Surrounded they were, though not as they thought: it was the air itself that smothered them now, heavy with vendetta, now furious enough to taste. The cat in Al's arms continued to purr, the low rumble of it incongruous in the thick sense of rage permeating each breath --

Until abruptly its claws sank through Al's shirt at the same time that the touch against the back of his head resolved into a hand, grey-pale, extended from among his hair. Groping at nothing, it reached first outward and then curved back at the wrist to bury an unforgiving grip in his hair: with a vicious yank, it pulled him backwards, towards the darkest recesses of the hallway.