Hilario swallowed hard. From the corner of his eye the spiky black shape drifted from one side of the street to the other. Still coming their way. But slowly.
Black angels were confused by numbers. Having Larry stare at the floor and count would camouflage him somewhat.
But the black angel would still track him down if they didn’t get out of here. Fast.
“Sir,” Hilario said, “I know this all very confusing. But I assure you I am neither an arsonist or a ventriloquist.”
He pointedly avoided saying he wasn’t a murderer. Avoiding lies was part of trying to do the right thing. Part of his atonement.
But he could say one thing without fibbing. “And I did not murder Larry Sparrow. I loved his pizza as much as you. As you might surmise, I am a consumer of volume, not quality. But his pizza was special. Even I could recognize that. Larry was my friend, too. I am heartbroken and filled with sorrow that I will no longer be able to watch him create another pie, or listen to him expound on the subtle varieties of cheese and mushrooms.”
Did the cop’s eyes glisten with unshed tears? It was hard to tell twisted awkwardly on the ground as he was. And with his heart pounding in terror at the slowly approaching black angel.
“Sir, we need to leave this area immediately,” Hilario said, “There is a supernatural being who is stalking Larry’s spirit. His spirit which, for reasons I have not determined is stuck in my van. If you could remove these handcuffs I would be happy to accompany you to the police station to answer all your questions.”
Okay, that last part was an outright lie. Once the cuffs were off he was getting out of there lickety-split. But it was lie for a good purpose, so…
Life was shades of gray. No matter what he tried to do.
Don’t listen to him boss! the cuffs shouted, he’s going to run!
Hilario clenched his teeth. Damned cuffs were touching his skin. They could read him as well as he could read them. He sent a blistering thought at the metal rings. An image from one of the bad places.
The cuffs yelped. Dude, that’s messed up! Boss, this guy is cray cray.
The cop frowned. His hand went toward his coat.
The muffled voice of the gun came out. Yeah, you know you want to. Pull me out and let me do what I was made for.
The cop’s hand stopped. His lips pressed to a thin line.
There was only one thing Hilario could do.
“Sir, look to your left,” he said, “But just briefly. And then unlock these handcuffs before that thing comes over here.”
9
There were many things Hilario was not proud of.
If he were to write a list–and he did try to once, giving up after filling five dozen legal sized yellow notepads–it would circle the globe. Several times.
Sure, he could have said he was just following orders. Or just doing what the other evil creatures were doing.
But he had made choices.
Even though those choice made him sick at the time.
He never enjoyed his work in the bad places. Some of the creatures there loved their work with a passion that verged on the pornographic.
But him…not so much.
He faked liking it. But the other creatures…they could sense his lack of enthusiasm. He never really had friends in the bad places. No one he could go hang out with after work and have a steaming mug of demon piss.
Even at the daily production meetings he stayed mostly silent. Not bragging about how many beings he’d hung with their own writhing entrails.
And he was always below quota.
So he saved the meager plunder and coin he received from the realm and eventually purchased his way out of the bad places. He wasn’t sure the old masters would allow it. Perhaps they had been so astonished–or amused–they released him just to see how far he would go. How long it would take before he came crawling back.
Or was dragged back.
Perhaps by one of the black angels. Creatures who were permitted to travel freely through the planes of the unseen world. Who could carry his essence back to the bad places where the dark masters ruled from stoney thrones.
Put him back on the production line of the damned.
So he wasn’t proud of scaring the almost literal crap out of the cop. But he had to look at it as a necessary badness to get to somewhere good.
It constantly surprised him how often it took doing something bad to make something good happen.
“Holy calamity shit!” the cop said.
He jerked his gun back out of his trench coat.
Now we’re talkin’, the gun said.
“Don’t shoot!” Hilario shouted, “You can’t kill it!”
The cop’s face was pale as fresh snow. “What the fuck is that thing!”
“Look away from it,” Hilario said, “Your attention will attract it.”
To his credit the cop looked away. But then he crouched back down and shoved the gun into Hilario’s bulbous red clown nose. Which gave a startled honk.
“What did you do to me, clown?” he said.
“We really need to leave,” Hilario said, “The black angel–that dark, spiky thing over there–wants Larry. I think Larry has unfinished business here in the normal world. And I can’t help him if the black angel gets to him.”
The cop risked another glance at the black angel. A shudder went through him.
Come on, pull the trigger, the gun said, man up.
The cop released a torrent of ear-stinging profanity. He shoved the gun back in its holster. Keys appeared in his other hand
