Rabbit Blood

Chapter 57 - Spit It Out

As a small, impromptu council of five attempted to find the missing guest, Husk for some reason got dragged along. He'd sooner curl up in the basement with a bottle of Randy Bishop, or maybe Tears of Bacchus. Then again, the basement was that much closer to Hell's molten core, so it was probably a bad idea.

Angel was in a bad way, chewing his nails. He'd been worse, naturally, but Husk could feel his concern from yards away. Poor old spider; he'd be better off if he didn't care so much. The girls were worried too, but they had each other, openly linking arms as they walked from room to room.

Now he'd nailed down the building, Radioface had gone ahead, teleporting around the upper floors. He was harder to read. When Charlie told Alastor to check upstairs, he'd shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were distracted.

Husk suspected there was something going on with him and the bunny, something... transactional in nature. That was how most of Al's alliances went, including the one he held with Husk. In principle, Husk had no problem with business relationships, the old mutual back-scratching. But he and Al weren't equally matched. God knows how a tiny ball of fluff would cope.

He'd noticed certain things - Leslie and Alastor conversing together. Talking in code. But what could you do? It wasn't any of Husk's business. He had nothing to do with it, and not enough knowledge to go forward anyway.

The council briefly split to cover more ground, and eventually reconvened in the library, which was curiously dark, now its windows were blocked by the underground. Their view was of compacted earth and a few pipelines.

"No luck?"

They shook their heads.

Then Charlie started on one of her things. "I hate when this happens," she sniffed, sinking into a couch. "When I was a kid, I saw so many people go reeling into the street. They were sick of being punished, I think, or they didn't... they didn't believe things could get better." She buried her face in Vaggie's shoulder. "And my dad said it was just a part of living in Hell, but this hotel was meant to help people! It was meant to stop that from happening!"

There followed a group hug (excluding Alastor), but there was nothing much to be said. Most likely, Les had had enough. Husk wasn't exactly pro-suicide, but believed nobody should suffer more than necessary. Hell, if he had more bottle, he'd have tried it himself.

Angel broke out of the hug and hooked a pinky finger around one of Husk's. It was a small enough gesture. In the circumstances, Husk allowed it.

Meanwhile, Alastor stood apart, wiping some dust from a bookcase. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet. Just then he paused, apparently deep in thought, and leaned forward, then back.

"Hm," he said. "Getting on for five."

Before they could ask what he was on about (and it actually looked like Angel was going to punch him in the face), Al teleported.

"Fuckin' piecea shit!" Angel said, thwarted, and kicked a table, which upset a pile of books. The girls looked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry," said Angel, and he turned to Husk. "I'm sick'a this. I hate watchin' you an' Les, lookin' so sorry in his fuckin' presence. Why can't we jus' beat him the fuck up?"

Vaggie stood up. "OK... what the hell is going on here?"

"Wait 'til he comes back," said Husk, linking fingers again with his Angel - moved, daring for once in his damn life to do something. "He, uh... somethin' Al said drunk, but he might know where to find her."

Now they stared at Husk.

"I mean, if he returns empty handed, still bein' a fukken shit," Husk added, "then I vote we beat him up."