Monday, April 25, 2011

Dead Rite chapter 56.03

“Where shall we go?” Harold paused just outside the manor gates, “I’m tempted to close them just to annoy the police.”

“I wouldn’t.” Jasfoup spoke from the back of the van where he’d constructed a seat from several boxes of books destined for any charity shop other than Oxfam. “You’ll only return to find them opened forcibly with the motor destroyed. It might feel like a bit of a fun thing to do but their standard protocols would be to break them open for ease of access.”

“You have a point.” Harold eased the van into gear and headed into town. “Where shall we go? I’d stay at the shop if we didn’t have Lucy with us.”

“There’s only the White Art.” Jasfoup ran through the a mental list of the town’s facilities. “Unless you fancy Mrs. Prophet’s B and B?”

“Do I know that one?”

“Not unless you’ve had occasion to harvest the soul of someone who died in her front bedroom, no.”

“Then I’ll pass, I think. I don’t really want to stay somewhere where the guests die.”

“It wasn’t a guest. It was her husband. He had a heart attack.”

“Oh? That’s fair enough. You can’t help your husband dying.”

“Mrs. Prophet can. That was her third. You’re safe if you’re a guest, though. It’s only her husbands that don’t last very long.”

“Bit of a black widow, is she?”

“You could say that. She’s a retired succubus.”

“Oh?” Jasfoup could see Harold’s brows crease in the mirror, then rise as the penny dropped. “Oh!”

“At least they die with a smile on their face.”

Harold turned onto Markham Road and accelerated. “There’s the Trusthouse motel out on the Salisbury road. How about that one?”

“I’d advise against it. They owe their continuing success to anonymity and fast turnover. Not the sort of place for a child, really.”

“Then it’ll have to be the White Art. It is where I told the inspector we’d be, after all.”

“True, but a simple phone call could change that.” Jasfoup sucked air through his teeth. “There’s one more place you could stay.”

“Where’s that then? It is cheap?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Jasfoup smiled nervously. “Your mother’s.”

2 comments:

stephanie said...

*chuckles* Of course.

I'd be delighted to see Ada again. ;)

Leatherdykeuk said...

As would I :)