The fact of Leslie's latest idiotic blunder was not lost on her. She was outside on the worst possible day to be outside, looking for someone who could be anywhere… and she had a stitch from running. But she was here now. And if Karl was planted on some sidewalk, tripping outrageously… well, she'd scoop him up one last time, and then he'd really have to make it up to her. Later, though. One last time.
She couldn't not do it.
It was eerie to see Hell like this: everywhere closed, the streets empty but for the odd figure slumped in their doorways. Drunk or asleep - she couldn't tell. Perhaps they knew their possible fates. Perhaps they even wanted it.
Leslie wondered how it felt to be exterminated. Was it as quick as a 2019 Fiat 500L at top speed? She hoped so. Angels ought to be merciful and deliver a quick death. Painless.
It was chilly today, even for December. Why was it so damn cold?
Then Leslie heard scrunching. Someone was leaving an alleyway to her left, coming this way - a wolfy-looking figure with a wine-stain beard, a bit taller than her, and he angrily shredded a bundle of scratchcards as he walked.
They locked eyes.
"Hey," he said.
Leslie nodded without looking and walked on.
"Hey, lady. You got something on you? I need just… something."
Was there a way of speeding up without looking like she was speeding up? Leslie took longer strides. "Uh, no, sorry," she said.
"Sharing's caring, little lady." He tried catching up to her, and now she smelt him, and glimpsed the streaky white stains on the sides of his pants. "Come on, I'm not dying sober."
"I don't have anything!" Leslie insisted, now speed-walking backwards. She couldn't take her eyes off him. Where was a shard of mirror when you needed it?
"No cash, even?" Wolfman's expression changed. "If I search you-?"
"Leave me a-fucking-lone," she warned.
"Ohh, you're sweating," he said, in a way that made her nauseous - and he was getting close, very close. Leslie's stature was a disadvantage, but there was one thing she could try. She dared him to take another step, which of course he did, and then she threw her chest forward, swinging into an illusion turn with all her force. Her foot came round and struck him in the nose. "OOF!" Wolfy said, clutching his snout, and Leslie overbalanced and fell. He tried to stomp on her, but she rolled away, then got up, and he snatched her.
"Let go!" she yelped.
This time, partially remembering something from some stupid overrated movie, she kicked Wolfman in the knee, and when his mouth opened to yell, she stuck her claws into his gum line and tore sideways. That did the trick. He released her, clutching his face, and Leslie ran again, blood on her fingertips and streaming down her arms, her side-stitch complaining all the way.
o - o - o - o - o
"LARCENY!"
The blob demon raised an amorphous arm and confirmed his presence.
"LESLIE!"
Angel and Husk exchanged a glance.
"HERE!" Husk called.
There was a pause, and the sound of a clipboard slapping against Vaggie's thigh. "Can I get a yell from Les, please?" she called back.
Angel gazed guiltily towards the doors. "She's upset," he said, "goin' ta get some air, I think."
Their roll-caller gave the list of names to Charlie, then came storming over in frustration. "How hard is it to stay in a single room while the building is going underground?" she sighed. "Where'd she go? Upset about what?"
As Husk explained, Angel stepped away and took out his phone, calling Leslie's cell. It rang out. He tried again. The same thing. God fucking damn it, he should have gone after her the moment she bolted.
"Let's check her room," Vaggie decided, wrangling Husk for the spare key.
The three went unsteadily upstairs, and Angel beheld the torn-up wall in Leslie's shoebox little boudoir. "Jesus," he said. "Les? Not hidin', are ya?" He checked under the bed. Only curled up scrolls of wallpaper.
Meanwhile, Vaggie sagged against the door-frame. "Perfect," she said. "This is all we need. She could be anywhere in this place."
"So, what, you wanna do a search?" Husk asked. "Get all that crowd of people to fukken spread out?"
"I don't know."
Angel looked at the window, open barely a crack, and a nasty thought took shape. "Ya don't think she mighta… left… the property?"
"Why would she? That's suicide."
True enough, Angel thought… and his face fell.
"Ahhh, shit," Angel said. "Shit shit shit shit! "
o - o - o - o - o
Now Leslie moved more cautiously, sticking close to the walls. Her body hurt, mostly from the excessive exercise, but Wolfman had poked some holes in her flesh. Sometimes she noticed eyes peering out from the boarded-up doors and windows. No sign of Karl though. She stuck to her main jogging route, connecting the dots of all the vending machines she knew.
Naturally, she was terrified. But she'd been terrified for months, in a small, constant way, like a simmering pot of soup. The prospect of a quick and painless death wasn't too bad. It was horrible to think that, but it was true. She'd finally get to sleep.
This cool, rational train of thought was completely snuffed out when, entering another alley, she actually saw one.
It didn't see her... but if she'd been ahead twenty meters, into the main road, she'd be in its path.
It glided, feet dangling, and beat its wings, though not nearly fast enough to fly. The face was covered by a smiling LED mask, below a pair of goat horns and thorny halo, and from here, Leslie glimpsed one long scar where its ear should have been. No ears. No way for it to hear her, she hoped. No way to reason with it either.
Right along this alley, Leslie could feel the angel's power. A blast of freezing cold air - she tasted mint, metal and an obscure smack of hospital corridor. Bitter. Cold. That suggestive confidence of Alastor's had nothing on this. Finally, she saw the spear, dull and dripping, which it held so loosely in its hand. The angel knew that nothing would overcome it.
Leslie imagined her throat being cut, the irreparable rending of her flesh, severed arteries and tendons, and her thoughts lost their structure, becoming a stream of negatives. Her cells were set to vibrate.
Never mind. I want to live.
She waited until the horrible taste had gone, then crept down the alley and peered out, careful as a church mouse. All clear.
So, so horrible. She hoped never to see another thing like that. It wouldn't know or care if Leslie was down here by mistake. It had a job to do.
Come on, Karl, where are you?
For a while, she went on, sometimes jogging, sometimes creeping to avoid exterminators, but finally, she heard a gurgling voice, singing to itself.
"You're just looking for a boy, never in forever's sunlight..." Wobbly, mistaken lyrics. A wheezing in-breath. Leslie sped up. "I'm my father's son reworn, when I come for them I'm hopeless…"
"Kaaarl!" she yelled, confident the angels wouldn't hear her.
A pause. "Hello?"
"KARL!"
They called to each other as Leslie ran, and she found him on a lonely side-street, splayed on the ground. A vending machine had toppled on its side, trapping his lower trunk and legs, but Karl's upper body was there, trying to recover. He saw her. "Les!"
She lurched over. Now was not the time to complain about her various aches. He was under a vending machine, for fuck's sake. "Oh God," she said, appraising the situation. "What happened to you? Hey! It's OK, Karl, I promise. We'll get you out."
Karl took her arms, gripping around the crooks of her elbows, almost like he wanted to pull her under the appliance too. She hugged him without thinking.
"I can explain," he sobbed, "everything. I'm sorry, babe."
"Never mind that now," she said, trying to be sensible. "We'll get you out. Maybe I can- lift this!"
As he lay, burbling about the ice-ghouls floating around, Leslie tried to lift. But she couldn't. There was no space for her fingers. "Can you…?" she began to say. What, heave the thing with his body? Don't be stupid. "Shit. Er… we need a lever. Maybe I can find a steel beam somewhere."
"Wait! Don't leave me!"
"I can't lift it by myself!" Leslie argued. "Just-"
"Wait, wait," he said. "Lellybean, can you…?"
She crouched. "What?"
"Can you get your arm in and grab something… for me to take?"
"Karl…"
"It hurts. I'm scared shitless."
God help her, she faltered. Her eyes flitted left and right, checking for emergent horrors. The air was still chilly, but she saw nothing.
"Lemme get a lever," she gabbled, "because it- it's to get you free, and then we can hide, yeah? And I-I promise you can have whatever you want. I'll be literally two seconds, OK? Just hang on. I'll be right back."
Leslie sprinted.
"Be-careful-I-love-you-" he called after her. She had no time to respond. She didn't want to. I love you was too final. It wasn't time for that. Steel beam. Something long and sturdy. Stop crying. Get it done.
There was a stop sign, uprooted from the road with a divot of asphalt and concrete at its base. Leslie grabbed it and tugged, but it wouldn't budge. She kicked it, checked Karl was OK, and ran further. Piles of rubble. A rotten plank of wood. It'd snap.
Maybe if she danced, Alastor would sense it and come to her.
No, he wouldn't.
She darted around, helplessly weighing up useless option after useless option. A chunk of window-frame. Powerline cable. An entire fruit-stand… if she could take it apart? No time. No fucking time. And it was so cold, her fur was standing on end, and she was going to be sick. All she needed was some fucking leverage!
"Rrrrrrgh!" she screamed into her fingers.
Finding the greengrocers' first floor unattended, she kicked the door in and found something that might do - a metal shelf on the wall - then wrenched it off with surprising ease. Screws fell to the floor. Then she ran, the shelf waving to and fro in her unwieldy clasped arms.
Even before she saw Karl again, Leslie knew something was wrong. It was positively arctic out here, her saliva was battery acid… and there was a dark figure floating in front of the vending machine.
"NO!" she yelled, running harder.
It didn't notice or acknowledge her. Instead, it casually raised the weapon - a sword this time - over Karl's shoulder, like it was about to knight him. And Karl's upper half contorted horribly, trying to shrink away.
And the angel moved its arm.
And the sword swung down.
Leslie could have done a number of things at that moment: screamed his name, thrown the shelf or even charged at the exterminator. What she did instead was fall, in such a way that her face and forearms were grazed. She didn't feel the shallow inhalation, but she felt what happened next. The noise. A silent shriek, so raw and terrible that it took the lining of her stomach with it.
And her mind was really screaming. No. Too late. No. It can't- no. No no no no!
The air grew warm. The angel was gone.