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I walk over to her.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s all fake.”

I push her into the ditch with her puke and the Hellion dead.

“I’m going back to the bowling alley. You stay. Walk around. Explore. Enjoy yourself. I’m going to have lunch.”

I go out through a shadow and leave Marcella behind. I’ll give her five minutes. Now that I think about it, when I go back I should look around for some Maledictions. If I don’t get a real cigarette soon, I’m going to start gnawing on the roaches’ skulls.

Marcella is interesting. Altar-boy jokes. Dies Irae. God wouldn’t make or permit Hell. She talks a lot churchier than I’d expect from a Wormwood creep. But I guess it makes sense that Wormwood has some pull in the religion industry. It’s a good way to control the masses. A little fear and they’re all yours. I wish I could see inside her head so I could figure out what her Hell really looks like. Maybe it would scare her, because my Hell sure as shit doesn’t.

Should I go to Candy tonight? No. We already talked about this. Shut up.

I check the time. Four minutes. That’s long enough.

I walk back through the shadow and check the ditch. She’s not there. I look in the abandoned building. She’s not there either.

Fuck.

I yell, “Marcella.” Nothing comes back. I climb a pile of cinder blocks to get a better look around and spot a couple of bug-ugly Hellion Legionnaires at the end of the block. They’re running somewhere fast. I jump off the blocks and take off after them. Sure enough, when I get around the corner, there’s Marcella swinging a pipe at the two soldiers. A third one lies at her feet with something sharp sticking out of his chest. I’m still sore enough from the van that I don’t feel like throwing fists with Legionnaires, so I pull my gun and shoot them both in the head. Marcella jumps at the shots. Stares as they both blip out of existence.

I head over to her and when she sees me, she sags against a toppled streetlight. Her face is smeared with dirt and a little blood. Her shirt and sleeve are torn. The Hellion at her feet isn’t quite dead yet. It’s leaking black blood fast, but it’s tough. It keeps crawling after her.

“What the fuck are these things?” she screams.

“Hellions. Fallen angels.”

She looks around, starts to say something, raises and drops her hands in a gesture of futility.

“Why did you do this to me?”

“Do you believe now?”

“Why did those others disappear when you shot them?”

“It’s what angels do when they die.”

She looks at the Hellion crawling for her, then at me.

“Make this one disappear.”

“Did you stab him?”

“Yes.”

“Then you do it.”

She purses her lips and hovers over him as his hands reach out for her. The Hellion wheezes and growls low. When it drops its hands for a moment, Marcella smashes its head in with the pipe. The Hellion sags on the sidewalk and disappears. When it’s gone, she leans back on the streetlight.

When I’m close enough, I take the pipe from her hand and throw it away. I don’t want her getting any ideas.

“Do you believe yet?”

She looks up at me. Nods.

“I didn’t until I stabbed him. I felt the metal in my hand. It was real and sharp, and when I shoved it into his chest, I knew it wasn’t a trick.”

“No. It wasn’t.”