The howl of the bike is too much to talk over, much, anyway. He's pretty sure she doesn't need to be told to hang on - her grip is plenty tight.
He fights the urge to turn around and take the fight to them. He can feel their sins from here, calling for vengeance... but not until he knows more. Not until he can do the hunting, rather than being so badly outnumbered.
His eyes grow more hollow, and the pentagrams on his hands flare up brighter as he tears across a rooftop. The bike jumps across to another roof, turning on a dime and leaping to another, taking the literal, if not figurative high road.
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