Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 151.03

Lucy looked up, her tears forgotten faster than they dried. “What's an altar boy?”

“A thug in training.” Harold crossed to the sink and picked up the dishcloth. He paused to rum the tap, then wet the cloth with hot water and squeezed out the excess. “Promise me you'll never go out with an altar boy.”

“Go out where?”

“On a date.” Harold picked up a tea towel and returned to the table to begin mopping up the spilt milk and cereal. Perhaps explaining the concept of courtship to a two-year old was a little excessive, even if she acted more like she was five or six. “Promise me you'll never kiss an altar boy.”

Her face was a picture of abject disgust. “Eww. Kiss a boy? That's horrible, Daddy.”

“Good. Just keep that in mind when you're older. Boys are full of germs.”

Frederick chortled and Harold turned to him, trying to hide the smile from his daughter. “What? Something wrong with that?”

Frederick held up one hand. “No, not at all. It just seems an odd think to say to a girl whose father is half demon and whose friend is a werewolf.”

“Where's Felicia?” Lucy piped up, rescuing a milk-drowned cocoa puff from the surface of the table. It was surprising how quickly children could change the subject. At least she's forgotten her tummy ache.

“She's er... She's moved out for a bit. She was very upset about Julie.”

“Why?”

“Because Julie died.”

Lucy snickered.

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