“Good to know.” Harold looked at the lift, trying to ignore the remains. “Shall we? Destiny awaits.”
“Destiny?” Dill stepped inside and began to kick all the body parts into a corner, for which Harold was grateful. “Is that shit real too?”
“Certainly not.” Jasfoup stepped in before Harold and chose the lest bloody corner of the lift. “Can you imagine the paperwork if we had people's destiny to keep track of?”
“You could use spreadsheets.”
“You've got to be kidding. The accountants of Heaven are still mistrustful about the abacus. Trying to introduce a computer would be tantamount to insurrection.” He frowned. “Again.”
“They don't like computers?”
“No, and even if they did, they'd shy away from the leading overpriced brand because of all that business with the fruit of Eden.”
Harold could see Dill working out what he meant but interrupted before he could utter the name. “They'd use some obscure brand incompatible with everyone else then moan when demons didn't update the files.”
“So no destiny?”
“No, but you can substitute a lot of things for destiny.” Harold yawned. “A warm bed, for example.”
“I see.” Dill shrugged. “That's something else I don't appear to require any more.”
“Just as well.” Jasfoup nudged Harold with his elbow. “You ruin the sheets. Worse than a teenage girl whose mom hasn't told her about periods.”
“Thank you for that image, Jasfoup.” Gillian stepped into the elevator carriage, Lucy fast asleep in her sling. “Some girls didn't have parents to tell them such things.”
“Right.” The demon looked uncomfortable. Gillian was the only living being who could dampen his good humour, and she wasn't even alive. “Well, what would perpetual teenage boy vampires do without them, eh?” He attempted a smile, but Gillian looked merely contemptuous.
The lift doors closed.