Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 157.02

Harold fished his own phone from his pocket. “I've got four bars.”

“You hum it and I'll play it.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Jasfoup flashed him a raised eyebrow. “I don't mean cell tower reception. I'm talking celestial. I can't get a signal from the Bone Tower.”

“The library?”

“That was the tower of records. It's just coincidence it's also made of bone.”

“So are the cities, Pandemonium and Dis.” Harold frowned. “Actually, you have a distinct architectural theme in Hell. Everything is made out of bone.”

“That's an exaggeration, to put it mildly. My house id made of stone, as are most of the private residences. Lucifer's palace is made entirely of Middle Eastern marble.”

“Carved into the shape of bone, with bone ornamentation.”

“True. Anyway, the Bone Tower is where the communications signals are generated. We used to have runners but this was far more efficient.”

“Cost effective?”

“The opposite, really, since the number of souls bound to the structure was the highest expenditure since the British Government ended the war.”

“The second world war?”

“No, the Falklands.” Jasfoup shook his handset again.

“What could be causing the outage?”

“An angel nearby, maybe.”

“What?” Harold looked around, raising his cane like a Victorian gentleman threatened by a ruffian. “Where?”

“How would I know? I haven't started burning yet.”

“How close would they have to be to interrupt the signal?”

“A mile at most.”

“That close? What does it want?”

“I'm not privy to the desires of angels, Harold. I just know better than to get involved.”

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