by Tom Holt
‘Top drawer of the desk.’
‘Thanks.’
With the chalk, Benny drew a pentagram directly underneath where the thin-faced girl was hovering. He muttered something long-winded and funny-sounding under his breath, then clicked his fingers. ‘That ought to do it,’ he said. ‘Conjuring demons was never really my line, but it’s hardly rocket science, is it?’ He looked up at the thin-faced girl and shrugged. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘she was Management. And she made us do those annoying assessments. I asked for that Oscar by name, by the way.’
Connie giggled. ‘Do you think he’s her type?’
Benny nodded. ‘A match made in Heaven,’ he said. ‘Humour,’ he added. He extended his elbow in a gentlemanly fashion; Connie took it. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here and go and make some money.’
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIQHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN