“Was that a car outside?” Harold went into the the hall and looked out of the window next to the front door. It opened directly onto the street and he could see Tom Blesset pulling a tarpaulin off the back seat of his taxi. “Put the kettle on, mum.”
Jasfoup looked a bit odd. With his ability to see the supernatural, Harold could see two distinct images. On the one hand, he could see what everyone saw; a tall businessman being followed by a young man in an ill-fitting suit. Overlaying that was a second image of the demon's folded wings and the shiny, semi-rotted face of the zombie.
He opened the door but stood in the gap, one hand holding the handle as if the caller were a travelling Bible salesman and he wanted to be ready to slam the door shut. “Would you mind going around the back?”
Jasfoup frowned. “Why?”
“No offence, but I don't want to frighten Lucy. She's already had a couple of shocks today.”
“Why would I frighten Lucy? She saw me this morning.”
“Not you.” Harold lowered his voice and made jerking motions with his head. “Him.”
“No offence?” Dill sniffed. “I'll just use the back entrance shall I? I just had to spend thirty quid on a cab, I'm desperate for a ciggie and you ask me to go around the back? Why would I take offence at that?”
“Brilliant. Good man...er....lad?” Harold looked up at the demon, who shrugged.
“I'll show him the way, shall I?”
“Thanks, yes. Actually, our little problem is around the back, anyway.”
“You left her out in the sun?”
“Yes. It was in case I had to call the Inspector.” Harold fidgeted, his voice barely above a hiss. “You know. He doesn't like things moved.”