All Souls

We left the way we'd come in, with the simple addition of a small corruption spell in every room to remove any DNA or fingerprint evidence of Winston or Meinwen – or mine, come to that, but they'd be scratching their heads over demon DNA – since it's possible that the British police have discovered modern forensic techniques. CSI might still be science fiction but I've seen all those little index cards they have with people's fingerprints on them.

Once we'd fought our way back through the brambles and out past the back gate (collecting the terracotta pots of bones on the way) we headed to the corner of Offley street where Meinwen called the police to report a dead body at number 34. They were certainly in for a surprise though thankfully no longer a fatal one. There was nothing left in the house that a HASMAT suit couldn't cope with and Inspector White would have a field day with all the blood and bodies. It'd keep him out of our way (hopefully) for weeks.

"Is it still Christmas morning?" Meinwen asked. "It feels like we've been in that house forever."

"What are you on?" said Winston. "Sunday evenin' innit?" And I recon I'm owed a full weeks pay for an afternoons work.

I nodded. "I suppose so," I said. "Just nip us back to the manor in your van, would you? I don't dare carry a Faery portal though an Infernal one."

"Why?" said Meinwen. "What would happen?"

"Did you ever see the episode of Doctor Who where they stack one Tardis inside another?" I said.

"She nodded. "Years ago," she said, "Would it be like that then?"

"No," I said. "Not at all."