He pulled the screwdriver out and was about to stir when he noticed the end. It wasn't a Phillips or Posidriv or the familiar flat head so beloved for chewing up the heads of screws to make them impossible to remove. It had a very odd, but at the same time familiar, head, one with two prongs and two sharp slopes. A driver for the sort of screws on control panels for nuclear reactors (or so he assumed) and lifts.He'd seen this before and recently, too, if it had been in his jacket pocket. Where, though, and when?
He stirred his tea as he pondered and the oily black liquid seemed reluctant to be stirred. It was reminiscent of cornflour in water, where the more it was stirred the more dense it became until the point where the spoon stood up in the mixture. He'd seen this sluggish black liquid before, too, except had it been liquid? He had a picture of it in his mind, flowing like black mercury over a child's hands...Lucy's hands...an extracted soul. No, they were grey. What was black? A legionairre. A demon.
That was where he'd used the screwdriver. Removing the panels from golems to extract the soul cages. That's why it had been in his pocket. There was a demon in his tea. Why? He'd already shown that a demon couldn't survive inside him. Why put one in his tea?
He reviewed his most recent memories.
“Leonard? Give your granddad a kiss.”
“This is Lentil. You're to be his mentor.”
“Better drink your tea before it gets cold.”
He threw the mug across the room where it didn't shatter against the wall. A demon would survive inside him if he invited it in.
Harold took a deep breath and bellowed. “This is all a trick.”