Sunday, December 30, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 133.31

“Thanks, I think.” Harold frowned at the demon, wondering what was up with him. Spontaneous hugs weren't generally included in his repertoire of social interaction. Another cloud of smoke distracted him. “Again with the smoke, Devious. You know Lucy's here.”

“Sorry, Master.” The imp lugged a sack toward Dill, looking for a moment like a miniature Santa in the torch beam. “I haven't worked out how to get the smoke other than having a few good puffs afore I open the gate.”

“There must be a non-carcinogenic way to create smoke. What do other illusionists do?”

“That's the problem, sir. A magician never tells.”

“You can tell me. I wont give anything away and I'm certainly not going to go into the stage magician business. Real magic is hard enough without giving people the idea it's fake.”

“No, sir. You misunderstand. Magicians never reveal their secrets. They won't tell me how it's done.”

“Oh, I see.” Harold grimaced at the sound of Dill tucking into the body of whoever Dill had found in the autopsy sweet. He gave a pointed look at Lucy as the butcher's smell of raw meat rolled over them and she turned Lucy away from the spectacle, though the child peered from behind her mother's arm. He turned back to the imp. “Well, can't you go to a magic shop?”

“Only if I can find the map for where one will next appear.”

“I meant a stage magician's shop. I'm sure they'd sell you a smoke machine.”

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