He frowned at a small dirt demon that had climbed on to his back paw – probably generated by the grime gathering where the sink unit met the floor. Such things were the lowest form of Avatar and Grimshaw was glad the stupid creatures only hung around the properly alive (and the mess they created) and couldn’t exist in Limbo. He brushed it off irritably and looked at his chronometer. He had things to do and it was time to be getting on and doing them. A curse demon’s chronometer could take the shape of anything from an hourglass to an armillary sphere. Originally, when Grimshaw had come into existence over a hundred and fifty years ago, his chronometer had appeared as a pocket watch. So, because he had been born without clothing and had no pockets to put it in, his first task had been to find a pair of trousers. Later, to keep up with the times, Grimshaw had thrown away the chain and had strapped the watch to his wrist with a leather strip. He kept the trousers because he liked them, although, after a century and a half of wear, they were more darn than trouser.
