Thursday, May 23, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 147.03


“How noble of you to ascribe an oxymoron to me.” Dill approximated a grin but it looked more like the snarl of Wallace looking for Gromit's cheese. “If I didn't know better I'd like you had a fetish for corpses.” He considered the statement, his head on one side like a terrier hearing an unusual noise. “Actually, considering your best friends are two ghosts, a vampire and a demon, I think you probably have.”

“Ugh. Don't. I can't bear corpses. Icky, smelly things they are.” Harold shuddered. “And considering my viewpoint on them, it just goes to show how much I preferred you as one.”

“Touche.” Dill returned to his inspection of Orias's output but paused, as if the thought had just struck him. “Do you have any mortal friends?”

“Of course. Julie...”

“She's dead.”

“Right. Sorry. Felicia, then.”

“Have I met her?”

“She runs the art gallery. Lovely girl. Werewolf.”

“Tch. Mortal friends. Ones without superpowers.”

“Superpowers? I suppose they would be, to a mortal.” Harold reviewed the people he came into contact with on a daily basis. “There's Meinwen. She runs the little pagan shop on Knifesmithsgate. She's ordinary. And the people at the bowls club. They're all normal. Depressingly so, some of them.”

“Bowls? You've never mentioned bowls to me.”

“I've only known you what? Four days? The subject hsn't come up.”

“And are these bowls friends all young, vibrant go-getters? Or are they mostly retired ladies and gentlemen?”

“Well... mostly retired, I suppose.”

“Almost dead, then. No wonder you're fond of them.”

“I am not,” Harold emphasised the word, “a necrophiliac.”

“Funny. I never mentioned sex. Odd you should bring it up.”

“I'm not bringing it up. I'm putting it down.”

“As the actress said to the bishop.”

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