~ * ~ * ~
Death wandered nervously. Albert perched on the edge of his chair and smirked, watching as the pacing figure reached the other end of the room, swinging round to come back. He stopped anxiously in front of Albert and waved a hand at himself. For his fourth date attempt, he'd gone for a change. Black, he said, was too – boring. He was a man – skeleton of the times, after all, and this was the Century of the Small Green Crab Apple. He'd decided to change from his usual black and was now attired in an oddly patterned robe. And for tradition, a red carnation was pinned near his collarbone, just to make sure his date recognised him. He'd even polished his skull; the ivory curve of bone gleamed, almost sparkling.
DOES THIS LOOK ALRIGHT?
Albert tried to straighten his face. His muscles ached from trying not to laugh. "It looks fine, Master. She'll love it," he squeaked His voice wobbled suspiciously.
WELL. I MUST BE GOING. Death said. I DON'T WANT TO BE LATE FOR THE YOUNG LADY. I HOPE THIS ONE GOES WELL. IS BINKY READY TO GO?
Albert nodded, eyes watering madly. "Yes, he's all done, Master. Have a good time, and I'll – I'll see you, ah, tomorrow."
Death nodded carefully and left the room. When he'd gone, Albert collapsed into a hysterical heap, laughing until the tears poured down his face.
~ * ~ * ~
Agnetha Ridcully sighed and stared out of the window of lodging house bathroom. The sun had risen and she could hear the bustle of the city beneath the window; she could also smell it, but that was something she was trying very hard to ignore. Like everyone else in Ankh-Morpork. If you were in another book, you could possibly have mistaken the bustling metropolis for the Emerald City, but it would in fact have been the smell that surrounded the city with its faint greenish presence…..
She'd come to Ankh-Morpork to visit her uncle, currently Archchancellor of the city's Unseen University for Wizards, and now she was bored. She'd been to see him a few times, tried explaining about the curse she was under, the bite she'd received, but so far all he seemed to do was thunder round and boom at people about exercise and healthy eating, and scare the poor Bursar silly. He'd promised to help her, but so far there was no sign of it. And in a week's time, the moon would be full again.
She'd been hoping to meet some dashing young men while she was here, but all she'd managed so far were some fat wizards and the Bursar, who, although very sweet, was quite clearly as mad as a hatful of frogs. After all, what was the use of coming to this huge city if you didn't gain anything apart from freedom from a particularly nasty curse? She wasn't allowed to stay at the University; her uncle hadn't explained why, but three wizards had exploded when she'd undulated her way into the dining room so she wondered if that had had something to do with it. Agnetha didn't do anything as simple as walk. She flowed, she undulated, she glided. Even her curves had curves.
She closed her green eyes for a moment and made a decision. She still had some time before the moon rose full again, so perhaps she could meet someone before anything – happened.
~ * ~ * ~
She could hear the clacking of Mrs Cake's knitting needles before she opened the door to the parlour, a paradise of lace antimacassars and small, fussy ornaments. Agnetha gingerly poked her head round and tried a smile on her landlady. At least, she thought it was her landlady. It was hard to tell under all the fruit on her hat, and the lace that covered her dress.
"Ay'm fine thank you, dear. And yes, just finishing this and then Ay'm off to help out at the Vampire's Anonymous meeting." Mrs Cake said.
"How are you? You look nice. Going out?" Agnetha asked, wandering carefully into the room. She stopped. She blinked.
"Yes, certainly Ay know how you could meet someone," said Mrs Cake.
Agnetha struggled not to say it, but….."Do you know where I could meet some nice young men?" she asked.
"Where? Well, assassins, they're always nice young men. Well educated, know how to dance, always got some money. Don't hold with that inhuming business, though, but it takes all sorts."
"Where should I be looking – oh," as her brain finally caught up with her mouth.
Mrs Cake sniffed. "Yes, alright then, Ay'll turn it off for a bit. Know it's unnerving."
"Can you turn off your – ah. Thanks."
Mrs Cake had the uncomfortable talent of knowing what you were going to say, in any conversation, usually long before you'd opened your mouth. It made talking very, very odd.
"Well, if assassins aren't to your taste, dear, there's always the Dating Society. Not been open that long, could be just what you're looking for. They do a newsletter and everything." Mrs Cake continued. The knitting needles flashed in and out. "It's over on All Souls Alley."
~ * ~ * ~
Agnetha pushed open the door. A small bell tinkled merrily somewhere in the back, possibly suggesting a small farm animal of some kind. She peered through the plants that crowded the room; then shrugged and pushed her way forwards, further into the mock jungle. She could see the edge of a desk now, and a dark head behind it. The woman was shuffling through pieces of paper, muttering to herself. "No, no good. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no…... Hmmmm. Possibly. No. No. Definitely NOT! No. Maybe…..no… Oh, dash it all!"
"Hello?" Agnetha ventured shyly. "Can you help me? I'm looking for – a date."
The woman snapped her head up; her eyes widened at the sight of Agnetha, standing nervously in front of her. Then she smiled, eyes twinkling.
"Ay'm sure we could help you," she gushed. "Take a seat, dear, and Ay'll see what we can do. I'm Mrs Frost, by the way. Ay own this lovely establishment."
Agnetha sank into a chair in front of the desk and watched as the woman pushed a sheaf of forms at her. "Just fill these in for me, dear, and we'll go from there. Ay'm sure we have just the man a lovely young lady like yourself is looking for!"
~ * ~ * ~
Death stalked into the kitchen, where Albert was once again murdering his breakfast in the frying pan. The glitter in his eye sockets flared brightly as the old man turned, raising bushy eyebrows. He took in the fixed grin on his Master's skull – but Death did not look happy. At all.
"How did it go, Master? Was she nice?" he asked nervously. He didn't wait for an answer, but swung back round quickly to the stove, wielding the spatula with unnecessary force.
I DON'T KNOW. Death said shortly. SHE – LEFT. QUICKLY. SCREAMING, I SEEM TO RECALL. He paused for a moment. WE HAD A VISITOR. DEATH OF RATS CAME ALONG FOR THE RIDE. I THINK THAT'S WHY SHE LEFT.
Albert coughed. "Ah, yes. That would be it, Master." He stopped poking the bacon for a moment and turned back round to face Death, watching as a small, hooded figure scrabbled up Death's sleeve and clung to his shoulder. An inch-long scythe was clutched tightly in a skeletal paw.
SQUEAK. SQUEAK SQUEAK. SQUEEEeeeeeeEEeeeAK. Death of Rats explained.
Albert nodded, though he hadn't the faintest idea what the small skeletal beast had just said.
ARE THERE ANY MORE – LADIES – FROM THE SOCIETY? Death inquired.
Albert shook his head mournfully and sniffed. "Have you – ah – considered a pet of some kind instead, Master?"
The skull moved slowly from side to side. Death grinned (even more than usual). NOT YET, ALBERT. THERE MUST BE MORE LADIES WHO ARE LOOKING FOR ROMANCE. WE WILL WAIT………