The walk back to her room felt heavy. Angel and Husk had tried to get her to stay, but Claire made her excuses and left, finding herself walking slowly down each hallway. She hadn't expected everything to tie back to neatly to Orkas, but she had to admit that she'd known this whole time that her escape from Heaven couldn't possibly be as easy as it had seemed. Saint Peter had been there, after all. She'd left a witness.
She knew better than that.
In the back of her head she'd always had an exit strategy. She'd told Rosie as much in her first week here. It just made sense to always have a way to make a clean break. She'd never stayed in one place for long when she was alive and so it just made sense that in Hell it wouldn't be any different. No real friends, only acquaintances that could be left behind at the drop of a hat, or a body, no home, just some places she stayed that could be forgotten once she hit the next town. The effortless life of a drifter wasn't all that effortless, it turned out. It took meticulous planning and expert timing and the ability to leave it all behind in one carefully mapped instant.
And as Claire approached the door to her room, she realized that instant was probably now. She was going to have to leave this hotel and all the people here behind to go…wherever she could go next. She took a breath and opened the door, stepping inside the darkened room, trying not to think too hard about it. But once it was shut, she leaned back against it with her eyes closed. She'd done this a hundred times before. Why did this time seem different?
A light clicked on causing the piles of books scattered over the floor to cast long, strange shadows over the walls. Her collection had long since overwhelmed the shelves and now towers of them took up most of the floor space.
"I could've just made you a room with bookcases for walls, you know," Alastor drawled from where he sat in an armchair, giving her a reproachful look.
"That would've been nice," Claire tamped down on the instinct to snap back at him, opening her eyes and pushing off the door to heading towards him. "I find books comforting."
"Though I suppose that would be a waste now since you've given up and decided to turn yourself in to Heaven," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, every word edged with derision.
Claire picked up a book from a nearby stack and turned it over in her gloved hands, "If you're here to lecture me," she told him mildly, "Husk and Angel already covered that down at the bar."
He stood up from the chair, clasping his hands behind him and looking down at her, "You do know that they won't allow you to live," he warned, "Not if they know what you can do."
"That's a big 'if' though, isn't it?" Claire countered, "If they did, maybe they wouldn't be looking to kill me. You know better than anyone my powers are a great means to an end."
"That remains to be seen," Alastor sniffed.
This time it was Claire that continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I think this is about something else. And whatever it is, the end result is me dead."
Alastor eyed her, "You're not useful to anyone if Heaven kills you, so why float the idea of alerting them in the first place?"
Claire gave him a thin smile, setting the book back on its precarious perch, "Because now I know when they're coming."
"Glad to hear you have besting an Archangel well in hand," was Alastor's dry reply as he strode past her towards the door, "I'm sure it won't leave the hotel in ruins like the last time Heaven came a calling."
"It shouldn't. Not if everything goes according to plan," Claire said, looking up and around the room before her gaze settled on him once more, "Which reminds me, I have a very important question for you."
Alastor turned, quirking a brow, "Hm?"
Claire grinned at him, "Wanna play catch?"