And yet ...
And yet there was a hunger in her that had never been sated. He could sense that every time he talked to her, and on occasion he walked into a room and found her staring out the window, musing on something he could not know. She never admitted it in so many words, but he knew that she was unfulfilled. Abe started to grow nervous before each full moon, and Abby grew more and more fidgety. He had always suspected that she would flee one of these days, free herself to find the true food she had always craved, and the potential of that had terrified him. He had always thought that there was a fine line between those who worked at BPRD and the things they hunted. He did not want Abby to be the first one to cross that line.
He had never asked her what she had eaten before he found her in Paris, and she never volunteered the information.
Now she had gone, and the full moon was bearing down. Whatever had instigated her flight, however tied up it all was with Blake's sudden resurfacing, Abe's one great fear was that Abby would, at last, find that which had eluded her for so long.
So he kept on her tail and watched the sky. And he promised himself that should the situation arise, he would kill her before she stained her soul by killing someone else.
* * *
Ministry of Defense, London — 1997
"WE HAVE ... THE situation ... under control," the minister said. She was a tall, charming brunette, but her eyes were hard.
"With respect, ma'am, you don't." Hellboy stared at the minister, impressed that she was able to return his gaze. She was nervous, he could see that, but she was also very much in control. Confident of her control, at least. His job was to blow that confidence out of the water and get some action, not words.
"Heathrow was a disaster, I'll admit that, and I'd like to offer our government's official thanks for your help."
"It was nothing."
"But I assure you, the conference will go ahead. I can't go into details, but the security arrangements for it are very stringent."
"Those police marksmen on the rooftops?" Hellboy asked.
"Yes, those," the minister said. She took a drink from her cup of tea, averting her eyes for the first time.
"Hmm. Pretty good. And the army guys hiding out in warehouses across Docklands? Tanks, helicopters ... that does sound stringent."
The minister raised her eyebrows, but she was not na?vé enough to ask how Hellboy had come by his information.
"And those SAS guys? Now, they're good. Dealt with them once back in the seventies. Impressed the hell out of me. No pun intended."
"I won't ask how you know the more refined details of our security arrangements, Hellboy. It doesn't surprise me. You're not ... normal. No offense."
"None taken." Hellboy pursed his lips and sat up straighter. His tail whipped at the floor and pulled threads from the ministers expensive carpet. What's normal? he thought. You see normal when you look in the mirror every morning Minister?
"But this is our security operation. We're acting in close liaison with several foreign governments, including your own, and everyone's happy with our arrangements."
"Have you polled them again since your largest airport was almost wiped out by dragons?"
The minister glared at Hellboy. Again, he was impressed. She's hard. Or maybe just stubborn. Sometimes the two get mixed up, and they mean very different things.
"What do you want from me?" she said.
"I want you to admit the possibility that you're not as well prepared as you thought."
The minister snorted, and Liz cut in. "Your Tornados got to Heathrow very quickly," she said. "I'm impressed. They were obviously on standby for any trouble."
"And?"
"The missiles they did manage to fire missed the dragons and destroyed Terminal Three. How many of the hundreds dead are a result of that? Friendly fire, I think they call it."