“What faction do you play?”
Harold gave his impression of a 'Dick Dastardly' grin. “Demons, naturally. You?”
“The Heavenly host. Nothing like reigning fire down on your enemies to give you the satisfaction of a job well done.”
“Maybe. You'd feel differently about it if you'd ever actually met an angel. There's more humanity in a plank of wood than there is in an angel. Even demons have more humanity than angels and that's saying something.”
“Language Harold.” Ada clipped his ear. “At least demons have the respect to tell you they're going to burn your house down. You don't see angels doing that. With them it's all 'Blasphemer! Smite them with fire, O Lord!'” She looked at the homunculus. “Come on then. Stop comparing toys with your little friend and get on with it.”
“Right. Sorry.” Harold glanced at the book again to get the spell fixed in his mind. “Where's the animus laqueus? Oh, I see it.” He picked up the cocktail stick his mother had used to inscribe the symbols. “Dill? Would you kindly put a daigonal line through it to release the spirit?”
He waited while Dill struggled to focus his best eye to complete the task, then spoke the dissolution spell. “Phasmatis phasmatis discedo illic haud postulo vobis moror.”
The blue glow faded from the homunculus.