Friday, November 15, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 161.13

Her eyes opened again the moment the legionnaire left her body and she struggled to rise, flapping about among the blood-soaked tiles like an upturned turtle. When she manoeuvred to the point where she could see Harold again, her mouth flopped open. He was reminded of a whole salmon he once saw when shopping with his mother. The fishmongers on Market Square (long gone now, thanks to the rise of supermarket super-chains and frozen home deliveries) used to have them on ice in the window, their cold, pale eyes watching the shoppers and staring at the souls of small boys. None that he could recall had ever fixed him with such pathos. “Help me, pleashe.”

“There's only one way I can, love.” Harold nodded to Jasfoup out of habit, but it was Sefskapoi's turf and the Spall demon who came to release the old lady from the bondage of her mortal body. When the demon severed her spirit from her body, she looked almost pleased about it. At least until the moment she realised which direction she was headed. Only them did her silent scream echo in his imagination.”

He sighed. “Sometimes I forget that all old ladies go to Hell.”

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