Thursday, December 19, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 162.22


“Harold?” Jasfoup raised his eyebrows. “Would you care to do the honours?”

“Is he an angel too?” Mrs Fenshaw looked curiously at him. “Why is he still in mortal form? Hasn't he got his wings yet?”

“What?” Jasfoup turned back to her. “Wings?”

“He looks like the angel from It's a Wonderful Life. I used to love watching that at Christmas. It was my favourite. 'Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings'.”

“Yes, I've seen it.” Jasfoup's face distorted. He was obviously trying to keep the disgust from showing. “You think Harold looks like Clarence?”

She looked him up and down, then returned her attention to Jasfoup. “Not really. He's not old enough and the angel in the film was one of those new-fangled ladyboys.”

Harold scowled. “I told you this shirt was too feminine.”

“An honest mistake.”

“I can't extract her soul. I can only do demons, you know that.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Jasfoup put his arm around her shoulder, heedless of the blood and bile that speckled his white sleeve. “Time to let go, Mrs Fenshaw. Leave behind the mortal flesh. It's taken you far enough and you have eternity to look forward to.”

“Do I? Do I really? How wonderful.” Her body collapsed to the shower floor like a pair of trousers she was stepping out of. Beneath it she was beautiful, at least for the few seconds her memory held her form together.

Jasfoup gathered up her spirit. “Two down,” he said, brightly. “Shall we get on, or do you want to raid her kitchen first?”

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