Five minutes later, they were upstairs in an office on the main level of the station. Jubilee noted that there’d been no name labeled outside the door, unlike the other offices they’d passed in the hall. It must be a spare. Even so, it was spacious and lavishly furnished, with a large desk, double-monitored computer, and sleek leather couch next to a kitchenette in the corner with a mini-freezer and instant kettle. Wait…a mini-freezer? She eyed the appliance with some perplexity before returning her attention to the job contract before her—which was entirely in Chinese.

I can’t read this, she thought despairingly. Out loud she asked, “Is there any other paperwork I’ll have to fill out?”

“You just need to sign this,” the detective answered. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

She made a show of scanning the page, even though little of it made sense to her. Could she trust that he’d summarized the contract accurately, without leaving out anything she should know? Discreetly, she eyed the the steady line above his head. It did not appear to waver.

Somewhat appeased, she signed her Chinese name with great concentration in blocky but neatly written characters. Wong Zhuli.

At once, her spiritual sight returned with vivid clarity. The detective’s grayish aura flickered back into view, along with Hellenos from a corner of the room. The angel waved at her cheerfully, which she responded to with a flat look.

It looked as if this leap of faith might’ve been the key to restoring her ability. Too bad it was also a leap right out of her comfort zone.

Ignoring Hellenos, Jubilee slid the contract across the desk to the detective. No time to waste if she wanted to figure out how to help that Zhengyi girl and get the case solved ASAP so that she herself could be free. But, before that...

“My ability tends to fizzle out if I feel stressed,” she said, deciding to lay some ground rules before the man could start bossing her around. “Which is what will happen if I feel like someone’s breathing down my neck. So, it’d be best to give me space and let me work alone as much as possible.” She’d investigate the girl like he wanted, but she planned on keeping contact with him to a minimum while she did.

Across the room, Hellenos sighed. And here I thought you were going to start developing your interpersonal relationship skills.

The detective eyed her without emotion. “Noted. Once you are fully debriefed and ready to carry out the plan, you will have plenty of opportunities to work on your own.”

Good. After that, she could check in with him no more than once a week. Settling back in her chair, she waved a hand. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”

He opened a filing cabinet and retrieved a manila folder, which he handed to her. She flipped it open and scanned the contents. They were in English, much to her relief.

“This is the case file,” he said. “Please go over it in detail when you get the chance. For now, I will summarize the basics of the investigation.” Taking a seat, he began, “Starting three months ago, death rates in the area began to increase by a noticeable margin. One of the deceased was the son of a government official, whose father subsequently sought me out to investigate the circumstances of his son’s death while keeping the entire affair private. His son had been a notorious playboy, you see. The father didn’t want to open an official police case and have his son’s indiscretions possibly come under fire by the media, thereby tarnishing his own reputation.

“When I started to investigate, I discovered that his son shared several common traits with others who had died in recent months.” Detective Law folded his arms across the desk and leaned forward. “That’s when it became interesting to me. One commonality among the victims was that they had all potentially interacted with Yang Zhengyi...shortly before committing suicide.”

“Suicide?” An uneasy feeling rolled through Jubilee’s gut, even as her brow knit together in confusion. “You mean they died by killing themselves? But how can she have anything to do with that?”

“She can’t,” said the detective. “Unless it wasn’t actually suicide—only murder framed as such.”

Jubilee’s eyes widened. “Are—are you saying you think she murdered them?”

“Not necessarily.” His face remained stoic. “She may just be assisting whoever did.”

This changed everything. Jubilee hadn’t signed up to tail a demon-possessed, would-be killer. “But she’s just a kid! And how could the deaths look like suicides if they weren’t?”

Detective Law shrugged. “Coercion through blackmail, perhaps. Or hallucinogenic drugs, possibly. The precise method is exactly what I intend to find out.”

Jubilee shook her head in disbelief. Surely that was too much of a stretch. “What even led you to think these weren’t just normal suicides? Not—not that suicide is normal.” She shifted uncomfortably. “You know what I mean.”

His eyes caught her movement, but he seemed unaffected by the macabre subject. “As far as the specific case regarding my client, he has good reason to believe that his son had no suicidal intention at the time of his death. After great efforts on his part, he had just succeeded in winning the position as head of a lucrative business empire. Furthermore—” The detective lifted a finger for emphasis. “He was found dead during the very celebration he had been hosting to flaunt his success. Like his father, appearances were important to him. So it was uncharacteristic for him to go the way he did.”

“Okay, fine.” Jubilee’s head spun as she processed all the information. “But that’s one person. What about everyone else?”

“This spike in the death toll has only occurred in Beijing, and only in a certain demographic.” He gestured to the case file in Jubilee’s hands. “See for yourself.”

She flipped through the folder, skimming the first few pages. It was hard to concentrate with the detective watching, and she shifted awkwardly in her seat to face away from him. Ten minutes passed in silence as she read. Detective Law never so much as fidgeted during that time, but towards the end he finally got up to pour himself a cup of tea and retrieve something from the freezer. Jubilee snuck a glance. It was ice cream.

He caught her staring. “Do you see now?” he asked, returning to his seat with a steaming cup of what smelled like Earl Grey—as well as the whole ice cream carton.

She tore her gaze away from the frozen dessert. “Not really. There are all kinds of people listed here.”

The gray haze around the detective darkened with exasperation, though his expression didn’t change. Setting down the ice cream and tea, he came around the side of the desk and leaned over to press a slim finger to the page. “See here.” His finger moved to another spot. “And here.” After pointing to a few other areas on the pages she’d looked at, he said, “All these people were heavily involved in the nightlife or clubbing scene, either as staff or patrons.”

Jubilee flinched defensively. “So?”

“So there must be some reason behind the commonality.” He returned to his side of the desk, retrieving his drink and ice cream. Opening the carton, he spooned out something light brown stuffed with darker brown chips. It looked like java chip. “At first, I conjectured that they might be involved in underground drug or sex trafficking,” he explained between mouthfuls. “Since nightlife venues are sometimes a masquerade for such activity. And indeed, there is evidence to suggest that some of them were. But other individuals seemed more benign—like married businessmen meeting with their mistresses, for example, or college students seeking casual encounters.”

Jubilee had been gawking at him as he rapidly scarfed down half the ice cream straight from the carton, along with occasional sips of hot tea, but his last statement jolted her back to attention. Her head lowered to hide her face behind her hair. Those were the exact types of people she’d targeted back in Chicago. Beneath all the alcohol, most of them had seemed just as empty as she had been.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Maybe the void they were trying to fill was what made them feel bad enough to kill themselves,” she pointed out dully. “Or shame…if they really had committed a crime.”

“Maybe,” he returned as he continued to eat. “But plenty of people in the world have done things that could make them feel ashamed enough to end their lives. Some do, but many do not. Why don’t they?”

She was silent. In the corner, Hellenos dimmed. Her fingers unconsciously traced a faded scar on her wrist beneath the table. Why, indeed?

“Why only these people?” the detective pressed. “Why only here? Why now?”

She shrugged weakly. “Coincidence?”

“The pattern makes coincidence unlikely.” His spoon paused midair as he pierced her with a stare. “And—since you’ve introduced the possibility of the supernatural into the equation—I will add for the sake of argument that it seems too limited and too personal to be divine judgment.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Why do you say that?”

He held her gaze. “Miss Wong, during my time in this field, I have encountered so many different criminals of such twisted natures that, suffice to say that if there is a God, and if this were his mode of punishment, I imagine many more people would be dead—and not just in Beijing, or even China.”

She shivered and looked away. He had a point. But... “If you’re so convinced that all these deaths are humanly orchestrated,” she began quietly, “Why do you want me on the case?”

He lowered his spoon and looked at her for a long time before speaking. “In this line of work, one happens across...unusual scenarios, from time to time. Crime rings associated with cults or covens, for example. Delusional individuals committing acts of domestic abuse, or even murder, for the most bizarre reasons—some as part of occult rituals, others under the banner of church exorcisms. Recently, there was even a man caught selling preserved infant bodies at exorbitant prices, to be used as good luck charms and shrine talismans.”

Jubilee looked horrified, and the detective continued nonchalantly, “Most of these people were subject to religious superstition or mental illness, or both. But who’s to say there wasn’t something deeper influencing their actions?” He paused then as though considering whether to share his next words. “During my...encounters with these sorts of individuals, I noticed more than one of them stealing glances at or mumbling under their breaths to something unseen—but which they genuinely seemed to believe was there.”

He shrugged then and finally lifted the spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. “Of course, such individuals are often diagnosed with psychological disorders that include symptoms of tactile hallucination. But—” Swallowing, he shot her another eerie stare. “I noticed you exhibiting the same behavior right before our first meeting.”

Jubilee flushed angrily. She was not the same as those people.

“So,” he continued, indicating Jubilee with a tilt of his head as he reached again for his teacup, “If I have a resource to observe the unseen – you – then I will make use of it. No clue can go ignored.”

Her forehead crinkled. She already knew he was just using her, but did he really have to call her a resource? Another realization hit her then. She had been a suspect at first, because of how deliberately she’d stayed near Zhengyi that day. That was why he’d initially apprehended her.

Was she a suspect still?

“In addition,” he went on, “Such a collaboration isn’t unprecedented. Even the police are known to employ psychics from time to time.”

“I’m not a psychic,” she snapped.

“No,” he agreed. “Otherwise you’d already know what the plan is, wouldn’t you?”

She crossed her arms, irritated that the only time he seemed to agree with her was when he was also pointing out her ignorance. “Well, out with it,” she said. “What is the plan?”

Discarding the finished carton, he took a final sip of tea and then interlaced his fingers over the desk. “In short...you will attend school with Yang Zhengyi at Peking University to monitor and observe her. Get close to her, befriend her if you can, and report to me anything suspicious that could be connected with the case.”

Peking University. That was what the girl’s school was called, not Beijing College. Jubilee’s mind blanked then as the detective’s words belatedly registered with her. “School...?” she echoed dumbly. “You’re making me go back to school?”

While the world of academia had given her a much-needed distraction five years ago, as well as a steady source of students to steal from, homework and early morning classes had still been the bane of her existence. Who wanted to go back to that?

From the corner, she heard Hellenos laughing. She wished he’d shut up.

“Yes,” Detective Law said, ignoring the look on her face. “Despite it being considered the ‘Harvard of China,’ it’ll be an easy matter to pull some strings and get you accepted as a foreign exchange student. Since we need to place you in the same classes as the suspect, your cover story will be that you earned high enough marks on the language test to be eligible for classes taught in Mandarin. Be sure to make that believable and blend in amongst the students.”

As much as Jubilee had hoped to avoid revealing her insufficient language skills, it was time to swallow her ego if she wanted to escape assignments and term papers. Cautiously, she confessed, “I’m not sure my Chinese is good enough to pull that off.” College students, after all, were not orphaned preschoolers.

“It isn’t,” he replied bluntly, much to her chagrin. “Which is why I will tutor you outside of class.”

Her jaw dropped. A white man—in the most literal sense of the word—was going to tutor her in Chinese?

Her mother must be rolling in her grave.

“We will include language lessons in your job training,” he went on, either not noticing her appalled expression or pretending not to. “Which will be during normal nine to five work hours, whenever you are not attending school with the suspect.”

School, Chinese lessons, and job training? Nine to five? Jubilee had never worked a nine-to-five job in her life. “What happened to giving me space?” she demanded, panicking.

His look was one of measured patience. “You’ll have that once you have completed training and can demonstrate competence in the job.”

Pushed to her limit, she lost all sense of tact. “So, I’ll be stuck with you until then?”

Now, now, be nice, Hellenos called out.

Detective Law’s expression had turned mildly condescending. “You can hardly expect otherwise. Your Chinese needs work, and—as you put it yourself, so very accurately—you have no experience or training.”

She looked at him with fury. Why don’t you tell HIM to be nice? she thought toward Hellenos.

Not my department.

Her fists clenched to refrain from throwing something. “Now, hold on a second,” she protested. “Is tutoring really necessary? You just said you’d plant me as a foreign exchange student. It’s not like I have to pass for a native, and honestly, my Chinese isn’t that bad.” She paused. “Is it?”

The man eyed her coolly. “Your speech is somewhat passable,” he acquiesced. She wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. “But it will look suspicious if you are allowed to take those classes and yet are unable to demonstrate reading comprehension skills.”

Her cheeks colored. He had known she couldn’t read the job contract. “I can read some stuff,” she said hotly. Like fairy tales, to kids. She was great at those.

“Will you be able to read lecture slides in a university-level course and conduct an intelligent conversation about them with the suspect?” he returned.

“What’s her major?” She was just grasping at straws. The answer was clearly no.

“Criminal justice.”

Ironic. “And what’s my major supposed to be?”

“Criminology.”

“Hm,” she said, pretending to think about it. Who was she kidding? There was no way she could pretend to be knowledgeable about those subjects in Chinese or English.

It looked like there was no way to resist the detective’s order. She could try arguing her way out of his ridiculous plan to send her back to college, but to what end? It wasn’t as if she had any better ideas. Desperately, she tried to come up with one but couldn’t. She knew she had to get close to Zhengyi Yang to investigate her. Attending the same classes as her was the best way to do so without looking suspicious. To do that, Jubilee had to get better at Chinese...and at sleuthing on someone without getting caught.

But being stuck reporting to the detective from nine to five, for five days a week, was far more than she’d been prepared to endure, as was getting her Chinese coached by a white guy. Shame and dishonor, she could practically hear her mother intone. Jubilee lowered her head into her hands, aware of Detective Law’s eyes on her as he patiently waited for her to finish stewing over her own mediocrity.

Maybe this was what she got for dropping out of weekend Chinese school, against her mother’s wishes, as a teen. Jubilee had gotten sick of never feeling good enough—as a student, as a daughter, as a person of Chinese heritage—and finally, cracking under the pressure, rebelled completely and gave up trying. The culture had never been one she could identify with anyway, not after having its high standards shoved down her throat for years. She’d had no desire to understand the country from which her parents had emigrated—not until after their deaths. Volunteering at Honghua had been her first attempt to do so, to reconcile herself to their memory.

If Mama were still alive, how might she feel about her daughter attending the ‘Harvard of China’? Would she be proud?

Moreover, was this part of the path Jubilee was meant to take?

Letting out a long exhale, she decided that the answer was yes—and that maybe that was a good enough reason to go. But it didn’t mean she had to conform to someone else’s expectations of her anymore.

“Alright,” she said, sitting up. From the corner of her eye, Hellenos glowed a little brighter. “I see your point. I’ll go undercover to Peking University. But...you’re not tutoring me.” At the detective’s frown, she continued, “I’ve had my fill of Chinese school, so I’m good enough at the language. You can practice with me during our normal interactions to help me get better, but that’s all.”

“Miss Wong,” the detective began, “I believe I very thoroughly outlined all the reasons why—”

“Wouldn’t you rather not waste any more time and just focus on the case?” she interjected. At his pause, she forged ahead. “I’ll be able to bluff my way through conversations with Zhengyi, as long as you brief me on the subject matter beforehand. I speak Chinese well enough.” Reluctantly, she added, “And you can just correct me as needed when we’re working. Think of it as...integrating language lessons into the job training.”

He mulled it over.

“Well?” she prodded, then switched to Mandarin. “How about it?”

Slowly, he nodded. In Mandarin, he replied, “Very well, Wong Xiao-jie. We start working on the case together tomorrow.”