Sefskapoi walked through the back door without knocking or even calling out once he got inside. Harold felt uncomfortable immediately. This was somebody else's house and he hadn't been invited inside. Not that he was a vampire, though thanks to ingesting Gillian's blood he shared certain characteristics with them, but he could appreciate the internal disquiet they must feel at trespassing if what he was feeling now was anything to go by. He looked at the décor in the kitchen. Formica surfaces in a blue crazing, willow pattern china, enamelled pots decorated with a chain of blue daisies. A teapot under a blue tea cosy. “This is an old lady's house.”
“Bridget Stevens, yes.” Sefskapoi scowled at Jasfoup, who was opening cupboards. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” The demon pulled a large tupperware box from a cupboard and prised it open. Inside was a sponge cake, amateurishly decorated with 'Happy birthday, Billy' and three candles. He tore it in half, then half again, taking a large bite of the quarter he kept in his hand.
“That's not your cake.”
“No, but you said she's a zombie. She won't need it any more.”
Harold gestured at the iced lettering. “What about Billy, though?”
Jasfoup stuffed the rest of his handful in his mouth, dislocating his jaw to accommodate it. “What he doesn't know won't hurt him.” He reached for a second quarter. “Want some?”