He looked at
his mother, who just shrugged.
“I've seen
no evidence of it.” She reached for Lucy's hand. “Is it true,
darling? Do you have a passenger in there?”
“Only
Ash.” Lucy lifted her empty glass and looked through it as if it
was a telescope. “Can I have another biscuit?”
“I think
you've had enough biscuits, Lucy.” Harold took the glass off her
and earned a pout. “You've had about six.”
“You have more than that. I've seen you eat a whole packet at once.”
“That's
different, Lucy. I'm an adult and I make sure I balance my
transparent fats and calorie intake. Sometimes I need a high number
of empty calories just to stop muscle loss when casting spells.”
“I've seen
you eat biscuits when you watch those funny films.”
He frowned.
“What funny films?”
“The ones
where the ladies all lose their clothes.”
“That's enough, Lucy. If you're still hungry I'll make you a sandwich.”
“Choccie spread and peanut booker?”
He smiled at
the childish mispronunciation. “If you like.” He put the glass
and biscuit plate on the tray with the tea things and rose from the
table.
“I have to
ask this, though.” Ada touched her granddaughter to get her
attention. “Who or what is Ash?”
“He's my
friend. He tells me things.”
“What sort
of things?”
“All
sorts. What's inside a choc'late before I bite it. What's inside an
engine that makes it go vroom. What's inside a people to make them
shout at you. He tells me stories, too.”
“Oh? What
sort of stories?”
“Stories
from long ago. When everyone was in Heaven and the big battle that
happened before they all fell down.”
“So Ash is
one of the Fallen? One of the Ancients?”
Legion
nodded. “Asphodel, the Angel of Death.”
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