Sapphire, Julienne recognizes with an eye Mary-trained to assess cut and transparency, carat and price.
    The snake leans close. Her tongue runs slowly along Julienne's lower lip; her teeth gently test, then press in for a bite. Long incisors, razorish. Blood is not drawn, but it easily could have been. "Now you can stay here," she says against Julienne's mouth, "if only for a while."
    Under Julienne's feet the floor settles. Around her tables and chairs are wicker, are bamboo, freshly vegetal. The marble tiles have gone from beige to black; the carpet has disappeared.
    Chatter in Gunwa and Ciuzauwa. The lobby is busier and fuller than she remembers from minutes ago. Chandeliers hang low, heavy with golden Buddha hands languorously conversing in sign language. The indoor fountain has frozen solid, leaping waters crystallized midair.
    The serpent takes Julienne's elbow, steering. Julienne thinks that there is something wrong with the other guests; it's only later that her mind composes together the ordinary faces and the extra eyes, the horns.
    Only one receptionist is present. Her hair is profuse white gossamer and through the veil of it she peers at them. "This one has an immortal's touch on her, little sister."
    "I know. I promise she won't be trouble."
    "As long as that holds