THE TESTIMONIAL OF P.T. LYFANTOD

FOURTEEN

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ON WAKING           There was a brief period which seemed much longer than it actually was, between the moments when Lyfantod regained consciousness and the one where he opened his eyes, in which he found himself inexplicably inclined to self-reflection.            I am beginning to notice a pattern, he mused, regarding my senses.  Namely, that I keep being robbed of them.  I can't imagine it's very healthy.  What I want to know is, is it that I’m inept and ought to consider a less dangerous profession… or that I’m getting into a lot of potentially fatal situations, and...

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THIRTEEN

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WEIRD SISTERS           The Weird Sisters, home of the Daughters of Hecate, was a punk club and it showed.              It was housed in an old two-story wooden building that had more than a hint of Greek architectural influence, with an arched, shingle-covered roof and a pediment carved with lithe, wicked looking figures in the midst of something obscene.  At their center towered three solemn looking women in robes.  In place of the frieze, the club’s name shone out in sharp angular letters of purple neon.  It was covered, down to...

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TWELVE

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A THORNY SITUATION           Lyfantod stepped out into the empty lobby, the bottoms of his boots clicking loudly on the black-and-white checkered tiles.  They had been polished, but not recently.  "Hello?" he called tentatively.  His voice echoed back to him off, the smooth, aging walls.  They were tiled to look like green brick.  No one answered him.  Typical.             "Feels like I've wandered onto the set for the Wizard of Oz," Lyfantod murmured to himself.  "Hail Marcher, the All Powerful."  Indeed, the room did have a certain mood of mysticism about it.  Mysticism wrapped in early...

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ELEVEN

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NO NEWS           The tiny offices of The Oracle lay at the top of an unremarkable six-story, stone-faced building in Tollcross.  It was not quite dinner time when Lyfantod arrived.  The first floor was a kebab shop, owned by a man from the Philippines who apparently still remembered Lyfantod since the last time he’d visited.  Either that, or he recognized someone who was not looking for kebabs.  In either case, he waved from behind the counter with a long, two-pronged meat fork as Lyfantod skirted the customers' tables, heading for the cramped staircase that led up to the...

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TEN

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FRINGE           “So let’s recap,” said Calder, inhaling deeply from a crooked cigarette he’d produced from the bottom of some linty pocket.  “This Vodorov bloke hired you to find his magic ring, because he’s being held prisoner by some mobsters and he can’t go out and do it himself.  And he sent a...”           “A ghoul,” Lyfantod supplied, studying his god awful hand.             “A ghoul,” repeated Calder, “to do it.”  He wiggled his fingers mystically without looking up.  “Nobody knows what’s going on, and the few...

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