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The sun was only a pink hint at the edges of the city’s dark silhouette against the sky as he ran the Thames path away from Central London. One of the benefits of damnation and a hellhound for a constant companion was that he wasn’t limited to mortal means of transportation. He rarely had to use more than a word or a glance before he materialized where he wished to be with Grim’s help.
He’d always run in the dark even before it was a common sight, nothing to note, a man with a drive to beat the cheeseburger and beer he’d consumed last Sunday. It was nothing now to pass other runners in the fog and shadows, them with reflective strips on their shoes or blinking LED bands around their elbows.
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