I will try to preserve as much detail from the hounding as I can, dear diary; apologies if today's entry is overlong! But there is so much to describe.

We had some more wine and discussed our musical tastes, and in time, I think Alastor forgot, or at least, partially forgave what I had said. Then I stood theatrically to pick up a hat, and... one other thing. In keeping with my decision not to reveal any powers, I went to my bedroom to find a weapon, as though it was normal for me to use one - and I figured it may come in handy anyway. He did offer to carry the trident, but I insisted it wasn't as heavy as it appeared! (It's actually another heirloom, dear diary: an old instrument of power from Great-Grandpa-Viné, but for our purposes, it is sharp enough for any imbecile to use.)

Before long, we'd left the shop and proceeded towards the local theater. "Have you done this before?" I asked Alastor as we walked.

He tapped his nose. "That's my business, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm asking for your safety, dear. If you're inexperienced in killing sinners and demons particularly - and it's fine if you are! - then I shall know to give you specific instruction." I slowed my pace, so we could better see each other, and said, "If you happen to be low-powered, that's also a hindrance. I don't know how much of Hell you've seen, sweetpea, but there are powerful beings out there. I'd hate for you to be caught off-guard, or injured, God forbid!"

At first Alastor bristled, like I'd insulted his capacity for violence. Then he shrugged and said, "I tend to leave sinners alone, unless they cross me."

"How would you rate your own powers?"

"Again, that's my business!"

"I respect your caution. It would normally be a wise move. But if I cannot accurately size you against our quarry, you might as well go home."

It was the first time I'd even slightly raised my voice against him, dear diary. There was no way of knowing how he would take it, and I was a little nervous. If Alastor turned out to be easily bruised - not in body, but in ego - then what would my poor heart do? In the end, he took it well, just grimacing a bit, like a boy taking reprimands from his mother. "How would I rate myself?" he mused. "Well, it's hard to know! Taking down some wall-puncher in a bar-room brawl is not my style. Never has been! I like to be smart about it: strike quickly and without warning."

He said it as though I was the one who had something to learn! (Men!)

"So, no unique defenses?" I asked. "Most of us have teeth and claws… anything else?" No answer. "Well," I said, carefree, "you may discover some tonight! Just hang back a little, and… follow me."

"Yes," he decided. "Yes, if you can handle yourself, I'm sure I can."

I gave his arm a slap. There was a little victory in my walk: we were compatriots all of a sudden! The only two people in the world, off to run an errand. That changed as we awaited my quarry in a mostly-vacant parking lot behind the Hibernian theatre. Alastor stood aloof at my side, and maybe I imagined it, but his attempts at languidity seemed to be just that: attempts. I guessed that he had never before hunted or hounded with a companion.

"Let me start with this one," I told him, "and at my signal, you can take a shot at him."

"Fine," he said.

I took off my hat and laid it on the ground, and we waited.

Dogbone was only late by five minutes. I suppose he knew his fate would be the same no matter what… but he would show. He had to. Today he had a woman with him, and they were arguing. That did surprise me. Oh well. Extra quarry was no problem.

"At last, he graces us with his presence!" I said, raising my trident. The man and his lady killed their conversation. She gave Alastor and I a look, then tried to leave, but Dogbone had her strongly by the wrist. Clearly he intended to include her in the hounding. "Won't you introduce us?" I added.

"Merriweather," he said.

"Let me go!" said Merri. The way she was trying to tear away from Dogbone, her heels skidded towards him on the ground. As I said to Alastor, they resembled the number 17 - most amusing!

"Back against that wall," I told them. As I stepped closer, Dogbone first sighed as he prepared for the onslaught, lugging his ladyfriend backward… then he dared ask me why I had "that", meaning the trident. This did not bode well for keeping my powers a secret, so before he could talk, I lifted the thing and threw it. I forget my strength, dear diary - the thing went like an arrow and caught him under the collar with the most satisfying 'whunch' sound! He was stuck against the brickwork, in fact. Now he let Merri go, and she shrieked and made a break for it.

"Stop her, if you can!" I politely called to Alastor. But he didn't move, so I tutted and ran after the woman. She weaved around the parked cars, zig-zagging in a pitiful attempt to confuse me, but I cut her off at the end of the adjacent wall.

"No!" she said. "Wait! I haven't done anything!"

I threw her down, long enough to glance at Alastor, who was walking catatonically towards Dogbone. I whistled to him, then got Merri by the ankle and dragged her, so we were all in one spot.

"Dogbone's a former trucker who likes to explode things," I told Alastor matter-of-factly. "Usually it's autos, although he blew up a colony house recently, didn't you, Dogbone? For… what was it, amphetamines?"

"We know all this!" Dogbone choked, hanging onto the trident - trying, I suppose, to take some pressure off his tiptoes. Alastor was in a strange state, dear diary. I'm not sure what it was: if he was unused to seeing a woman enact such brutality as I had, or feeling queer at the prospect of taking a victim already immobilised and gift-wrapped for him. As I told him of Dogbone's misdeeds, however, his pretty eyes narrowed.

"Where do we go from here?" Alastor asked.

"Oh, we'll make them suffer," I said, which caused Merriweather to whine dramatically. "Which one do you want?"

Alastor turned to Dogbone. "This one."

"But she's the bitch who paid me off!" Dogbone yelled, pointing at said bitch.

"It's not true! It's not! I don't know anything!"

I stepped on her head. This was a teachable moment for Alastor. "Guilty until proven innocent!" I laughed airily while she screamed underfoot. "Now, I'm sure you've slaughtered humans before, sweetpea!… but sinners are a slightly different kettle of fish. Yours is fixed, but I'm just going to cut this one's tendons-" and I did, slicing with my claws, "-so she can't get away!"

Now the claws were out, I gave Alastor a spindly little wave. Merri screamed, which made Dogbone laugh, which made Alastor take out his own claws - his lovely fingers turning sharp and red in the process - and stick one in the ear… which made Dogbone holler in turn! It was a funny little chain reaction.

"Now," I continued loudly, wrestling my quarry down, "breaking the knees and elbows helps, so they can't crawl either." Merri struggled, threatening to let out her demon form, so I did it quick. The resulting cracks rang out nicely in the empty lot, and I socked her left eye just to be sure, then shook off my hand with a self-conscious peal of laughter. So unladylike! So gauche! ...but oh, so fun!

Alastor nodded, ever the patient student, and turned to Dogbone again. Just as quickly as he moved in to break Dogbone's knees, he retreated, as Dogbone freely kicked his legs like a child in a tantrum! At my instruction, though, Alastor sidestepped and dug his claws deep into our quarry's puncture wounds; the pain distracted him long enough to let Alastor break the knees.

"That leaves us with fifteen to twenty minutes before they recover," I professed. Then… was there anything else to say, dear diary? I seized Merri and tore her blouse, then made a nice thoracic incision. That first taste of blood always unlocks the demon form… at least, for me! I had to keep cutting, as she had layers of fat below the skin, especially around the breast, and her body weakly protested, looking for a path to squirming freedom. Of course, that's hard to do with broken elbows!

After that, I felt those fatty layers reflect from the muscle and took a bite. My eyes were closed, not to get blood in them. Not far off, I heard Dogbone's screams, so Alastor must have got started on him, and I was anxious to see what that looked like.

Merri smacked me in the face, rather weakly; for that, I snapped one of her ribs and enjoyed the resultant screaming. Now I raised my gory head to look at Alastor. I couldn't see much. His back was to me, but he and Dogbone were locked together in a gruesome embrace; my Alastor seemed also to have gone for the chest. As Dogbone yelled something sarcastic about being made a specimen of, Alastor changed tack and bit his throat. That made a lovely noise: gushing, gurgling and tearing.

After a while, Alastor had had his fill of blood and lost interest - so he doesn't much care for raw meat, bien-aimé: we know that now! He mumbled something to that effect as he watched me, tearing up Merri's organs. Lady-demons' insides are a little different to men's; they're more buttery-feeling at the outset, and the taste is less pronounced. She'd given up fighting, but still made pained whimpers and rattles.

Alastor and I locked eyes as I crouched there. How can I describe his countenance? He'd failed to flourish into his demon form (I was just now unflourishing). So I saw his beautiful face, all blood-coated (especially around the nostrils, through which he was breathing hard) and the blood was wet enough to catch the light... but that was nothing compared to his eyes. His eyes were so brilliant-red and alive that I felt my inner magpie sit up and caw. Red, the most rich and vital color of them all. They were like stained glass, and right then I loved him more than anything in Hell, Heaven and Earth.

Then the moment was gone. He swiped at the stains on his clothes, and I laughed it off - all a part of the process! "Phew!" I said, patting my forehead dry; then I reached into Merri's chest again. "You want to feel the heart?" I offered. "Still beating!"

Although his smile remained, my Alastor was silently conflicted. He wanted to. He wasn't in the least averse to the experience… but something held him back. At the time, I assumed it had to do with me, and I didn't press the matter. Now I wonder if sharing a victim wasn't too intimate an affair for him. Some people take their killing very personally. Some people get a sexual thrill from it, and are embarrassed - though if that was the case with Alastor, I couldn't tell.

I do so wonder what goes through his head when he is eyes-deep in his own quarry. If it is thrilling to him, I wish he'd tell me, soon, if not now. I can think of nothing better than to have a lover who exalts with you in both blood and sex.

"We'll let this one go," I said, stepping over Merri. "Dogbone isn't quite done paying his debts!"

...

Forgive me, bien-aimé, but my writing hand grows weary. Alastor was good enough to walk me home when we were done, and as we parted ways, there was something between us: a hitherto untuned frequency in the air. "Take care, Rosie," he said, and it was so… meant. I dare to think… I think we will be together. I think we will be like nothing else before. We will share a love so profound that all of Hell will look upon us in awe!

God, I hope so!