And here (thank Jah) is the end of it. How it got to push 7000 words, I don't know.
But I may revisit this, all or most of the characters, in future.
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"I'm not saying I don't believe you." John Steed leaned back in his Chesterfield chair, listening to rain bouncing off the window ledges. The summer heat had broken, and London was luxuriating in streams of stormwater, sluicing off the dusty buildings. "I do, actually. For some reason, those two vampires sound familar. The demon is a bit harder to swallow, mind you. But I find I jib rather hard at the milk float."
"I still wonder who was driving it." This one detail obviously rankled. "I can't see how it could possibly have been Ethan Rayne; he hadn't time to get past us and out to that damned float."
"I can't help wondering whether that girl, whoever she was, simply wandered off like an exotic dancer and went, er, toplessly wandering through Oxford City Centre." Seeing this had raised a smile from Emma, Steed relaxed. "I'm shocked about deVries, though. He's actually set up as some sort of paranormal investigator?"
"Not only that, he has clients. Who would have thought there would be so much other-worldly activity in sleepy old Oxford? I wonder if it has something to do with he presence of someone he called a Slayer?"
She knew, by the the way Steed's face suddenly went impassive, that she'd guessed right. He knew something, that was clear. Equally clear was the fact that he wasn't going to talk about it, not now. There were moments when she could cheerfully have run him down with his own Bentley.
"I wouldn't worry about that, if I happened to be you," he said vaguely. And anyway-"
He was interrupted by the jangle of the phone. He lifted the handset and listened for a moment.
"Mrs Peel," he said tersely, "we're needed."
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