There is a limit as to the number of Potted Pandas even the strongest constitutions can withstand, and the Ghost Hunter had reached his limits. He was sprawled across the back table, snoring and twitching in his sleep.

Sam was not about to disturb him. He'd already charged the Errant Fairy full price for the largest upstairs accommodation, so why not let her have the room all to herself. Besides, after the fight a few hundred feet outside, Sam and Cho Yuan, his night cook, had spent a few too many hours on demon cleanup. There wasn't much to bury, as demons tended to melt quickly, but what was there smelled fouled enough to put anyone off of food for a week.

Right now, Sam wanted to help Cho finish up the last of the kitchen duties, and then retire to his own room, where he planned to sleep until noon. He went through the thick curtain to the short kitchen hallway, then into to the galley style kitchen. Cho Yuan must have finished in a whirlwind, since everything was washed, the pump shiny, and bowls neatly stacked.

"First good thing that's happened all day," Sam said to himself, stepping out the back door into the clear night air.

Often, on a night as still as this, he relaxed with a bit of Khoomei singing, letting the throat music bring him into harmony with nature. Tonight, though, the air was restless, and Sam thought he saw shapes within the shadows, moving just out of the moon's reach.

He shook his head to clear it, and caught a shimmer of light, almost as if the front door had slid open. Clearly, he remembered bolting the door himself, so he was now alarmed, and, picking up a cleaver as he went, tiptoed back through the kitchen to the main room.

All was as still as he'd left it, except for the one window that was slightly ajar. Instinctively, Sam glanced at the bolt, and found it had been pulled back from the inside. The Ghost Hunter was undisturbed, still sleeping on the table. Sleeping, but not snoring, much, much too quiet. Sam slid closer to the table, every muscle tensed and ready for action.

It was as he feared. The Hunter would never need to sleep again, since he would never wake. A perfectly positioned blade, inserted to kill without pooling blood, had taken the man's life. The pockets of his cloak had been hurriedly turned inside-out. Whatever the thief sought had not been found.

Fear caught in Sam's throat as he raced upstairs to where the Errant Fairy lay. Within the room, the breeze blew back the bed curtains, revealing an empty bed. Outside, Sam heard the pounding of hooves, heavy, as though the horse carried double.

A plot? A kidnapping? Sam returned to the corpse, hoping the blade might yield a clue. Carefully, he carried the still warm body to the hearth, where the fire still lent enough light to see clearly. There, in the red-orange glow of the flame, he gasped as he saw the design on the hilt of the blade, a long yellow claw embossed over the body of a red demon.

Another searcher wanted to possess the Lotus Lantern, one to whom life meant nothing. Sam knew this old enemy, and Monkey would as well, if only Sam had a way to warn him!