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Day One: Fallen Angels

     She closed the door to the apartment in which she had lived all her 
life and sighed.  The door locked with a click that echoed in her ears with 
a finality that bespoke doom.  Picking up the single bag that carried all 
the possessions she owned after a lifetime of service, a life now fallen 
into ruin, she walked down the brightly lit hall to the elevator.  She 
pressed the button, and almost instantly, the doors opened.  Stepping inside 
the roomy interior, she ignored the cheerful voices of the choruses coming 
through the speakers as the elevator descended.  Today, the usually upbeat 
music seemed a false promise of heaven.
     As the elevator descended, she looked at herself in the mirrored walls, 
glumly noting the redness of her eyes from crying, the disheveled mass of 
her flaming red hair.  She pushed her glasses back up her pert nose, the 
gold frames settling back in front of her eyes where the oval lenses of pink 
glass hid some of the redness.  Better perhaps to take them off and not be 
able to see the world she was leaving behind, but she hated her 
nearsightedness without them too much.
     The doors opened out to the enormous lobby and she walked across the 
vast, echoing room to the front doors.  She stepped out into the eternal 
sunshine, the bright sunlight seeming dimmer, though she was the only one 
who seemed to notice.  She flagged down a taxi, watching as it turned to 
retrieve her.  The golden chariot dipped down to the street, the hooves of 
the pegasus pulling it chiming on the cool metal of the gold surface.  The 
gorgeous blond Adonis driving the taxi leaned down to help her up.
     "Where to, miss?" he asked, the musical sound of his voice grating on 
her ears.
     "Pearly Gates Complex," she answered.
     As the taxi transported her to her destination, she sourly reflected on 
the overdose of pleasantness that was part of her daily life.  Rather...  
had been a part of her daily life.  Bright, eternal sunlight, unvarying 
temperature, sweet scented breezes, and angelic choruses; Heaven was 
everything one could want and more...
     Unless you wanted something forbidden.
     She shoved her way through the crowds of incoming souls, heavenly 
agents, and waiting loved ones she found when arriving at the complex.  
Finally, she arrived at a desk she had always shunned before, as all good 
angels did.  The black marble counter exuded a chill aura that made her 
shiver.  The clerk behind it only added to her foreboding, his black glasses 
matching his suit and wings.  His face was blandly anonymous, as only a 
bureaucrat�s could be, and the expression of official dislike could have 
been painted on.
     "Papers?" he asked in a monotone, oddly contrasting to the typical 
musical voice of most angels.  She sighed and handed over the end of her 
life�s work.
     The clerk eyed the pink paper emotionlessly.  "Name?"
     "Harteriel Serafina, Virtue, First Class."
     "Not anymore."  Emotion colored his voice finally, a vicious, gleeful 
tone.  He reached up and Heart felt a wrenching sensation as the golden 
circlet was pulled free and dropped with a clatter on the desk.  Only the 
silver circlet of light, innate to all angels, remained hovering over her 
head.  The clerk glared at it as though he wished he could take that away, 
too, but only Heart could choose to remove it, and a glance into her eyes 
confirmed her unwillingness to do so.  The clerk changed tactics.
     "This is the Exiles� Gate, girl.  You come here, you don�t work in 
Heaven anymore!" he crowed licentiously, a nasty smile on his face.
     "I know," Heart said, the jibe hitting home and chilling her all the 
more.
     "I don�t think you do," the clerk laughed, enjoying the opportunity to 
rub the salt in. "You fucked up, girl."  He tapped the pink slip of paper.  
"Exiled by orders of the Cupid."  He stepped out from behind the counter.  
"An Angel of Love, a Virtue no less, and you had to be exiled?  That�s a 
major fuck-up, girl.  Takes a major violation of the rules.  You little 
stuck-up prisses in the Office of Love are usually too good to wind up here. 
  What�d you do?  Fuck a demon?  Eh?"  He laughed maliciously at his 
supposed joke as he grabbed the front of her robe of office.  "Haven�t 
gotten to exile a Virtue since Valentiniel."  He yanked, ripping the robe 
from her unresisting form and leaving her nude.
     Heart stood impassively, too numb to respond to the clerk�s bullying 
until he grabbed her handbag and threw it into a scanner.  She let out a 
small mew of protest as her sole possessions disappeared.  The clerk laughed 
at her distress then pushed her through an arch next to the desk, his shove 
sprawling her awkwardly on the floor, her glasses nearly flying away.  She 
desperately pushed them back over her eyes.
     "So long, traitor!  If I had my way, you�d fall a lot farther than the 
mortal plane!"  His ominously gleeful laugh was cut off as a door closed 
over the arch.
     Heart tried to orient herself in the blank circular room, her passage 
though the arch having left her dizzy.  She was shaking her head to clear it 
as a beep sounded and her bag dropped on top of her.  She clutched it to her 
chest, but had no chance to check it as the floor opened beneath her and she 
fell into space.
     She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming, and tried to extend her 
wings, but only a numb feeling existed between her shoulders.  She cried out 
in misery at the loss, but her grief did not change her punishment, nor 
would it make her beg forgiveness.
     She had done nothing wrong!  Only loved...
     She fell, a tiny speck in the wide shaft of open air that the giant 
golden stairway defined, a fleeting spectacle for the mortal souls 
ascending.  Below her, a crystal sphere drew closer and closer.  She gave 
one last look to the blazing glory of her lost home before she struck the 
surface and passed through.
     She landed in a heap on a gritty sidewalk, her ears assaulted with 
noise.  She slowly rolled and climbed to shaky feet, taking stock after the 
rough landing.
     She stood on a familiar sidewalk in New York City, lightly trafficked 
at this time of day.  Across from her, a small row of shops quietly stood, 
their glassy faces blankly staring at the empty street.  A small cafe stood 
almost directly across from her, a lone waiter cleaning tables left by the 
last of the late lunch crowed.  The entire street stood in shadow, overhung 
by tall buildings on either side.
     She turned to the store behind her, not noticing the strange look she 
was getting from the owner of the flower shop next door.  Her eyes sought 
out the sign along the music store�s weathered fa�ade, which proudly 
proclaimed its name to be Celestial Sounds.  The windows were covered with 
an assortment of garish music posters, among which two stood out most 
prominently.  Many passersby had noted the irony of Led Zeppelin�s "Stairway 
to Heaven" poster being right next to AC/DC�s "Highway to Hell," but only a 
few knew the truth.
     She stepped forward to place a hand on the poster of the golden stair, 
but only smooth glass met her hand.  She collapsed in tears, falling to her 
knees at the base of the wall.
     "Well, well, what have we here?" a cruel voice asked.
     "Why, it�s a little slut, so eager to get fucked, she couldn�t wait for 
us to strip her," another voice laughed.
     She looked around, her sight blurred with tears.  Six men surrounded 
her, dressed like a gang of typical punks; but they wavered in her vision, 
looking one moment like a group of deliberately-bald teenagers from a 
neo-Nazi gang, then shifting into the semblance of lower-level demons.  She 
pressed her back to the wall behind her, fumbling through her bag, hoping, 
praying they hadn�t taken it...
     "Leave me alone!" she said, her frustrated efforts in vain.
     The tallest one leered.  "Now why would we do that, when it�s obvious 
you�re dying for us to fuck you?"  The cruel malice in his eyes shifting 
between merely human to diabolical.  Hands grabbed her from either side.  
She screamed as she struggled, but it was no use.  Her sight finally 
cleared, revealing the group to be truly demonic.  Frantically, she glanced 
around.  The street was clear of would-be saviors, and all of her angelic 
protections seemed to be gone.
     The tall leader grinned, his sharp teeth glittering in the light from 
her halo.  "Into the alley, boys. We get to enjoy some angelic pussy before 
we deliver her!"
     She fought, screaming and kicking, as she was dragged by the two 
brawniest of the demons into the alley and draped over a trash bin.  Her 
legs were forced apart by massive hands.  She struggled with futility as the 
first demon made to step between her legs, his hand reaching for the 
swastika-emblazoned buckle of his belt...
     In a squeal of tortured rubber, a midnight-black Corvette convertible 
fishtailed around the corner of the alley and braked, the headlights 
illuminating the shadowed corridor.  A blur launched from the car into the 
air, then flipped before slamming into the concrete, shattering it.  The 
demons froze in shock at the sight before them, but Heart sighed with 
relief.
     An Amazonian woman crouched before them, her feet buried to the ankles 
in the shattered cement.  One hand was also buried in a third hole, her 
fingers puncturing the pseudo-rock as though it were clay.  Long legs met 
under a short black leather mini, and the skintight halter-top barely 
contained oversized breasts.  Her eyes blazed out of a heart-shaped face 
under a long, white pageboy haircut, ebony lashes framing their violet fire. 
  Oversized silver hoops dangled from her ears, glinting softly in the light 
from the Corvette.  A slight smile graced her blood red lips.
     Her free right hand bore a double ended trident in a grip that held the 
weapon parallel to the ground.  The larger end extended in front of her, a 
long leaf bladed spear-point forming the central tine.  Just below the 
blade, circular blade breakers curled outward, sharpened along their outer 
edges.  From either side of the central tine large side blades sprang, 
shaped like an oversized headsman's axe, their razor sharp edges curled into 
a shallow S, giving them an appearance like stylized bat wings.  Cutouts in 
the central blade and the flats of the axe blades gave the weapon a lethal, 
even vicious look while reducing the mass of the larger blade to match its 
smaller twin on the opposite end of the haft.  Rounded conical pieces joined 
the trident blades to the shaft, large rubies shining redly from their 
centers.  A twisted copper shaft continued down to a gold ring that sported 
small purple horns.  From the ring a hardwood haft mirrored the shape of the 
blade as it descended to a flared gold cap carved like a stylized papyrus 
flower.  The long shaft that connected the two ends was covered in a heavy 
braid of soft red leather.  For all its ornateness, there was no doubt it 
was a weapon the woman was lethally familiar with.
     For a long moment, no one moved.  Then the intruder spoke in a warm 
contralto that carried more menace than the gravelly voices of the demons.
     "Care to try someone your own size?"  A wicked grin revealed inch-long 
canines.
     For a second, the leader seemed nonplussed, but then he grinned again.  
"How sweet, twice the meat!"  He motioned to the two closest to the strange 
newcomer.  "Get her!"
     The two demons separated to come at her from both sides, but the 
stranger didn�t move.  Still smiling that venomous grin, she waited till 
they had aligned on either side and began to rush her, then she shrugged.
     With blinding speed and the power of a pile-driver, bat wings caught 
the two demons and slammed them into the walls on either side, crushing the 
bricks nearly a foot and a half back and turning the pair into mangled 
carcasses.
     The leader blinked in shock at the altered appearance of his foe.  Her 
crimson lips still framed those extended canines, but now two purple horns 
just poked through the sides of her bangs, and her skirt had been pushed up 
far beyond the bounds of modesty by a muscular tail that ended in a large 
spaded tip.  Delicate points had appeared on her ears, while her legs now 
terminated in an elongated foot that suggested hooves.  The hand holding the 
axe-bladed trident had five-inch nails of the same purple as her horns, her 
grip having shifted slightly to accommodate their length.  Violet light 
burned around her weapon, wisps of glowing vapor rising like smoke.  Her 
wings completely spanned the wide alley.
     "What the fuck!"  Surprise was evident in his gravelly voice.  "You�re 
a goddamned succubus?"
     "Let her go," she commanded, and ice was warmer than that eerie tone.
     "Mephistopheles will have your horns for this, bitch!  You�re 
interfering with a sanctioned operation!"
     "If you don�t let her go, I plan to do more than interfere."  The 
violet glow around the trident�s head grew larger, brighter.
     "Fuck this."  The leader nodded at the demons holding Heart.  "Kill 
this bitch."
     The two larger demons grinned and moved toward the succubus, drawing 
long, curved swords out of their long coats.  The last demon drew out a 9mm.
     The two swordsmen charged as the succubus launched herself upwards, 
revealing that she did, indeed, have a pair of sharp hooves.  Her 
double-ended trident swung in a tight circle as she deflected three bullets 
and landed between the swordsmen and the gunman.  Her trident intercepted 
the gunman�s wrist as he tried to re-aim, his hand flying away with the gun 
still in it.  He jumped back with a shout of pain and shock as the two 
swordsmen swung.
     Heart cried out in fear, the leader�s arm choked tight around her 
throat.  But the succubus caught the swords with either end of her trident 
and spun, throwing the two demons in opposite directions as the gunman came 
up behind her with a large knife...
     ...Then he was looking down in disbelief at the spaded tail that had 
penetrated his ribcage.  The succubus pulled her tail free and made two 
passes with her trident, the larger of the two ends separating first the 
head, then the upper and lower torso, sending them flying in all directions.
     The larger of the two swordsmen charged her from the rear.  She reached 
up with her wings, their powerful thumbs latching on to an overhead fire 
escape as she launched herself into a backwards kick.  Her sharp hooves 
smashed off the top of the demon�s skull as he vainly tried to swing his 
blade at a target that had so suddenly gone from forward to up.  His eyes 
rolled into their sockets as black blood gushed from the mangled remains of 
his head.  Then the succubus landed behind him with a wing flap and gave his 
torso a permanent vacation from the rest of his body with her large blade.
     The remaining demon closed warily, drawing a second sword.  He assumed 
a Chinese sword stance and his blades began an intricate dance as bloody 
light crawled along them.  The succubus answered this with a light show of 
her own from the trident, her wings and nails shrinking to a fraction of 
their normal size to accommodate the spinning weapon.
     Heart watched fearfully as the two combatants met in a spectacular 
whirl, blades flashing too fast to follow.  For long seconds, the sound of 
steel against steel rang in the air.  Then the demon�s right arm, still 
clutching its sword, flew theatrically away.  A still-whirling trident 
caught the second arm at the elbow.  In a few more whirls, the demon lay in 
nearly a dozen pieces at her feet.
     Heart found herself flung back down onto the trash bin, and she 
screamed as the leader pulled out a large knife and moved to stab her.  For 
a long frozen second, her eyes focused on the dagger tip as it descended 
towards her breast, then a streak of purple fire burned across her vision, 
and she felt the restraining hand ripped free.
     The succubus-flung trident carried the leader nearly ten feet before 
pinning him to a brick wall.  He screamed as he tried to pull the 
triple-bladed spear free.
     "You goddamned slut!  Bitch!  Bhaalor will gut you for this!"
     The succubus sauntered up to the impaled demon as Heart�s eyes followed 
her.  She laid her hands on the haft of the trident.
     "I could care less what Bhaalor thinks."  The white haired demons eyes 
glittered as she wrenched the trident upwards, the axe blades shearing 
through brick, flesh and bone alike.  The leader fell to the ground, his 
upper torso splitting wide as black blood poured in a flood from his 
carcass.
     Heart turned at a sudden crackle and watched as the demonic blades 
flared and burned, leaving not even scorches where they had fallen.  Only 
the 9mm remained, still clutched in a demonic hand.  She turned wide, 
relieved eyes to her savior, who was approaching her with a warm smile.
     "Are you okay, Heart?  I�m so sorry I didn�t get here faster.  They 
didn�t hurt you, did they?"
     Heart flung herself into the tall demoness's arms, her short frame 
nestling into the succubus's as she laid her head against the base of the 
demoness's chest, relief washing away the fear as the succubus's arms closed 
around her in a hug.  "No, Beloved, you arrived before they could do more 
than frighten me."
     Tension flowed out of the succubus as relief showed in her face.  "I�m 
so glad, Love.  If they had hurt you..."
     "I�m fine, Seraph, just a little shaken," Heart said, looking up and 
assaying a small smile.  "They caught me off-guard, and I was so rattled I 
couldn't remember a single spell."  She looked around at the remains of the 
six demons.  "You handled that magnificently. You moved so beautifully.  
Have I ever told you how pretty you are when you fight?"
     Seraph blushed, and wiggled suggestively as she pulled her skirt back 
down from her hips to where it belonged.  "Really?"
     Heart gave her a rib-crushing hug.  "Yes!  You were wonderful!"
     "I just wanted to make sure you were safe, Love," She returned the hug 
with equal force, the looked down the alley, past her Corvette, and spied 
the little sidewalk cafe.  "Hey, let�s go to that place across the street.  
Fighting makes me so hungry."
     Heart appraised Seraph's blood-spattered state, then looked down at her 
own voluptuous figure and gave a small chuckle.  "Um, I'd love to, Beloved, 
but you're a mess, and I haven't a thing to wear."
     Seraph looked down.  "Well, um, I have a spare tube dress in the 
car..."  She answered.
     Heart smiled.  "Then let me deal with the blood," She spoke a few 
musical syllables of a simple charm as the blood shimmered and vanished from 
Seraph�s form.
     Seraph giggled.  "That tickled."  She turned to lead the way to the 
car.
     Heart smiled as she watched the demoness's swaying walk, then followed, 
not wanting her beloved to get too far away.

     * * * * *

     It had taken nearly ten minutes for the two to move the �vette and get 
seats on the sidewalk patio, but the conversation still consisted of 
reassurances that Heart was unharmed.  For long seconds after the waiter 
left, they simply gazed at one another before they simultaneously spoke:
     "I love you."
     They both giggled.  "We keep doing that," Heart noted.  "I think it�s 
wonderful."
     Seraph smiled.  "I think you�re wonderful."  Then a look of concern 
crossed her face.  "Oh, Heart, I heard what they did to you!  I�m so sorry."
     "It�s not your fault, Seraph," Heart sighed.  "If nothing else, at 
least it will help your job."
     The demoness couldn�t meet her eyes.  "I know.  Mephie gave me a raise 
and a promotion right before I resigned."
     "Then some good came...  You what?!?"
     "I quit.  I resigned from the Department of Corruption."
     "But Seraph, you showed me how necessary your job is to the balance of 
nature!  You make so many people happy, and you don�t have to hurt a single 
soul doing it!"
     "Yeah, and then they go to Hell because I damned them with lust... and 
I caused your exile...  All I did was ruin your life!"
     Heart reached out to cup the succubus�s chin, making her meet the kind, 
heavenly green eyes of the angel.  "That�s not true, Seraph.  You�ve made my 
life complete.  You showed me the side of love I�ve always missed, the 
passion I�ve always believed was corrupt, but is really so pure.  You showed 
me that, Seraph.  You showed me the lies for what they were, showed me what 
love is supposed to be!"
     "I seduced you..."
     Heart laughed.  "If I remember correctly, I�m the one who crawled into 
your blankets."
     "Oh, Heart, if only I-"
     "If only what?"  Heart cut her off, a note of sadness creeping into her 
voice.  "Please don�t say if only you hadn�t challenged me to our duel.  I 
love you, Seraph.  I don�t regret losing the duel."  She kissed Seraph on 
the cheek.  "Losing it won me so much more.  You, for example."
     "But you belong in Heaven."  The anguish in Seraph�s voice was plain.  
"And you didn�t lose our duel.  You won it.  You�re an angel of Love, here 
to show mortals what love is.  And you showed me."
     Heart was silent for a moment, pain in her eyes.  Then she spoke with a 
voice that was alien and cold, even to her.  "Theliel said I have no concept 
of what true love is."  She shrugged.  "You�d think if anyone would have 
understood about us, it would be the angel who holds the office of Cupid."  
She looked into Seraph�s agonized face.  "But he seemed to get violently 
angry about it.  He wouldn�t even listen to me, just called me a whore and 
threw me out of his office.  Then, when I got home, I found my exile 
papers."
     "Oh, Heart!"
     "I just can�t believe Theliel could be so unfair.  He�s punishing me 
because I�m fulfilling my oath of duty!  I am being an angel of Love!  
Nowhere does my oath conflict with our feelings!"  Heart gripped her teacup 
with white knuckles, frustration strong in her voice.
     "I�m so sorry, Love.  He�s doing this to you because of me," Seraph 
hung her head over her tea.
     Heart was instantly contrite.  She put her teacup down and slid her 
chair over by Seraph�s.  "Beloved, I love you.  There is no law in Heaven 
against my loving you.  As an Angel of Love it is my sworn duty to bring 
love into everyone�s heart, especially those who are unloved.  My oath 
demands it, Seraph, and I�m not capable of otherwise."  She hugged the 
succubus tight.  "And when we met, you were unloved and alone, yet you 
fulfilled your duties as best you could without ever lowering yourself to 
the viciousness so common in Hell.  I�ve dealt with other succubae, Seraph, 
and most of them fed indiscriminately, sowing only chaos and pain.  In all 
the time I�ve watched you, I�ve never seen you feed without giving so much 
happiness in return.  I�ve brought the gift of love to humans who�ve 
descended to the depravity of demons.  How could I not give the gift of my 
love to a demon that has such a caring heart?"
     "But Heart, all I�ve brought you is pain.  I got you kicked out of 
Heaven.  I�ve cost you your job.  And...  And..."  She broke off, sobbing.
     Heart held Seraph�s head to her breast and stroked her long white hair. 
  "And you quit your job and saved me from those other demons.  You chose me 
over everything else you had in your life, Seraph.  You sacrificed.  I can 
think of no greater testament to our love than that."  She lifted Seraph�s 
face to look into her eyes for a moment.  "I�ll bet you never even thought 
of it that way, did you," she said, more a statement than a question.
     Seraph shook her head, her eyes still bright with tears.
     Heart hugged her tightly.  "Oh Seraph, you are such a treasure!  Now I 
know, without any hint of a doubt, that I love you, and no matter what 
Theliel thinks, I know I�m doing the right thing," She kissed Seraph lightly 
on the lips.  "Because you love me, too."
     "More than life," Seraph whispered, burrowing her head against Heart�s 
breast again.
     The waiter came and set down their food as quietly as possible, not 
disturbing their moment of quiet as the two women comforted one another with 
nothing more than mutual presence.  Finally, Seraph looked at Heart.
     "You really don�t think I�m silly for quitting?"
     Heart looked at her with loving eyes.  "Beloved, I know you must have 
had a good reason."  She grinned.  "Old Mephistopheles must have been angry, 
though.  I know you were his best agent."
     Seraph nodded, not going into the details.  She was afraid to tell 
Heart why the demon squad had been waiting.  Her boss had been very angry 
that she�d refused to lead Heart into a trap.  He�d looked forward to raping 
and breaking her.  He�d kept Seraph tied up for hours eluding the agents of 
the Infernal Revenue Service.  All of the demoness�s assets had been seized, 
along with her official papers.  Except for her car and her private bank 
account, she was destitute, and probably about to be declared a renegade and 
banned from Hell.
     But the look of Heart�s eyes made it all worth it and more, and in that 
loving gaze she abandoned all regrets.
     Sometimes, love flies on fragile demon wings.

     * * * * *

     They ate between bouts of blissful gazing and many "I love yous," much 
of the conversation revolving around how wonderful the other was or how 
happy each made the other, but eventually, they got around to the ultimate 
question: what next?
     "Well, I guess we have to go down to Central Admin to get assigned a 
residence and be evaluated for new jobs," Heart said brightly.
     Seraph raised an eyebrow, then shook her head.  "Love, I keep 
forgetting how new this will be to you."  She looked at Heart and smiled.  
"Darling, there isn�t a Central Admin. We�re going to have to find a place 
to live on our own, and find jobs on our own.  Plus, we�re on the mortal 
plane, which means we both have to feed to keep up our strength and powers, 
as well as eat to nourish our physical bodies, and not just for the pleasure 
of the tastes of mortal cuisine.  All that takes money.  I know you angels 
rarely deal with such mundane trivia, but it�s gonna be part of our lives, 
now.  I do have some resources, but they aren't unlimited."
     "Oh, I hadn�t thought of that.  I�ve always just called into being 
anything I needed."
     "You don�t have your angelic lifeline anymore, Love.  Your link to 
Heaven�s been severed.  You don�t have that thin beam of light in your aura 
that kept you fed, and your aura�s definitely weaker.  I�d say you have a 
week before we have to find you a source of energy to feed from."  Seraph 
looked worried.  "And I have no idea what you feed on."
     Heart laughed.  "Beloved, we�ve spent all this time together and you 
never realized where my energy comes from?"
     Seraph shook her head.
     "You, Beloved.  Your love feeds me.  And you have spoiled me with a 
feast so abundant and pure that I have no need or desire for any other 
source."
     Seraph looked at her, wide-eyed.  "But - I�ve never felt you draw 
anything from me!"
     "I don�t draw, Beloved; I only take in what you give me, and you give 
me so much love, I have a fear of growing fat."  Heart chuckled.  "Have no 
fear of me starving for energy, Beloved."
     Seraph fairly glowed with happiness at the sound of Heart�s laugh.  She 
leaned to give Heart a hug, and Heart drew her lips up to give her a long 
and passionate kiss.
     "Nor should you need to fear for your own needs, Beloved," Heart 
whispered when they broke.  "The flames of desire you have woken in me are 
yours to feed on as you wish.  You will find in me a hunger to match your 
own."
     Seraph breathed heavily a few times.  "Stop, Love, or you will have me 
begging you to take me right here!"  She shifted in her seat.  "And I�ll wet 
this seat cushion beyond its ability to soak!"
     Heart giggled.  "I love you."
     "I love you too, but I�m serious!  I had a hard enough time not 
throwing you down on that trash bin and making wild passionate love to you 
right then!" Seraph whispered fiercely.  "Another kiss like that and I won�t 
be able to stop myself!"
     Heart smiled, very pleased with herself.  Seraph took a few seconds to 
compose herself, then drained her tea.  She gave Heart a wicked look.
     "You just wait till I get you in a hotel tonight, Love!"
     "Promise?"  Heart�s canary grin grew wider.
     "Damn right!" Seraph nodded.  They both fell to giggling.
     "I love you," they both said simultaneously, and broke out in laughter 
yet again.  Then Seraph reached out a hand to grasp Heart�s tightly.  "We�re 
going to make it, Love.  I have faith."
     Heart�s face crumpled, and Seraph was afraid she had made Heart cry.  
However, her heart soared when her angel spoke again.
     "I do, too, Beloved.  I love you."  And while there were tears in 
Heart�s eyes, Seraph could tell by her ecstatic gaze that Heart was not in 
the least bit upset.
     Seraph threw a fifty from her cleavage to the table and rose.  "First 
thing�s first, though, Love.  If we�re going job and apartment hunting 
tomorrow, we�ve got to get us both some clothes!"
     They walked out of the small cafe over to Seraph�s �Vette.  A myriad of 
N.Y.P.D. crime units and several police cars had gathered across the street.
     "Hm, when did they arrive, Beloved?"
     Seraph shrugged.  "Don�t know.  I wasn�t paying attention to anything 
but you."
     Heart stopped to look over at Seraph lovingly.  "I love you.  You 
always say the sweetest things."
     Seraph blushed as she unlocked the car and held the door for Heart 
before getting in, her tall frame barely fitting in the sports car.  She 
looked at the units in the rearview mirror.  "I don�t think they�re gonna be 
too happy over the mess I left.  Just as well we were just leaving."  She 
started the car and smoothly merged into traffic.  "First stop, Sak's!"
     They accelerated away into the tangled traffic, neither one noticing 
the man with the tan trench-coat who�d tried to flag them down...

     * * * * *

     When it was first called in, the old lady who owned the flower shop had 
called it a gang rape.  But by the time the N.Y.P.D made it through the 
holiday traffic to the scene, it was a homicide, and most brutal to boot.
     The two officers who were first on the scene couldn�t even line it 
themselves.  The crime scene investigators had had to, because one of the 
two beat cops was a rookie, and his more seasoned partner was helping him 
gag up the hero he�d had for lunch.  All the older cop could think was, What 
a waste of good pastrami...  And the younger cop�s ongoing whining: "I�m so 
sorry, man, I�m sorry..." - was beginning to get on his nerves.
     New York - in some ways, the greatest city ever, in others, hell.  The 
numerous dismembered parts of an as yet unknown number of corpses certainly 
proved that here was a slice of the latter.  The older cop continued to pat 
the rookie on the back as he looked around.  What the fuck did the killer 
use? he wondered,  A fucking chainsaw?  He shuddered as he watched a 
forensics expert mark chalk around a severed head, then turned back to 
studiously look at the brick wall his partner was vomiting against.  The 
vomit was normal and sane; the carnage surreal and terrible.
     After almost thirty minutes of continual retching, the younger cop 
finally sat back and gasped for some air.
     "Wow...  I mean, Jesus H. Christ!  Who the hell could do that to 
someone?"
     The older cop shrugged.  "Enh, you get used to it after awhile.  Work 
traffic division for a while, kid, you�ll see worse."  He looked around and 
added to himself: Not much worse, though.
     The rookie gave him a disbelieving look.  "Yeah, right."
     The older cop decided to forgive him; after all, he�d been young and 
dumb once.  He turned and stepped out to where he could see the hustle and 
bustle of the crime scene, and noted sarcastically, What a surprise.  The 
coroner is here before Homicide.  He walked to the mouth of the alley and 
nabbed the officer who�d taken the statement from the old lady.
     "So, what the hell happened here?" he asked.
     The other officer, another long-time beat cop, shrugged.  "Not sure.  
The old coot claims it was the Devil bearing a pitchfork."  He tapped his 
forehead and rolled his eyes.  "From the old country, you know."
     "Jeez.  Another religious nut.  She say what the perp used besides a 
pitchfork?"
     The older cop shook his head.  "Ask her.  Makes about as much sense as 
anything at this point."
     "Yeah, in this town, I suppose anything is possible,"
     The two cops looked down the alley at the crime scene, reflecting for a 
moment on all the evils man can inflict upon itself, and on the idealistic 
flame that brings guys like the two of them in as rookies, only to flicker 
and die with time.  The older cop�s eyes fell on the rookie, his face still 
pale.  He�d been like his partner, once.  They all were, but so many grew 
out of it after seeing scenes like this one all over the city.
     The statement cop looked at the older cop and his partner.  "Stick 
around.  Lipton�s gonna wanna talk to you," he said as he strode away.
     The rookie, who was still within earshot, asked, "Lipton?"
     A sour look crossed the older cop�s face.  "Lipton.  The Ghoul.  
Homicide," he said, like that should explain everything.
     His partner stayed confused.  "Why do they call him that?  And what do 
you have against him?"
     "He�s a freak," the older cop said.  "He thinks he�s chasing demons, 
shit like that.  He gets all the weird cases, cases like this one.  Occult 
murders, bumps in the night, Freddy Krueger shit.  He�s the department�s 
expert on the occult, but he�s one scary fuck, I�ll tell you that."
     "Yeah, that Lipton, what a weirdo," a voice from behind him proclaimed 
brightly.
     The older cop turned, freeing the rookie�s line of sight.  Before them, 
standing nearly six foot two, was a man in a tan trench-coat that was open 
enough to reveal a pair of jeans and a navy blue T-shirt labeled "N.Y.P.D."  
His badge, mobile phone, pager, and gun all hung off his simple brown belt, 
and the pools of clotting blood on the pavement hardly affected his 
N.Y.P.D.-issued combat boots.  His chest was a bit broader than it should 
have been, hinting at a Kevlar vest under his shirt, and his black hair was 
slicked back impeccably.  His face was severe and stern as his dark eyes 
blazed at the beat cops.  He had the air of someone who had stared Evil in 
the face and laughed at it, or like someone who would cut off his own right 
hand with a chainsaw if it was possessed...
     "Is it true that he believes in demons?" the rookie asked, much to the 
chagrin of his partner.
     The tall man appraised him coolly before replying.  "You�re on the 
streets every day.  Tell me - don�t you?"
     Before the rookie had a chance to respond, the man turned, his 
trench-coat flaring with a flourish worthy of Superman as he strode away.
     "Don�t go anywhere," he told the two over his shoulder as he began 
threading his way across the charnel ground of the alley.
     When he was out of earshot, the veteran turned to the rookie.
     "And that," he said, "was The Ghoul."

     * * * * *

     Detective Bruce Lipton made his way across the crime scene, looking for 
the coroner.  He�d always considered it ironic that he should be called "The 
Ghoul" when, often enough, the New York City coroners not only reveled in 
their terrible duty, but also looked the part.  Young or old, they all 
seemed to resemble the Tall Man from Phantasm.
     However, the coroner for this particular scene was the exception that 
proved the rule.  Terry Shaw was a vivacious blonde who looked like she�d 
stepped right out of a porno movie, but whose intelligence should have been 
honed by the Ivy League.  Lipton had always thought she was wasted among the 
dead.  She was far too alive.
     He waited a few moments until she noticed him, then she bounced up.
     "Bruce!" she said, her voice a cheery contrast to the grisly atmosphere 
of the alley.  "I�m so glad you could make it so quickly!"
     Surveying the carnage, Lipton replied, "Yeah, this is one of those 
cases alright."  Turning to face Shaw, he asked, "Okay, Terry.  Whatcha 
got?"
     "Humph!  Tell me you don�t love this."  She reached down with a gloved 
hand into the tangle of body parts she�d been studying and withdrew a hand 
and lower arm.  She wiped the severed end with a blood soaked cloth to 
reveal the bone as she explained.  "Whatever our perp used was very sharp.  
Cut through both bones like they were melted butter.  No grooves, chips or 
marks, just one clean sweep.  And it was apparently hot enough to cauterize 
the cut without searing the surrounding tissue."  She turned bright eyes on 
Lipton.  "Any idea what kind of weapon would have done something like that, 
outside of a medical laser?"
     Lipton didn�t answer, though he could have.  He�d seen weapons that did 
that before, not that Terry would believe him if he told her.
     She looked at a black smudge on the hand, then dusted some off on her 
finger.  She smelled it and rubbed it between her fingers.  Lipton winced.
     Didn�t she see what she was holding?  Scratch that.  He knew better 
from long experience.
     Terry peered at the dark mark on her glove.  "Gunpowder."
     No, Lipton mentally corrected.  Brimstone...
     "Judging by the powder burns, this guy got off some rounds." she said 
in amazement.  "Quite a few.  And now, he�s chop suey."  She looked at the 
detective, "What could have survived that?"
     "Maybe our victims were lousy shots."  Bruce quipped.  Or maybe bullets 
didn�t matter to what they were shooting at, he added mentally.
     "Well given the ribbons I�m seeing all over, I�d have to say that even 
these guys couldn�t have missed someone who got close enough to do precision 
work like this.  On four people!"
     "Still, I don�t see why you consider that so unusual.  Maybe our perp 
wore Kevlar."  He averted his eyes from the vicious looking thing she was 
holding, and a momentary glint of silver caught his gaze for a second.  He 
eyed the caf� across the street for a moment, then dismissed it as a passing 
car.  "So we get four sliced up skinheads.  You said this one was extra 
special.  And I�m not real impressed by what I was told of Mrs. 
Loggiabrazzia�s testimony either.  Anyone dicing up four people 
Yojimbo-style in an alley looks like the Devil."
     Terry gave a little disappointed frown then brightened.  "Ah!  Wait.  
Follow me."  She beckoned him with the severed hand, the long claws nearly 
raking his chin.  He dodged out of the way as Shaw continued.  "You haven�t 
seen the best part yet!"
     She led Lipton towards the front of the alley, where about thirty feet 
in, two clusters of forensics personnel were gathered.  They parted like the 
Red Sea when Shaw pushed through their ranks, followed by a bemused Lipton.
     When he beheld the grotesque sight they had concealed, he admitted, 
"Okay.  Now I�m impressed."
     Crumbs of brick were still falling from the edges of the depression and 
blood still seeped slowly to pool at the base of the wall, where the 
forensics team had been trying to take care not to track it everywhere.  The 
corpse was embedded among the bricks; its ribcage and the back of its skull 
crushed in from the force of impact.  The face was distorted but Lipton 
thought that he�d categorize the expression as shock.  It held no weapon, 
but it was dressed in the semi-uniform of a local skinhead gang, this being 
its only real resemblance to having once been human.
     Of course, it never had been human.  It just looked that way to the 
evidence collectors.  To Shaw.  To the beat cops.
     Not to Lipton.
     Every single feature, from the horns on its head to claws on its hands 
or the talons on its feet, all of it was readily apparent to him.  Each 
scaled or leathery limb, each bloodstained fang imprinted itself on his 
memory, just as it had the first time...
     He shook his head.  "Hm...  Is there any chance Mrs. Loggiabrazzia 
could identify the bulldozer that cruised through here?"
     "Damn."  Terry said, her mouth forming a pretty moue.  "I thought for 
sure this time I�d shock you speechless."
     Giving her a sidelong glance, Lipton said, "Yeah, right."
     He couldn�t look again... he�d be too gleeful about the demons� demise. 
  He looked around the alley.  Six demons.  He would dance for joy if 
something weren�t bugging him about this.
     He dug out the notes he�d collected from the beat cop when he�d 
arrived.  The call had come in as a rape, six guys against one girl.  Then 
when the first units had arrived, twelve minutes later, it had been a 
multiple homicide.
     He looked around again, trying to lay out how the fight might have 
happened.  He moved toward the center of the alley to get a better view, and 
stumbled.  He glanced briefly at the pothole and dismissed it, looking 
instead at the chalk outlines of where bodies had been.
     There was nowhere to hide, no cover.  It had been a stand up fight.  
Some...thing powerful had waded through six demons in minutes, and saved the 
girl they had been trying to rape.
     He looked at the corpse embedded in the wall, then its mate, noting 
that they were exactly opposite.  He looked down and stepped back from the 
cracked pavement, his mind not registering for a second exactly what it was 
seeing, then not wanting to believe what it saw.  He stared until he 
realized that Shaw was calling his name.
     "Bruce!  Bruce!  Are you ok?"
     "Humm?  Oh yeah, I�m fine Terry.  Just lost in thought.  Trying to 
figure out the logistics of this fight."  He gave her his standard grin.  
"Anyway, I think it�s time I took a crack at the witness."
     Shaw nodded.  "Don�t worry Bruce.  I�ll get you a souvenir."
     Lipton winced.  "I�m sure you will."  He wandered into the flower shop.
     Behind him, Terry looked down at the strange potholes Lipton had been 
staring at.  For a second, she stared in confusion, then her eyes widened.  
She reached out and grabbed a passing technician.  Pointing to the holes, 
she said, "Get a plaster team over here at once."

     * * * * *

     Mrs. Loggiabrazzia was an elderly Italian lady who now, if not always, 
vehemently believed in God.  In her hands she held a prayer book and a 
rosary.  Her portly body was perched on a small stool precariously, looking 
like she would fall off if she shifted even slightly.  Her perfume was 
strong enough to overpower the fragrances of her stock, and the flower print 
dress she was wearing combined with the tiny stool made her look like an 
oversized bouquet.  Her weathered face was dried and cracked with wrinkles, 
her weary eyes fixedly staring out the front of the shop.  Lipton shook his 
head.  He'd seen that stare before.
     He pulled up a stool and seated himself before her.  Before he could 
speak, she told him in a hushed and weary tone "I already told them what I 
saw."
     Lipton nodded.  "I know.  But I do need you to go over it with me 
again." he said gently.
     "You won't believe me any more than they did."
     "You might be surprised at what I would believe Mrs. L."  He'd decided 
to give up on the full name.  Like most surnames in New York, it took longer 
to say it than to tap someone on the shoulder.  "I'm here because of what 
you saw.  They don't know what to believe, but I believe you.  I specialize 
in these cases.  Cases involving the supernatural.  I want to know what 
happened to those demons out there, Mrs. L."
     He let the statement hang in the air, and was pleased to note that she 
stopped staring into space and looked at him.  Most people who could see the 
"others," as he thought of them, didn't know what they were, or what to 
think of their visions.  Some were driven mad.
     At times, Lipton even thought he might be one of those.
     Unfortunately, the existence of so many others who could see angels and 
demons was simply proof that he was all too sane.
     Her eyes sought out his.  "You can see them too?"
     He nodded, and relief was apparent on her face.  "Thank merciful God."  
She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, they were clear 
again.  "Where should I begin?"
     "At the beginning, hopefully," Lipton smiled.
     The old woman nodded.  "Well, I was watering my flowers at the front of 
the store when the angel appeared in front of the music store next door.  I 
recall thinking how scared she looked and wondered what was wrong."
     "An angel?"  Lipton asked.  "That wasn't mentioned in the other 
reports."
     "They asked me about the skinheads and wouldn't believe me about the 
demons.  And I didn't want to get the angel in trouble."
     Lipton smiled.  "I see.  So what did the angel do?"
     "Well I remember thinking that maybe I should offer her a robe or 
something, she looked so cold, naked as she was, but before I could, she 
turned to the music store and collapsed crying.  That's when the demons came 
out of the alley.  They surrounded her and started to drag the poor dear 
back into the alley.  That's when I called, when I heard the one who seemed 
to be the leader say they were going to rape her.  I thought maybe the 
police would scare them off."
     Lipton jotted that down.  "I take it that when they got into the alley, 
the angel killed them?"
     "Oh no.  I know I told the other officer that.  It was Lucifer."
     "The Devil?"  Lipton raised an eyebrow.
     The old lady nodded.  "It had to have been.  I was on the phone with 
the precinct when the black Corvette came around the corner like a bat out 
of Hell -"  She crossed herself at mere mention of that place, and then 
chuckled.  "No pun intended.  Anyway, it whipped around the corner and 
screeched to a halt."
     "And Satan got out?"
     "Oh no.  I didn't know it was him at first, I just saw this girl jump 
out of the car and land hard enough to bury her feet in the pavement."
     His eyes hadn't been lying, then.  He nodded.
     "I knew then that something was strange about her besides the 
pitchfork."
     "Pitchfork?  Like a three pronged spear?"
     "No.  It was fancier than that.  Like a big axe, but it had heads at 
both ends.  When the demons saw her, they were surprised, but they went to 
grab her.  I thought for sure she was going to be killed, but she waited 
till the two trying to grab her were on either side and she changed."
     Lipton nodded.  "Go on."
     "She grew bat wings and a spaded tail, and her pitchfork got all 
glowing purple.  She used her wings to slam the two demons into the walls.  
That's when the other demons drew their swords and tried to kill her.  But 
Lucifer killed them instead."
     "Why do you think she was Lucifer?"
     "Well, who else could kill demons so easily?"
     Lipton raised an eyebrow.  It made a certain kind of sense from her 
viewpoint.  He refrained from listing any of the other creatures who could 
have wreaked similar chaos.  "So what did the demoness do to the angel 
afterwards?"
     "They hugged one another and the angel thanked her for rescuing her."
     "Wait a minute.  Are you saying the demoness rescued the angel?  She 
didn't kill her or drag her off or anything like that?  Just let her go?"
     "Oh no.  They left together.  They were so sweet on one another, like 
young lovers."
     "Are you sure the girl was an angel?"
     "Oh yes.  She had a lovely silver halo."
     "And the demoness chopped up the other demons to save her?"
     "Yes.  She even apologized to the angel for being late."
     Lipton rubbed his temples.  This was getting too weird even for him.
     "And the angel didn't try to kill her or anything?"
     "Oh no!  They've been ever so sweet and caring to one another.  I'd 
definitely say they're very much in love."  Her eyes went back to looking 
out the store front.  "Detective.  Can you really see them?"
     Lipton spun and followed her gaze.
     Just leaving the cafe across the street was a female couple, both in 
black.  A tall white-haired looker was just closing the door of a black 
Corvette for a stunning redhead.
     A redhead with a silver halo.
     Shock froze him for a second too long.  He jumped from his stool and 
ran from the flower shop just as the 'vette pulled into traffic.  All he got 
was a glimpse of the tag SE2 YOU.  He cursed his rotten luck as he punched a 
light pole.  They'd been across the fucking street!
     Back in the flower shop, Mrs. Loggiabrazzia watched the frustrated 
detective, then, satisfied that everyone was done asking her questions, she 
went to make herself a cup of coffee.  As she passed the open door to the 
alley, she looked out at the evidence team pouring plaster into the holes in 
the pavement and shook her head.
     "When Lucifer saves an angel from his own demons, you know there's 
going to be trouble."

     *  *  *  *  *

     ...When Lucifer saves an angel...
     Far, far below the surface of the mortal plane, an ancient and powerful 
being stirred and awakened from a long slumber filled with dreams of the 
world above.  His sharp ears caught and held that phrase from among the 
infinite number of whispers that echoed in his bed chamber.  Curiosity 
prompted further listening, but there was little else to be gleaned.  That 
was disappointing.  The little tidbit had been so... interesting.
     Ha!  He thought.  Why would I save an angel?  I was one once.  It was a 
worthless existence and I'm glad to be done with it.  Little ants with no 
thoughts of their own.  Leaving Heaven was the wisest action I've ever 
taken.
     Finally, hearing nothing further, he opened his eyes.  A dim glow 
suffused the chamber, provided by the molten lava of the walls of his 
castle.  His gaze traveled around the room, noting that nothing unusual 
awaited. He sat up, the tangled quilt that had covered him during his 
centuries long sleep laying tangled around his legs; he had to unwrap it 
before he could rise.  As he stood and stretched, the lava walls began to 
glow brighter.  A scent of burning sulfur wafted to him from the breeze 
disturbing the curtains, and he opened them to step onto the balcony 
overlooking his vast kingdom.
     His castle dominated the central island of the Lake of Fire, a vast 
bubbling cauldron of liquid and burning sulfur stirred by howling hot winds. 
  A wide bridge of bone sprang from the castle�s entrance to cross that vast 
gulf, its far end meeting the broad highway that meandered through the 
various levels and disappear beyond a massive gate far off at the edge of 
the infinite plane of Hell.  Beyond the lake�s shore stood a tangled 
wilderness of iron buildings piled with brambles and shards of bone and 
skulls.  The occasional stream of lava flowed here and there among the 
streets of the city, carrying stinking masses of burning excrement.  Even in 
Hell, the rivers were used as sewage dumps.
     He smiled at the sight of all the masses of souls wandering along the 
highway.  Almost, he wished he could be one of them.  Hell was going to be 
such a surprise.
     Out there, in his wonderful kingdom, was corruption, hedonism, ego.  In 
Hell, there was very little suffering.  The souls on that highway would 
receive everything they had ever wanted in life.  For all eternity, addicts 
could experience the perfect high, suicides could slay themselves over and 
over; combat junkies could fight wars endlessly; sadists and masochists 
could join and live out their fantasies of blood and pain strained in 
orgasm...
     Forever...
     And if anyone knew how boring that was, he did.  Lucifer, Lord of the 
Morning, Father of Lies; once an Archangel, now Lord of Hell.
     As he stood on the balcony and peered out over his domain, all he could 
think about was that for those souls, this place would be more heaven than 
Heaven.  So much letting go, so much self indulgence, it was a huge 
playground for the deranged.
     "If Heaven is a piano bar," he said to no-one in particular "Then Hell 
is an S and M goth club."  He grinned at himself for the analogy.
     But as it had countless times before, thinking of the pleasures 
awaiting the damned souls reminded him of the dullness of his own existence. 
  One could only do anything so many times before it became monotonous and 
boring. It had been that unending sameness that had finally prompted him to 
sleep the last few centuries, dreaming of the world above
     A noise from behind him made him turn.  A sleek demoness with dark 
purple hair stood before him.  She stood about five and a half feet tall and 
her oval face looked up at him expectantly.  Her hair was pulled back 
tightly into a crest raised high by several collars of polished bone set 
with smooth cabochons of amethyst the same shade as her hair.  The flowing 
topknot cascaded to nearly her ankles, and her sharp widow�s peak combined 
with her delicately upswept eyebrows to give her a deliciously diabolical 
look.  Her wide, slightly slanted eyes were a deep amethyst color that 
matched the gems set in the jewelry, and the smile in them matched the one 
on her sensuous violet lips, her lower lip moued into a slight pout.  Her 
delicately pointed ears, bearing large bone hoops set with more amethysts, 
set off the rest of her features to give her a luminous beauty that mixed 
all the races of the earth.
     Her body was sleekly muscular, full of curves and grace, like a cross 
between a gymnast and a belly dancer, and her massive breasts rose and fell 
softly with her breathing.  Hoops like those in her ears dangled from her 
large velvety purple nipples, matching a smaller ring that was just visible 
through the soft violet curls that crowned her sex.  A wide collar of bone 
set with amethyst circled her sleek neck, with a chain of bone beads falling 
between her breasts to curve up underneath them.  They connected to the 
rings in her nipples before falling to join the ring between her legs.  
Bracelets of gem-studded bone encircled both ankles and wrists.  Her shapely 
hands, tipped with long tapering nails painted purple, were holding apart 
the curtains between the balcony and Lucifer�s bed chamber, the light of the 
molten walls playing along the soft charcoal grey of her skin, shadows 
accentuating her alluring figure.
     Confident of Lucifer�s eyes upon her, she turned and swayed to the bed 
in a lithe saunter that was reminiscent of a tigress, though no feline could 
have matched her grace.  She lay on the bed sprawled in a lush invitation 
for debauchery.
     "Master," she said in a throaty voice full of promises of infinite 
carnal pleasures.  "I'm so glad that you are awake."
     Lucifer studied her for long seconds, drinking in her exotic beauty.  
It was one of the few pleasures he had left.  Then he strode to the bedside 
and sat down next to her, absently playing with one of her nipple rings.
     "I heard a whisper that awoke me."  He tugged gently on the ring as the 
demoness purred and groaned.  "Something about me saving an angel.  Do you 
know anything about this, my lovely Lily?"
     "Everyone knows, Master," she breathed, pleasure titillating her every 
pore as she looked lustily at him through lowered eyes.  "It wasn't you.  It 
was a minion of- " She cut off with a gasp of pain as Lucifer jerked 
upright, nearly tearing her ring free.
     "A minion saved an angel?  And I wasn't told immediately?"  Anger 
colored his voice slightly.
     "Mephistopheles just now asked me to tell you," she pouted as she 
rubbed her nipple, frustration and pain in her eyes.  "He's down in the 
throne room."
     Lucifer nodded and rose distractedly, approaching a large free-standing 
mirror to appraise himself.  His gaze swept over his muscular frame, a body 
that Michelangelo would have wept to carve, and focused on his face.  Blue 
eyes gazed back at him from a softly masculine visage that could only be 
described as beautiful.  Soft, slightly curled locks of golden blonde hair 
framed that perfect face, so fine it appeared spun from liquid sunlight.  
Long muscular legs descended from a trim waist to perfect ankles and golden 
curls framed his powerful manhood.  Perched jauntily above his head was a 
Halo darkened to a black so pure that light seemed to fall into it, defined 
only by the faint purple glow of ultraviolet.
     He frowned in irritation, then sighed.  "I'm tired of being this 
beautiful, Lily.  It's such a bore."  Slight despair tinted his words.  "But 
my hideous demonic form is equally bland.  Male, female, ugly, beautiful.  
It's all the same!  Where is the dynamic tendency for change?  Where does 
relief come in?  When?"  He swatted at the mirror in irritation and watched 
as it shattered into a million shards, each reflecting a tiny Lucifer, then 
strode to the wardrobe in disgust.
     Lily waved her hand in the direction of the mirror and with a glassy 
tinkle it popped to attention fully formed.  Not a single crack or flaw 
marred its smooth surface.
     "The G.O.D. has made everything far too predictable!"  Lucifer 
continued as he dressed, various articles of clothing floating around him 
awaiting his attention.  "They've done so much to make humanity fear their 
wrath!  Condemning every wonderful vice!  Every beautiful seduction!  Every 
tantalizing fit of anger and mayhem!  Lily, these are the things man is made 
of!  Mankind is awesome, one of His greatest creations, and it's because of 
its flaws!  Perfection is but a paradox of virtue and vice, and the G.O.D. 
is destroying that perfect equilibrium.  They want to grind everyone down to 
one thought, one way of life, one perfect anthill!"  Lucifer looked over his 
shoulder at the demoness.  "That's what I'm up against Lily.  The ultimate 
anthill.  Man isn't an ant.  He's life, and lust and greed and...  Every sin 
wrapped into one!  Man's vices are treasures to be enjoyed, and the G.O.D. 
just wants to eliminate them."  Bitter laughter rang softly.  "And I try to 
keep them alive.  A never- ending no-win battle.  Pointless isn't it?"
     Lily made no comment as she watched the single tear roll down his 
perfect cheek, but inside she felt her heart wrench.  It was so rare to see 
him express any emotion at all.
     Lucifer sighed and fastened the cuff links on the white silk shirt, the 
golden pitchforks shining in the ruddy light like fresh blood.  He slid into 
the black silk jacket, shrugging to set the shoulders, then buttoning the 
front.  He glanced down to check the crease of the black slacks and the 
shine on his shoes, then reached out to snag his tie from mid air.  With a 
deft series of flips, he knotted the yellow silk and pulled it tight.  
Tucking it into his jacket, he turned to survey himself in the restored 
mirror.  A slight smile came to him at the figure he cut.  Of all the 
outfits he'd dreamed of in his long slumber, this was his favorite.
     He turned to Lily, neither noticing nor commenting on the restored 
mirror.  She had left the bed and was standing by the door, her shoulders 
back and her breasts proffered for hopeful attention.  Lucifer smiled and 
gave her nipples a playful tweak.  She smiled in pleasure.  "You look 
wonderful, Master."
     "Oh, Lilith.  You can stop calling me that.  It was all the rage a few 
centuries ago, but it's pass�.  We are married after all, and it's the age 
of equality of the sexes, no?"  He laughed.  "As if they ever were..."  He 
bowed and motioned for her to precede him.  "Shall we?"
     She smiled, and turned to step into the vortex beyond with a last 
suggestive wiggle.
     "Ah, well," Lucifer said to the empty room.  "Maybe this time..."  He 
stepped through the door as well.
     Time and Space shifted to accommodate his desires and he reappeared in 
his grandiose throne room fourteen floors below.  It was empty of souls and 
only one demon awaited.  Around them massive pillars of twisted flesh 
supported the cavernous ceiling, the myriad human arms they bore holding 
candles made of the fat of newborns.  The flickering light from the candles 
illuminated the vast room with a peculiar shadowy light that made distances 
deceptive, and it was hard to tell if the outer wall was a hundred yards 
away or a thousand miles.  The same light also illuminated the massive doors 
carved with succubae and demons and damned souls in an obscene orgy, and a 
wide gallery of impaled skeletons bordering the walk to the throne.  Not all 
the bodies so displayed were human.
     Before the throne, a massive seal of iron was set into the floor.  An 
icon of a double-headed serpent was carved into its surface, and 
Mephistopheles stood upon this.  Before him rose the vast black skeleton of 
a dragon, its tangled and scorched bone forming the body of the throne.  Of 
the entire room, only the throne stood in shadow.
     As Lucifer appeared out of the shadowy vortex behind the throne, 
Mephistopheles bowed deeply, his long horsetail flipping idly at the flies 
that buzzed around him.  His sturdy cloven hooves were planted 
shoulder-width apart and black fur covered him from the waist down.  His 
torso was strong and muscular, especially around his chest and shoulders, 
from the occasional flight on his bat-like wings.  His long mane of black 
hair coiled around the base of his curling ram�s horns and sparkling eyes 
glittered from deep sockets, between which an aquiline nose sprung.  His 
thin mustache curled around the sides of his mouth to a sharply pointed 
goatee.  He was, quite literally, devilishly handsome.
     With a wide grin, he strode forward to lift Lilith�s hand to his lips.  
"Lilith, my dear, you are looking exceptionally delightful to-" he began in 
a smooth silky voice.
     "Can the used car salesman crap, Mephistopheles," Lucifer said 
impatiently as he plopped carelessly on his throne with an expression of 
extreme boredom.  "I want to know why a minion is saving angels, and from 
whom."
     "I see you have been dreaming well, My Lord Lucifer.  Even in slumber, 
knowledge of the world does not escape you," Mephistopheles said wryly.
     Lucifer rolled his eyes.  "Drop the flattery and get ON with it!"
     "One of my officers has caused the fall of a Virtue First Class," the 
Lord of Corruptions responded.
     Lucifer made a little "whoop-de-do" motion with one hand as he rested 
his head on the other.  "Gee.  That's great."  He said completely half 
heartedly.  "Who's her Arch?"
     "She's one of Theliel�s, but there�s-"
     "How sweet," Lucifer interrupted, the boredom in his voice heavier than 
a black hole.  "Another Cupidite to fall into your tender graces.  I trust 
your agent got a suitable reward?" he asked, not interested in an answer.
     "She quit," Mephistopheles said darkly, bracing for the tirade, but 
instead, Lucifer�s eyes glittered and a faint hint of a smile formed on his 
lips as he furrowed his brow in thought.
     "Quit?"  Animation threatened to enter his voice.  "Why?"
     "The bitch thinks she's in love with the angel in question."  
Mephistopheles said vehemently.
     Lilith laughed.  "I see the colors of your jealousy, Mephistopheles.  
All of us know of your fondness for buggering angels," she said, casually 
stretching out on her cushion at Lucifer�s feet.
     "You brazen whore!  I do not-" the demon lord thundered before Lucifer 
cut him off.
     "SILENCE!" Lucifer roared, his voice shaking the castle.  It the 
stillness that followed, he spoke softly, but there was no way to doubt the 
menace in his voice.  "You will never speak to Lilith that way again.  She 
is the Mother of all that exists here and you WILL have a little respect for 
your creator."
     A deep rumbling sounded from the floor.
     The Demon Lord fell on his knees before the throne, his face a mask of 
terror.  "No, Master...  I beg of you..." he pleaded.
     Lucifer gazed at him for a long moment, the rumbling getting worse.  
When he was sure his point had been made, he spoke authoritatively.  "Baal.  
Heel!"
     The slow rumble quieted slowly as the room stopped shaking.  
Mephistopheles, however, remained prostrate on the floor.
     "You know how Baal gets.  He always gets... hungry... when I'm angry."  
Lucifer stated.
     Mephistopheles could only give a terrified nod, unable to control his 
knees shaking.
     Lucifer contemplated for several minutes before continuing.  "So, your 
operative quit."  He jumped up to pace back and forth along the edge of the 
dais, finally asking "Which one?"
     "Seraph Darkfell.  A succubus," Mephistopheles managed after a moan of 
fear.
     "Ah, yes...  Your best operative.  How amusing," Lucifer chuckled.  
"And..." he stopped as a sudden thought struck him.  "Oh... how...  
interesting...  And the angel?"
     "Harteriel Serafina."  Mephistopheles voice sounded meek and tired.  
"She was exiled from Heaven for having sex with Seraph."
     Lucifer paused.  "Exiled?"  He looked at the demon lord, one eyebrow 
raised.  "You mean Fell."
     Mephistopheles shook his head.  "No, Master.  She was exiled by order 
of Theliel, but she has not Fallen."
     Lucifer gazed at Mephistopheles, seeming to be not so much looking at 
him as through him.  The Demon Lord found it to be very disconcerting and 
frightening.
     Lilith was looking at Lucifer, concerned.  "My Lord?" she asked 
uncertainly.  Lucifer hadn't acted like this in a long time...
     "An angel..." he finally said.  "And a succubus...  In love..."  A 
faint smile played around his lips as traces of wonder danced in his eyes.  
Then they locked on Mephistopheles.  "I take it that when she refused to 
lead her lover into a trap and leave her to your tender mercies, you 
arranged a 'welcoming committee'?"
     "Yes," the Demon Lord said glumly.  "Seraph killed them."
     Lucifer�s eyes danced as a slow smile grew on his face.  "Do either of 
them know about the G.O.D.�s glamour on the Angel?"
     Mephistopheles looked confused.  "Glamours, Master?  The G.O.D. removed 
her glamours when they removed her wings."
     Lucifer was now grinning fully.  "Thank you Mephistopheles.  You are 
free to go."  He turned to return to his throne.
     "But, Master, do you not wish me to send a retrieval team?  Another 
Virtue would be beneficial to our cause..."
     Lucifer sat and said sarcastically, "And to your bed."  He shook his 
head.  "No.  I will deal with this matter personally."  Then he gave the 
Demon Lord an amused look.  "Besides, I remember what happened to the last 
Virtue to fall to your charms."  Lucifer chuckled.  "Oh the irony!"
     Mephistopheles bowed, hiding his humiliation and rage.  "As you wish, 
Master." he forced through grinding teeth, then turned to leave, feeling 
Lucifer�s eyes upon him all the way to the door.
     As Lucifer watched him leave, the Lord of Hell could no longer contain 
himself.  "And I was just saying the G.O.D had made everything so boring!"
     All of Hell rang with its Master�s laughter.

     * * * * *

     Mephistopheles stomped his way across the bridge of bone from Lucifer's 
castle, his wrath a fiery corona around him.  The sounds of Lucifer�s 
laughter rang in his ears bitterly.  He paused at one of the many skeletal 
cadavers impaled along the bridge and smashed his fist through its dry 
skull.
     "First that bitch Seraph screws me out of that slut angel, then she 
kills Bhaalor�s ambushers, and now Lucifer�s laughing at me!" he screamed at 
the silent corpse.  "How could it possibly get any worse?"
     In answer to his question a shadow fell across him and he turned to 
face a nightmare.
     The demon before him stood ten feet tall - both ways.  Muscle piled on 
muscle in such profusion as to make him appear almost dwarflike in his 
proportions.  His face was grim, his one blood-red eye glaring at 
Mephistopheles from under a cliff-like brow.  Two tall and massive horns 
sprang from his bullet-like head, arching upwards in a slight spiral that 
added almost three more feet to his height, the massive muscles of his neck 
supporting the weight effortlessly.
     That neck trailed into a pair of shoulders nearly as broad as he was 
tall, the massively corded braid of his muscles straining against his red 
skin.  One hand was tucked into the heavy iron belt, carved with scenes of 
Armageddon, Celtic knot-work dividing the panels.  Below it, his brown fur 
glistened from his sweat, small droplets falling beside his cloven hooves 
and steaming on the heated bone.
     Mephistopheles backed up, feeling his anger slide once more into fear 
as he eyed the massive morningstar resting lightly against the giant's 
shoulder, its iron head larger than his chest.
     "B...  B...  Bhaalor!" he finally stuttered.
     The Demon Lord of Battles leaned down, the silver death�s head on his 
black eye patch gleaming ominously.
     "You and me are gonna to talk," he rumbled in a tone which left no room 
for argument.  "Now!"
     Mephistopheles turned to run, but one massive ham hand locked around 
the Lord of Corruptions� tail and halted him.  Bhaalor hefted the protesting 
Mephistopheles casually and tossed him over his shoulder as he turned and 
marched back down the bridge to the iron city, ignoring the smaller demons 
cries, pleas, begging and bluster.
     Bhaalor trudged deep into the city, finally arriving at a restaurant 
displaying a sign of a cauldron filled with body parts.  Bhaalor dragged the 
reluctant Mephistopheles into the restaurant, past cannibals feasting on 
human flesh, to the kitchen, where more cannibals were being butchered by 
imps for the diners out front...
     "It's too noisy to talk in here!"  Mephistopheles screamed above the 
cries of the butchered, ducking as a spray of blood flew from a newly 
beheaded body.  The head in the imp�s hands looked down at its body in fear 
oddly mixed with a strange anticipation.  Its tongue licked its lips 
hungrily.
     Bhaalor ignored the carnage, his head turning to scan the room until he 
found what he sought, then he moved to the red door partially hidden behind 
a row of writhing bodies awaiting preparation, the cannibals suspended from 
hooks in their backs.  He stepped past the soon-to-be dinners and turned the 
knob on the blood slicked door, having to try several times before getting 
enough traction.
     Beyond was an aging room where already prepared bodies hung, stuffed 
with various flavorings.  Bhaalor walked around the edge until he reached a 
clear spot near the back and swung his burden around.  He grabbed 
Mephistopheles� arms and lifted him to impale his wings on a pair of hooks.  
Mephistopheles howled as Bhaalor left him to hang.
     "Shut up!"  Bhaalor thundered.  "Or I'll leave you there minus your 
head.  I lost six good agents in that ambush!  They'd been keeping Alphabet 
City at war for ten years now!"
     Mephistopheles grew pale.  "B-B-Bhaalor!  I- I can ex-" he stammered 
before the Warlord cut him off.
     "And why is one of your officers killing off my agents?!"  Anger 
crackled in his voice like thunder.  He swatted at a fly circling the 
writhing entrees around them, then continued.  "And where in the Name of our 
Master did a goddamned SUCCUBUS learn how to fight!"  His one good eye 
glowed crimson fire.
     "My officer?"  Mephistopheles tried to look innocent.  "But Seraph 
resigned!  Surely you aren't blaming me for her actions?"
     The huge morning star slashed downwards between the Lord of Corruptions 
dangling legs, the vicious spikes just missing his manhood.
     "That's not the answer to the question I asked."  Bhaalor said softly 
and dangerously.
     "S-she was rescuing the angel!"  Mephistopheles stuttered, trying to 
angle his lower body further away from the spikes.  "And where do you think 
she learned how to fight?"
     Bhaalor leaned down till he was face to face and growled.  "That's what 
I'm asking you."
     In desperation, Mephistopheles put on his best smile.  It was a trifle 
weak, but it would have to do.
     "Bhaalor, old buddy.  You're forgetting what Seraph once was.  I made 
her.  I hand picked her for her spirit and focus.  She was a warrior as fine 
as any of your men, even if she lacked the bloodlust you prize so highly, 
until I turned her into the cute slut she is today."
     The giant demon considered that and nodded, accepting the answer.  
"Yeah.  Well your 'cute slut' is about to suffer terminal iron poisoning."  
He stepped back.  "She owes me for six agents."
     "You're going to kill her?"  Mephistopheles cried in dismay.  "She's my 
best agent!"
     "Not anymore.  She resigned, right?  I'll just deliver her termination 
notice."  Bhaalor laughed at his own joke.  Somehow, Mephistopheles was not 
reassured.
     "But- but she could still be brought back.  A few weeks of my personal 
attention would remind her of her place!"
     "Save it for her next re-incarnation."  Bhaalor said as he turned and 
walked towards the door.  "I had an SS officer and two Mongols in that 
squad, all very valuable to me.  Now they're re-incarnates and there's no 
guarantee they'll grow up into the mean, vicious bastards they were!"  His 
morning star swung through the air angrily and turned several of the hanging 
corpses into bloody ruin.  "Your bitch wasted them and now she's going to be 
toast!"
     Mephistopheles sighed.  Arguing with the ten foot tall Warlord was a 
lost cause.  Seraph was doomed...
     But maybe something was salvageable...
     "Bhaalor, wait!"
     The Warlord paused at the door.  "What?"
     "Perhaps we could strike a bargain?"  The Master of Deals oozed, the 
wheels in his mind churning.  "About the angel, Harteriel?"
      "I don't care about the angel."  Bhaalor turned to leave.
     Mephistopheles rubbed his hands together, back in his element.
     "Good.  That was exactly what I was hoping you'd say..."

     * * * * *

     After Mephistopheles had wormed a promise from Bhaalor to deliver the 
Angel to him and he had finally wriggled his way off the hooks and left, the 
purple-eyed grey fly that had been circling the carcass nearest them grew 
and shimmered into the form of Lilith.
     "How interesting," she said softly.
     She had decided to follow Mephistopheles after he had left the throne 
room, sensing he would cause trouble, and she had been right.  Against 
Lucifer�s orders, he was still trying to arrange the angel�s capture solely 
for the pleasure of raping her...
     But still... there where parts of what she had heard that perked more 
than just casual interest, just as it had with her husband.
     "An angel-besotted Succubus who can best trained warriors of 
Bhaalor..." she whispered to herself
     It was no use... she was going to have to give this Seraph Darkfell and 
her angelic lover a visit...

     * * * * *

     "Mr. Fish?"
     The gentleman behind the desk looked up from his work at the crackling 
intercom.  He sighed.  All this technology and his assistant still sounded 
like she was talking through a tin can.
     He reached out and hit the button.  "Yes, Maggie?"
     "There are two gentlemen to see you, sir.  A Mr. Horne and a Mr. 
Wright."
     "Ah yes, send them in, please,"
     The door to the luxurious office opened silently, allowing the two 
gentlemen entrance.  They looked around the tastefully earth-toned decor, 
then advanced to two low backed chairs before the oak desk.  They sat down, 
their wings just clearing the tops.
     Both of them were handsome men, almost to the point of being called 
beautiful.  Mr. Wright had a thick crop of medium brown hair that crowned a 
boyish, blue eyed face.  His grey Armani suit had been tailor-fitted to 
accommodate his trim muscular figure and his ivory white wings.
     Mr. Horne stood just a few inches taller than Mr. Wright�s six feet, 
and was similarly attired in navy blue.  His blond, shoulder length hair 
accented an Adonis-like body, and his piercing eyes were an iron grey.  He 
waited till Mr. Fish looked at him before speaking.
     "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, sir,"
     Mr. Fish nodded, the golden light from his visitors� halos making 
strange shadows on his face.  "This situation is very sensitive.  I can see 
many potential consequences."  His face was grave.
     Mr. Wright spoke.  "The Council has outlined many possible scenarios.  
We've stopped looking for a minimum impact solution.  In all cases, the 
butterfly effect curved off the scale.  This situation is more extreme than 
I believe anyone realizes.  For better or for worse, a chain of events has 
been set in motion by these two that cannot be predicted with any certainty. 
  All forecasts show it will ripple across the globe and through all of the 
other worlds.  Heaven, the Olympus complex, Asgard, The Summerlands, Arcadia 
and most other regions will be affected, as will the Nine Circles.  Nor will 
we be able to contain the effect within the western realms.  Projections 
show massive overlap into the Celestial Bureaucracy, the Seven Realms, the 
Garden of Allah, even the Dreamlands."
     "If I may be candid, Mr. Fish," Mr. Horne added.  "The Council is 
becoming worried.  I especially am concerned."
     Mr. Fish nodded.  "Yes, I can understand that.  Believe me, I share in 
your apprehension.  My attention will be solely devoted to this affair."  He 
tapped a spot on his desk and a concealed monitor lit up.  "My contacts have 
informed me the G.O.D. has declared Harteriel Serafina Exiled and Fallen, 
but there is a discrepancy.  Despite the declaration, it appears Miss 
Serafina has not Fallen.  I would like this investigated."
     Mr. Wright nodded.
     "Also, I have been made aware that the Department of Corruptions has 
complied a dossier on her.  I would like to know what that dossier 
contains."  He tapped another spot on his desk and the information on the 
monitor changed.  "I have also been informed that the D.O.C. has lost one of 
its best agents in this Seraph Darkfell.  Infernal Affairs has her on 
Terminate status.  Have you been able to assemble a dossier?"
     "Actually, yes."  Mr. Wright held up a small silver disc.  He handed it 
to Mr. Fish, who placed it in a slot at the side of his desk.  For a long 
moment his eyes scanned the data scrolling across his monitor.  His face was 
expressionless as it finished and he leaned back, lost in thought for a 
minute.
     Finally, he looked at the two angels.  "I take it you are both familiar 
with the information in this file?"
     They nodded.
     "Good.  I have your assignments, gentlemen."  He turned to the 
grey-suited angel.  "Mr. Wright.  I would like you to study Miss Darkfell on 
a logical level.  She has strengths and weaknesses.  Find them.  Monitor the 
use of her powers.  She's a Succubus, she feeds on desire and lust, is she 
feeding?  And is she feeding off Harteriel?  Most importantly, how much of 
her... previous history... does she remember?  Secondly, I need an 
evaluation of Miss Serafina.  If she has not Fallen, find out why.  Also, 
she feeds on love.  Is she feeding?"
     Mr. Wright nodded.  Mr. Fish turned to his companion.
     "Mr. Horne, I need you to study them on an intuitive level.  How 
ingrained are Seraph's demonic reflexes?  How does she think?  Is she really 
in love?  The same goes for Harteriel.  I need to know their intentions 
before we make any further moves.  They are both their respective offices� 
best agents, is this defection real?  Or an elaborate gambit?"  Mr. Fish 
fixed them both with a stern look.  "Neither of you are to have any contact 
with them until I give the command.  I do not wish them to know they are 
being observed."
     They nodded and rose to go.
     "Oh," Mr. Fish added as an afterthought.  "I would like one of you to 
bring Raphael in.  He may be needed later, providing Miss Serafina truly has 
not Fallen."  He nodded.  "That is all."
     They nodded again and headed for the door.  At the threshold, Mr. 
Wright turned back.  "Mr. Fish?"
     "Yes."
     "Should we send in a Guardian?"
     Mr. Fish smiled.  "I already have that taken care of Michael.  But, I'm 
glad to see you're giving them the benefit of the doubt."
     Mr. Wright nodded in acknowledgement and exited the office after Mr.  
Horne.  Mr. Fish settled back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.  The scars 
on his forehead throbbed with his headache.  Playing guessing games with the 
G.O.D. was bad enough.  Now, Chaos threatened to take a hand in affairs.  At 
times like this, he almost wished there was someone else to do his job, but 
he'd gotten his answer to that particular wish in a garden on a hill a long, 
long time ago.
     With a sigh, he pressed the button on the intercom.
     "Yes?" his executive assistant called brightly, as she had always done, 
from the day he'd married her.
     "Maggie, my love, would you be so kind as to get me Valentine?  And 
you'd better put out the notice that my mother is likely to arrive in town 
soon..."  Another headache he could do without, but couldn't avoid.
     "Right away.  Would you like a cup of coffee, dear?  I just made a 
fresh pot."
     After all these years, she knew exactly how to make him smile.  "Yes, 
dear, I would love some..."

     * * * * *

     The Old Man sat down at the head of the table, his long flowing mane of 
grey hair blending into the tangle of his beard.  Iron grey eyes gazed out 
of a weathered face which could be at times kindly, at others stern beyond 
belief, but at present just looked tired.  He looked around the room to 
ensure all his key players were present, then called the meeting to order.
     He waited until they were all seated before speaking again.  "Well, 
gentlemen, we know going in that all projects have risks, but this minor 
matter seems to have gotten out of hand."
     "I am not pleased at losing my best agent," one of those congregated 
said sourly.  His heavy-lidded dark eyes sat in an androgynous face whose 
beauty was renowned almost as much as that of the First Fallen.  However, 
there was an angry curl to his lips as he awaited the Old Man's explanation.
     "No-one told you to Exile her, Theliel," one of the others said.  His 
mane of thick red hair hung down his back in waves, contrasting with his 
dark red wings.  His eyes met Theliel�s and they stared one another down.
     "Theliel was justified in exiling his agent, Cherubiel.  She had 
been... compromised," said the lone woman in their midst.  She sat across 
from the two antagonists, her dark clothing covering even her wings.  A veil 
covered her face so that only her eyes could be seen, and her hard gaze made 
Cherubiel turn to give a dust mote a careful inspection.  "Sex is forbidden 
by the Code, save between married couples.  Sex with a demon doublely so."
     "Thank you, Temporiel.  That will be enough."  The Old Man interrupted 
before a shouting match could ensue.  "The loss of Harteriel is a setback, 
but it proves we seriously underestimated the skills of Seraph Darkfell.  
However, the project has not failed entirely.  The Department of Corruptions 
no longer has her services.  In the capacity of Mephistopheles� agent, 
Seraph has been neutralized, and there remains a possibility she may be 
purified and turned to our cause.  The situation must be analyzed."
     A light breeze blew through the meeting room, carrying the faint sound 
of a choir singing.  As it passed, it left a neatly rolled scroll before 
each of the five members of the committee.  They took a few moments to read 
through them.
     After a long moment of silence, Barakiel, the Warlord, whistled.
     "Houston, we have a problem."
     The Old Man nodded.  "This report was just forwarded to me."
     "Six of Bhaalor's men?  I would not care to be Mephistopheles when the 
Warlord of Hell catches him."  Theliel burst out through uncontrolled 
giggles.  This was met with chuckles by all the others, save one.
     "Disturbing," Uziel said suddenly, his voice killing the laughter.  The 
Master of Purgatory was by all appearances a young boy, but one look in his 
eyes spoke of millennia devoted to learning.  Uziel spoke rarely, but when 
he did, the others listened.
     Into the silence, Uziel continued, "Based on this report, there are two 
probabilities.  The first is beneficial to our cause.  There still exists a 
possibility that our original objective may be accomplished and we may yet 
win Seraph to Heaven�s cause, thereby dealing the Office of Corruptions a 
major blow and cripple its current effectiveness.  Despite the major error 
Theliel made by Exiling Heart, there is still a small percent chance this 
may yet be accomplished."
     "However.  This is the least likely case.  Heart's Exile makes this 
resolution highly improbable.  I fear that this situation is more likely to 
escalate into catastrophe."
     The Old Man nodded.  "Elaborate," he commanded.
     Uziel steepled his fingers, noting the glare Theliel was giving him.  
"The pivot point is Seraph's actions following Heart's Exile.  As an agent 
of Hell, she was predictable to a point.  Her actions could be expected to 
fall within those normally performed by Mephistopheles� agents, though she 
could be very ingenious within those limits.  Heart's Exile seems to have 
provided a catalyst which has changed that.  Her resignation from the 
Department of Corruptions was unexpected.  She is now a renegade free agent. 
  Her motivations seem to revolve around her relationship with the angel, 
but is she really in love-"
     "Never!"  Theliel hissed.
     Uziel ignored the outburst and continued as if he hadn't been 
interrupted.  "-or does she have ulterior motives?  If so, how has she 
fooled an Angel of Love into believing she truly loves her?  Beyond this, 
there is the matter of Seraph's performance while in battle with Bhaalor�s 
troops.  Seraph is a Succubus First Class, not a combat demon.  Against 
Bhaalor�s agents she should have been overmatched, yet she bested them 
easily."  His eyes bored into Theliel�s.  "There is a discrepancy therefore, 
between her demonstrated abilities and her reported ones."
     Theliel glanced at the Old Man, but otherwise stared fixedly at the 
table.
     Uziel continued.  "From this evidence, it seems possible that Seraph 
might have found some method of drawing upon Heart in ways that enhance her 
own powers.  There is a danger in this.  Seraph was previously 
Mephistopheles� best agent.  Her powers were nearly as strong as the Demon 
Lord�s.  If Seraph has found a way to feed off Heart in a manner that 
increases her personal powers, it is possible her 'retirement' is a first 
step for a plan to replace the Demon Lord as head of the D.O.C. Seraph may 
teach other demons these methods and create a power imbalance that could 
disrupt the present order.  This must be investigated and Seraph's true 
motives must be discovered."
     The Old Man nodded.  "Go on."
     "As Seraph is a Demon, I would theorize this is a more likely 
possibility than that she is actually in love with Heart.  Demons are not 
capable of the higher emotions.  How she has managed to delude Heart is 
unknown, but the evidence is plain that Harteriel truly believes Seraph 
loves her-"
     "Evidence?"  Temporiel interrupted.
     "Yes.  Harteriel has not Fallen.  This could only occur if she truly 
believed Seraph loved her."
     "That's impossible!"  Temporiel stormed.  "She broke the Code and slept 
with her!"
     "Yes.  Despite your well-known hatred for sex, Temporiel, the Code is 
for Mortals.  Harteriel vowed her love to Seraph.  While I do not believe 
Seraph could return that love, the fact remains that by the act of giving 
herself to Seraph she is guilty only of consummation of her vows."
     Temporiel looked angrily at Theliel for support, but found none. 
"Uziel�s right.  ." Theliel sighed.  "She believes she's in love with the 
Succubus and in accordance with her Oaths.  The Exile clerk could only take 
her Robes and Halo of Office.  She has managed to fall into a loophole and 
she has retained her status as an angel.  She is at present under glamour 
and unaware of this, but there are those who can see through the glamour, 
and once she becomes aware of it, she can break it."
     "Let's get someone on that," the Old Man said.  "We want to prevent 
that as long as possible."  He tapped his fingers on the table as he 
thought.  "Uziel.  You stated that there existed a possibility of 
successfully finishing our original plan?"
     He nodded.  "Yes, however, as I stated, it carries a low probability of 
success."
     "Explain."
     "As I stated, the likelihood of Seraph truly returning Heart's love is 
small, but if she does in fact care for Heart, then there is a possibility 
of exploiting that.  Heart is likely very emotionally distressed over her 
Exile.  If she were to be approached with an offer of a pardon and the 
opportunity to return, she would likely consider it.  Once she is lured to 
Heaven, it is possible Seraph would attempt to follow her.  In any case, it 
is likely she will be weaker if her link to Heart is nullified, something 
that cannot be done so long as they are both on the Mortal Plane."
     Temporiel glared.  "Pardon her!  After what she's done!"
     "Settle down, Temporiel," the Old Man commanded.  Her eyes burned hot 
over her veil, but she held her tongue.  "What's your final analysis, 
Uziel?"
     The young looking angel steepled his fingers again.  "They must either 
be brought in and controlled, or neutralized.  They are too dangerous to 
allow free."  This minor matter could jeopardize far more important 
projects."
     The Old Man nodded.  "Very well.  Does anyone wish to add anything?"  
His look indicated that no one should.  "Good.  Barakiel, make arrangements 
to put the pair under surveillance.  I want to know everything they do, from 
what food they eat to what lingerie they wear.  Temporiel put together an 
Official Pardon, and a committee to deliver it if I give the word."
     The Angel of Celibacy and Moderation glared, but wisely made no 
protest.
     "I think we shall at least make an attempt to salvage our losses.  We 
will give them seven earth days.  We should have the data needed to make a 
final decision by then.  Meeting adjourned."  He rose, ignoring the mutters 
around the table.  At the door, he paused.  "Oh, and if we can't salvage 
this, Cherubiel, will you put together an executioners committee?"
     He didn't wait for an answer.

     * * * * *

     Uziel stopped Theliel at the door as the others exited, then turned to 
the Cupid.
     "You are running a game, Theliel.  I wish to know what it is."
     A guarded look came to Theliel's eyes.  "I don't know what you're 
talking about."  He said flatly.
     "Don't make the mistake of assuming my appearance means I'm naive.  I 
have my own sources of information Theliel.  I know what was so carefully 
excluded from that report."
     "I don't have anything to hide."  Theliel evaded.
     "Really."  Uziel reached out and pulled Theliel�s robe off his 
shoulder, revealing a long scar along his shoulder blade.  "Nothing at all?"
     Theliel pulled his robe back "Stay out of my business, Uziel."
     Uziel�s eyes narrowed.  Theliel was too confident.  He was sure of some 
protection from the Old Man.  That would bear investigating.
     "I will find out your game, Theliel."  Uziel finally said.
     "You're welcome to try."  Theliel�s grin was mocking.  "Am I dismissed 
now?" without waiting for an answer, he turned and left.
     "I'll be watching you."  Uziel promised to his back.

     * * * * *

     As meetings were had, investigations launched, and spies set in motion, 
the subjects of all the fuss were obliviously finishing out their day.
     Lilith had grown bored quickly as she had watched the pair shop for 
clothes at Saks Fifth Avenue, then go to Times Square and catch a new 
release.  They had gone out for Fondue for dinner, feeding each other 
strawberries dipped in chocolate for dessert, then had gotten a room in a 
nice hotel downtown.
     Lilith had thought it wise to hide when Seraphs kisses brought forth 
soft moans from Heart.  Seraphs powers would be at a peak during and just 
after intercourse, and the risk she might sense Lilith had been too great.  
Still, Lilith hadn't wanted to miss anything, so she had tucked one of her 
amethysts into a corner of the ceiling and hidden in a dimensional pocket as 
she watched the Angel and Succubus make love.
     I don't believe it.  She thought to herself two hours later, the cries 
of ecstasy never quieting the entire time.  Seraph never had to use any of 
her powers to seduce her?
     Could it be... no...  Demons couldn't... fall in love?
     Could they?
     Even more intriguing, she'd watched as Hearts blue white aura had 
intertwined with Seraphs red black one to create a pale lavender aura that 
had surrounded them both. Lilith had never seen anything like it. She 
watched as it wrapped itself around them like a blanket as they finally 
collapsed into an exhausted heap.
     Lilith sighed.  That was incredible...
     Heart curled herself into Seraphs embrace as they lay looking out the 
window that opened onto the city, and pulled one of the demoness�s wings 
around her.  Seraph's tail idly stroked up and down along her leg as she 
exuded an aura of utter contentment.  Lilith couldn't believe what her own 
eyes were telling her.  She leaned forward, straining to hear the last words 
Seraph whispered into Heart's ear as the Angel drifted off to sleep.
     "I almost forgot, Beloved...  Happy Valentines Day..."
     Even in her sleep, Heart smiled.




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