Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Earlier still

At Vixen’s feet the imp considered the offer. “Fifty percent of what?” he asked. “Are we talking money of or something less intrinsic?”

“I was thinking money.” Vixen looked at him more closely. His eye ridges were stretched forward giving the appearance of a frown. “Why? What were you thinking of?”

“Certainly not money.” The imp cast a glance down the hallway to the two ghosts. “How about your soul?”

Vixen laughed aloud, the sound fading on her lips as she realised the imp was quite serious. “My soul? No, I don’t think so. That’s too high a price.”

The imp shrugged. “No harm in asking,” it said. “It’s forfeit anyway purely because of your profession.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s only if you believe in Hell. Come on, time we furthered your mission.”

“What about your cut?” Vixen asked, glancing back at the two ghosts as she followed. One of them, the male, broke off the pursuit, sinking through the floor to the landing below. “I can’t help believing in Hell, can I?” she said to the imp’s scaly back. “Not now that I’ve seen the evidence.”

“You could try.” The imp headed down the stair, his hooves cushioned by the deep carpeting. “You could convince yourself that I’m not an imp at all but a goblin or an unfortunate child.”

He stepped back as a figure leaped up the stairwell and hugged the nearest newel post for protection. “Of course,” he said as the new arrival drew a saber, “You’re going have to come up with a convincing cover story for a vampire.”

© Rachel Green 2007

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