The Ritual of Assumption insured that, unless Valtiel, or the Mother, or whosoever granted powers to the Conjurer willed it, he could not die.
After all, you can't kill something that's already dead.
Unfortunately, as many the individual who's made a devil's bargain for immortality can attest, eternal life isn't bonded to the guarantee of eternal health.
Not much fun to be unkillable if you're still quite cuttable. Not at ALL fun to be hacked into pieces if all the pieces can still feel.
Walter was getting the hell away from PyramidHead as fast as his legs could take him.
He pounded through another backyard, opening the garden gate and slamming it hard. Somehow he doubted the monster would bother with latches, and stomping that down would take it a little more time. He shoved various things into the path- lawn chairs, a grill, a child's bike- and noticed a bit late there was a spunky little poodle dog looking up at him.
Walter yowled as the damn pooch bit into the ball of his thumb, causing him to drop his tire iron.
The damn thing would not let go and for a moment or two he ran blind, howling all sorts of choice epitephs while the dog hung from his hand like a rat-trap. Finally he found a wall to bash it against, and flung the whimpering mess of dog guts into the inground swimming pool.
The pool gave him an idea.
He could not stop PyramidHead, no, but perhaps he could give it a bit of a headache.
Walter snaked his bloodied arm out and over the pool water, letting droplets taint the water, and then bellyflopped in. There was a loud splash as he did so, and he surfaced, half walking half swimming to the other side. There was a glass sliding door leading into the house, and he tried the handle.
Found it locked. Cursing his already rotten luck, he punched his way through the glass; hissed as a few pieces embedded in his already hurting hand, and undid the latch.
He stomped, boots squelching, into the dark of kitchen and began to hunt for usable objects.
This time his luck held.
Lighter fluid for the BBQ, a can of gasoline at the door of the garage, some lamp oil...all of these Walter managed to open one handed, and pour into the pool.
He found a hair dryer and an extension cord, and waited until PyramidHead was finally visible, then turned on the dryer and tossed it in the pool.
A wall of fire failed entirely to burst up between them as Walter had hoped. He rolled his eyes, cursed.
The few slick puddles on the pool surface burned, but they were small, unimpressive fires.
Still. if PH walked in there to make it to the house the fastest, he might at least get a nasty zap.
Walter bolted thru the length of the house, and back out onto the street.
The motel was only a block away now,and Walter cried out loudly, a wordless roar, as much to warn whoever was there that someone was coming as to let the world know how absolutely unhappy he was.