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.” He sounded hurt.“There’s an old saying in Hell, ‘The Devil has the best tunes and the worst publicists.’ Which is sad because Satan’s a really good bloke.”“A good bloke?”“One of the best.He doesn’t impose his will on anyone, or pass down any laws.Unlike the gods, who can’t pass a rock without feeling the need to chisel out another commandment.Do you know they once had eighteen thousand? It took us ages to get them to whittle it down to ten.Thou shalt not wear white after Labor Day – that was one of theirs.Control freaks, every one of them.“Whereas Satan’s more practical and less hands on.He helped you out of Africa, gave you fire, and apples, and pyramid erector sets for your leaders on their birthdays.”Brenda snickered.“So he doesn’t torment souls and seduce people to the dark side and make them evil?”“Brenda, we demons live in Hell.Why would we fill it with evil human souls, wailing and gnashing their teeth all day? The property values would crash overnight.”Brenda had to smile.It was complete bullshit, but.it had been years since anyone had talked to her like this.Not since college.Not since those carefree days when she’d sit up to all hours talking nonsense and putting the world to rights.“And anyway,” continued Brian.“Far more killers claim to hear the voice of God or angels than the devil.Satan doesn’t care what you humans do.Go and enjoy yourselves.And if you have financial problems and have the odd soul you want to mortgage, in he’ll step and help you out.He’ll even handle the souls no one else’ll touch – the sub-prime souls.What a mensch!”“You are so full of bullshit.”He smiled.“Prime bullshit, I hope.”This time he did waggle his eyebrows.“Is that it? Can I go now?”“No! How do I contact you?”He looked surprised.“Didn’t I say? I’m in the Yellow Pages.”“I’m serious.If I find a murder victim how do I contact you?”“I really am in the Yellow Pages.Have a look if you don’t believe me.I’m under ‘D’ for Demons: friendly.”He pointed at the phone directory on the small table by the door and crooked a finger at it.The phone directory jumped from the table, began to fly towards Brenda then fell to the ground a yard short.“Sorry.I’m weaker than I thought.Magic takes it out of me.”Brenda retrieved the directory from the floor and started to flick through the pages, unsure if she were going to find a phone number or the set up for another joke.She found both.A phone number – HELL 666 – and a half page picture of a smiling Brian, looking like a used car salesman with horns.“You’ve just done this, haven’t you?”Brian raised both hands, palms out.“Haven’t got the energy.It really has been there all week.I conjured it last Saturday.I have my own call center.”“With Sanjay no doubt.”“He likes to keep busy.”o0oThe next day, Brenda was feeling guilty.She’d been a fully-fledged crime fighter for twenty-four hours and not one ghost had been to see her.Where were they all? She hadn’t seen a ghost in eight days.She’d never gone that long before without a visitation.Most days she’d have several.Had Brian scared them all off?Or had Brenda lost her ability to see the dead? That would be typical of Brenda’s life.Give her a talent she doesn’t want, then take it away the moment she finds a use for it.Brenda paddled in the shallow end of the depression pool for a while, splashing around with ‘why me?’ and ‘God, my life sucks.’ She couldn’t even get into her book – Strong Poison, the first of Dorothy L Sayers’ Harriet Vane books.She had all four Harriet Vane novels set aside for the first week of her summer veg-out re-readathon.She’d been looking forward to it for months.But now she couldn’t get past the first chapter.She’d read the current page three times and nothing had stuck.Her mind was elsewhere, starting at every noise and imaginary shimmer glimpsed from the corner of her eye.Even The Rich, The Spoiled, and the Surgically Enhanced failed to lift her spirits.Celeste had forsworn sex and fled to an exclusive recovery clinic in Tibet where she was being looked after by a hunky lama called Darley.With Celeste’s track record, Darley would either turn out to be her long lost brother – kidnapped by a gang of rogue lamas as a child and raised by Yeti – or the reincarnation of her grandfather – the one who’d died in the Turkish bordello knife fight.Normally an episode like that would have had Brenda speculating for days.But today she was too preoccupied.Maybe if she could summon a ghost [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.” He sounded hurt.“There’s an old saying in Hell, ‘The Devil has the best tunes and the worst publicists.’ Which is sad because Satan’s a really good bloke.”“A good bloke?”“One of the best.He doesn’t impose his will on anyone, or pass down any laws.Unlike the gods, who can’t pass a rock without feeling the need to chisel out another commandment.Do you know they once had eighteen thousand? It took us ages to get them to whittle it down to ten.Thou shalt not wear white after Labor Day – that was one of theirs.Control freaks, every one of them.“Whereas Satan’s more practical and less hands on.He helped you out of Africa, gave you fire, and apples, and pyramid erector sets for your leaders on their birthdays.”Brenda snickered.“So he doesn’t torment souls and seduce people to the dark side and make them evil?”“Brenda, we demons live in Hell.Why would we fill it with evil human souls, wailing and gnashing their teeth all day? The property values would crash overnight.”Brenda had to smile.It was complete bullshit, but.it had been years since anyone had talked to her like this.Not since college.Not since those carefree days when she’d sit up to all hours talking nonsense and putting the world to rights.“And anyway,” continued Brian.“Far more killers claim to hear the voice of God or angels than the devil.Satan doesn’t care what you humans do.Go and enjoy yourselves.And if you have financial problems and have the odd soul you want to mortgage, in he’ll step and help you out.He’ll even handle the souls no one else’ll touch – the sub-prime souls.What a mensch!”“You are so full of bullshit.”He smiled.“Prime bullshit, I hope.”This time he did waggle his eyebrows.“Is that it? Can I go now?”“No! How do I contact you?”He looked surprised.“Didn’t I say? I’m in the Yellow Pages.”“I’m serious.If I find a murder victim how do I contact you?”“I really am in the Yellow Pages.Have a look if you don’t believe me.I’m under ‘D’ for Demons: friendly.”He pointed at the phone directory on the small table by the door and crooked a finger at it.The phone directory jumped from the table, began to fly towards Brenda then fell to the ground a yard short.“Sorry.I’m weaker than I thought.Magic takes it out of me.”Brenda retrieved the directory from the floor and started to flick through the pages, unsure if she were going to find a phone number or the set up for another joke.She found both.A phone number – HELL 666 – and a half page picture of a smiling Brian, looking like a used car salesman with horns.“You’ve just done this, haven’t you?”Brian raised both hands, palms out.“Haven’t got the energy.It really has been there all week.I conjured it last Saturday.I have my own call center.”“With Sanjay no doubt.”“He likes to keep busy.”o0oThe next day, Brenda was feeling guilty.She’d been a fully-fledged crime fighter for twenty-four hours and not one ghost had been to see her.Where were they all? She hadn’t seen a ghost in eight days.She’d never gone that long before without a visitation.Most days she’d have several.Had Brian scared them all off?Or had Brenda lost her ability to see the dead? That would be typical of Brenda’s life.Give her a talent she doesn’t want, then take it away the moment she finds a use for it.Brenda paddled in the shallow end of the depression pool for a while, splashing around with ‘why me?’ and ‘God, my life sucks.’ She couldn’t even get into her book – Strong Poison, the first of Dorothy L Sayers’ Harriet Vane books.She had all four Harriet Vane novels set aside for the first week of her summer veg-out re-readathon.She’d been looking forward to it for months.But now she couldn’t get past the first chapter.She’d read the current page three times and nothing had stuck.Her mind was elsewhere, starting at every noise and imaginary shimmer glimpsed from the corner of her eye.Even The Rich, The Spoiled, and the Surgically Enhanced failed to lift her spirits.Celeste had forsworn sex and fled to an exclusive recovery clinic in Tibet where she was being looked after by a hunky lama called Darley.With Celeste’s track record, Darley would either turn out to be her long lost brother – kidnapped by a gang of rogue lamas as a child and raised by Yeti – or the reincarnation of her grandfather – the one who’d died in the Turkish bordello knife fight.Normally an episode like that would have had Brenda speculating for days.But today she was too preoccupied.Maybe if she could summon a ghost [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]