THE TESTIMONIAL OF P.T. LYFANTOD

NINETEEN

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TRUTHS AND UNTRUTHS           “Hold on a minute,” said Lyfantod.  “Cornelia Mus?”           “That’s right,” said a tired looking Professor Fleming.  He seemed to have deflated with the resurfacing of this past tragedy, his once buoyant physique sagging with the weight of it.             “What did you say happened to her?”             “She was locked away.  For a time anyway.  They let her go, in the end.”           “Locked away where?”           “At the...

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EIGHTEEN

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TRIVIAL DETAILS           “We don't have a Headmaster,” said Flynn, observing that Lyfantod deflated a little as he said it.             “You don’t?”           “What I mean to say is we don’t call him that.  Barrows School is overseen by the Rector.”  He tipped his head to the side.  “Have you found something?”           “The Rector,” Lyfantod repeated slowly, trying out the feel of the new word.  “Huh.”           “They’re essentially the same thing,”  Flynn offered helpfully.    ...

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SEVENTEEN

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THE DETECTIVE IS HERE           “What did you say?”  Lyfantod was leaning sharply forward across the desk, leading with the nose, his neck stretched out like that of a hound who's spotted game, gripping the polished wooden lip with both hands.           "I said 'welcome,' Mr. Lyfantod.  Perhaps you ought to clean inside your ears.”  Nothing about the manner of the prim older woman behind the desk was the slightest bit welcoming.  Her mouth was a thin line, her brows drawn down into a definite frown beneath the hair permed into a tight grey thundercloud around...

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SIXTEEN

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UNEXPECTED MEETINGS           That miraculous note folded up and tucked carefully away in one of his jacket pockets, and the gruesome zombie heart he'd harvested from one of the fallen Mountain Men he prayed to God not leaking through the Witchdoctor's sack an uncomfortable weight in another, Lyfantod set out from The Weird Sisters to find a phone booth.  Barrows School was close enough that he could taste it, and he relished the pain he knew it would cause Moira McMorran to tell him how to get there.             His imagination ran...

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FIFTEEN

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GUTTED           Flint and Monroe arrived just after sunrise.  He walked into the dark club out of the bright morning sunlight projecting an air of tired authority, she looking as relaxed as she could with a hand on the hilt of the longsword which still hung from her hip.  It was clear enough they knew that whatever had happened here was finished.  They were followed in by three other wary looking Strawmen, some of whom Lyfantod recognized.  Flint looked like he hadn’t slept in days.  He seemed unsurprised to find the Weird Sisters in shambles: bodies scattered everywhere,...

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