No Trace of Narcissus

Lucy made a den in the old mushroom house. Harold, once the nine year old had convinced him she needed somewhere that was hers and hers alone – and not part of the manor where he could enter at any time – was content to let her use it once he'd made sure it was safe. Devious cut and glazed some windows into the semicircular roof while she was at school and fitted a proper lock on the door. Harold presented her with the key on the Saturday morning, and gave her a figure he'd spend on decoration and furnishings.

Lucy was happy there. All she really wanted was a deckchair and her music player. The echo in there was superb.

Road Trip

Harold checked his bag one last time. "Towel, salted peanuts, two bottles of water, a flask of tea and a canister of salt," he said. "Should I take anything else?"

"Spell book?"

Harold patted his left breast.* "In my pocket."

"Splendid." Jasfoup looked over to packing. "Swap the salt into a waxed-paper package," he said. "We're going on a road-trip to 6 BC. A plastic container might raise eyebrows in an archaeology dig."

"Good point," said Harold. "What about sandwiches?"

"What about them?"

"I asked Delirious to pick up some from the garage. The plastic triangles are so useful to pick up vampire dust."




*i.e. his chest, in the top left quadrant. He hadn't started taking hormones or anything.

Eating Out

Harold studied the map. "Very interesting," he said to the market vendor in a louder-than-usual voice, "but we want to get to Rath Shamra. Can you show us where it is on the map?"

"Excuse me sir?" Devious tugged at his trousers with the hand that wasn't in a sling. "I think you'll find that's not a map of the area he's given you but a menu for the food he's selling off the cart."

"Really?" Harold looked at it again. "What language is it in?"

"Sanskrit, sir."

"Oh. Any recommendations on what to eat then?"

Stinky pointed with his walking stick. "The meatballs," he said.

"Why? Are they particularly good?"

"The flies certainly think so."

Not for You, such Despair.

"I bought something today." Jasfoup handed Harold a tiny, faux-leather box and stood back, his hands up with just the pads of his fingers touching, tapping.

Harold opened it, suspicious of the demon's motives. It would more than likely explode in his face. "Beauty is skin-deep," Jasfoup had once said. "I peeled off enough faces to know that."

It wasn't a bomb but a diamond ring; elegant and very expensive. "Oh, Jasfoup," said Harold. "You shouldn't have." He went to try it on.

"It's not for you, halfwit," said Jasfoup. "It's for Julie. Do you think she'll like it?"

"You're going to propose to her?"

Jasfoup frowned. "Of course not. I want her to enchant it."

Seventies Style

When they were halfway home Harold declared a rest stop. King's Cross to Laverstone was only 43 miles (although the traffic queues around the great old station were horrendous they were made more easily navigable when one had a demon riding shotgun and causing other drivers to stall, traffic lights to change and police camera to enjoy a prolonged close-up of pigeon excrement.

"We're only twenty minutes from home," said Jasfoup, staring out of the van window at the squat, seventies-style church of Batford All Saint's. "Why are we stopping here?"

"Because the chippy here hasn't changed in forty years," said Harold. "It's a piece of history."

"Oh. So?"

"So they still sell deep fried fish fingers."

Special Reminder

Emily Pierce always gave her husband a special reminder of their wedding day. It got to the point – after the first two or three – where Edward dreaded their anniversary. It had been the name she'd taken that had given her the idea and a brief internet search had put it into her head that it would spice up their sex life.

Edward always bought her the same thing – a bunch of roses, a box of her favourite Belgian Truffles and a soppy card. Her gift – on the nearest Saturday to the date – was always another piercing on the underside of his penis, each an inch from the last.

He wouldn't have minded so much, but even he could see the marriage wouldn't last past seven years.

Love Enough

Bennington's granddad gave him one piece of advice before he died. 'Love enough,' he said, before the darkness took him. Ben often wondered what he meant and wished that perhaps he'd waited another minute or two before pushing him off a cliff in the middle of the night. (His mother blamed Ben for the death anyway. 'Who takes their granddad camping at the top of a cliff when he's incontinent?') but the Police ruled it 'accidental'.

When he met Janice, the future recipient of his used condoms she asked, while they were cuddling on his mum's sofa watching the 24 hour M*A*S*H marathon on Sky 37. "Do you love me?" he remembered his granddad and replied 'Love Enough'.

She was thankful she found out sooner rather than later.