Skulduggery, Pt. 2

I lost Inna again.

Yesterday, she agreed to meet Paul in front of Notre Dame Cathedral, on Ile de la Cite. But we had to get a chocolate pastry bread thing first, and then some Orangina to wash it down, and by the time we got there it was pretty crowded. We split up to look for him. Inna had the Polaroid he sent; there's no guarantee it's even of him, but it's all we've got, so there you go. I walked the perimeter, came back to the entrance to the church and waited.


Inna never came back.

Paul showed up finally. He's got a wicked head cold, or allergies. Something about dust mites. I can barely understand him, whatwith the accent and the stuffed sinuses. He looks like somebody's hit him with a hose, and blames me for everything that's happened. I'm kinda tired of these teabags, and if Inna ever finds her cell phone and tells me what happened to her, I'm going to call the whole thing off.

I got a new Spam from a guy in Hong Kong. Hope springs eternal.