squared his shoulders.
“I think I’d like to see this Blood Oath you signed,” he said.
There was a sudden bang overhead and a piece of parchment shot up from the ground, wreathed in the same green flames that had escorted Sophie.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” muttered Sophie.
Keeping his eyes on Sophie, Max bent to pick up the parchment. It was written in an attractive copperplate hand. It stated that:
“Sophie Dinah Judas, Level Two Chava Demon is herewith commanded to aid, abet, assist and obey the human Maximilian Cyrus Darke, Detective, for as long as he so wishes.
She is further commanded to obey the laws of the Earth and to forego the decapitation and blood-letting of any human, or assist in any way the demise of said humans, unless specifically instructed by Detective Darke – on pain of perpetual termination.
Signed,
The Powers That Be.”
The paper smouldered in Max’s hands and gently disintegrated into a fine dust.
“Satisfied?” said Sophie. “I really think you might have taken my word for it, after all the years we’ve known each other.”
Max felt too bewildered to remind her again that the last time they’d met, she’d turned on him with the intention of ripping him limb-from-limb and chewing on the leftovers.
She watched his face curiously.
“You must have some big time mojo working for you, Max, darling, to bring me back, either that or...”
She left the words unsaid but Max suddenly understood: something Really Bad was coming. First the Brood had ridden into town; then Ralph had been silenced – and his amulet, or whatever it was, had been taken – and Max doubted it was for a souvenir. It all pointed to trouble: something that could unbalance the powers of good and evil permanently – and soon.
“Can we go and kill some Brood now?” she said.
Max shrugged. “Come on then, Sophie, I’ll buy you a coffee. It’s nearly dawn.”
She visibly brightened at the suggestion. “I like mine black,” she said.
“What a surprise,” muttered Max.
* * * *
They were the first customers at the coffee shop on Petty France when it opened. Whilst they waited for the coffee machine to warm up, Max had to endure his favourite waitress throwing dirty looks at the back of Sophie’s head.
Sophie, on the other hand, was enjoying herself soaking up the negative energy that was directed her way.
“If you’re going to be working with me I’ll have to give you a cover story,” said Max, ducking his head so he couldn’t see the waitress glaring at him.
“And a key to Scotland Yard,” said Sophie eagerly.
“I’ll think about that,” said Max, lying through his teeth. “In the meantime I’ll tell anyone who asks, that you’ve been assigned to me on a temporary contract.”
“So I’ll be a real police officer?” said Sophie. “Will I get paid?”
“Don’t push your luck, Sophie,” said Max. “You’ve been let off with a warning. I don’t want to have to see you sent down again.”
Sophie pouted. “You’re not being very nice.”
“I’m not paid to be nice,” said Max, shortly. “I’m paid to keep the likes of you from killing the likes of me.”
“That hurts, Max,” she said, wiping a single, glistening tear from one of her perfectly made up emerald eyes. “You’re going to have to trust me if we’re going to work together.”
“I trust that Blood Oath,” said Max shortly. “I don’t trust you. If you could find a get-out clause in that contract, you’d have done it by now.”
“I never read the small print,” said Sophie, airily. “I leave that to lesser mortals.”
Then she fixed her eyes on him and stared intently. It made Max feel a bit dizzy. He managed to look away just in time.
“One thing we need to get straight,” she said fiercely. “I’m not wearing one of those police uniforms – they’re just so drab, and polyester doesn’t suit me.”
Max shook his head, a smile working its way up. He wondered what his fellow
“I think I’d like to see this Blood Oath you signed,” he said.
There was a sudden bang overhead and a piece of parchment shot up from the ground, wreathed in the same green flames that had escorted Sophie.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” muttered Sophie.
Keeping his eyes on Sophie, Max bent to pick up the parchment. It was written in an attractive copperplate hand. It stated that:
“Sophie Dinah Judas, Level Two Chava Demon is herewith commanded to aid, abet, assist and obey the human Maximilian Cyrus Darke, Detective, for as long as he so wishes.
She is further commanded to obey the laws of the Earth and to forego the decapitation and blood-letting of any human, or assist in any way the demise of said humans, unless specifically instructed by Detective Darke – on pain of perpetual termination.
Signed,
The Powers That Be.”
The paper smouldered in Max’s hands and gently disintegrated into a fine dust.
“Satisfied?” said Sophie. “I really think you might have taken my word for it, after all the years we’ve known each other.”
Max felt too bewildered to remind her again that the last time they’d met, she’d turned on him with the intention of ripping him limb-from-limb and chewing on the leftovers.
She watched his face curiously.
“You must have some big time mojo working for you, Max, darling, to bring me back, either that or...”
She left the words unsaid but Max suddenly understood: something Really Bad was coming. First the Brood had ridden into town; then Ralph had been silenced – and his amulet, or whatever it was, had been taken – and Max doubted it was for a souvenir. It all pointed to trouble: something that could unbalance the powers of good and evil permanently – and soon.
“Can we go and kill some Brood now?” she said.
Max shrugged. “Come on then, Sophie, I’ll buy you a coffee. It’s nearly dawn.”
She visibly brightened at the suggestion. “I like mine black,” she said.
“What a surprise,” muttered Max.
* * * *
They were the first customers at the coffee shop on Petty France when it opened. Whilst they waited for the coffee machine to warm up, Max had to endure his favourite waitress throwing dirty looks at the back of Sophie’s head.
Sophie, on the other hand, was enjoying herself soaking up the negative energy that was directed her way.
“If you’re going to be working with me I’ll have to give you a cover story,” said Max, ducking his head so he couldn’t see the waitress glaring at him.
“And a key to Scotland Yard,” said Sophie eagerly.
“I’ll think about that,” said Max, lying through his teeth. “In the meantime I’ll tell anyone who asks, that you’ve been assigned to me on a temporary contract.”
“So I’ll be a real police officer?” said Sophie. “Will I get paid?”
“Don’t push your luck, Sophie,” said Max. “You’ve been let off with a warning. I don’t want to have to see you sent down again.”
Sophie pouted. “You’re not being very nice.”
“I’m not paid to be nice,” said Max, shortly. “I’m paid to keep the likes of you from killing the likes of me.”
“That hurts, Max,” she said, wiping a single, glistening tear from one of her perfectly made up emerald eyes. “You’re going to have to trust me if we’re going to work together.”
“I trust that Blood Oath,” said Max shortly. “I don’t trust you. If you could find a get-out clause in that contract, you’d have done it by now.”
“I never read the small print,” said Sophie, airily. “I leave that to lesser mortals.”
Then she fixed her eyes on him and stared intently. It made Max feel a bit dizzy. He managed to look away just in time.
“One thing we need to get straight,” she said fiercely. “I’m not wearing one of those police uniforms – they’re just so drab, and polyester doesn’t suit me.”
Max shook his head, a smile working its way up. He wondered what his fellow
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