“You tell me how they work, then, if you're so clever.”
“Oh, great. That's your answer to everything isn't it? Why do spirits exist? Magic. Where did the rabbit go? Magic. What happened to get Gandalf back from the mines of Kazad Dum? Magic.”
“I resent the implication that I mistake technology with magic. Except for the Gandalf thing. I never said that was magic, only a literary device that was never sufficiently explained.”
“But you think mobile phones are magic, which they patently aren't, there being a patent on them and everything.”
“I never said that either.” Jasfoup flipped the back off his phone again. “I said bloodberries are magic, which they are.”
“How did you get the back off? I thought you said they needed blood?”
“And so they do. I still had a bit of yours under my claw, see?” He waggled the offending digit.
“Oh.” Harold felt he should have expected that.
Jasfoup twisted until the sunlight fell onto the internal workings of the phone. “There's the sigil for connect call, see?”
Harold peered over his shoulder. “I don't think...”
Jasfoup stabbed his claw into what looked like the mobile phone's intestines There was a sudden flash of what, since they were already standing on a sunlit pavement, Harold could only refer to as un-light and another demon stood before them. It wasn't nearly as attractive as Jasfoup, even if you discounted the seven eyes on individual stalks and Harold was put in mind of an overweight Timothy Spall, only with extra eyes. Jasfoup raised an eyebrow ridge, a sure indication of suprise. “Sefskapoi?”
“Hello Jasfoup.” The other demon licked pasty lips. “Small world, innit?”