Torrance dashed down the hall with Illandria. His leg ached with the effort. The angel had healed his fatal wound and at the same time reduced much of the weakness in his bad leg. It still hurt and made him awkward, although not as much so as Marriette with a knife in her.

No one guarded the door to the cells.

"If we can go out through the cells, someone can come in," Torrance said.

"Nothing we can do about it now." Illandria dragged him along. 

The two guards from ...