“Yes, sir,” said the clerk, pressing the Maintenance code on his computer. “Right away, sir.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want people to think that a classy hotel like this caters to ugly little worms like that.” He emphasized the last word by spitting on Terwilliger’s body, then looked up again. “All right! Everyone go on about your business.”

Nobody moved.

“I mean now!” he roared.

Suddenly the lobby became a beehive of activity as people raced for exits and elevators. In another moment no one was left except Bates, Virtue, the Angel, the desk clerk, and two recently arrived maintenance men who were preparing to remove the little gambler’s twisted body.

ManMountain Bates took a couple of steps toward Virtue and the Angel.

“You, too!” he said. “Get out.”

The Angel began walking toward the front door.

“I’ve never seen anything like him!” whispered Virtue. “He’s like some kind of primal force!”

“He talks too much,” said the Angel.

“I heard that!” said Bates ominously.

The Angel continued walking, and Bates strode over, grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun him around.

“Nobody walks out on me when I’m talking to them,” said Bates, a nasty smile on his face.

The Angel twisted free and met his gaze.

“I don’t like to be touched,” he said softly.

“You don’t, eh?” Bates grinned, laying his hand on the Angel’s shoulder again.

The Angel slapped his hand away. “No, I don’t.”

Bates suddenly shoved him on the chest, sending him careening backward into a wall.

“Leave him alone!” said Virtue. “He hasn’t done anything to you!”

“He insulted me,” said Bates, taking a menacing step toward the Angel. “Besides, my blood’s up now! There’s nothing like breaking a back to get a man’s juices flowing.”

“Angel, tell him you’re sorry and let’s get the hell out of here!” said Virtue desperately, visions of wealth and fame departing as she imagined the Angel’s body lying in a crumpled heap next to Terwilliger’s.

“You’re the Angel?” demanded Bates, a look of uncertainty momentarily flickering across his face.

“That’s right.”

“Then why did you say I talked too much?”

“Because you do,” replied the Angel.

“I don’t care who you’ve killed!” bellowed Bates, suddenly enraged again. “You’re going to apologize, or I’m going to be known as the man who killed the Angel with his bare hands.”

The Angel stared coldly at him for a long moment. Finally he spoke.

“I’m sorry that you talk too much.”

“That’s it!” growled Bates. “You’re a dead man! There’s going to be one more angel in hell tonight!”

He took two more steps forward and was within arm’s reach of the Angel.

“You can still stop,” said the Angel. “There’s no paper on you.”