Helen was out in the forest, running the track. The air was freezing but fresh, like a cold shower after a long training session. The sound of her breath and her heart and the crunch, crunch, crunch of her feet against the February snow filled the world around her, which was otherwise dead silent. Most of her friends brought their phones with them when they ran so that they could listen to music while they ran, or call for help is some weirdo appeared. Helen didn't bring hers. She liked the stillness and silence of the trees, and what were the chances of running into a villain in this quiet little neighborhood? The idea of unavailability appealed to her. When she was out here, she was all alone. Noone could disturb her. She could hear her own thoughts, actually hear them, and could think things through at her own pace. Needless to say, this was her favourite passtime. She'd picked it up from Clara, a friend at work, who'd persuaded her to run with her one day after work. At first Helen had sucked at it and had become embarassed at her terrible stamina. Clara had smiled at her and told her she would get better if she just stuck with it. She'd been right. Now, Helen could run for 10 kilometers without stopping. She was in great shape, and that felt terrific. She would keep doing this for as long as her body would allow her.
She was just coming around a bend which circled a small hill when she saw him.
A man, or at least the silhouette of a man, standing on the road just a short distance ahead of her. She'd bumped into strangers before on the track, but she knew instinctively that this was different. This was him. The weirdo. He'd finally come to claim her, and she didn't have her phone. She slowed down and came to a halt. Then she just stood there, looking at the man. A part of her brain told her to call out to him, but fear kept her mouth shut. What if he didn't answer? What if he did? What would she do if he suddenly came at her? That question, at least, she could answer. She would run. It was eerie, the way the man stood. He was completely motionless; almost as if he was dead. And yet she knew just from looking at him that he wasn't. He had an air about him, a kind of presence, and dead people didn't have that. He was most definetly alive, and what was worse, he was looking right at her. Again, she couldn't really tell at this distance, but she knew. Suddenly, there was a rustling sound coming from the woods behind the man. Then came a shrill scream, and that was Helens cue. She turned and ran as fast as she could and didn't look back. Screw unavailability, from this day on she'd carry that phone with her into the fucking shower if she had to.
Malak had turned to face the horror that crept in the bushes behind him. The girl had finally done the right thing, which was to leave, and now he could begin his work. This particular demon had turned out to be a quite nasty one; it had taken him three days to track it down from when he'd first heard the rumor of a strange disappearance in Vallentuna. The Snatcher was responsible for not just one but five abductions. Needless to say, the demon needed to die. The angel produced the three tools of his trade from the inside pockets of his coat and prepared himself for what was to come. The crucifix he hung around his shoulders, to protect his person from harm. The bible he held in his left hand, opened on the page he'd chosen the night before. The holy water he held in his right hand, ready to use it against the fiend, should it try to attack him. He then started walking out amongst the trees, treading carefully as to avoid twigs and sticks on the ground. This would be a trying hunt.