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"It's important to me," he mutters, rubbing his face with both hands. "Important to Rayne, too, for that matter. I can't imagine him running to the press about it; his only interest in your entire scheme as far as I could tell was getting me to shut up about Randall already."

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"Randall? I don't read ninety-five percent of the emails that go to my public address, if Ethan wrote in about him before."

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"My other dead friend," he says flatly.

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"Another one? I've been kind of busy on the public health front and the prime minister let me put anti-car-crash magic on the U.K. last June, what happened?"

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"Randall ODed on dream seven—no, eight months ago," he says. "Ethan got shot - the, the night before last—"

His voice wavers. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his clenched fist against his mouth.
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Bella sighs.

"Okay. How many people know Ethan got shot? Did he turn up in the morgue with ID on him, has he got family...?"
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He takes his hand away from his mouth after a few seconds, shaking his head.

"Just me, whoever - did it, and whoever helped him hide the body," he says.
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"So - you, Ethan, and some people who'd have to confess to crimes to tell anyone?"

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He nods.

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"Yeah, all right, I can spare it." She pulls an evil out of her coinsorter.

She wishes on it.

It doesn't go.

She frowns at it.

"...How sure are you he's dead?"
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"As sure as it gets," he says. "I heard it - I was ten feet away - is your magic not working?"

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"It's worked for bringing people back before, and that's not the kind of thing that would change for no reason. You heard it? You didn't, for example, see it."

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Slowly, he shakes his head.

"Someone got shot, and I heard them arguing first, and Rayne... knew I was there..."

Realization dawns. "That rat bastard," he hisses.
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"Well," says Bella, putting the evil away with a flick of her hand, "as long as I'm here, anything else need doing?"

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"Yeah, could you drag Ethan back here for me?" he just about growls. "The absolute fucking shit - he did this because I wouldn't email you about Randall, you know, he actually went and faked his own death to get me talking to you."

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"Why did he want you talking to me? Is it just about Randall, did he bounce off my filter a couple times and want you to give it a shot?"

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"He bounced off your filter once," says Ripper, "two months ago, and apparently his backup plan was to murder his ex-dealer, because of course it was!" He throws up his hands. "Heaven forbid that Ethan Rayne ever do something sane and normal!"

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"This is the guy you wanted me to resurrect?"

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"He hasn't murdered anyone before," Ripper clarifies hastily, and then amends, "that I know of. It's just... not as much of a shock as I'd like it to be."

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"Is the ex-dealer a great loss to society of any kind?"

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"Not remotely, no."

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"All right, then he can wait for general admission. You just want Rayne yoinked here?"

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"That," says Ripper, "would be lovely, thank you."

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"You don't, for example, want him landed out in the hall and instructed to knock."

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"He lives here," says Ripper, quirking a smile, "so no."

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