“I know my London,” she beamed proudly, reverting momentarily to the relative innocence of a fourteen-year-old girl. But it wasn’t to last.
“You’ll be dead soon, fat man. The world’s not for fat people,” she giggled, self-assured as he knew only the truly crazy could be.
Forest sighed. Emilie was exhausting. That girl had definitely been to the Crossroads. And everywhere else. She’d been to places the devil had yet to visit. And the closer they got to the cathedral, the more self-confident her driving became. She managed to circumnavigate Trafalgar Square without a hitch and slowly plowed through a demonstration of anarchist punks waving torches, banging on the windows and the side of the van. The crowds were on the move and traffic on the Strand was excruciatingly slow. Emilie was twitc
