Day Five:  Roots

     Sunrise and television.
     It was another morning for Heart.  She had slept a little longer this 
time, but sleep was still more an indulgence than a need.  She flipped 
channels idly as Seraph slept, searching for something that wasn't violent 
or depressing.  The television wasn't being cooperative.
     She scanned around the room, noting the lingering scent of jasmine and 
the tattered remnants of Seraph's dress and reflected on Aphrodite's visit 
last night.  It had been centuries since the last time she had thought of 
her life before becoming an angel, that brief span of time as a mortal.
     She had been born in Rome to a Celtic mother and a Greek father, slaves 
to a wealthy patrician.  Her mother had given her the flaming red hair and 
the beauty that had caught the eyes of the priestesses at Venus's temple, 
and her father had been overjoyed when they had approached her master.  Her 
mother had been dubious at first; worried she would be a sacrifice, but had 
been reassured by her father's descriptions of the life of comfort she would 
lead as a temple maid of Venus.
     Indeed, for much of her young life, she had led a life of comfort, 
learning the ways of Venus, preparing for the day she would become a full 
priestess.  But she had always been a curious child, given more to study, or 
exploring the city of Rome than indulging in the luxuries of the temple.
     It had been on one of her forays she'd stopped to listen to a 
charismatic speaker, a wandering speaker who taught about a Jew named Jesus. 
  She'd been touched by his words, his teachings, and had found herself 
swept along in the wake of his passage.  He had a gift for words, a way of 
inspiring people that Heart had never seen, and his story of the sacrifice 
of Christ had made her examine the future she would have as a priestess, a 
life of indulgence and luxury regardless of Venus's messages of love, and 
had she had been ashamed.
     Her life as a Christian had been harder than her life as a priestess 
would have been, but she had counted it a fair trade for the sins she had 
been convinced her earlier life had been.  She had helped and aided the poor 
and her fellow Christians for the few months she had left as a human until 
she had died, a victim of a riot that culminated in the burning of Rome.  
She had never even felt the blade that had killed her.
     An announcer's comment about "The Gladiators of Rome" caught her ear 
and brought her out of the reverie.  She stayed as the show went to 
commercials, curious as to what the show was about.  Her memories of the 
past were so remote, and she couldn't even remember her death.  She'd simply 
tried to get out of the street into an alley, and had found herself on the 
long golden stair.  She'd never even felt sad about it, too fascinated with 
the new world she had found herself in.
     The show came back on and she found herself watching a documentary on 
the NFL, which was apparently an organization of athletes who played a game 
called football.  She was fascinated with the parallels to her memories of 
the Coliseum, the huge stadiums, the bright banners, the roars of the crowd; 
it all brought back the memories of the times she had been part of that 
crowd, watching the entertainments and contests.  She had never developed a 
taste for watching the gladiators, and was glad to see that football didn't 
seem to be lethal.
     "I've always felt that they lost the point when they took away their 
swords," came a sleepy mumble from the bed.
     Heart turned to look at the yawning succubus.  "I was never really all 
that interested in the fighting, Beloved.  I always went to see the 
spectacles, the animals, the shows.  I didn't like the bloodshed.  I don't 
even like it when I've had to defend myself."  She smiled as she rose and 
went to sit on the edge of the bed.  "I was just reminiscing.  I was only 
about 14 when I died.  I never really went to many of the circuses."
     Seraph stretched, arching her back seductively as her tail wrapped 
around the angel.  "I was never into it either.  It's a comment on the 
pointlessness of the sport."  Seraph grinned at Heart's appreciative gaze.  
"I've just never been much for sports, dear."  She gave Heart a seductive 
look.  "At least, anything other than bedroom Olympics."
     Heart giggled.  "I don't know, beloved.  I'll have to watch this 
'football' and see what I think."
     Seraph yawned hugely, her wings vibrating as she stretched.  "Just so 
long as you don't turn me into a football widow in favor of the Superbowl."  
She grinned as she finished the stretch.
     Heart tweaked her.  "I'd never do that."  She smiled at Seraph's purr 
of pleasure.  "I was waiting for you to order breakfast."
     Seraph nodded and rolled out of the bed, her wings shrinking to fit in 
the room.  "Yeah, we need to find a new place.  Hopefully one with plenty of 
headroom."  She winced as she placed her weight on her wrapped leg.
     "Are you ok?"  Heart asked concernedly.
     "Yeah.  Your spell did wonders, Beloved.  It's just a dull ache.  I'll 
survive."
     "I'm sorry I didn't warn you in time."  Heart said contritely.
     Seraph blinked.  "Beloved...  You had no way of knowing he was going to 
strike like that.  I'm sorry I let you get clobbered by Vrock."
     Heart rubbed the back of her head.  "I'm ok, Beloved.  Not even a 
bruise anymore.  Are you hungry?"
     "Ravenously."
     Breakfast went quickly as they looked over the paper.  Page after page 
of apartments were listed.  Seraph was soon rubbing her eyes as Heart gazed 
serenely through the ads.  "How can you stand to read such small print?" she 
asked the angel.
     "Try going through page after page of tiny script.  This is easy."  
Heart smiled.  "Especially with my glasses.  You can't imagine how happy I 
was when they were developed."
     Seraph quirked her head.  "I had wondered about them.  Aren't angels 
supposed to be perfect?"
     Heart sighed.  "Maybe the original ones.  There aren't too many of 
those in heaven anymore.  Mostly raised souls like me.  I was nearly blind 
when I died, and that stayed with me."  She gave Seraph a dazzling smile.  
"Besides, you said they made me look incredibly cute."
     "I did?"  Seraph raised an eyebrow.  "They do, but I don't remember 
saying that to you."
     "It was behind the stage at Woodstock.  When we were comparing notes.  
You said, and I quote, 'you may look incredibly cute in those glasses, but I 
think the rose tint is getting to you,'."
     Seraph giggled.  "Dear, I was talking about you claiming credit for the 
five we both hit.  The ones we ended up saying were draws.  I was grousing!"
     Heart sniffed.  "You still said it.  And I take it as a compliment."
     Seraph smiled.  "And you wonder why I love you so much?"
     Heart smiled as she continued reading, then excitedly pointed to an ad. 
  "Oh, Beloved!  I think this looks perfect."
     Seraph peered over Heart's shoulder.  "Lover's Nest?"  She looked over 
the jumble of letters following the title.  "Not bad.  Two bedroom, two 
bath, penthouse."  She looked at the address.  Right in the heart of the 
village, where Aphrodite had suggested.  She looked at Heart.  "Looks good 
to me.  What about you?"
     Heart smiled.  "I have a good feeling about it."

     * * * * *

     The building was several stories high and looked out over the Hudson 
like a sage old woman in a rocking chair.  The front it showed the street 
was mostly plate glass store-front trimmed in hunter's green, but above 
that, a stone facade gazed down on the angel and the demon with all the 
sobriety and authority of a Norman keep.  Tall, stylized windows reminiscent 
of arrow slits rose in intervals up the side, carved rampant lions 
supporting them in stone paws.  Carved stone battlements graced the top, and 
Seraph shuddered as she saw the winged figures that glared out from their 
places on the crenellations.
     "Gargoyles," she said nervously, shivering again.
     Heart looked at them too, patting Seraph's hand.  "It'll be alright, 
Love.  I'm sure if we can show them that you love me, like we did Thor-"
     "They still won't like me," Seraph frowned.  She turned and made as if 
to walk back to the car.  Heart did a little pirouette and grabbed her 
around the waist, facing her back at the building.
     "We won't know if we don't try," Heart told her.  "And I told you I had 
a good feeling about this place..."  She trailed off as they approached the 
storefront and she got her first look at the shop.
     The windows were filled with a huge jumble of books, candles, statues, 
and sundry other objects.  Dried flowers wreathed around a small 
silver-hilted dagger carved into the shape of a dragon, and several tarot 
cards showed their faces next to it.
     Seraph grinned.  "An occult shop.  You're right, Beloved.  It can't be 
all that bad."
     Heart swallowed hard.  "Witches," she whispered.  Then she shook her 
head and seemed to resolve herself.  "They're only humans who know magic.  
That's all, right?"  She looked at Seraph for reassurance.
     "Some of them," Seraph teased.  She relented when Heart blanched.  
"Most of them don't have the faith to do real magic, love, and you said you 
had a good feeling, right?  And I liked the ad."
     Heart nodded, a little more confidently.  "Let's try it," she said with 
another glance up at the gargoyles.
     Seraph noted the look and hesitantly reached out to touch the door, 
sighing in relief at the lack of screams.  More confidently, she pushed the 
door open and followed Heart inside.
     A wall of patchouli-saturated air greeted her first step inside, 
immediately sending Seraph into a fit of sneezing.  This elicited a glance 
from the clerk, a tall, slender woman with an unruly mop of curly light 
brown hair.  She rose an eyebrow at the pair before returning to her task of 
rearranging semi-precious stones.  Her studious disregard shielded her 
obvious curiosity, aided by a pair of huge owl-rimmed glasses of a type 
preferred by animated canine historians.
     After her sneezing fit, Seraph and Heart looked around.  Before them 
was a veritable library filled with books whose spines had never been 
cracked.  Titles like The Goddess and You and Wicca: Ancient Religion of 
Ireland abounded, making Heart nearly burst out laughing.  She would have, 
but in between the neo-pagan bibles and love-spell books were the occasional 
tomes of actual wisdom.
     To the left was a long glass counter, laden with diadems, jewelry heavy 
with assorted stones and symbols, and small pewter figurines of fairies and 
unicorns.  The clerk and the cash register sat at the far end.  Three doors 
led out of the shop, one right behind the clerk leading into an office from 
which came the sounds of someone bustling about.  The second door was to the 
left of the clerk and it was closed, as was the door leading deeper into the 
building, its green exit sign glowing brightly.
     "Who do we talk to?" Seraph wondered.
     "Someone called Mama," Heart looked at the cashier dubiously.  "Do you 
think she's Mama?"
     Seraph shook her head.  "Not her.  Someone named Mama is going to look 
a lot older than that.  But we can ask her."
     Before Heart could protest - not that she had planned to anyway - 
Seraph had strode purposefully up to the clerk, her tail narrowly dodging 
collisions with the various displays as her hooves clicked on the tile.
     The woman dropped her guise of adjusting stones and greeted the 
succubus with a wry grin.
     "You're not fooling me with those clothes," she said before Seraph had 
a chance to speak.  Her large brown eyes didn't have to rise far to meet 
Seraph's after a cursory inspection of the black mini and halter.  "Any 
psychic can see how undeveloped your orange chakra is.  You're looking for a 
love spell aren't you?"
     "Well, actually-" Seraph began before she was overrun by the 
over-zealous woman.
     "You shouldn't worry about finding love with an aura as pure as yours," 
she continued as she started pulling jars off the shelves behind the 
counter.  Seraph could smell them even over the pervasive patchouli.  The 
woman placed them on the counter as she kept talking.  "Still, I think we 
can make a great potion for you.  Let's see - some mugwort, Balm of Gilead, 
High John the Conqueror-"
     "That's not why we're here," Seraph attempted again.
     "We?"  The woman's gaze locked onto Heart.  "Oh, yes, of course.  A new 
initiate in the craft!"  She leaned conspiratorially towards Seraph.  "We 
seasoned elders need to take them all under our wings.  She'll need careful 
guidance.  I sense such darkness hovering around her."
     Seraph rose an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, Heart 
interrupted.
     "We're looking for someone named Mama."
     The clerk's face fell as an air of resignation set in.  She turned to 
the open door and called out, "Mama!"
     The door opened fully and an older woman stepped out surrounded by a 
cloud of smoke that had Seraph sniffing with glee.  In all appearances, she 
looked like a gypsy grandmother with her brightly colored skirt and creamy 
poet's shirt.  The diklo on her head was as wildly colored as her skirt and 
covered a wild shock of curly ebony hair with silver streaks playing through 
it.  A thick necklace of semi-precious stones hung to the crest of an ample 
bosom due more to her corpulence than a generous puberty.  Hundreds of thin 
bangles chimed at her thick wrists, while her well-muscled hands glittered 
with rings.  Large gold hoops dangled from her ears to tangle in her unruly 
hair.  Despite her obvious age, she still showed the traces of the vamp she 
had to have been in her youth.
     She fixed the clerk with a gaze of resigned amusement, her dark eyes 
glittering like opals.
     "Honey, are you scaring the wicclets again?" she asked in an accent 
that was pure Bronx.
     "No," Honey replied defensively.  She gestured to Heart and Seraph as 
she said sullenly, "There's some people here to see you."
     Mama looked at the pair appraisingly for a long moment, her expression 
one of resignation mixed with wonder.
     "So, you've come to see the apartment," she said with certainty.  "At 
long last.  Come."
     She walked towards the door with the "exit" sign, gesturing for the 
pair to follow.  Seraph and Heart gave each other a puzzled glance before 
Seraph shrugged and headed for the door, Heart's arm through hers.
     The door led to a hallway that made an L turn towards the back of the 
building.  Mailboxes were set into the walls on either side of a large 
elevator.  Mama bustled down to the elevator, her press of the button 
garnering an almost instant opening of the conveyance.
     The inside of the elevator featured a dark red wallpaper and a large 
gold framed mirror on the back wall.  Mama waited till they had entered, 
Seraph nodding in approval at the high ceiling and door, then pressed the 
top button on the control panel.
     After a nearly noiseless ascent, they exited to a richly paneled hall 
with matching double doors on opposite sides.  A thick plush carpet ran down 
the center of the marble floored hall.  "The original owner of this building 
was a playboy in the twenties."  Mama explained as she led them to the door 
on the left.  "He went broke in the Crash and it went to the bank.  It's 
been through a string of owners until I inherited it in a card game.  Last 
owner swore it was cursed with bad luck.  Can't say I've found cause to 
agree with him."
     As she paused to unlock the door, the opposite one opened, and a man 
with short auburn hair and wire-rimmed glasses stepped out.
     "Mama-" he started, then stopped dead as his gaze encountered Seraph's 
cleavage directly in front his eyes.  Slowly, his gaze rose to her face, the 
look of lustful amazement changing to one of bewilderment.  His hand rose to 
cover his mouth from the top of his mustache to the bottom of his goatee.
     "Yes, Doug?"  Mama asked, smiling and giving the man a pointed glance.
     Doug focused on her, the confusion strong in his eyes.  He took an 
involuntary step back and looked at Seraph again, then took off his glasses 
and cleaned them before looking at her a third time in disbelief.
     Heart and Seraph looked at each other, concern in their eyes.  Doug 
noted the look and turned to look at her.  The glasses came off again as he 
rubbed his eyes.  Replacing them, he gave Heart a long look, then Seraph, 
and shook his head.
     "I clearly haven't had enough coffee yet.  I'm seeing things."  He 
turned on his heel and entered the door he had come through, the dead bolt 
locking with an audible click.
     "Coffee," Mama snorted.  "That's funny."
     "What's his problem?" Seraph asked, looking after the departed man.
     Mama opened the door to the apartment.  "His problem is that he doesn't 
believe his own eyes.  Don't worry about him, he's harmless, and he'll get 
used to you eventually."
     Seraph hung back as Mama entered the apartment, grabbing Heart's elbow. 
  "Can he see us as we are, do you think?"
     Heart shrugged.  "I don't know.  I've run into a few cases where my 
assignment could see me, but they're usually people of strong faith and 
belief.  Demetrius, my harp maker, could see me, so could Caravaggio, but 
they were exceptions, and very strong in their faith.  I've always been told 
that anyone who claims to be able to see us, but who doesn't follow the 
faith, was insane."  She gave a rueful grin.  "Then again, they told me the 
Greek and Norse Gods were a myth too."
     "Hmmm."  Seraph looked at the closed door thoughtfully, then gave a 
little shimmy as she shape-shifted to full human form.  Heart nodded and 
cast a light glamour on herself to hide her halo and aura.  She wasn't 
worried that many humans would actually try to hurt her, but there was no 
sense to advertise who she was to someone who might just be aligned with 
Hell and maybe alert someone like Bhaalor to her presence.
     They entered the apartment, Seraphs heels clicking woodenly instead of 
the musical chime of her hooves.  They walked a few feet into the interior 
of the main room and stopped, looking around in wonder.  They were both 
struck with memories of Versailles in its heyday.  The high ceilings arched 
far overhead, barely in reach of Seraph's extended wingtips, and the ornate 
decorations continued down the walls to the polished marble floor.  Light 
poured down from an decorative chandelier and from the huge glass doors that 
led onto a wide balcony.  They stared in wonder for several long minutes 
before they both realized that the room was far too large to fit into a 
building the size of the one they had seen from outside.
     "This is a great neighborhood," Mama said from beside the French doors. 
  "In all the years I've lived here, this building has never had a break in 
or robbery, no attacks or assaults.  It's like a safe haven."  She smiled at 
them.  "This apartment is perfect for a couple too.  Cozy enough to be home, 
but wide enough to spread your wings."  She did a pirouette that swirled her 
skirt before proceeding to one of the glass doors and throwing it wide.  She 
stepped out to the balcony and called back to them, "From here, there are a 
lot of low buildings, so you can see almost all of the best parts of the 
skyline."  She stole a wistful glance south before returning to the room and 
heading for a room off to the side.
     "You must see the bedroom," she called out as she vanished through the 
door.  "Lots of closet space, and the bathroom comes equipped with a Roman 
bath."
     Heart and Seraph were too busy examining the spacious living room and 
the well-equipped kitchenette to pay much heed to what Mama was saying, but 
Heart's ears perked up at the word "Roman."  She stole barely a glance at 
the cavernous master bedroom as she headed straight for the doorway that 
presumably led to the bathroom.  Sure enough, surrounded by a toilet, bidet, 
sink and shower, was a huge bathtub set into the floor and surrounded by 
tile decorated in a Greco-Roman key design.
     "The best part is," Mama said from her shoulder, "Is that it has jets 
and can double as a Jacuzzi."
     Heart had no idea what that was, but she smiled happily anyway.
     Seraph, meanwhile, had wandered into the sliding doors that concealed a 
pair of walk-in closets.  She smiled in delight at the shoe racks and the 
wrap-around clothes bars.  She could envision their wardrobes filling the 
closets already.
     Stepping back out into the bedroom, she laid a hand on the doorframe 
and sighed.  She was going to have to address the practical aspect of rent.  
Heart had no concept of it, and the paper hadn't listed it.  She looked 
around the place and estimated the likely cost.  She was well off with what 
she brought in from the club, both dancing and with her yearly profits, but 
this might be a stretch even for her.  Her resources weren't as nearly 
limitless as they had been.
     She turned to look for Mama, only to find her standing and waiting for 
her.  "You want to know how much?" she said before Seraph could say a word.  
Seraph nodded.
     Mama pulled a small pad and pencil from somewhere within the folds of 
her dress and wrote down a figure.  Seraph looked at it and blinked in 
shock.  It was maybe half of what she made a night.  Twenty five hundred? 
she thought in disbelief.  For an apartment in the village?
     Mama was looking at her expectantly, a confident smile on her face.  
She knew her price was low, and was expecting Seraph to jump for it.  Her 
natural demonic paranoia kicked in.  "What's the catch?"
     The look of utter and sincere astonishment on the old woman's face made 
her ashamed of her suspicion, and her shift to offended pride drove the 
guilt home.  She suddenly seemed nearly as tall as Seraph in her anger.
     "I own the building, dearie, and I have six other floors of apartments 
and the shop as well.  I could give this apartment to you for free if I 
wanted and not feel it.  The catch is I'm a bored old lady and want new 
neighbors I can nose in on, and I can afford to give you a break, because 
I'm a sappy romantic and young love brings out the best in me.  Now do you 
take the apartment, or do I throw you over the balcony?"
     Heart caught Seraph's eyes over Mama's shoulder and the raised eyebrow 
and amused smile decided her.  She wrote down another figure down and handed 
it back to Mama.  "That should cover us for awhile."
     Mama tucked the pad away without even looking at it.  "I'll go draw up 
the lease papers.  Here's the keys."
     "I want a pro-rated refund if we decide to leave," Seraph stated as she 
took the pair of key rings with small heart charms.
     "Of course.  But you won't."  Mama grinned.  She turned and vanished 
through the door.  Heart bounced out of the bathroom door and grabbed 
Seraph's hand.
     "Oh, Beloved, is it really ours?" she gushed.
     Seraph did a slow turn, looking around the apartment.  "It looks like 
it, Love."  Her form shimmered as her shapeshift vanished and her wings 
spread wide in a stretch.  She looked at Heart and smiled.  "You know, 
you're right, I'm sharing your good feeling about this place too."

     * * * * *

     Lipton rose an eyebrow at the metaphysical shop before him, wondering 
what had brought an angel to a place like this.
     He'd waited outside the hotel all night, napping in the car and keeping 
an eye out for the pair leaving.  He'd debated about trying to bluff his way 
in with his badge, but the place was upscale enough they'd want a warrant 
before allowing him to disturb their guests.  A bribe to the doorman had 
gotten him a wave when the pair were about to leave, and he'd followed them 
on foot to the village, and this store.
     He couldn't figure out why Heart would have come here, though it 
wouldn't surprise him if Seraph had occult connections.  Still, it was 
unusual.  Most occultists who dabbled in demonology did so to control them, 
and Seraph didn't seem like the sort of demon who the average occultist 
could control.  In fact, he'd be hard-pressed to name any demon he'd ever 
encountered who seemed to possess the aura of enormous power Seraph did.
     Curious, but not wanting to dive head-first into a complete unknown, he 
decided to scope the place out, but quickly, as he didn't want to miss the 
pair coming out again.
     The building had an alleyway down one side and he ducked down it, the 
narrow space shutting out much of the noise of the street.  It was typical 
of most any alley in New York, filled with the requisite dumpsters, a 
loading pad and a month's worth of old newspaper.  The sole exception to 
normalcy was an inconspicuous door with a small green pentagram on it.  
Lipton looked at it and shook his head.
     "Ritual Room," he muttered.  "Wiccan."
     :::Tee hee hee.:::
     Lipton stopped, wondering if he'd actually heard that.  Out of the 
corner of his eye, something flitted through his vision and disappeared 
around the back of the building.  Lipton wasn't sure he'd actually seen it, 
but he was sure enough that something was up to follow warily.
     Drawing his pistol, he swung around the corner vigilantly, ready for an 
attack.  He wound up frozen, gazing into huge innocent green eyes.  They set 
perched atop a pert nose, and small heart-shaped lips, surrounded by high 
cheekbones and sun-kissed strawberry blond hair.  For some reason, Lipton 
was reminded of Galadriel.
     Her lithe body did little to dispel this image, even dressed as she was 
in a tight halter top over a blue thermal shirt, cut-off daisy dukes over 
black tights and beat-up Doc Martins.  She looked about fifteen.
     The faerie on her shoulder, peeking out from under the girl's golden 
locks, was the clincher, though.  At least, he assumed it was a faerie.  He 
estimated it was about six inches tall, though it was impossible to say for 
certain, hidden as she was in the young girl's hair.
     The girl was giving Lipton's gun an amused look.  "I don't think you 
need that thing," she said, turning her back to him and walking away.
     Lipton holstered his weapon, feeling sheepish and a bit shocked.
     "Angels and demons, then Nordic deities, and now faeries.  I really 
must be going nuts," he muttered, exasperated.  "What the hell is next?"
     ::: He can see me!:::
     "Ha!" he shouted at thin air.  "I know I heard you that time!"
     The girl stopped to look at him impatiently.
     "Unless you're deaf, anyway," she said.  "Are you coming?"
     Beyond her, in the direction she was gesturing, was a garden, huge by 
Manhattan standards.  Several tiered stone bowls held herbs, spilling over 
their sides in falls of fragrance and beauty.  Flowers grew in neat rows 
around the edge of the courtyard and vines grew up the sides of the 
surrounding buildings.  Lipton stared in amazement.
     "And how did this little slice of nature come to be?" he asked the girl 
as she waved him towards one of the dozen or so patio chairs scattered 
around the garden.
     The girl jerked an absent thumb at a grass- and flower- covered mound 
in the center of the garden.  "They like it here, and they like it like 
this."
     Lipton looked around.  "They?  You mean faeries?"
     The girl gave him a curious look.  "Who else would I mean?"
     ::: You have a problem with that? ::: the faerie had poked out further 
from the girl's hair, allowing Lipton to see she had a long, wild shock of 
hair colored every shade of Kool-aid.
     Lipton rubbed his temples.  "Why me?"
     The girl smiled.  "Because you're an Angel's child."
     Lipton stared at her in shock.  "What'd you say?"
     The girl blinked.  "That's what Mama says.  You can see faeries because 
you're an Angel's child.  Like me, and Mama.  Mom's not though.  Mama says 
it can skip generations."
     Lipton shook his head.  "Where the hell did you get that explanation 
from?"
     "Ask Mama."  The girl shrugged.
     "And who's Mama?"
     "My grandmother.  She owns the place.  This is our garden... Well... 
It's the faeries', but Mama owns the land."
     ::: She's nice to us, and we like her. ::: the faerie added.  She 
finally came out of the girl's hair, and Lipton saw she was dressed in a 
tiny punked-out version of the girls' clothes.  The small spiked belt and 
wrist bands with the wild hair reminded Lipton of the eighties punk scene.  
The faerie walked down the girl's arm to give Lipton a hard look.  ::: You 
ain't here to cause her trouble are you? ::: she asked belligerently, her 
brightly colored wings fluttering.
     Lipton nearly laughed at the attitude the little faerie displayed, but 
caught himself at the last moment with memories of the "jokes" faeries 
played on mortals in the stories his grandmother used to tell him.
     "I've never heard of her before, so I'm not here about her," Lipton 
said matter of factly.
     "So why are you here?  Mama said she was expecting someone, are you 
him?" the girl queried.
     Lipton shrugged.  "I don't think so.  I had no idea I was coming here, 
so how could she?"
     ::: Mama knows.  She reads Tarot. She told us to stay outside today.  
No faeries in the building till she says so. :::
     "Izzy!  He doesn't need to know that," the girl said.  "You know what 
Mama said about talking to strangers!  How do you know he's not a magic-user 
looking for faerie parts?"
     ::: Because he doesn't have any magic.  Just cold iron and holy 
ammunition. ::: the faerie retorted.  ::: Really, Moon, if you think I 
didn't check him out before he came back here, you're crazy. :::
     "Aren't you supposed to be in school today, anyway?" Lipton asked, 
interrupting the imminent shouting match.
     The girl gave the faerie a stuck-out tongue, then turned to Lipton.  
"Izzy got me suspended this week."
     ::: I just taught that jerk not to pick on you! ::: the faerie 
harrumphed.
     "By graffiti all over his locker!  The principle wouldn't believe I 
didn't do it!" the girl protested.
     ::: At least I didn't turn his head into a donkey's.  Puck would have! 
:::
     "You're not Puck!  You've just read too much Shakespeare!"
     "Okay!  Okay!  I didn't ask any of that!"  Lipton said over the 
argument.  "Look, I'm just wanting some information.  Please?"
     The girl gave him a once over.  "You're a cop.  Why would you be 
interested in faeries?"
     "I'm a Detective, and I'm not interested in faeries.  I'm just 
surprised to see one.  I'm more used to angels or demons."
     "Oh."  The girl gave him a pitying look.  "I know how bad it is seeing 
them.  Mama says I just have to ignore them, because if they realize I can 
see them, they might hurt me.  Mom talks about seeing them all the time, but 
I don't think she really does, or she wouldn't be so casual about them.  I 
usually cross to the other side of the street if I see them soon enough, and 
Mama's gargoyles keep the demons away from here."
     "Gargoyles?"  Lipton looked up at the carved figures on several levels 
of the building.
     "They scream when a demon comes close.  None of them can enter the 
building or come down the alley.  Just like a church."
     Lipton shook his head.  "I don't think they work like that, kid.  I 
watched a demon enter not to long ago."
     ::: Only demons of great power, or those who bear no intent of harm, 
may pass the gargoyles unmolested.  Their scream will drive all others away 
and summon the fae warriors to defend the mound. ::: the faerie insisted.  
::: It would take a Demon Lord to drive his minions into a building guarded 
by gargoyles and Fae.  The Seelie do not treat demons kindly. :::
     "I see." Lipton said.  "So the gargoyles would warn you if any demon 
entered?"
     ::: Unless commanded otherwise, by one of great power. :::
     Lipton was prevented from asking any other questions by a door opening 
in the back wall.  A tall woman with a mop of curly blonde hair and huge owl 
glasses poked her head out.
     "Moonbunny!  Mama said you could come back in now.  I need you to watch 
the store while I check in the delivery."
     "But mom!  I'm busy!  Izzy and I were explaining about gargoyles to 
this cop!"
     "Now, Moonbunny."  The woman waited till the girl and the faerie had 
gone back inside then turned to Lipton.  "I'm so sorry she bothered you, 
officer.  She tries hard, but she's young and her knowledge of the Craft is 
limited.  I try , but it's so hard to get her to study real lore."  She gave 
Lipton a appraising look, like she was sizing up a steak.  "If you are truly 
interested in learning about Magick, I would be happy to discuss it with you 
over...  Dinner?"
     Lipton had seen that look on far to many women to miss it.  He debated 
about setting a date for all of three seconds before deciding no.  As 
overeager as she was, no telling how many other "boyfriends" she had 
dangling.
     "Actually, I'm afraid I have to go.  I was just curious about the 
gargoyles and your daughter was kind enough to tell me about them."
     "That's very kind of you.  Still, if you'd like to know more, I'd be 
more than happy to answer your every desire."  Her voice had dropped 
slightly into a sultry tone.  Lipton stepped back.
     "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."  He turned to the alleyway and 
headed off.  He could feel the woman's eyes burning into his back the entire 
way.
     Safely back in the alley, Lipton mused about what the girl had said 
about angel children and gargoyles.  He snorted at the idea he was a child 
of an angel.  His parents were entirely too pedestrian for any such flights 
of fancy.  Besides, what self-respecting angel would be caught dead in 
Jersey?
     The gargoyles were something else.  He'd heard about that before, 
though he'd never seen it happen.  Then again he'd never seen a demon within 
a block of a church either.
     But he'd seen Seraph enter the building with nary a peep from the 
watchful stone figures.
     A powerful demon, one who intended no harm, or else someone ordered the 
gargoyles not to sound an alarm.  I wish I knew which it was.
     Still, he had confirmed his quarry couldn't sneak out a back way, so he 
found a place where he could watch the building and waited.  It was just a 
waiting game until he had more information.  Sooner or later he'd get to the 
bottom of the mystery of Seraph Darkfell.

     * * * * *
     Seraph Darkfell.
     The name rode the crest of Theliel's thoughts, eroding his other 
concerns.  He sat at one of the massive tables in the Great Library, 
surrounded by a myriad of texts.  Presently, he was leafing through a text 
on succubae, but finally slammed it shut when he realized it was a waste of 
time.  Nowhere could he find any information on the greater demons, save 
those who had Fallen during the Great War.  He had found page after page on 
those who had sided with Lucifer, but nothing on the deities and other 
creatures who had been demonized as the G.O.D.s influence had expanded, not 
even her, and if she wasn't there, Darkfell wouldn't be either.
     The sound of the heavy book slamming shut cast a thunderous echo around 
the library.  The echoes faded, leaving behind the clicking of sandals on 
tile.  Theliel looked up in surprise that quickly turned to impatience as he 
drew another book from the pile on the desk.
     "Whatever is the matter, Theliel?" Temporiel asked from beneath her 
burka.  Her eyes flashed in the shadows, narrowing at the handsome Cupid.  
"Feeling a little... jealous?"
     Theliel gave her a raised eyebrow.  "Why should I be jealous?" he 
asked, waving her question off as he calmly continued his search.
     "This Seraph Darkfell has been a thorn in your side for quite some 
time, has she not?  Stealing first your mother's affections, then 
Harteriel's?  And was she not the demon who took Valentiniel's life at the 
end of that little fiasco?"
     Theliel kept his face neutral as he shrugged.  "No-one knows the 
details of that.  She might have, she might not have.  I don't know."
     Temporiel trailed her fingers across his shoulders as she stepped 
around him.  "Yet you want her so badly, this succubus who continually 
steals your prizes."  She leaned over the table, her dark robes casting a 
shadow over the book.  "One would think she would be dangerous prey.  Yet 
you continue to try and win her to our cause?"
     "A powerful enemy can also be a powerful ally," Theliel quipped.
     "Indeed."  Temporiel thumbed through one of the books Theliel had 
discarded.  "Yet since you have not found what you seek, I would surmise 
that she is a super.  How do you plan to win a super, Theliel, or even 
capture her alive?"
     "Super-demons are just older." Theliel said dismissively.  "It doesn't 
make them untouchable.  My mother learned that, no?"
     "Older than you, Theliel, old and powerful.  One of the First."  
Temporiel met his eyes "Older than even the Old Man, perhaps."
     "And why is it that you, of all people, are speaking of such things, 
eh?"  Theliel leaned back and crossed his arms, giving Temporiel a wry grin. 
  "Your department has always taken such pains to eradicate accurate 
knowledge of what came before the Son.  Why such an interest now?"
     Temporiel paused for a long second.  "There is a Human seeking the 
demon." she finally said.  "He has the Sight.  He can see the Old Ones."
     Theliel laughed.  "A Human?" he exclaimed.  "You tart.  Humans assume 
they've gone mad if they see anything we say isn't there.  A sample of your 
handiwork, no?"
     Temporiel slammed the book closed.  "This human is different, Cupid!" 
she exclaimed angrily.  "He has met the War-Walker!  Seen and spoken to him. 
  He has battled demons!  He does not accept our explanations, and my spies 
have told me he has met with the Hornblower!"
     "Gabriel?"  Theliel looked at her in disbelief.  At her nod, he leaned 
forward over the table, propping his chin on his hands.  "Gabriel has not 
been seen since-"
     "Since the Son left Heaven," Temporiel finished for him.  "If the Human 
discovers that, we may find our grip on humankind weakened.  The Old Man 
would not be pleased."
     Theliel sat back again and placed his hands behind his head.  "So why 
are you telling me this?"
     "As I said, he seeks the demon.  He must not be allowed to join her.  
He knows too much already that is dangerous.  If he were to meet with an 
'unfortunate accident' he would not be able to share such dangerous 
knowledge."  Even behind her veil, the wicked grin was discernable.  "And 
while we are overseeing this, we would be able to monitor the angel and 
her-" Temporiel choked over the word, "-lover."
     "And I'm supposed to believe you don't have any ulterior motive?"  
Theliel shook his head.  "Not today, Temporiel."
     "Ulterior motive?" Temporiel queried, giving Theliel an even look.
     "Yes.  I know you oppose Heart's redemption.  I wouldn't put it past 
you to be planning more than just the human's death."
     Temporiel laughed.  "The Old Man would have my wings ripped off and 
hand me to demons dared I go against his word.  He has said they are not to 
be harmed till he has decided their fate on the seventh day.  I cannot go 
against the word.  Yet if this human shares what he knows with the renegade, 
all our work may be in jeopardy.  He may reveal that which we would not have 
them know, and all chance of their redemption will be lost.  You will lose 
your prizes, and centuries of my guidance may be undone.  The Faith rests in 
part on the cornerstones of Chastity and Love.  This human threatens both.  
Yet in death he may serve our cause far more.  His hatred for demons and his 
strength of will could make him a formidable agent in Heaven's ranks."
     "And you're willing to share the credit, no questions asked?"  Theliel 
stroked his chin.  "I don't trust you, Temporiel.  Not one iota."
     "Which is why I wish your alliance.  You will be my witness, come what 
may."
     Their eyes met for a long moment, both gazes calm and steady.  Finally, 
Theliel spoke.
     "Very well.  You of all of us are least capable of lying, Angel of 
Chastity.  That's the only reason I will go along with this."  With those 
words, the Angel of Love rose and stalked off, leaving his books behind.
     Temporiel watched as he disappeared, a smile hidden beneath her veil.  
"Yes," she said to herself under her breath.  "And you'll be able to vouch 
to the Old Man that it was the human, not I, who killed Seraph Darkfell."

     * * * * *

     Uziel waited until Temporiel had turned to go before stepping out of 
the adjoining aisle.  That had been rather interesting.  He watched her 
receding back as he set down at the table and looked over the books Theliel 
had been reading.  Picking one at random, he leafed idly through it as he 
let his mind work.
     "This makes no sense," he said, thinking aloud.  "Why is Theliel 
looking up information on the Old Ones?  And why is he so obsessed with 
Darkfell?"  He looked through a volume on the Fallen Host, reading as fast 
as he turned pages.  "Curious," he noted.  "Darkfell isn't listed among the 
Fallen, yet she is clearly a super.  Theliel's report made that clear, even 
though he left out that she had been responsible for Valentiniel's death 
after she had been sentenced to Hell."  He read through the other books in 
short order.  "Even more curious.  She's not listed anywhere in the ancient 
texts, nor any text before the departure of the Son, yet she is attributed 
with Valentiniel's destruction.  Very curious."
     He looked back up at the spot where Temporiel had vanished long before. 
  "Theliel's obsession is marginally explainable.  He has had several 
potential conquests usurped by the succubus.  His ego will not rest until he 
has claimed her as his, but Temporiel's hatred seems excessive, and directed 
specifically at Darkfell as opposed to succubae in general.  Some of this is 
understandable, as Temporiel's hatred of sex, and indeed her own self-hatred 
as a woman has been expressed in every religion influenced by the G.O.D. 
through commandments of chastity and lower status for females.  Her office's 
further duties as keeper of dogmatic law also would suggest she would harbor 
equal dislike of any of Hell's minions, yet this seems personal.  It does 
not make coherent sense."
     "Officially, the Old Man has authorized a clean-up of the records 
surrounding Harteriel's exile, and Temporiel is the Angel in charge of that 
task, as she has been in the past.  She is also overly concerned with the 
human and whatever knowledge he possesses.  From this I must surmise she 
fears exposure, and therefore, such an action is justified, yet her present 
actions show she wishes to carry out this action clandestinely.  This does 
not indicate official action.  There is something therefore she does not 
wish the Old Man to be aware of.  Something she is hiding.  Something not 
relating to her present task."
     He thought for a moment, idly flipping through the books Theliel had 
left, then stopped on an illustration in the bottom book of the pile, the 
first book Theliel had looked through and rejected.
     It was a plate illustrating an angel bound in chains.  Dark violet eyes 
blazed from under midnight black bangs as ivory white wings strained to 
break the cold steel links that held her naked form in a mockery of a bow.  
The look on her face made it obvious that while her body might be kneeling, 
she had not surrendered.
     It was a disturbing picture, Uziel thought.  He had not been Master of 
Purgatory during Valentiniel's trial.  Like the rest of Heaven, he had 
accepted that the unfortunate Virtue had gone insane, unable to accept a 
life of peace after so long as a warrior.  There was no hint of madness in 
those eyes, caught so exactingly by the illustrator, but what was there was 
far more disturbing.  The picture showed Valentiniel's trial and sentencing, 
the Archangels presiding over the case.  Valentiniel's eyes were locked on 
Theliel, and there was no mistaking the implacable rage and betrayal in 
them.
     Uziel steepled his fingers as he thought.  "And once again, there is a 
link to Valentiniel.  What connection does it have beyond her death at 
Seraph's hands-"  He caught himself, "-rather, claimed to be at Seraph's 
hands?  Temporiel was awarded the role of keeper less than a century later, 
following the Son's departure.  This will bear further investigation.
     "Yet for all of that, it does not explain Temporiel's current fixation 
on this human who has been investigating the succubus."  He thought for a 
moment, finally rising as an idea occurred to him.  "To the Book of Life, 
then.  This detective's entry may make for interesting reading."

     * * * * *

     As he hung up the phone, Father Alphonse Lorenzo breathed a sigh of 
relief.  "Thank you, oh Lord, for granting me the information that will aid 
in delivering my friend Bruce from evil.  May its use aid in the works he 
does for you."
     He picked up the sheaf of papers from the fax and set them as far from 
him on the desk as possible.  He rose, running a nervous hand through short 
dark hair as he began pacing his small office, waiting for Bruce.
     It was times like these that he wondered why he had become a preist, 
let alone a Jesuit.  Despite his insatiable curiosity and scientific bent, 
he had discovered there were things he didn't want to know, and the contents 
of those papers had been one of those things.  He feared he wouldn't be able 
to convince his friend of the danger he was in.  He owed Lipton from way 
back, from the days when the young, self-assured loner had defended him from 
bullies "just because."  They had slowly grown into friendship, the thin 
geeky Al helping Bruce with his schoolwork in exchange for "protection" and 
in a real sense, Al felt their relationship was still much the same, though 
these days, it was his knowledge of protections and blessings that protected 
Bruce.
     Then Bruce has to go and get involved way over his head.  He shook his 
head as he glanced at the papers once again.
     One thing about being a member of an Italian family was enormous 
numbers of relatives all over the world... even in Rome.  Ever since the 
inception of the Lorenzo surname, at least one son from every branch of the 
family had found his way into the priesthood.  Some had done good, some had 
done evil, some had done hardly anything at all.  All Al Lorenzo had wanted 
to do was find a niche where he would be free to study his interests to his 
heart's content, and do a little good, but Bruce's run-in with Scoth had 
made his research a matter of practical necessity, and had driven him more 
than once to call on the family's network for aid.
     The papers on the desk had been sent to him from a cousin 
who-knew-how-many-times-removed named Giuseppe, who served in such a menial 
capacity in the Vatican Library that he was generally beneath notice, and as 
such, had managed to get information for Al from various sources with little 
difficulty.  The latest had been in response to his query on Darkfell.  
Reading them as they had rolled off the fax had prompted his call to Bruce 
demanding he hurry to the rectory.
     Over an hour of nervous pacing passed before the Detective was shown 
into his office by an altar boy.  Lorenzo sighed in relief as his friend 
came in and gave him an irritated look.
     "This had better be important, Al.  I had to drop a stakeout to come 
down here."
     Lorenzo licked his lips.  "It was.  I'm sorry, but I have to warn you 
to leave this case alone, Bruce.  Darkfell is too dangerous."
     Bruce dropped into a chair before Lorenzo's desk.  "What is this?  
Everybody and their brother is warning me to drop this case.  What's so 
special about a god-damned succubus?"
     Lorenzo winced, but ignored the profanity.  "She's not an ordinary 
succubus, Bruce.  She's something much worse."  Al picked up the sheaf of 
paper and sat down at his desk and started reading them to Bruce.

     Seraph Darkfell, also known as the White Lady, the Angel in Darkness, 
the Shadow Lover and The Fallen.  Origin unknown.  First records seem to be 
Roman and Visigoth, and later more extensive records during the Middle Ages. 
  The Fallen was said to be a powerful demon who often took the shape of a 
tall white-haired beauty that supposedly no man could resist.  Considered a 
major power of the sin of lust, The Fallen was feared for her insidious 
methods of seducing man into evil through seemingly innocent actions, 
seducing her prey through happiness, seeming love, and carnal pleasure.  
Unlike the majority of succubae, The Fallen did not seem to feed on her prey 
to destruction, preferring instead to corrupt as many faithful as possible 
in small ways that led to a loss of faith as it conflicted with happiness.
     The Fallen is feared especially because according to the reports of 
several priests at differing times and locations, she has seemed to exhibit 
strong resistance to Holy magick and blessings.  Only direct contact with 
the Holiest of items, The Host, The Cross, and Holy water, will suffice to 
repel her.  Fortunately, she has shown little gift for magic, instead 
possessing enormous strength.
     Later records refer to The Fallen as an agent of Mephistopheles and 
active even into modern times.  She is believed to have been responsible for 
several hedonistic movements, but no solid evidence has been put forth.
     Al, I don't know why you wanted this information, but I sent along 
several of the accounts of priests attempting to slay or drive this demon 
off.  Whatever you wanted this for, I pray for your sake you have no need 
for this beyond curiosity.  This isn't a demon to play with.  She's got 
nearly as much power as a Demon Lord, and is supposedly one of the Lord of 
Temptations' lieutenants.  From the records, she's killed every priest who's 
fought her directly, including a Cardinal and his entire cadre.
     Anyway, hope you find this useful.
     Giuseppe

     Al looked up from reading the letter at Bruce.  "There's nearly fifty 
more pages of accounts from various sources describing fights, attempted 
exorcisms, and reports of her activities.  This demon is dangerous like 
you've never dealt with before, Bruce.  She's seduced priests, nuns, even a 
Bishop, and most of the blessings and charms I can give you will be 
ineffective against her.  She's one step below a Demon Lord, Bruce.  You 
don't stand a chance."
     Lipton looked at Al over his joined hands.  "I don't know if I buy all 
that, Al.  She just doesn't seem to be acting like that."
     Lorenzo sighed.  "That's her specialty, Bruce.  She's a rabid wolf in 
sheep's clothing.  And if what you told me is true, she's good enough to 
deceive an angel.  An angel, Bruce!  For all God has granted you the Sight, 
you're still human.  You can't let her weave her lies and deceptions around 
you!  Let her go."
     Lipton shook his head.  "I can't, Al.  There are too many questions 
this case has raised.  I have to find the answers."
     "You can't save the world single-handedly, Bruce.  You're not the 
Savior.  You're my friend, and I don't want to be the one burying you."
     Lipton stood.  "You won't, Al.  Look, all I can promise is I'll be 
careful.  I need to get to the bottom of this before I go mad."
     Lorenzo sighed as he stood and gazed at Bruce sadly.  "Then I will pray 
for your deliverance from this evil, my friend."
     Lipton gave him a half-smile as he left "Hey, it can't be that bad.  
When you called me, she and the angel were shopping for furniture.  I doubt 
she's looking for a fight."
     Al watched him go sadly, wishing he had found something stronger to 
present to Lipton, to show him how much danger he was in.  With a sigh, he 
turned back to his desk and started typing an e-mail to Giuseppe.  Surely, 
there had to be something in the Vatican Library that would be effective 
against Seraph Darkfell...

     * * * * *

     "This is the thirteenth store we've been to, Beloved," Seraph 
complained.  "My hooves are killing me."
     "But we haven't found a bed yet!"  Heart replied.  "We can't sleep in 
our new home without a bed."
     Seraph raised an eyebrow.  "Beloved, you barely sleep.  Why are you so 
concerned about a bed?"
     Heart blushed, "Well... um...  Beloved, it's our new home.  I want our 
first night to be special."
     Seraph gave her a understanding smile.  "Oh.  I see."
     The store was an antique shop several blocks from the apartment 
building, one specializing in Louis XIV-era antiques.  Seraph had to admit 
that the items the store carried came closer to matching the apartment's 
decor that any of the other places they had been to that day, but she sighed 
mentally at the prices listed on most of the items.  If Heart outfitted the 
entire apartment from here, they'd be living on their day-to-day wages until 
the end-of-year settlement from the club.
     It was a small price to pay to see Heart so happy.
     They had finished the paperwork about an hour after Mama had shown them 
the apartment, Seraph paying the first year up-front.  Moving all of their 
stuff from the hotel had taken another hour, and Seraph had been happy to 
find out that Mama had a deal with a parking garage behind the building so 
she had a place to park the 'Vette.  Mama had also sent them out armed with 
a list of places they could get furniture that seemed to cover every place 
within ten blocks of the apartment, and a simple statement of "Mama sent us" 
had been a passport to friendly service and treatment like they were old 
friends.
     She sat down on a loveseat as Heart wandered the store, exclaiming in 
delight over various items.  The clerk was more than happy to show the 
redheaded angel anything that caught her fancy, and it was several minutes 
before she had gotten around to telling the clerk she was interested in 
beds.  The clerk gave her an appraising look, a sparkle in her eye, then 
motioned her towards the back.  Seraph climbed back up on her hooves and 
followed the two to a curtained doorway.
     "You're in luck," the clerk said as she lifted the curtain.  "We just 
finished restoring this yesterday and haven't gotten around to rearranging 
the store to display it."
     Heart and Seraph entered the dark room as the clerk fumbled with the 
light switch.  As the lights sprang on, Heart exclaimed happily as Seraph 
whistled.
     The bed was a huge canopied affair in the Louis XIV style, its four 
posts elegantly carved and its rich red velvet canopy accented in gold 
embroidery.  The headboard curved around the massive circular mattress, its 
dark oak panels carved into a scene of nymphs and fauns playing in a golden 
wood.  A dozen plump pillows piled at the base of the headboard, covered in 
a soft red silk decorated with golden roses.  The matching cover to the bed 
hung to just above the floor, the small gap revealing a heavy dust ruffle.  
Heavy velvet curtains surrounded the entire bed, the ones at the foot 
gathered together and tied to the posts with golden cords.  Seraph estimated 
the bed's diameter at nearly twenty-five feet.
     "We've traced this bed's origins to a craftsman in Paris before the 
Revolution," the clerk said proudly.  "It was constructed as a special order 
for a Count, but never delivered.  It's been sitting in one warehouse or 
another for over two centuries.  We restored the wood and replaced the 
fabrics, trying to keep the original style and elegance.  We did add one 
thing modern.  The bed was originally intended to have a space underneath 
for bed warmers, but we added warming coils instead.  The controls are under 
the grill in the base board."
     Seraph nodded, admiring the megalithic piece.  No worries about wing 
room with a bed like that!
     Heart was enchanted too, running a hand lovingly over the old wood.  
"It was intended to be a wedding bed," she said, turning to look at the 
clerk.  "Wasn't it?"
     The clerk nodded.  "The Count died in a duel before his marriage.  A 
rival for his bride insulted him and he threw down the gauntlet, so to 
speak.  The girl refused to marry the other suitor and ran away from home.  
No-one knows what happened to her."
     Heart nodded.  "He loved her.  He had this made to show her that.  I 
can tell.  Everything about it speaks of love."
     Seraph laid a hand on Heart's shoulder.  "Then it should be perfect."
     Heart nodded, her eyes shining.  "It's been waiting.  All these years, 
it's been waiting, its purpose unfulfilled."
     "I take it, then, we're done shopping for a bed?"
     Heart laughed.  "Yes, Beloved.  It has to be our bed."
     The price was enough to make Seraph blink, but there was no thought of 
not getting the magnificent bed.  Seraph signed the paperwork for the clerk 
to bill her bank account, having nowhere near the amount in ready cash, and 
they prepared to take the bed to the apartment.  Seraph looked at the huge 
antique and sighed.
     "While I know I can pick it up, Dear, it's going to be hard to explain 
how I can manage to carry a bed that large.  That's not even including how 
we're going to manage to get it to the penthouse."
     Heart smiled.  "That's easy, Beloved.  I was planning to put it in my 
purse."
     Seraph gave her a doubtful look.  "I know your purse has a dimensional 
pocket, but the mouth doesn't stretch."
     Heart just smiled and started an chant in Angelic.  Seraph poked her 
head out the curtain to make sure the clerk was busy with another customer, 
and when she turned back around, the bed was gone.  She giggled as Heart 
linked up her arm with hers.  "You know, she's going to go crazy wondering 
how we got it out of here without her seeing it."
     Heart smiled back.  "Hey, it's a kind of magic."
     Seraph laughed.  "Absolutely."

     * * * * *

     Time passed as it is wont to do and late evening found Thor standing 
outside the club taking a smoke break.  He was reclining against one of the 
walls by the main doors, and watching as traffic made its crazy way through 
the streets.  He shook his head at a near collision, contemplating the 
foolishness of humans.
     Still, the cause of the near crash did deserve a more than casual 
glance.  The tall woman walking up the street was worth several dozen 
appreciative looks at least.  She was Nubian, her skin a dark chocolate, but 
she had white hair done up in a crest of hundreds of tiny braids threaded 
through small glass beads.  Large disks of beaten gold adorned her ears and 
the shimmering gold dress she wore appeared almost liquid.  She sauntered up 
to the club and gave it a once over, then her eyes locked on Thor.  She gave 
him a smile and walked over.
     "Would you happen to have another one of those?"  she asked, pointing 
to the cigarette Thor had between his fingers.
     He gave her a long appreciative look as he took out his pack and handed 
her one, then lit it with his silver lighter.  "You here to watch?"
     The woman gave the club another look.  "I don't know.  Debating about 
maybe dancing.  Figured I'd at least give it a look-see."
     Thor nodded.  "You'd look good on the stage.  Almost as good as the 
Boss Lady.  Gotta warn you though.  There's a waiting list."  He gave her 
another long look.  She was muscular, and her body looked very athletic.  
Reminded him of Sif.  Nothing at all like Freya though.  "You got a name?"
     The woman's eyes sparkled.  "Do you?"
     Thor chuckled.  "Yeah.  Thor.  I'm the bouncer."
     "So I guessed.  My name is Frost, at least in English."
     "Oh?  I take then you're not?"
     "No.  African.  I won't bore you with the details of my small tribe.  
Suffice it to say it's too obscure to receive much notice."
     "So what brought you to America?"
     "Lots of different reasons.  None of them really important."
     "Mystery lady, huh?" Thor stubbed out his cigarette against the wall.
     "Would you find that appealing?" she smiled, her white teeth bright 
against the darkness of her face.
     "Maybe.  Depends."
     She cocked her head.  "Depends?  On what?"
     Thor pushed away from the wall and lifted his hammer from behind his 
back.  The huge iron head had small electrical sparks crawling over its 
surface.  "On what you are and who you work for.  This tells me you're a 
demon.  What I do about that depends on your answer."
     Frost laughed.  "Bhaalor said you were canny."
     "Old One-Eye?"  Thor shook his head.  "I've already told him I ain't 
going to work for Hell."
     "I'm not here to ask."
     Thor gave her a hard look.  "You better not be here to cause trouble 
either.  Whatever Bhaalor's gripe is with the Boss Lady, he's gotta go 
through me to get to her.  You can tell him I said that too.  He pisses me 
off too bad, I might just come down there and take his other eye."
     Frost gave him another appraising look.  "You're the one who put out 
his eye?  No wonder he hates you.  I'm not here for Seraph either.  I came 
to see you.  I came to see what Bhaalor is afraid of."
     Thor gave her a hard grin.  "Yeah?  And why should I believe you?"
     Frost shrugged.  "Don't care if you do.  He's frothing over last night 
anyway.  I came mostly to get out of his way."
     Thor laughed.  "Nice imagery.  Like a rabid dog."
     Frost gave him a comradely grin.  "Exactly."
     "I like you.  So how does a nice girl like you end up working for 
Bhaalor?"
     "Whoever said I was nice?  I'm a war goddess.  At least I was before 
slavers wiped out my tribe.  It was Hell or oblivion.  You've at least got 
enough people who believe in you to allow you a choice."
     Thor put up his hammer as he leaned back against the wall.  "It's more 
than that, girl.  Doesn't matter whether humans believe in you or not, so 
long as you have faith in yourself.  Even if no-one worshipped me, I'd still 
be here.  I'm too stubborn to give in."
     Frost raised an eyebrow.  "Interesting."
     A heavy floral scent suffused the area suddenly.  Thor sniffed then 
shook his head.  "Hope you don't mind company."
     Frost looked confused.  "What?"
     Motes of golden light appeared in midair, cascading down to the 
sidewalk and leaving behind Aphrodite.  Frost gave her an evil eye.  
Aphrodite returned it.
     "Since when have you been friendly with Bhaalor's lieutenants?" the 
ex-goddess asked Thor.
     Thor shrugged.  "She stopped by to chit-chat."
     "Since when do you care what I do, slut?"  Frost said icily.
     Aphrodite sniffed.  "Since Seraph quit and your boss decided he wanted 
her dead.  I don't plan on letting him kill her."
     "Nice sentiment.  I could care less."
     "Then why are you here?" Aphrodite demanded.
     Frost jerked a thumb at Thor.  "Like he said.  I came to chit-chat."  
She turned to the God of Thunder.  "Catch you later.  It's too crowded here 
with her ego around."  She waved and faded into the shadows.
     "Now why'd you have to do that for?" Thor grumbled at Aphrodite.  "I 
was kinda liking her.  We could have had some fun."
     "She works for Bhaalor!  She's probably running to him right now to 
report!"
     "You always was too suspicious, 'Dite.  That's how Loki broke you and 
Hephaestus up, remember?"
     "Yeah, well, it pays to be suspicious sometimes.  I came to warn Seraph 
again.  Don't know exactly what's up, but the rumor mill says my son's up to 
something."
     "So?  Like I told Frost to tell Bhaalor, anyone who wants Seraph has to 
get past me.  Makes no difference to me which side it is."
     "Just keep an eye out, ok?  I have to get back before Mephie starts 
looking for me.  Frost may tell him I came to warn you."
     "You worry too much, 'Dite," he repeated to the falling motes.  As they 
faded from view, he leaned back against the wall and took out another 
cigarette.  He smiled at nobody.  Life, which had been far too dull lately, 
was definitely looking up.

     * * * * *

     Lipton had been driving around for hours, trying to decide what to do 
since leaving the Rectory.  He'd never known Al to be wrong before, but he 
just couldn't bring himself to believe all that Al had told him.  He'd 
avoided meeting Seraph so far, trying to figure out what was going on, but 
he'd reached a brick wall.
     It was almost closing time when he pulled up in back of the club to 
find Thor standing outside keeping guard.  He parked the car and waved at 
the big god.
     "Well, well, if it isn't the angel-hating cop."  Thor smiled as he came 
over to meet him.  "You come by to get that drink?  A little late tonight."
     "No, actually I came to talk to Miss Darkfell and Miss Serafina.  I 
have some questions I really need the answers to."
      "For the record, Detective, I think this is a very bad idea," Thor 
told him as he walked back toward the club.  "Miss Darkfell might not want 
to talk to you, and she might not be so nice about it."
     "Thanks, Thor," Lipton replied, saluting the ancient warrior.  "I think 
I can manage."
     "Well, I can't help you," Thor warned.  "You know, her being my boss 
and all."
     "Duly noted."
     Despite his air of confidence, Lipton's stomach was in knots, hard and 
cold.  Seraph didn't seem malicious, but looks could be deceiving.  He 
nervously looked around the alley at the back of Dante's and sat down on the 
hood of his car to wait.  He glanced up at the still-dark morning sky, 
hoping Al's reports had been wrong, but preparing mentally in case they were 
right.  A small flock of birds flew across the moon, drifting his mind 
toward the angel, Harteriel.  What was she like?  Could she, a love angel, 
be tricked into believing the demon loved her?
     For some reason, Lipton realized he was truly hoping the reports were 
wrong.
     Wait a minute... birds?  It's February...
     Lipton had his pistol out in a flash, not really paying attention to 
the opening door of Dante's, but trying to keep an eye on the flock of 
so-called birds.  As they got closer, he realized they were otherworldly, 
but at this distance he couldn't tell which side of Christian mythos they 
were from.  All he knew was, they were approaching fast, and headed right 
for them.
     "What the hell...?" Thor cried out, running at Lipton.  "I thought I 
told you to play nice!"
     "We've got company," Lipton pointed, and Thor followed his finger.
     "What are they?" he asked.
     They flitted out of sight for just a moment, disappearing into the 
skyline.  When they reappeared, they were right above... and dropping in.
     "Holy shit - angels!" cried the tall, pale-haired bombshell at the 
doorway.  She'd been locking the door, the angel beside her, when the sound 
of massive wings overtook the alley.
     "Friends of yours, Miss Heart?" Thor asked, his voice shaking slightly 
with anticipation as his finger stroked his hammer.
     Heart didn't answer.  She just stood there, her face a frozen mask of 
terror, her arms splayed at her sides against the wall she'd backed into.
     "What do you want?" she cried at the group of descending angels.
     There were seven of them, their non-descript black suits and sunglasses 
as bland as their bureaucratic flattop haircuts and steel-black wings.  Even 
the female one was as non-descript and anonymous as the rest.
     "We're here for - " any one of them could have said for as monotonous 
and flat as their voices were.  They all looked around, all seven pairs of 
eyes training on Lipton.  "-him."
     "Me?" Lipton pointed to himself, chagrinned.  "Wait a minute, I never 
saw you assholes before today.  What the hell do you want with me?"
     The apparent spokesman answered with a quick flash of something bright 
and hot.  He rolled over the hood of his car in an attempt to dodge it, but 
his trademark trench had a patch that had blazed for a moment, and was now 
smoldering.
     "Flaming swords?  You've got to be kidding," he said as he extinguished 
the embers.
     "Hey!" roared the God of Thunder, drawing his hammer.  "That guy's a 
friend of mine.  I don't like it when people pick fights with my friends."
     "Well we don't like it much when known demon hunters harbor murderers," 
the seven-angel chorus said in reply.  "In fact, it's quite frowned upon."
     Seraph pointed in Lipton's direction, glaring at Thor.
     "That guy's a demon hunter?" she demanded.
     "I thought your boss wasn't gonna mess with me," Lipton stood and shook 
a finger at the angels.  "Gabriel told me to stay out of it, but he also 
said he wasn't going to attack me."
     In the back of his mind, though, he realized this wasn't true.  Gabriel 
had only said that he might get killed in the crossfire.
     "Gabriel's not my boss," the angel-in-black took another wide swing, 
giving Lipton plenty of time to dodge.  Thor took another step forward, but 
two of the others positioned to cover him.  Two more flanked their leader, 
and the last took defense against Heart and Seraph.
     "I thought angels were the good guys," Lipton said, leaning forward on 
his hands.
     "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, detective," the angel replied, 
standing over him now.  "But you really do have such archaic ideas.  We are 
the good guys - by any means necessary."
     "Even just killing a human," Lipton said as he positioned his legs 
beneath him.
     "We've done it for millions of years.  Look at Sodom and Gomorrah,"
     Lipton looked the angel right in the dark glasses.
     "So I didn't kill her on sight, and you're just going to kill me to 
make up for it?"
     "That's right, detective," the bland angel grinned, his teeth giving 
the appearance that they would be more comfortable in a horse's mouth.  
Lipton found this amusing, but couldn't place why.  "Clearly you are not yet 
pure enough.  Maybe next lifetime."
     "But I'm not ready to give up on this one," Lipton pushed off with his 
feet, lunging the short distance between himself and the dark angel.  Caught 
off-guard, the angel leaped back, flapping his wings at the same time.  This 
served to pull both angel and human about six feet into the air, before the 
weight became too much.  Both beings crashed to the pavement in a heap, and 
they took with them the two that had been flanking their leader.
     At this, Thor gave a mighty yell and Heart shrieked.
     Thor's yell came with his hammer's crash, the immense sound enveloping 
all of them, paralyzing the whole group for just a moment as he cried out 
the hammer's name.  The air smelled of sulfur, and static electricity played 
havoc on the alley.  The mighty hammer connected with one of the angels, who 
jiggled in a spastic dance before exploding in a puff of golden dust and 
vanishing, leaving behind only a swiftly fading halo.  It was then that 
Heart screamed.
     "No!" she cried, getting into the middle of everything.  Thor's 
remaining guard kept his eyes on him, but both the angels guarding the girls 
and the first angel to dissociate from Lipton's pile turned their full 
attention on her.  This last was the female one, who glared at Heart with a 
look of pure contempt.
     "Theliel wants to give you your job back," she spat.  "But I think you 
should just die for what you've done."
     Heart's face drew up in shock.
     "But I didn't do anything!  I fell in love!"
     "You're demon-meat," came the cold response.  "And you should be 
treated like demon-meat."
     She held up a cross-bow with a silver-tipped bolt whose business end 
was aimed for a point somewhere on the love angel's forehead.  She pulled 
the trigger and let it fly.
     Heart whispered something in the angelic tongue, and the sound of 
heavenly choir surrounded her in the form of a shield of golden light.  It 
deflected the bolt easily as Heart drew her sword from her purse.  However, 
rather than using it to fight, she put the tip of the blade to the ground 
and knelt.
     "Heavenly creator," she whispered.  "I know these are not angels the 
same way I am.  Please forgive me."
     Her temporary nemesis laughed out loud.
     "Please forgive me!" she mocked.  "He'll never forgive you.  You walked 
out on His love."
     The blade of Heart's sword flashed silver in the air as the female 
AiB's head sailed from her shoulders to the pavement, her halo flying away 
to clatter on the ground.  The rush of silver light that came from her 
bleeding neck washed over the alley, causing Seraph to dive head-first into 
the backseat of the 'Vette.  Heart stood watching the spectacle, watching 
the silver angel-fire wash over the other angels, the human and the bouncer.
     Thor's angel, off balance to begin with, was impacted into his hammer 
by the force.  He ducked as it exploded into another cloud of light, then 
stood to his full seven feet.   His hair, beard, and moustache were singed, 
but he grinned at Heart as he twirled a halo around his finger.
     "What a rush."
     Then he reached into the pile of angels to grab Lipton by the back of 
his collar.
     Lipton was covered in a mercurial silver blood, and he was grinning 
maniacally.  In one hand, clenched in his fist, was the key to his police 
cruiser.  In the other was an ornate silver hilt.  As the lead angel rolled 
away from the pile, all that was left was his lieutenant.  The subordinate 
angel's eyes where bleeding where Lipton had gouged at them.
     "Demons, angels - you're still trying to kill me and that won't fly," 
he said.
     "What is this?  I don't understand this!" Heart suddenly screeched from 
the other side of the alley.  The four angels all turned to look at her.
     Heart was extremely upset at that precise moment, her pale blue aura 
pulsing and glowing with righteous wrath.  She held her sword down at her 
side as she glared at the AIBs.
     "Angels don't kill humans anymore," she growled.  "That's not in the 
Code.  There's no way you're angels."
     "Oh, they're angels, beloved," Seraph rejoined her, twirling her 
trident.  "Nasty ones."
     "And it's four on three," Thor said.  "Not the best odds, but even 
against these nasty buggers, not the worst."
     Lipton looked from his discarded gun to the sword hilt in his hand.  
Realizing blessed ammo probably wouldn't make much of a difference to these 
guys, he started shaking the sword, pressing all the designs on its hilt.
     The four angels, though, had regrouped.  The blind one had replaced his 
glasses and grinned through the silver ooze that dribbled down his face.  He 
had a huge spiked lance trained on Thor.
     The thunder god looked at Lipton.
     "I don't think you're supposed to shake it," he warned in a stage 
whisper.  "I think you're supposed so say its name."
     "Yes, please, detective," the leader angel taunted.  "We need a laugh."
     Lipton looked at the hilt for a moment.  The spidery script up its side 
resolved itself in just a moment to form a word.  He shook his head.
     "'Hasen?'  What kind of -" He leaped back, though, when the flame blade 
burst out of the hilt with a roar of holy fire.  Readying himself, he 
relented, "Hasen it is, then."
     "This changes nothing," the leader said before charging with his own 
blade.  Taking their leader's cue, all of them jumped in.
     Thor had a very easy time of it.  Despite the loss of his eyes, the 
blind angel wasn't exactly blind, but he also wasn't a war god.  He lunged 
in with his spear, but Thor grabbed it from his hands and snapped it in 
half.
     "Nice twig," he said.  "I remember when the Celts used those.  Yours 
made a nice pingy sound when it broke."  As he slammed Mjolnir over the 
angel's head, he added, "So did your head."  He grinned savagely as he 
removed the halo dangling from his hammer
     Heart and Seraph found themselves back to back against a skillful staff 
and a lethal-looking scimitar.  Seraph was meeting her foe thrust for parry, 
and Heart wasn't faring much better.  At this rate, they would fight like 
this for all eternity.  Something had to give.
     So Heart gave it - a sparkly ball that exploded in the AIBs face and 
knocked him back, his eyes dazzled.  A sweep from Thor's hammer blew him 
into a shower of light.
     Seraph's angel now found himself surrounded.  Considering the odds for 
a split second, he took off and disappeared.
     "Coward!" Seraph shouted, trying to take off.  The narrow alley didn't 
give her enough room to glide, though, and she fell to her knees, 
frustrated.
     "It's okay, Miss Seraph," Thor put his hand on her shoulder.  "That 
just means he was scared."
     "You're still on my shit list, Thor."  As quickly as she'd fallen, she 
was on her feet and facing him.  "What the hell are you doing bringing a 
demon hunter into my bar!"
     "Miss Seraph, this ain't the first time he's been here," Thor replied.  
"And he's okay.  Follows the rules, doesn't pull any funny stuff.  He's a 
good guy."
     "Um, where is he?" Heart wondered aloud.
     They all looked, but he was not to be found.
     "Great!"  Seraph threw her hands up in exasperation.  "Now we've 
probably gotten the stupid human killed!  I'm getting the fuck out of here."
     "You go home, Miss Seraph," Thor told her.  "I'll take care of him."
     "Wait a minute," Heart stopped.  "How does he know who we are?"
     "He's a police detective," Thor replied.
     "Thor, that man is not to come back into my club," Seraph ordered.  "A 
detective?  What's next, homicide?"
     "Now that you mention it, I think he is homicide,"
     "Good night, Thor," Seraph growled, jumping into the 'Vette.  Heart 
very daintily slid into the passenger seat.
     "Get rid of him," Seraph ordered Thor before she squealed away.
     "Too bad," Thor muttered, shaking his head.  "You don't make many 
friends in my line of work.  I kinda liked him."

     * * * * *

	Lipton was actually around the corner, blade locked with the angel's.  
Their faces were inches from one another.
	"You must realize this is futile," the angel said.  "I'm an angel.  You're 
a human.  I am your superior."
	"Bullshit," Lipton panted.  He kicked at the angel's knee.
	The angel yelped and relaxed his blade, and Lipton drew back to make a 
sweeping cut.  The angel regained himself, however, and blocked the cut with 
his sword, rebounding into a cut of his own.  Lipton jumped back, the heat 
searing his skin.  Realizing he had the upper hand, the angel grinned 
self-assuredly.  He went into an intricate dance of delicate thrusts and 
counter-thrusts, trying to drive Lipton back further.  Lipton met his every 
move, and the angel growled in frustration.
	"Yeah, thank god you fight with swords," the detective said.  "I won 
trophies with swords.  Made all-state fencing champion, actually."
	"Was that before or after you began frightening away your peers with crazy 
demon stories?" the angel mocked.
	"I thought you said I was a demon-slayer," Lipton narrowed his eyes.
	"You know that's not what your friends think," the angel sneered.  "You 
know what they call you behind your back.  Ghoul...  Psycho...  Crazy."
	"So?  That's their opinion."  Lipton rose an eyebrow.  "Besides, isn't 
vanity a sin?"
	He raced in, his sword over his head like a berserker's.  The angel stood 
at the ready, waiting to cut the man in half at the waist.
	Lipton dove, the full momentum of his back striking the angel's shins.  The 
angel went down, dropping his sword, and Lipton rose.  He held his sword at 
the angel's throat.
	"Well, it was nice to meet you, I suppose," he said, preparing to thrust.  
But the sound of a deep voice calling his name made him turn.
	Thor came into the alley in time to see the angel deliver a kick to 
Lipton's stomach that knocked him to the ground.  The angel then rose and 
kicked him in the face.  Lipton's body fell limp, and the sword flickered 
out.  The angel dove for his sword, trying to grab it in time to face Thor, 
but Mjolnir's aim was true.  The hammer flew through the air and struck the 
angel in the back of the head.  He screamed as he dissipated into a cloud of 
silver dust, the remnants of the terrible sound echoing throughout the 
alley.
	The hammer boomeranged back into Thor's hand as the angels halo clattered 
to the ground.  Thor nodded and fastened Mjolnir to his belt, grinning a bit 
as it gave off one last joyful little spark.  He strode over to the 
detective and knelt over him.
	"Hmph, still alive!  I would have loved having this human as one of my 
kings back when I was in power.  Helluva guy."
	Sighing, he picked up the limp body and folded the detective over his 
shoulder.  As an afterthought, he bent over and slipped the sword-hilt into 
the detective's pocket.  Depositing the unconscious detective in the 
passenger seat of his car, Thor dug out his wallet.  He noted the address 
and wandered around the battle field collecting halos and Lipton's keys 
before squeezing himself in to the car.  A last look satisfying him that all 
the signs of a battle were obscured, he started the car and headed off.

* * * * *

     "I can't believe it!  What the hell was Thor thinking?"  Seraph stormed 
as they weaved through traffic to the village.  "Letting that demon hunter 
so close!"
     "Beloved, he didn't know the detective was a demon hunter.  And you've 
told me that we're supposed to cooperate with the police."
     "That's different!  That's if they come to the club looking for drugs 
or stuff.  This is a Homicide Detective!  The only thing he could possibly 
want to ask about is the demonic corpses we've been leaving around!"
     "Beloved, we've had to defend ourselves.  And they were demons."
     "They won't look like that to NYPD.  They'll look like humans."
     "But is he's a demon hunter, surely he would be able to tell?"
     "Maybe, but that still means he's probably going to try and kill me.  
The last thing I need is to be forced to kill a cop.  It's bad enough I have 
the Church out for my blood for the priests I've had to kill over the 
centuries.  Cops aren't so forgiving."
     "Priests?  Oh, Beloved?"  Heart's tone sounded disappointed.
     "What was I supposed to do, Heart?  They were trying to kill me.  I'm a 
demon remember?  I've tried to avoid killing when I could, but several times 
I've had no choice."
     Heart sighed.  "I know.  They left me no choice either.  I truly am a 
renegade now, Beloved.  I've killed Angels."
     Seraph put an arm around her shoulder.  "I know, Beloved."
     They pulled into the parking garage at the apartment and made their way 
up.  Standing on the balcony overlooking the city Heart looked up at the 
towering Manhattan skyline.  "This city is so beautiful at night."
     Seraph nodded.  "That's why I built Dante's here.  New York is kind of 
a cross-section of humanity.  Almost every nation, every people, every 
culture is here in one form or another.  And the city has a 'never say die' 
attitude I've always found appealing."
     "Like us?" Heart smiled.
     "Like us."
     Heart leaned over the balcony and looked down.  "I really like our new 
home.  It's got such a peaceful feeling."
     Seraph nodded, joining her looking over the railing.  Almost instantly 
she recoiled with an "Eeep!"
     Heart looked over to the gargoyle just below the balcony where Seraph 
had looked over.  "Beloved.  If they were going to be upset, don't you think 
they would have started screaming long before now?"
     Seraph poked her head back over the rail and looked at the gargoyle 
again.  "I suppose."
     The gargoyle winked at her.
     Seraph dived behind the rail to Heart's laughter.  She looked at the 
hiding succubus and smiled.  "I think he likes you."
     "I'll just stay over here, thank you.  Gargoyles and spiders make me 
nervous."
     Heart took Seraph's hand and led her back into the vast echoing 
emptiness of the apartment and into the bed room.  The huge canopied bed sat 
invitingly.  "I think tonight, I just want to be held." Heart murmured as 
she stripped of her clothes.
     Seraph nodded.  "I can't say that I blame you."
     Heart smiled as the succubus crawled into the vast bed and set up the 
pillows for sleeping.  Heart smiled as she reached up and took of her halo, 
hanging it on the hook the rope holding the curtain was attached to.  Its 
silver light cast a soft glow over the bed as she climbed in and snuggled 
next to the demoness.
     "You've never taken your halo off for sleeping before." Seraph noted.
     Heart smiled.  "Of course not.  I wasn't at home before."
     Seraph smiled hugely as she held the angel tight and closed her eyes...





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