Sunday, February 16, 2014

Dead Rite chapter 168.05

“No, they don't.”

“Where will she have gone, then? London?”

“Possibly.” Harold tried to imagine the Julie's ghost wandering the halls of the British Museum. As an afterlife it wasn't a bad idea, certainly better than being stuck inside a salt cellar, screaming like all the souls in Hell were coming for her. “Or perhaps Paris. Or New York.”

“I want to go to New York.” Lucy blew a fanfare on her kazoo. “I want to go to all the fashion houses so they can give me all the latest clothes then I want to meet Mac.”


“The best detective in the world.”

“Oh. He's a television character, love. He's an actor. He's not really a detective in real life.”

Lucy stared at him then burst into a fit of giggles. “Don't be silly, Daddy. I know he's a detective. I've seen him arrest people and kiss ladies.”

“I'm not sure you're old enough to be watching people kiss ladies.” Harold gave her a terse smile and plucked the instrument from her hands. Who'd invented the damned things, anyway? Someone with a hatred for all music lovers, certainly. They'd left a legacy of tone deaf children murdering tunes in American parades, which wouldn't have been so bad if the infernal things hadn't made it across the Atlantic. Infernal? Yes, that probably wasn't far off the mark

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