Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 112.02

“Not that far.” Jasfoup gave a rasping laugh. “I always know where I am in relation to Hell. This is someone's little joke.”

“A clever one, if it's written in the Tongue of the Elohim.” A thought crossed his mind. “Why is it more like Sanskrit than Hebrew? I thought all the Old Testament stuff happened in Hebrew.

“That was later.” The demon waved the question away. “Bottom line is this is nothing to worry about. Let's get on. I could do with a cup of tea.”

“Yes, let's get on.” Gillian's eyes flashed in the torchlight. “It's almost dawn already, and while I won't sink into torpor this far from the sun being on the wrong side of dawn will slow my reactions by thirty percent. Still faster than most things living but slow enough by my standards.”

“She has a point.” Dill's eyes were reflective white points. “I'm worried about Sam. Also, I want to get on with sorting out a new body, you know? I don't like being dependant of human flesh.”

Gillian shrugged. “I could probably end you know if you wanted.”

“Thanks.” Dill forced a smile. “But I'd rather store my consciousness in something more permanent first.”

Harold nodded at the lettering. “I'd still like to know who wrote that.”

“One of the demons, probably.” Dill followed Gillian as she led the way forward, Lucy still fast asleep in the papoose. “Or one of the ghosts.”

“Demons and ghosts.” Harold sighed. “My favourite.”

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