Saturday, January 12, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 135.02

“Said the actress to the bishop, I presume?” Harold glared at the retreating back of the demon and hurried to catch up. The zombie was already a flight of stairs ahead and he wanted to make sure it didn't vanish into the myriad halls of the complex. “I heard the other day that it's important to inject humour into times of stress.”

“That's our love-life in a nutshell then.” Gillian peered over the railing from the stairs diametrically opposite, their daughter still secure in the blanket tied around her hip. “You get all worked up and I laugh.”

“Making love to you isn't stressful, love, it's an honour.”

“Oh, please.” Jasfoup had reached Gillian and had paused to join in the conversation. “You're going to make me puke and I torment people for a living.”

“I thought you were a contracts negotiator, not a tormentor.” Harold puffed his way up another quarter-turn of the stairwell “That's what you always told me, anyway. I remember you giving me that Sherbet Dib-Dab when I was what? Seven? All you wanted in exchange was my autograph on your sheet of paper.”

“Seven and one day.” The demon smiled. “All children are deemed innocent for seven years.”

Gillian raised an eyebrow, a mocking gesture Harold had often seen in the bedroom. “Other than original sin. I presume?”

“Well, obviously.” Jasfoup leaned on the railing to wait for Harold to catch up, oblivious of the six-storey drop. “And to answer your question, Harold, I did a two-decade stint in the lake of blood before I was allowed to apply for the opening in contracts.”

“How can there be an opening in a department of immortal beings?”

“Statistics. There has to be one contracts negotiator per thousand mortals. As the population expands, so does the department.”

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