Coliniel flicked through his book, a frown creasing his normally beatific features. “That’s odd,” he said, a lopsided grin of anxiety curling his lips. “You don’t appear to be in here.”
“P’raps I’m not dead then.”
The angel looked down at the mangled corpse. “I think we’re safe in assuming you’re dead,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you’re not in the book.”
“Nor mine.” Jasfoup scrolled through his pocket PC. “He’s not due downstairs.”
“I can answer this.” Harold Waterman, the businessman mage, held up a handwritten sheet of paper. “He sold his soul on e-bay for £1.76, collection only. I was the highest bidder.”
“Impressive.” Jasfoup nodded, kicking himself for not setting up automated notifications on search criteria.
“Stupid.” Colinial glared at the spirit.
“Come on,” Harold said. “I’ve already got you a six month contract with Disney. They pay me £200 a day to hire you.”
© Rachel Green 2007