I laid Theresa down on the mattress. She didn’t look well – beginning to blur around the edges, the way her side do when you’ve nearly brought them down. And her halo was showing – never a good sign.
I’d found a deserted apartment halfway up a tower block. It stank of urine and the floor was littered with old cans and needles, but it was safe enough – too wretched for my side to bother with (they’d be hanging around the more genteel properties up the hill).
She opened her eyes for a moment and smiled faintly. ‘Is this your conscience, Sam?’ she murmured, then drifted off again.
It was a fair point – the world gets to you after a while. The bosses don’t understand, but they were the ones who fell from Heaven in the first place. If you’re born in Hell, what are you supposed to think? You just do your job and keep your head down.
As night fell over the estate, I watched Mephisto’s shadow demons flitting between the pools of lamplight far below. Something screamed in the distance and Theresa stirred in her sleep.
With luck we’d have another day before they picked up the scent again.