Monday, April 1, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 141.07

“Wait.” Harold stopped half-way to the sink. “I thought Menna was the Angel of Death? Lovely girl. Overly fond of black leather?”

“Mennananthielis the Horseman, one of the Four. His job” Legion clicked her tongue. “Her job is to take the souls of those destined for Heaven.”

Like a modern Valkierie?”

Hardly modern when you're talking about a fifth-century afterlife myth, but yes. I suppose a thousand years is modern compared to a six millennia of history.”

Harold continued to the sink. “Actually, I believe the world is a lot older than six thousand years.” He emptied the tray and poured the cold tea into the sink, heedless of the tea leaves which would probably block the drain. Julie had made him use a slops bucket emptied daily onto the compost heap, but with her death, he could return to his old habits.

What you believe is not relevant, child.”

Harold bridled at the 'child' and more so when he saw his mother's smirk of agreement. “I'm hardly a child, Madam. I've just performed a task which you couldn't for all your advanced years of decreptitude.”

Decreptitude?” Rather than become loud, Legion's voice dropped an octave. “Choose your next words carefully. I'll have you know I'm more powerful than I was when I first came to the mortal lands.”

See? 'Mortal Lands'? Who uses the phrase 'mortal lands'? You're showing your age, darling, and you can't threaten me. I'll tell my dad on you.”

Lucy's small voice was enough to cut the atmosphere like a hot knife through dry ice. “There's a man at the window.”

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