Ok.  Due to some aggrivation over the link I posted here's the Chapter 
itself.  Sorry to all those who couldn't get to the link for one reason or 
another.

Previous Chapters are available on the LoveStruck group or on the FFML Mini 
Archive (at least last time I looked.)

LSMcGill (once more on Jenny's mail to keep the Archive straight)

As always, C&C welcome.




Day Six: Storm Signs

Dawn came and found Heart once more awake, standing on the balcony
watching the sun rise. She thrilled to the unobstructed view she
had from the penthouse, and reveled in the way the sun reflected off
the glass and steel of the buildings. Light poured over the city
from the east, lighting the river into a strip of golden fire, and
giving the whole city the appearance of being made from gold. The
illusion faded quickly, but for those few moments, it resembled
Heaven.

As the sunrise faded, she went back into the apartment and smiled
for a few moments at Seraph sleeping peacefully in the bed. The
succubus had held her most of the night, and the comfort of having
her so close had kept Heart from agonizing over the fight with the
angels last night. She retrieved her halo from the curtain hook and
slipped quietly into the bathroom, glad Seraph had been there for
her.

She filled the huge tub with frothy bubbles and luxuriated in a long
bath, contemplating the fight the night before. It hadn't been
right. Angels weren't supposed to kill humans anymore. The new
covenant of Christ was about salvation through grace, not
retribution. All her existence as an angel had been about choice
and acceptance of grace. Angels killing a human, for whatever
reason, wasn't supposed to happen anymore. They were supposed to
have a free choice to accept salvation or not as they chose. Yet
those angels had acted as if killing humans was not only routine,
but a duty they liked.

It was very disturbing, and she wondered what other nasty secrets
lurked under the golden light of Heaven.

She finished her bath and was wondering what she could find to do
when the door bell rang. She opened the door to find a couple of
delivery men with the first of the items Seraph had arranged to have
delivered when they were shopping yesterday. She was directing them
where to set the large screen TV when a sleepy "Beloved?" from the
bedroom door prompted her attention.

She looked over to where the bleary eyed succubus stood and
smiled. "It's okay love. It's just the people with the TV."

Seraph nodded and turned back to the bedroom as Heart turned back to
the two workmen. They were staring at the bedroom door with looks
of appreciation. "Whoa. Natural color," one of them said. The
other gave him a sharp jab in the ribs. Heart blinked, then
realized Seraph hadn't put anything on before coming to the door.
She blushed.

"Sorry, ma'am." apologized the one worker who'd jabbed his
partner. "My buddy here's not used to such classy digs. I'm sorry
if he offended you."

Heart nodded. "It's okay. I'm so used to her I didn't realize she
wasn't dressed. But don't worry about it. She dances at Club
Dante, so I'm not offended."

The worker nodded and punched his buddy in the arm and nodded at the
TV. They finished setting the TV up for Heart and showed her how to
use the remote. She gave them a twenty, Seraph having explained to
her what the different pictures and numbers meant. She then sat
down Indian-style before the TV.

She flipped through channel after channel until she found one
showing those moving paintings she liked so much and happily watched
the animated adventures of a young man who could control
electricity. She liked the show because it showed all different
types of people trying to cope with special abilities, without
regard to race or gender.

The show was almost done when another set of delivery men showed up,
this time with a couch. She had closed the door to the bedroom, so
they didn't wake Seraph this time.

>From that point on, the morning was a mix of cartoons and
deliveries. She watched mutants saving the earth while arranging
the dining room, a nice mechanical man who just wanted to be allowed
to live in peace while getting dishes put away, and the adventures
of a Chinese archeologist trying to save the world from a mean demon
who reminded her of Bhaalor while she found a place to put up book
shelves. She especially enjoyed a show about a group of teenagers
who got chased a lot by monsters before revealing they were actually
people committing crimes. The big dog who was their pet was
incredibly funny.

Another show she liked was one about a young boy who traveled around
catching small creatures. A pair of comedic criminals who kept
trying to steal the boys pet made her laugh through the entire
show.

Finally, the cartoons ended and she flipped through channels again,
eventually finding a channel that seemed to be nothing but the
animated shows. She watched several shows in a row that she was
rather disappointed in, the animation very poorly done and the
stories almost more mindless than the shows during the weekday
afternoons, before the show she liked with the young magical
schoolgirls came on. She enjoyed watching them fight a woman with
green hair who was incredibly vain.

She really liked the animations. For one thing, they were full of
happiness and humor and laughter, even when they dealt with serious
subjects. She found them wonderfully refreshing after the doom and
gloom of the rest of television.

Seraph finally woke just as Heart was trying her hand at making
another recipe, using the groceries she had brought from the hotel.
Seraph followed the aroma from the bedroom to the kitchen, sniffing
appreciatively at the aroma. She looked at the pan of noodles and
meat and smiled. "Whatcha making?"

Heart stirred the pan with a spoon as she answered. "The box said
it was 'Three Cheese,' but I couldn't find any real cheese in it,
just a powder. I made it like the box said, but I put a chunk of
cheddar into it too."

Seraph nodded. "Smells really good."

She wandered around the apartment while Heart finished cooking,
moving a few the items Heart hadn't had an idea where to place. She
smiled at Heart as she looked down at the cast iron and glass table
Heart had had the workers put next to the oak dining room
table. "Beloved, I got this for the balcony."

Heart smiled back. "That's wonderful. I wasn't sure where to place
it."

They had lunch on the balcony after Seraph had moved the table and
chairs, enjoying the view as they discussed what else they needed
for the apartment, but finally, the conversation turned to the fight
the previous night.

"I wish I knew why those angels came to kill the Detective," Heart
said as she licked the last of the cheese sauce from her fork. "It
makes no sense. Angels are supposed to guide and protect humans,
not kill them."

"I don't know dear. The Bible is filled with stories of angels sent
to slay humans."

"That's all old testament, Seraph. The old covenant. Jesus created
a new covenant when he came. We're supposed to follow that now.
They reduced the Host of Angels of War to a fraction of what they
once were shortly before I went to Heaven. Before Christ, back when
the Great Rift occurred, there were several million War angels, now
there's just a few hundred thousand. They weren't needed anymore,
because of the new covenant. There wasn't a need for angels to
enforce the covenant, because it was supposed to be free choice."

"I'd say not all of the Angels of War stopped killing humans then."
Seraph grimaced. "This wasn't the first angelic hit squad I've
seen, Love. And they're always black-winged."

Heart nodded. "Black wings are normal for Angels of War. But the
only ones I've normally seen in suits are in administration. The
clerk at the Exile's Gate was almost identical to the group last
night." She shook her head. "I don't know who they were working
for, Beloved. War Angels' swords are similar to mine. The swords
they were using weren't familiar.

Seraph frowned. "They were made to be concealed. Like a secret
service for Heaven."

Heart sighed. "I wish I could refute you. Heaven's not supposed to
be like that." She looked up at Seraph sadly. "I don't know what's
going on, but I feel like I've been lied to about so much. Theliel
being Eros, the other Gods being real, and now assassin angels.
It's all wrong."

Seraph patted her hand. "I know. It's hard realizing Paradise
isn't."

* * * * *

Thor sat in a chair in Lipton's living room reading a book of Norse
myths and chuckling. It was amazing how many of the facts had been
distorted over time. He didn't need the belt and glove to use
Mjolnir; they were just useful when he had a major battle to fight.

A shadow passing over the window made him look up in time to see a
figure with dark grey wings land on the balcony of Lipton's
apartment. The figure's identity surprised him.

"Well, well. How's it hanging, Mary?" he asked cordially as the
Virgin entered.

"Odinson? What the hell are you doing here?" Mary asked with a
raised eyebrow. "I felt a strong power in here and thought Bruce
might be in trouble. Didn't figure I'd find you. Aphrodite maybe,
but not you."

"Dite? Lipton's played with 'Dite? Got to admire the man. She's
got more stamina than-"

"I don't really want to know, Thor," Mary interrupted. "Again - why
are you here?"

"I brought the boy home last night. Put him to bed. Why are you
here?"

"I have my reasons." Mary said.

"Cagey as always. Why are you always so uptight?" Thor grumbled.

Mary ignored him, looking into the room where Lipton was still
passed out. Thor hummed knowingly. Mary gave him a hard
look. "What?"

"Got the hots for the young stud, huh? Want me to try getting that
bikini off again? I got my belt."

"No, Thor. I don't have the 'hots' for Bruce. I just like him."

"Mary, you ain't fooling me. I'm wayyy too old to fall for that
line."

"Whatever. Besides, I'm married."

"Uh huh. And the last time Metatron showed was when? Before J.C.
was born?"

Mary gave him an evil eye. "So how did you meet Bruce anyway," she
asked, kicking her feet up on the table as she slumped into the
couch. Her bladed heels cut long gouges in the cheap Formica.

"He came to the Club. Gave Mike and Gabe a hard time. Impressed
me," Thor answered. "You?"

"Found him in the old apartment of a succubus I'm hunting. He
thought he was saving me from a demon."

Thor shook his head. "You're reckless, Mary. You get too cocky
when you fight."

"It was just one of Bhaalor's six packs. No big deal."

"So why you hunting succubae anyway. Ain't they below your league?"

"This one has defiled an angel."

Thor gave her a hearty laugh. "Naw. I'd say Miss Heart is far from
defiled. Plucky girl for one of your sort. She's grown on me."

Mary jumped up. "You know where she is!" One of her guns appeared
in her hand. Thor's big hand closed over it and took it away.

"Settle down, Mary. I ain't gonna let you hurt Miss Serafina. Or
Miss Darkfell. They're a cute couple. Besides, she's my Boss."

"WHAT!" Mary screeched. "That damned slut is defiling an angel and
you're defending her?"

"Mary, Heart and Seraph are harmless. And in love. Reminds me of
me and Freya before-" He broke off. "Anyway, they're friends.
Leave em alone. I ain't gonna let you hurt them any more than I'm
gonna let him." He jerked a thumb at Lipton's room. "Or Gabe or
Mike, or even the G.O.D.'s hit squads." He tossed the halos he had
collected after the fight on the table. "That group tried to take
out the hunter last night, along with the Boss Lady and Miss Heart.
You see where it got them. I don't want to be forced to fight you,
hon."

Mary grumbled inaudibly, reaching out to pick up one of the halos.
She studied it for a moment, frowning. "Angels of War. But not the
regulars. Boys in Black." She gave Thor a hard look. "You said
they were after Bruce?"

"Yeah. Claimed they were there to kill him for not killing Miss
Darkfell."

Mary shook her head. "Well, I was upset he wouldn't tell me where
she was. But that's no reason to kill a human. My son's covenant
doesn't allow it." She looked back at Thor. "You said he had a run-
in with Gabriel and Michael?"

"Yeah. They were down at my club watching Miss Darkfell dance. I
almost had to teach them why I'm a God of War again."

"And they arranged to get me kicked off my homicide case too," a new
voice chimed in. They both looked up to see Lipton leaning on the
door frame to his room. "Anyone get the number of the elephant that
kicked me in the head?"

"Glad to see you're still feisty," Thor said.

"Mostly. You distracted me and the bastard sucker punched me."

"Don't worry. He got a cranium full of hammer before he could do
anything else."

Lipton nodded. "I still want to talk to Seraph."

"No can do, Detective. She don't want to speak to you."

Lipton gave him the eye as he sat down heavily by Mary. "And I take
it you're the enforcer of said seclusion?"

Thor spread his hands in a "what can I do" gesture. "Orders."

"Great. I've got six dead demons who have officially been explained
as a mob hit because of that bastard Archangel, a priest telling me
a succubus is almost as dangerous as a Demon Lord, and a Norse God
telling me she doesn't want to talk to me." He turned to
Mary. "What's next? You telling me you're going to kill me for
defending myself from a pack of rabid angels?"

Mary gave him a level look "I hadn't planned on it. I don't have
much sympathy for the group you ran into."

"What are they? The angelic Gestapo?"

A pained look crossed Mary's eyes. "I'd prefer it if you used a
different term for them."

"Same mentality though?" Lipton pressed.

Mary nodded.

"Great. So on top of everything else, I might have to fight
occasional angel hit squads. My life is fucking wonderful!"

"You're alive. Don't bitch," Mary growled.

Lipton stood. "I don't even know why I got out of bed. I'm going
back there for a few hours before I go to have a chat with a
friend. Feel free to see yourselves out." The bedroom door slammed
behind him.

Thor grinned at the door. "I definitely like him."

Mary was still frowning. "I don't like what he said about Gabriel
closing his case. My son's up to something."

Thor put the book on the table. "I'm game for going down to see
what it is."

Mary stood. "Yeah. I think it's time I had a little chat with J.C."

* * * * *

Peter could not have been more shocked than to see the boy angel
standing before his desk. What was more shocking was Uziel's
request.

"In six hundred years, you have never wanted to see the Book of
Life," the CEO of the Pearly Gates Complex said, rising. "Why now?"

"I am Lord of Purgatory, Saint Peter," Uziel replied, raising an
eyebrow. "I have every right to view the Book."

Peter chuckled as he stepped around his desk. "Of course. I simply
find the timing of your request strange. What with the quiet uproar
going on and all."

Uziel paused for a moment, evaluating Peter's comment. The general
populace of Heaven was unaware of anything out of the ordinary going
on, and he was unaware of the Council having issued any information
on any of the current projects. Peter had to know he was here over
the Exile. It was the only conclusion that made sense.

He studied Peter for a second, considering. Though they served
similar roles, he'd never spoken to the saint before. Until now, it
had never occurred to him that Peter, the Rock of Christ's Church,
might have his own agendas. What did he know? And where did he
stand? In the myriad of alliances and counter-alliances that was
Heaven, what was his role?

And what was he digging for? Was revealing his knowledge a ploy to
gain Uziel's confidence? Or a slip?

Either way, it meant he would need to guard himself.

"I wish to check on some individuals who have been brought to my
attention recently. I seek to ascertain the truth of the
information. If what I suspect is fact, there exists a possibility
that Purgatory may experience an influx of new souls."

Peter nodded. Uziel was being cagey. He studied the youthful-
looking angel carefully. The seeming child had a shady past as far
as the G.O.D. was concerned, but his intelligence was far too
valuable an asset to exclude him from the Council. Peter knew he
had been reprimanded for tinkering with the faith, causing mass
disarray. The effects of his tinkering had still not been corrected
in Ireland, nor had all of the chaos he had caused during the
Reformation. The G.O.D.'s iron control of humanity had been
destabilized in the process and most of the higher angels had been
busy with damage control for centuries.

The end result of that chaos had been the creation of Purgatory, a
vast limbo populated by those souls who were undamned, yet had not
lived to the strictest of the G.O.D.'s laws. Uziel's governance of
Purgatory had supposedly been his punishment for his role in its
creation, but after looking the boy angel over, Peter severely
doubted Uziel had ever viewed it as Banishment.

"I take it, then, you expect fallout on the mortal realm from the
Exiling of Harteriel Serafina?"

Uziel raised his eyebrow. "Perhaps."

Peter gave him a half smile. "Clever. I know you're not lying, yet
I also know that as Purgatory fills, you become more of a Power in
Heaven. What are you really after?"

"I work merely for the good of your fellow man," Uziel countered,
enjoying the verbal game of chess.

Peter's eyes narrowed. "You know that's all I've ever believed in,"
he said in irritation. "The good of my fellow man."

Uziel smiled. Check and mate. "Yes, you did," he agreed. "And you
did what you thought was best, too. But can you truly say you did
what your master would have seen done?"

Peter glared at him in annoyance. "Uziel, this is not the best way
to introduce yourself."

"Right again," Uziel replied. "But truth is seldom pleasant."

"Do not overlook the fact that I was granted Sainthood," Peter
responded. "I must have done something right."

"Indeed. But you are still a man, Peter." Uziel raised an
eyebrow. "Is that why you approved Harteriel's Exile? Because she
was made an Angel while you weren't?"

"I never approved her Exile," Peter growled, eyes blazing.

Uziel had never dealt with a saint before, and had been unaware they
possessed powers of their own, yet all of Peter's faith and holy
strength came blazing into a corona of golden light that blazed
around his head like a miniature sun. But far more shocking was the
information Peter had imparted.

"You didn't?" Uziel queried, trying to hide his surprise at the
saint's sudden glow.

"No. My signature was forged."

"How interesting. By who?"

"An angel. My staff is investigating to discover who."

I'll bet I know. Uziel thought.

"Very well. Quid pro quo then," the angel said aloud. "I'm seeking
to look up information on a person who has seemed to have caught the
interest of some of the Council. So much so that an attempt on his
life was made. I need to understand why."

Peter appeared nonplussed at the sudden confession. "What would a
human have to do with Heart?"

"He's a member of the law enforcement in the city of her Exile. A
detective. He has been investigating some of the battles our Exile
and her lover have been having. He is aware of both of their
natures. An angelic hit squad was dispatched to eliminate him."

"Why? I thought the Policy of Grace made such reprisals
unnecessary. Did they succeed?"

"I do not know yet. Temporiel and Theliel were behind it. Or
rather, Temporiel convinced Theliel to aid her in it."

"Why?"

Uziel gave him a hard look. He didn't think Peter was working for
anyone on the Council, and if he was working for who he suspected,
then he needed the information as well.

"I don't know for certain. I can tell you this. The Detective has
True Sight, and has made the acquaintance of The Warwalker and The
Virgin."

"Mary and Thor? How in the name of the Inferno did this human come
to the Renegade's attentions?"

"The Warwalker is employed by the Exile's lover, and The Virgin has
been hunting her."

"This gets more twisted by the second. What in Home's name is going
on?"

"That is what I hope to ascertain."

Peter nodded. "Very well." He waved towards one wall of his office
and a pair of panel doors swung open to reveal a massive monitor
taking up most of the wall. A pattern of sparkling gold lights
danced across the screen. Below the screen several panels of
blinking lights gave status readouts of various parts of the
Complex, letting Peter know at a glance if anything was wrong.

"Uziel, meet Abraham."

Uziel walked over to the computer, impressed. He rose an eyebrow at
the name though.

"You named it Abraham?"

"After my predecessor," Peter shrugged. "It seemed fitting."

"Why did you do this?"

Peter gave him a surprised look. "Have you noticed how huge the
human population is these days? This division employs over one-
fifth of Heaven's population alone. There was no way scribes could
keep up. This was the most efficient solution."

"So what should I do?"

"Well, you have to set up a user account."

"How?"

"Say hello," Peter said, in a tone that implied an idiot should have
known that.

"Uh... Hello Abraham."

"Voice print not on file. Please identify yourself."

"Abe, Peter here. Accept voice print for Archangel Uziel, Lord of
Purgatory, Seraphim first class."

The room echoed with clicks and whirs for several seconds before
fading into silence. It was almost as if the whole room held its
breath in anticipation.

"Voice print verified. Your user account has been activated, Lord
Uziel." Abraham finally responded.

"Um... Thanks," The Master of Purgatory stammered.

"You are quite welcome," the computer replied. Uziel looked to
Peter nervously.

"Now what do I do?"

"Ask him a question," Peter replied with a grin.

"Him?" Uziel raised an eyebrow at the screen.

"He grows on you," the saint confided.

Uziel's eyebrow remained fixed as he skeptically asked the
computer "What information do you have on Detective Bruce Lipton?"

The angel barely had time to blink before an image of Detective
Lipton was displayed in three dimensions, as though he were standing
in full flesh before the computer. Statistics, reports and other
data filled various windows on the screen. In the largest was a
report of the previous evening and details of this morning, but
nothing beyond the present moment.

"I think your computer has bugs," Uziel observed.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "No. He's been blessed to perfection.
Abraham, where is the rest of Lipton's file?"

"File complete, Saint Peter."

Peter blinked. "Display file of the last person Lipton encountered."

The computer blinked for a second before displaying the file on
Father Alphonse Lorenzo, the young priest's Roman nose belying his
lineage. The final report detailed the events of his life right up
to the day of his death.

Uziel looked at Peter in confusion, to see the saint nod in
satisfaction.

"It's all there. His whole file." He pointed to a secondary
readout. "His whole destiny to plus or minus five percent accuracy."

"Plus or minus?" Uziel queried.

"The Creator allowed free will, Uziel, thus allowing randomness into
his creation." He switched back to Lipton's readout. "I suspect
your Detective is a random flux generator. That's why Abraham
doesn't have a file on him beyond his immediate present."

"Random flux generator?"

"A person who has no destiny. There's usually a dozen or so on
Earth at any given time. I believe they're the Creator's way of
ensuring stagnation doesn't occur. Most of them have no effect, but
every now and then, one will change the course of history. Genghis
Khan, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther, Attila, Gandhi, even a certain
child who led a crusade of children. This Lipton must be one."

Uziel ignored the barb as he looked at the face of the Detective on
the screen. "I see now why Temporiel fears him. She has always
hated randomness almost as much as she hates sex."

Peter was reading the final report. "She has cause. According to
this, he not only survived the angelic attack, he managed to wound a
couple, and was saved by Thor."

"The Warwalker saved him?"

"Yes. In fact, it appears Thor met Mary in his apartment a little
over an hour ago, and they both left together." Peter looked at
Uziel. "Any theories?"

Uziel shook his head. "No. Too may players and not enough
information." He considered the implications of Thor and Mary
aiding the Detective. And whether he should inform the Old Man.

Peter shot him a wry grin. "I know. Angels killing humans, demons
killing demons... What is the planet coming to?"

"Well, look at some of the things that happen on the planet," Uziel
replied. "I mean, how do you think your master would have reacted
to some of the things that happen these days? Like that teen idol
with the skimpy clothes?"

Peter chuckled nostalgically. "As Yesua, he would have just
said she's human, and loved her as much as any of the rest."

Uziel nodded, wondering to himself what two millennia of being an
actively-worshipped deity had done to Peter's master. He also
wondered if Peter knew the answer to that one or not.

The silence lagged for a little too long, so Uziel turned back to
Abraham's screen and asked, "What about the human before that?"

As the clicks and whirs began anew, Peter said asked, "What are you
doing?"

"There's got to be a hint. Some clue that will tell us what he's
got to do with all this," Uziel replied as data flashed across the
screen.

The image changed to a tall woman with a mess of wild blond curls.
Uziel raised an eyebrow at the skinny woman's hippie clothing and
huge owl glasses.

"Honeydew Stevens." Peter noted. "Last person Lipton actually
talked too. Abraham skipped over about a hundred 'bump in the
street' encounters. Humm. Not to impressive. Works at some
paranormal novelty shop. Appears she tried to vamp him."

Uziel looked her over carefully and read some of the screens Abraham
was displaying.

"Great. Yet another wannabe 'psychic' distorting faith for her own
ends." His lip curled in distaste. "Who was before that?"

In the center of the floor where the previous images had been
standing, a new image appeared. Uziel stopped in mid-pace, staring
at the young girl with the short blonde hair. He gasped in awe,
changing his direction from back and forth to circles around the
image.

"By all of Heaven, who is this?" he breathed.

Raising an eyebrow and feeling a bit disturbed by what seemed to be
transpiring, Peter informed him, "Her name seems to be... er... that
is, Moonbunny. Moonbunny Stevens."

"An angel who walks the Earth," Uziel said, leaving Peter unsure
that he had even paid attention. "No creation of mortal man, this
kind of beauty takes divine power to create. She can only be a
child of Angels or Gods."

"Or demons, perhaps," Peter frowned. "Weren't you here for
something else?"

"Never would a beauty such as this be by unholy hands. No, this is
divine beauty. This is something the Creator put there to remind
humans that there is still such thing as beauty."

"Uziel, you're acting like a child with a crush." Peter finally ran
out of patience with this display. "She's mortal. You're an
angel. There are repercussions, you know."

"I don't care!" Uziel cried. "Theliel may as well have struck me
with one of his arrows. I am smitten."

"Well, please, go be smitten somewhere else," Peter grumbled. It
was one thing to deal with the Lord of Purgatory, but this was too
much!

"Fine. Is there a paper file I can take on this Detective of the
Council's?" Uziel shot Peter a petulant look that had all the airs
of his apparent age.

"Yes," Abraham replied before Peter could say a word. This was
followed by the harmonious chords of a soft choir and a quick flash
on the computer's console. A stack of papers several inches thick
replaced the flash, the top sheet reading Bruce Lipton, 19__ to
Unk. The Lord of Purgatory picked them up.

"Can I get at least the picture of Moonbunny?" Uziel asked with hope
in his eyes.

"No!" Peter barked back. "We're done here, Abraham. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Saint Peter," Abraham winked out amiably.

"What's the matter with you?" Uziel asked.

"It's the Book of Life, not a matchmaking catalogue," Peter replied
flippantly.

Uziel shrugged, then pointed to the computer with his thumb.

"Can I get hooked into this somehow?"

Peter's brow wrinkled. "I think so. I'll have to get someone in
here to do the job."

Uziel grinned. "It's a wonder the Complex didn't institute this
years ago."

It was Peter's turn to shrug. "The Powers that Be - " He rolled his
eyes. " - don't like this stuff much. Fortunately, they leave me
alone to my own devices. No pun intended."

"Of course not," Uziel shot him a wry grin as he headed for the
door. When he got there, a thought struck him, and he turned.

"What ever happened to Abraham, anyway?"

"Hm?" Peter had returned to his desk and was leafing through
papers, but now looked up at the angel. "Oh, Abraham? I think when
he retired from the Complex, he moved to a condo in Fort Lauderdale."

* * * * *

Purgatory was a grey place filled with mist, much like the English
moors. It wasn't foreboding, or filled with fiendish tortures;
there were no Heavenly choirs to be found here. Uziel had ruled
here for over half a millennium, and here was home, to him. He had
built it into what it was, and he had long ago decided that he was
as proud of his fledgling afterlife kingdom as a parent would be of
a genius child.

Other than the swirling mist everywhere, Purgatory looked a lot like
Earth. Through the mist, the occasional skyscraper could be seen,
and closer proximity revealed other fairly mundane human dwellings
and business places. The humans here wandered about, doing their
tasks as they had always done on Earth, but with a different air to
them.

Uziel got to a corner and hailed a cab. The yellow taxi drove up
and the balding little driver looked back at him.

"Lord Uziel!" he exclaimed in pure Brooklyn accent. "What an
honor. Where to?"

"Hello, Mr. Horowitz," Uziel said amiably as he got in. "How are
you today?"

"Oh, menza-menza," Mr. Horowitz replied. "My feet hurt, I'm sick of
driving, and my bones are shouting like yentas in temple."

Uziel smiled. "Sounds like you're having a wonderful day, Mr.
Horowitz," he said.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Mr. Horowitz admitted.

Without being told, the driver was heading for the outskirts of the
bustling town. The buildings became fewer and further between, and
more and more children could be seen playing in their yards.

"Pull over for a moment, Mr. Horowitz," Uziel told the driver when
he saw a particularly familiar child. He hopped out of the cab and
approached the boy, who was tinkering with the chain on his
bicycle. He was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, like any child on a
suburban summer day, with two exceptions. The first was the thick
mist that was even more dense out here; the second was the mangled
wreck the child's left leg was. Uziel smiled benevolently as the
child looked up.

"Lord Uziel!" he hopped up on his good leg and bowed precariously.
Uziel put a balancing hand on his shoulder.

"Jason, why aren't you using your leg?"

Jason grinned sheepishly. "I'm still not used to it yet. I can
ride my bike again, though!" A cloud came over the child's face as
he glanced at his oil-smeared hands and shirt. "Except I can't get
it fixed."

"Well, let's see what we can do about that," Uziel said as he
knelt. He pulled the chain out with two fingers, and dropped it
into place. Laying his hands over Jason's soiled shirt, he muttered
in angelic. Both shirt and hands came clean, and Uziel's fingers
were spotless.

"Practice on your bike," he said to the boy as he turned to
leave. "But practice walking, too. You'll get it, I promise."

The boy nodded before getting on his bike and riding away. Both his
legs worked fine.

Uziel smiled as he got back in the cab. Mr. Horowitz nodded
appreciatively.

"That's the new kid, ain't it? Jason something. He's doing great."

"Yes," Uziel nodded as they continued to their destination.
Considering the car accident that had taken Jason's leg, and
eventually his life, Jason was doing great. When he'd arrived, he'd
had no leg. Of course, if he had gone to Heaven, he would have had
his leg back as though it had never been gone, but his parents had
not wanted to force any one religion on him, and so had never had
him baptized. Thus he was here, enjoying his afterlife and getting
to experience all that he had missed.

Uziel looked back and saw him riding around with a young black child
who'd met a similar fate. That's another triumph of this place, he
thought as an older hispanic girl rode out to join them as well.

Ahead was a huge hill, atop of which was his manor, the home these
people had tributed him with for giving them such an agreeable
fate. Purgatory lay just beyond the Pearly Gates Complex on the
edge of Heaven, and every so often, one of its citizens was called
down the short path that led between the two realms. However, the
majority of the population remained and grew, forming into a utopian
city that knew all of the more wholesome pleasures of Earth, but few
of its hardships. No one ever got sick or hurt, broccoli tasted
like chocolate to the children, and there was no crime. The people
did their jobs and went home to live their peaceful, simple lives.
Most people did the jobs they had enjoyed or wanted to do on Earth;
a large portion of the population had also been entertainers on
Earth. The majority of the toil and hardship was actually focused
on the entertainment industry.

Purgatory was filled with sports arenas, theaters, and concert
halls. This was because there was no need for money, and this
negated many of the customary jobs of human existence. They also
didn't need food, and so merely ate out of habit. The population
was kept by the Book - Database, Uziel corrected mentally - of Life,
and there were no laws to enforce, because these people led moral
lives, if not always religious ones.

These are the people the Creator loves, but the GOD hates, Uziel
added to himself. If they're good enough for Him, they're good
enough for me.

The manor was the consequence of all he had created here. They
imagined him living in a huge brick dwelling with white Roman
columns, bursts of color being supplied by myriads of flowering
bushes all over the landscaping. The drive was lit by elegant black
posts, their lamps seeming to contain small flames, like candles,
yet much brighter. This led up to a main entrance every bit as
grand as the Americans' White House, but instead done up in elegant
red brick with white trim. Graceful Doric columns held the grand
eave, which shaded a small iron-lattice table and a grouping of
matching chairs.

The inside was no less grand, the sweeping white ceilings overseeing
the tastefully decorated rooms. The walls and floors were done in
rich wooden paneling and furnished with some of the finest trappings
Earth had to offer.

Pity none of it's real, Uziel mused as he strode toward his study.
It was all in the imagination of the dwellers of Purgatory.

For a while it had been a Norman Keep, because that was the most
grandiose dwelling the majority of the populace could conjure.
Eventually this gave way to more homely wooden and brick dwellings,
but so far this Monticello-meets-Buckingham Palace combination was
one of his favorites. It was spacious, and for once, he could fly
through it instead of pacing around.

Sometimes, though, pacing felt good.

Like now, for instance. He worried the carpet in his study, eyeing
Lipton's file on the desk, his mind not really on Bruce Lipton.
He'd sensed Peter's irritation with him earlier, and could
empathize. He was beginning to annoy himself.

"Focus!" he cried out, glaring at his reflection in the glass of a
nineteenth-century breakfront.

Moonbunny Stevens.

The name was emblazoned on his mind. So was the face, the body, the
soft blonde hair. The green cat's eyes. The round face, the pert
nose, the soft, full lips.

"I am going insane," Uziel said aloud to the empty room. He strode
purposefully to the desk and started furiously reading Lipton's
file, not absorbing a word of it.

"Now, what are you trying so hard to avoid?" a young, feminine, and
very coquettish voice asked of him.

"Not now, Lolita," Uziel growled at the new distraction to enter the
room.

Strolling in under a wild disarray of streaked bronze and platinum
hair was a young rebel dressed in a leather jacket and a black mini-
skirt. Her almond-shaped eyes and pert nose gave her an almost
elfin look, but the small red horns revealed her true lineage. Her
skin, artfully revealed in the bodice of her tank top and seconded
through her torn fishnet stockings, was a pure alabaster white, and
the violet hue to her eyes was a stark contrast to all of it.

She pouted. "Why not now? You never want to play." She edged over
the desk to look at his papers, adding, "What'cha looking at?"

Uziel jerked them back sharply. "Nothing of interest."

"Yeah, right," Lolita relented with a sigh. "So boring you're
hiding them from me."

Uziel returned her sigh with one of his own. "I'm just busy right
now," he said.

"Everyone's 'just busy' right now," Lolita complained. "The other
demons are off on missions, Mom is being her nosy bitch self, and
Dad has been sitting around playing chess ever since he woke up."

"You're father's awake?" Uziel jerked his head up sharply.

"Yes," Lolita retorted, her voice snide. "And he's the only smart
one! He just wants them to be left alone."

"Why?"

"I don't know, it's my dad," Lolita shrugged, then started playing
with the pens on Uziel's desk. "I just thought you would be doing
something interesting, and I wanted to see if I could help."

"Please," Uziel scoffed. "The last time you 'helped,' an entire
commune killed themselves with Icey-Ade."

"Well, they did it in the name of the Creator, so you should be
proud,"

"Yeah, that's a real accomplishment," Uziel said sarcastically.

"Well, you dismembered the entire Catholic faith," Lolita shot
back. "And now they're outnumbered by their Protestant brethren.
So there."

"The Catholic faith is still around," Uziel shook his head. "And
nobody died."

Lolita leaned forward. "And what if death were the only way to
solve the problem?" she demanded. "What if there was no other way
but for the death of an individual or a group of them, or even a
race of them! Would it bother you so much then?"

"It didn't bother me much when I led thousands of children to fight
the infidels, did it?" Uziel shot back.

"So when it's His work, it's alright to kill, but when it's my
father's work, it's wrong?" Lolita shook her head. "Please."

"You know how much I enjoy these little philosophical conversations,
Lolita, but I really don't have time right now," Uziel said, trying
to go back to looking at his papers.

"Which brings me to my original question." The young demoness
hopped up on the desk. "What's so important?"

"Nothing that would interest you," Uziel said, glaring.

"Everything interests me. Why wouldn't a human detective? What's
so great about him that you're so busy?"

"If you would let me read this report, I would know," Uziel grumbled.

"Well, I could help you," Lolita countered.

"Well, so far you've been rather a detriment." The Lord of
Purgatory met her gaze evenly.

"I could be an asset if you would just talk to me," she replied,
narrowing her eyes.

"I work better alone," Uziel pronounced. "Feel free to stay, but at
least have some respect for that."

Lolita stood, the look on her face one of pure disgust. "Whatever,"
she said, striding out. In a mutter, she added, "I wonder why I
even bother with you."

"I've wondered that for centuries, darling," Uziel replied.

Lolita narrowed her eyes even harder at him, as though it would give
them the power to annihilate the angel. It didn't, but they did
well up with tears of frustration as she stormed out.

Uziel sighed. He hadn't meant to make her cry. She was the only
demon who ever wandered this area, despite the fact Hell was
entitled to an emissary. Despite her demonic origins, Uziel really
did find their discussions exciting and enlightening.

She was a pest, though, and right now, she was too much of one.

He flinched as the door was slammed hard. Settling down, he set to
reading about the life and experiences of NYPD Detective Bruce
Lipton.

* * * * *

Theliel, Lord of Love, Office of the Cupid, hurled a goblet of the
wine of his beloved birthplace at one of the many mirrors in his
apartments. He then concealed his eyes from himself, which only
served to send him into violent physical fits of his own self-
loathing. His mind was filled with the blackest despair he had ever
imagined, blacker than the pits of Tartarus or even the Fires of
Gehennah, a black monstrous beast that he couldn't name, but that
pushed him, teased him even further. It was as though a demon had
gotten into his head, whispering advice that brought his ego into a
crumbling wreck, a darkness which threatened to engulf the light of
his very soul.

He cried out in agony, not caring if anyone heard, for only then
would his humiliation be complete.

They knew. The bitch in the angel squadron had announced his name,
said it for both angel and succubus to hear, named him as a link to
their attack. And with that minor betrayal, he knew that both of
them would be after him. They would probably not rest until they
found him; at least, he believed this of the demoness. The angel,
if she followed, would do so only out of fervor for her lover. Or
to correct her outrage that the squadron had been sent for the human
detective.

He had seen it, had seen the halo upon her, the angelic aura
flaring; he'd seen it all. She was still holy, and despite the
direct influence of the succubus! Which meant that her wrath the
evening before had been righteous, not sinful...

...which meant he, Theliel, had broken the Code. The human
detective was ignorant, and Theliel had been fooled into believing a
fool's tale. He'd believed Temporiel, Spin-Doctor of Heaven, and
she had outwitted him. Not with a lie, even, but with an
embellishment - she'd managed to keep her own purity while
sacrificing his. This was more abusive to Theliel than the secure
knowledge that Heart's enduring wholesomeness had proven, that the
love she and the succubus shared was real.

And so he curled up on the floor of his apartments, shards of the
goblet on the carpet well away from him, and sank further into the
blackness that his existence had become.

They would try him, and probably execute him. They certainly
wouldn't allow him to reincarnate as a human. He was thoroughly
doomed.

With sudden clarity through the gloom, he realized there was a way;
he could run. His fate was wholly undeserved; he'd been merely the
pawn of a greater power, that one power which diametrically opposed
his own. If he could get away, he could hide and have time to plan
a strategy that would reveal Temporiel's wickedness to the Old Man.
But it made him wonder what her design was. With him removed from
the Office of the Cupid, who would move to take his place? Would it
be Temporiel herself? Snorting, he realized it wouldn't surprise
him.

He jumped up, grabbing his satchel and shoving everything he could
find inside. Vases, mirrors, busts; all items of memorabilia went
into the bag, until the whole of his apartments were clean. He
glanced around, trying to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything,
when an idea struck him.

His penthouse was the top floor but one in the Cupid Building (where
Heart had previously lived, only two floors below). The very top
floor was probably the most important room in the entire building,
for in it were the tools of his Office. Realizing that if he
removed the tools, he would prevent anyone else from truly
fulfilling the duties of it, he raced up the stairs that led
directly from his apartments to that shrine.

The shrine room was in the shape of a giant heart, the smooth walls
made of a rare pink marble only found in Jordan. All stairs to the
room led to the point. The left curve contained a Doric pedestal,
upon which rested The Bow, and the right curve had a similar
pedestal with The Arrow resting on a pink cushion.

Theliel, though, could only stare in shock at the third pedestal in
the center of the room. Upon it rested another pink cushion, but
the only trace of the third item of office was the indent in its
plush.

"Where is it!" he cried, frantically searching around the room.
There wasn't that much to check; the room was otherwise empty. He
sank against one of the walls and began to sob again, because now he
was convinced all hope was truly lost.

It wasn't until a great clamor sounded from the floor below that he
was moved to action. He could hear the shouts of what would surely
be Angels in Black, coming to arrest him, as they overturned
everything they could find. He hastily darted from The Bow to The
Arrow, shoving both into his satchel.

As he flew away, he could hear from below someone yelling, "Check
upstairs!"

He didn't look back, but flew as fast as he could to the Back Stair,
and departed Heaven for what he hoped wouldn't be the last time.

If he had looked back, he would have seen as the foretold squadron
of seven angels all came barreling up the stairs. They looked
around, one shouting, "He took The Bow!"

The commander of the group held up his hand to all further report.

"He's taken it all," he said, scowling. "The Bow, The Arrow, and
The Flaming Heart."

* * * * *

At the top of the Fisher Enterprises building, Mr. J.C. Fish had
Gabriel and Michael in a meeting. The slender, airy monitors that
often opened windows to updates on his projects were present,
protruding from his desk, and retreating silently as he finished
perusing the reports. Gabriel and Michael shifted uncomfortably in
their seats under his penetrating gaze.

"Has it really gotten this bad?" he asked them, his face grim and
gloomy. "My covenant has been openly broken by the forces of
Heaven?" At the nods of the two Archangels, Mr. Fish's head
drooped. "I've seen what has become of my word here on Earth. I
had hoped it was not yet so in Heaven."

"Um, Mr. Fish?" The tinny voice of the receptionist sounded meek
over the speaker. In the background, a loud banging could be heard;
all the more poignantly because the noise was on the other side of
the entry to Mr. Fish's office.

"I see my mother is here, Maggie," he sighed.

Suddenly, an earth-shaking clap of thunder rolled through the
office, and sparks of electricity flew about the room as all three
divine beings ducked for cover. The doorway collapsed inward,
falling from its hinges with a loud, dull ring.

"A-and she's not alone," Maggie stammered as quickly as she could.

"Oh, great," Mr. Fish muttered derisively under his breath.

"I heard that," Mary stalked in angrily, her eyes twin lasers of
anger.

"Hello, Mother," J.C. sighed, rising. Glancing at her gargantuan
counterpart, he added, "Welcome, Warwalker."

As they pushed themselves from the floor, Gabriel and Michael
exchanged a glance consisting mostly of rolled eyes. They flanked
around their master protectively, although they were confronted with
two of the most powerful forces on Earth, and reasonably sure one of
them meant him no harm.

"What are you trying to pull, you menchka?" Mary opened by
demanding. She planted her fists on his desk and tried to meet his
eyes. J.C. looked down; the power of a mother's love is a terrible
thing at times. "Was that bait last night? Some kind of test? Do
you think the Angel has already been sullied, or are you just a
homicidal maniac?"

Narrowing his eyes, J.C. met the accusations of both before him. He
could tell by Thor's glare, as well as the manner in which he
stroked his hammer, that a wrong answer would result in him being
pummeled by that sacred artifact. It probably wouldn't kill him,
but he did not want the millennial headache he would probably wind
up with as a result.

Licking his lips, he said, "You are referring to the Angels that
last night attacked the Angel and her lover," he said.

Drawing his hammer, which resulted in the drawing of the Archangels'
swords, Thor growled, "They attacked me and a human, too. Now
answer the lady."

J.C. motioned for the angels to sheathe their swords, and then
grasped the sparking head of Thor's hammer. Two holy lights filled
the room - a soft golden one emanated from J.C.'s hands, and an
electrical blue one sparked happily from the hammer. Thor drew in
his breath sharply; Mary only frowned petulantly and crossed her
arms.

"Warwalker, we are opposites, you and I. I am a lord of Peace and
Love, and you are a lord of War. But you are not a bringer of Hate
to this place, so come, sheathe your hammer and let us talk."

With a grumbled, "Jeezus," Thor put his hammer away; J.C. only rose
an eyebrow at the epithet but said nothing.

"Now," J.C. said, sitting and glaring at his mother. "Perhaps you
had better start from the beginning. Tell me why you've been
looking for Miss Darkfell and Miss Serafina."

Mary sat hard in her chair, but only glared defiantly. Neither her
stance nor her demeanor changed otherwise.

"And you, Lord Thor," J.C. surprised him by offering a benevolent
smile. "You are protecting your mistress, and that is to be
commended. It also speaks well of you that you refuse to abandon
your friendship with the human detective, despite your mistress's
orders. I have never personally questioned the morality of your
followers, though I wish you weren't such a necessary part of
humanity."

"I'm not even that anymore," Thor sighed. Then, regaining himself,
he added, "Hey, it's because of your followers, too!"

"Not my followers," J.C. replied sadly, and both Thor and Mary were
surprised by this reaction.

"But, first order of business." Abruptly, he turned to face
Mary, "Mother, please stop stalking the lovers. They have enough on
their plate, and you're just making my job harder." Mary looked at
him with a sudden flash of rage crossing her face.

"What?" she demanded. "But - "

"But you must trust me, Mother. I have my reasons for preserving
them. The Angel works for me, now, and soon the succubus will too."

The other four divine beings in the room all elicited a gasp at
once.

"But Master," Michael protested. "We don't know yet whose side
she's on!"

"She's on Miss Serafina's side," Gabriel added. "But Miss Serafina
is already working for you?"

"You're going to employ the slut succubus?" Mary screamed.

The others' comments were overshadowed by Thor's booming laugh.

"What is so amusing, Thor?" J.C. asked.

"I doubt she'd work for you," Thor chuckled. "She's not up for the
feathered wing crap, no offense to present company."

"She wouldn't have to change at all. In fact, she and the Angel are
perfect the way they are."

"But she's a demon!" Mary cried.

"Hey! That's my boss you're talking about," Thor interrupted
her. "And don't think I missed that slut remark."

"If she were not a demon, she would not have that element of
impurity that makes their love divine, Mother. I hope you see that
soon, because I see my words do little to assuage you."

"You know, I brought you into this world! I sacrificed, and toiled,
and all this knowing you were going to die! And this is what I
raised you for?" the Virgin retorted.

"You were doing your divine duty, and you know that as well as I
do," J.C. held up a hand in peace. "Just as I did, two millennia
ago, on a cross outside Jerusalem. And as I knew I was doing when I
left Heaven and the corruption I saw brewing there." He
sighed. "Heaven is no longer my domain, and I have no desire to be
the terrible tyrant they seem to crave."

Mary's eyes widened. "When did all of this happen?" she asked.

"Centuries ago, mother," J.C. chuckled. "You had already taken to
possessing the bodies of your willing followers, even as you are
now. I chose to follow your path, and I have seen my name used to
promote many hurtful causes, even wars - no offense to present
company." He offered a weak grin to Thor before continuing.

"A few of my more loyal friends followed me here - well, to Europe -
and since then, I've been working to promote my real word to
mankind. You know, the one about love and peace and not judging
other people? And mother, I learned something. I am not the only
son of Yhwh." He spoke the Holy Name of the Creator, and its weight
echoed around the room.

Mary looked at him with confusion and despair in her eyes. "Not the
only - "

"No, mother, don't be sad!" He rose and embraced her tenderly,
adding, "You are the only Mother of one of the Creator's children.
The others came in different ways. I am the youngest but one. So I
am not alone in my work."

"Everything I knew to be true - "

"Is still true, mother," J.C. gazed down at her. "Just bigger than
previously thought. It is only the past hundred years or so I've
gained this knowledge myself, and we think we have a plan to save
humanity."

"From what?" Thor queried.

"Itself," Michael informed Thor coldly, the memory of a few nights
before still fresh in his mind.

"What my comrade means is, humanity is full of hatred and
prejudice. We have yet to identify any demons that have caused
this, although we have identified many that have resulted from it.
We think these are human vices, separate from the powers of either
Heaven or Hades," Gabriel explained.

"Well, Heaven has certainly been wielding it as their primary
weapon," Thor observed.

"We'd noticed that, too," J.C. said wryly. "They seem to be most
displeased because they can't truly cause Miss Serafina's fall. Now
that she's under my protection, they will never touch her, not
directly."

"Yeah, boss, fill us in on that one," Michael said. "When did she
come to us?"

"Not two days ago," J.C. grinned; he loved nice surprises. The
shock and delight of the recipients of a nice surprise always filled
him with glee. "She responded to one of many probes I put out to
her, including the two of you." He said this last with a pointed
glance at the Archangels.

"And you didn't send one of these 'probes' to attack them - and my
buddy Lipton - last night?" Thor asked, but he knew the answer.

"That was not me," J.C. replied solemnly. "I seem to recall I made
a covenant against that. I seem to recall my father made a
Commandment against it as well. I am sorry about your friend, but I
had gathered he fared rather well, and that an Angelic War sword
named Hasen has a new wielder."

"You are well-informed," Thor smirked, looking at Gabriel and
Michael.

"Despite all of this, his life is in danger, and he is too valuable
to my cause to risk in this potential conflict. I would beg that
you do your best to keep him out of harm's way."

Michael snorted, and slowly Jesus turned to face him raising an
eyebrow.

"Bruce Lipton is the most headstrong, stubborn fool that ever walked
this planet," Michael exclaimed under his master's scrutiny. He
could have sworn Thor muttered "Boy, is he," in response, but he
could only be sure of Mary's eye-roll of agreement. "We've warned
him and warned him, but he refuses to listen to reason. He insists
on pursuing the case our Justice Cooperation Force has closed. Miss
Darkfell's handiwork, to be precise."

"Well, perhaps with the Warwalker at his side, he will be less
likely to die in one of these confrontations," J.C. responded. "I
am aware of the detective's stubborn nature; it's only a natural
instinct of his job, and his greatest asset. I would think that you
of all would find this arrangement satisfactory, since it frees you
of responsibility of him for now."

"Well, I like him," Gabriel informed his master. "For exactly the
reasons you stated. He's a good man with a good heart and a heavy
burden. But he does try to do the right thing, the just thing. I
think he pursues Miss Darkfell out of his own curiosity at this
point, because he seems to have acquitted her, in his mind, of her
alleged 'crime.'"

"I would agree with that," Thor added. "Someone more convinced of
your - er - Heaven's righteousness would have killed her last night
when the Angels demanded it."

"Mother, anything to add about Lipton? You seem to know him quite
well," J.C. said.

"And what do you find so amusing about that?" Mary responded to his
tone, blushing and sounding a bit defensive. "Our young friend is a
gentleman and a scholar. He is well-schooled in all sorts of things
from art to, apparently, fencing. He's no slouch in the demonology
department, either. Only your Father knows how much he knows about
Angels."

"I suppose you are already aware of his Sight?" Thor added suddenly.

J.C. nodded. "A most intriguing aspect of his dossier. He
possesses an enormous power, and makes his own fate. I will be
observing him for quite some time. He is an exceptional man."

"Well, that's good to hear," Thor grinned.

"Do you have any objections to my proposal that you guard him? I
could pay you for your services; name your price," J.C. offered.

"Nah, I couldn't take money from you, Mr. Fish," Thor
refused. "Seeing as you were so courteous to me, and all.
Especially after I broke your door." He made a sheepish glance
behind him.

"Yes, weren't you concerned for the innocent lives that might be
broken or lost as a result of that action?" J.C. queried, brow
wrinkled.

"Nah. I figured, what the heck? We're all immortals here," Thor
grinned. "I'll help you fix it. I know some Dwarves that do really
great metalwork - "

"We'll attend to that detail some other time, Thor Odinson," J.C.
waved him off, rising and offering him a hand. "You are not the god
I expected you to be. Walk always with the wisdom and honor you
have displayed to me today."

Rising to his full godly height and literally glowing with happy
blue sparks at the compliment, Thor took his hand and
shook. "You're not what I expected, either, Yesua son of Mary. May
this herald the beginnings of peace between our two houses."

As he and Mary rose and began to depart, J.C. noticed his mother's
sullen and quiet temperament.

"Leave the succubus alone, mother," he said to her back. She merely
shrugged and continued walking.

When they were gone, Gabriel and Michael looked at one another, then
at their pensive Lord.

"Why did that look like a human UN meeting?" Michael asked, numbed
by all that had transpired.

"Because it was like one, Michael," J.C. replied, losing his
formality for a moment. Regaining himself, he added, "Go follow my
mother. Make sure she doesn't hurt Seraph Darkfell."

"You really mean for her to work for you, Mr. Fish?" Gabriel asked
gently. Michael scowled.

"No, I intend for her to work with Miss Serafina," J.C.
responded. "Love is lacking among humanity, gentlemen, and I think
these two are my Father's next hope to save humanity, as the rest of
us have done such a dismal job of it."

The Archangels hesitated, not sure what to say or do, and J.C.
finally waved them off on their errand. A few minutes later, Maggie
poked her head in.

"Jesus, who's going to fix this door?" she asked him.

"I have a friend who has some friends." He rose and went to her,
gently taking her in his arms and escorting her to her
coat. "Come. I have a mind to escape from my worries a bit. Let
us go enjoy some fine mortal cuisine and a movie."

"Is it really that bad?" she said pityingly, stroking his face,
mindful of the scars on his forehead.

"My mother was here, doesn't that tell you anything?" he told her as
they stepped out of the office.

* * * * *

Mephistopheles stood on the tower overlooking Bhaalor's battlefield
and frowned. He hated the smell of blood and gunpowder that always
hung around the Warlord's castle, but it behooved him to accede to
Bhaalor's demand to see him, since he still wanted the angel
delivered to him.

"You have to remember what Seraph was, Bhaalor. She's been my best
agent for centuries. Your run-of-the-mill troops aren't going to be
able to take her out. I still wish you'd just subdue her and
deliver her along with Heart."

"She's slain my troops. I'm not letting her get off easy after
that, regardless of your wants. She has to die, or I lose face." the
big demon rumbled.

Like losing to her twice already looks good? Mephistopheles
thought. He flexed his wings as he spread his hands. "So why did
you ask me to meet with you? Our deal is still the same. I've
shared everything I know about Seraph and where she is; now you have
to bring me the angel."

The Warlord gave him a sidelong look. "I'm not sure I'm not going
to be forced to kill her too. She's the one who slew Vrock."

Mephistopheles gave him a hard look. "Bhaalor, you know that would
not be a good idea. I have no power over you killing Seraph, since
she did slay your troops, but you made a deal. That has the binding
of a soul contract."

Bhaalor gave him an evil eye. "Lucifer has forbidden you to chase
the angel, Mephistopheles. Attempting to bring me before him for
judgment would ensure he becomes aware of your actions."

Mephistopheles shrugged. "I don't have to take anyone before
Lucifer, Bhaalor. All I have to do is let it been known discreetly
that you broke a deal. No-one in Heaven or Hell would ever take
your word again. Generals must have the trust of those they lead,
no?"

Bhaalor attempted to stare him down, but in the end looked
away. "Fine, I'll deliver the angel if I can, and if she gets
killed in the fight I'll give you Frost as payment, okay? She's
been getting too uppity lately. But the bitch succubus is going to
suffer for any damage the angel does. I have a spit heating in my
throne room just for her. I'm going to roast her slowly." He
grinned at Mephistopheles shudder.

"What a waste of a prime sextoy." the Lord of Temptation
sighed. "She really has been an outstanding agent. Pity she had to
forget she was a demon and let the angel lead her astray."

"Yeah, well don't worry, Mephistopheles. I plan to give her one
last hard hot shaft." The Lord of Battles grinned at his own bad
joke.

* * * * *

Frost glared from a shadowed doorway as Bhaalor turned to stomp back
into the castle, leaving Mephistopheles to fade in teleport. That
had been a rather revealing conversation. So Lucifer had forbidden
Mephistopheles to pursue the angel. And the way Bhaalor had
threatened Mephistopheles with telling Lucifer of the deal's details
would indicate that Lucifer had probably not told Bhaalor to kill
the succubus either. She smiled in the darkness, glad she had
hidden herself when seeing the two lords meeting.

This had even better possibilities for advancement than attempting
to seduce Thor. Perhaps Lucifer should learn of exactly what the
pair had planned. It would definitely be a start on paying back
Bhaalor for offering her to Mephistopheles if he didn't deliver the
angel.

* * * * *

"What do you mean Bhaalor knows where they are?" Aphrodite
yelled. "I warned them to move!"

"I mean exactly what I said. Nothing more and nothing less.
Mephistopheles took the information to him personally." Faust said
testily. "I know where you arranged for them to go. It would be
proof against any demon intending harm, but it won't stop Bhaalor
himself, or any demons he takes with him."

"Great. I knew Thor seeing Frost was a bad omen." the ex-goddess
grumbled.

"Actually, from what my spies tell me, she never said a word about
you. Nor did she tell him that she went to see your occasional boy
toy."

Aphrodite frowned. "He's been a friend for ages."

"Doubtlessly much closer since your descent." Faust said.

"Watch it, Faust, or you'll never get any playtime either."

"As if you could stop yourself. Really, Aphrodite, that's a very
empty threat."

The blonde succubus pouted. "I'm just worried about them, Faust."

The tall man raised an eyebrow at her. "Concern? From the Mistress
of the Non Stop Party? How droll."

"I just don't want Seraph dead."

Faust shrugged. "It's out of our hands. I've done everything for
her I can."

Aphrodite sighed. It was down to a waiting game...

* * * * *

As the two Archangels winged away to follow the Iron Virgin, Gabriel
was given to notice that his partner was in a disgruntling state of
aggravation. He puzzled over this and the meeting they'd just left
as they flew over the tall metal-and-glass towers of the city
below. Their sights were always on Mary; though she traveled by
ground, the Arch's were gifted with such vision as to allow them to
single her out from amongst the ant-sized humans thousands of feet
below them. Her trek through the city suddenly slowed, then halted,
and the two Archangels alit atop a low building on the same street.
They watched her glamour her trench coat into rags, and observed as
she set herself up, alms-cup in hand, scowling at the passersby that
paid her only either ignorance or contempt.

Gabriel knew full well the cause of Michael's distress, and would
have brought it up himself, but Michael soon saved him the trouble.

He sighed, looking around the neighborhood, and observed with
annoyance, "All roads lead to Detective Lipton, it seems."

Indeed they were right across the street from Lipton's building, and
Mary herself was sitting with her back against it, right below the
detective's apartment.

"Why should that trouble you?" Gabriel ventured.

"Because of all the humans I've ever spoken to personally, he's the
nosiest and the most overbearing," Michael grumbled back. "He would
follow us straight into Hades if he thought it would solve his case."

"I should think that would be to his credit," Gabriel rose an
eyebrow. "He is a human law-enforcer. I would think he would be
your proudest accomplishment."

Michael glanced up sharply. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Woah, peace, friend!" Gabriel held up a hand. "I meant that he is
the human epitome of all you stand for. What did you think I meant?"

Michael's gaze was lost across the street as he answered, "Nothing.
I just wasn't sure that was a compliment at first."

Gabriel shook his head. "You are a terrible liar. Why do you hate
him so?"

"I don't hate him," Michael snorted in frustration. "It is my job
to protect humans, and that asshole is going out of his way to make
my job hard."

"Only because until recently we've had to chase him all over the
city," Gabriel laughed. "We have not fought anyone over him, and we
haven't had to rescue him from anyone, either, unless you count
her." He gestured to Mary, which elicited a laugh from the Angel of
Righteousness.

"Still," Michael said when all mirth was done. "This case could
last forever. And even if it doesn't, what happens next time he
gets involved in a shit-storm like this one?"

Gabriel eyed the building across the street, and said
uncertainly, "What makes you think we'll see him again after this
case is closed?" He knew the answer, but was willing to be an
optimist, if only for Michael's sake.

"You heard the Boss," Michael retorted. "He considers the detective
valuable. You know what happens when Mr. Fish considers a human
valuable." He gestured down to Mary. "It's all angelic visits and
messages from The Savior from there. Count me out. I am not
annunciating Lipton."

Gabriel's face wrinkled with mock anger. "Hold your tongue! I'm
the one who does annunciations, or had you forgotten my post? It
was I that announced The Word to Mary, not you, and it is I who has
done it since. Besides, not everyone the master considers important
is annunciated; look at Mother Teresa. I never visited her, and the
master espoused her importance for half a human century."

"It doesn't matter," Michael said. "I'm just not up to annunciating
this guy. It's too dangerous."

"For him, or for us?" Gabriel wondered aloud.

"Both," Michael answered.

"Well, we do not yet know that this is what Mr. Fish intends for
Detective Lipton."

"I just hope it isn't," Michael said. He set to sulking, and
Gabriel said nothing more on the subject. The latter was, however,
given to wonder why Michael was so adamantly opposed to the human,
and it was this that occupied his mind for the rest of the stakeout.

* * * * *

While the afternoon on the Surface was coming and going, the
Guardians of Divinity sat around their conference table once again
in an emergency meeting. The Old Man's head hung low. The other
members of the G.O.D. Council were waiting with great agitation for
what he had to say. Such surprise meetings were unheard of.
Temporiel and Barakiel were very angry, the feminine angel's eye's
blazing from the slits in her ever-present veil; the Angel of War
had his sword laid out on the table. Even Cherubiel, the
Charioteer, had his token Eagle on his shoulder and ready to let
sound the cry of battle.

"I see you are all prepared for war," the Old Man said. "This
assignment will not be quite so drastic as that."

"But Harteriel Serafina must die!" Barakiel cried, gripping the
hilt of his sword in anger. "She has slain Angels."

"There are circumstances," the Old Man growled. "Those Angels were
sent by one of our own, one who has chosen not to stand up for his
own crime."

"The Charioteers are prepared to search all the Realms for Theliel,
my Lord," Cherubiel announced.

"In time, we shall seek out the Cupid. For the moment, it is his
errant agent who concerns me most."

"I would hope that under the circumstances, she will face justice as
well," Uziel said quietly. He eyed Temporiel carefully, recalling
the incident in the library. What had they been arguing about? Had
Temporiel figured out Theliel was a traitor, or was she herself a
snake in their Garden of Eden?

Before anyone had a chance to react to Uziel's comment, the Old Man
gave him a hard glance and said, "I intend to, Uziel. I intend to
bring her back here to face Judgment."

With the exception of Uziel and Temporiel, the rest of the table
gasped.

"The last Angel to be Judged was - "

"Valentiniel," Uziel supplied. "How ironic."

"In this way we can ensure her Fall," the Old Man said. "Then let
Hell have her. We have no use for slayers of Angels here."

"No! I demand death for her!" Barakiel seized the hilt of his
sword and slammed it into the table.

"If that is what is Judged, then so it shall be," the Old Man
replied. "If a deeper traitor had not been in our midst, the
circumstance might never have taken place. Let the Seraphim decide
what shall become of her, and let us worry about more important
things."

"I thought we had already determined she was important," Temporiel
hissed.

The Old Man narrowed his eyes at her. "She won't be when we are
through. Cherubiel, I want you to take your seven best Charioteers
and Barakiel's seven best warriors - "

"Certainly not!" Barakiel stood, facing down Cherubiel. "I shall
lead them!"

"We are escorting her, not assassinating her, Barakiel, and so
Cherubiel will lead the host," the Old Man said firmly. "The only
reason for such protection is Seraph Darkfell. If it were just the
Angel, I would not send so many. But the succubus is a force to be
reckoned with, as we have seen. Your assignment is to bring her
back alive, for Judgment.

"I would also advise no contact with the Warwalker or his human
friend," he added.

Uziel didn't miss Temporiel's sharp glance down. Barakiel's eyes
widened.

"I received the report from last night's... adventure," the Old Man
explained. "No one believes in the Warwalker anymore. Lend him no
credence. It is the blatant attempt on that human detective's life
that concerns me. If I ever hear of a darker operation that fails
so miserably and so publicly again, I will see you all Judged."

With that, he rose and stormed out with a blast of holy
righteousness. The Angels were left to gaze at one another in
confusion. Uziel sat back and enjoyed the show that was sure to
follow.

"There was apparently a human detective caught in the crossfire last
night," Temporiel explained. "He has Hasen."

Barakiel sat back, his dark eyes smoldering with rage. Cherubiel's
face hardened.

"And we were just ordered not to kill him," he spat. "A human who
kills Angels is as bad as a demon."

"Why would the Old Man let such a human live?"

"We must bide our time," Temporiel cautioned. "This human is very
meddlesome. He may just meet with an - accident. In fact, I can
almost guarantee his presence when you retrieve the Angel. If he is
caught in the crossfire of the fight you are sure to have with the
succubus, I would not complain."

"Nor I," Barakiel added. "Would that the Angel would meet with such
a fate."

"Oh, yes, that would be pleasant," Temporiel rose. "But, the Old
Man said we couldn't touch her." She departed airily, a stark
contrast to her previous mood. Uziel started to rise as well when a
large hand clapped him on the shoulder. Uziel looked up to see
Cherubiel leering down at him. Barakiel's head appeared from under
the table as he knotted the bottom of Uziel's robe.

"You were awfully quiet this time, runt," Cherubiel observed. "But
you're the smartest guy in this place. Smarter, maybe than the Old
Man. So what's up with that?"

"I had nothing to say this time," Uziel said calmly, his feet trying
to work the knot. He was losing valuable time, and Temporiel was
getting further and further away.

"But you know everything," Barakiel scoffed. "And we all saw you
talking to Theliel so secretly after this whole thing started. You
know where he is, don't you?"

"I can't be bothered with such false accusations," Uziel protested
as to his horror, Barakiel handed the knot to Cherubiel and he was
hoisted upside-down by his robe. He then began to tie the arms of
the robe while Cherubiel dangled Uziel from a meaty fist. "Really!
I suspected Theliel was up to something, but I wasn't part of it!"

"Yeah, sure," Cherubiel sneered. "That's not what we've heard.
You're not the only snoop in Heaven, bucko."

"Really! I swear by our Lord!" Uziel cried as he was carried out of
the building and down a brightly-lit white alley.

Despite his protests of innocence, he was carried through a maze of
alleys much like the first one until he was totally lost. However,
when the whinnying of horses reached his ears, he realized exactly
what was going to befall him next.

It was a favorite trick of these two, to take younger angels and
hang them by the bottoms of their robes from the rafters of the
Pegasus stable. The stable itself was a maze, and only Cherubiel
and his division knew their way through it. The Charioteers were
under strict orders not to disturbed the hazed Angels, and none
dared to break the order. Since Cherubiel and Barakiel were Angelic
Lords, none of their victims spoke up.

"No! Please don't do this!" Uziel struggled as they hung him from
a hook over a splendid grey steed. The other two Angels only
laughed and stood before the stall as they watched Uziel kick and
flail for freedom. Beneath him, the flying horse reared up and
kicked four of its legs against the wall of the stall, its other
four legs holding it very steady for the blow. The wall echoed with
a loud ringing, and Uziel saw that they were reinforced with some
kind of metal.

"Yeah, you'll be hangin' around for a while," Cherubiel nodded. "We
picked this one up in the wars. Don't know it's name, and we've
never been able to tame it. I'm the only one who comes to this
stall. So you'd best tell your story, traitor, if you ever want to
get out of here."

"Wait!" Uziel cried to their retreating backs. "Who'll run
Purgatory?"

His question went unanswered as he hung there, watching the angry
eight-legged beast beneath him kick at the walls of its imprisonment.

* * * * *

Temporiel signed with relief as she saw Barakiel and Cherubiel
depart the stable. She headed for the back stairs, a little-known
pathway between Heaven and the surface, and not nearly as bright or
as beautiful as the Grand Stairway. It seemed like forever as she
descended closer to the surface, so she let her thoughts drift to
the pest now hanging in the stable.

She hadn't been sure until she'd noticed his inquisitive glances in
the meeting, but she suspected Uziel had overheard the conversation
in the library. While the bookworm had been trying to discern
Theliel's thoughts, she'd glimpsed him and worried what he might
know. However, the shock value of last night's attack told her he
did not know much, but he still knew enough to implicate her in the
deaths that were sure to come tomorrow. Even if he told anyone what
the two tormenting bullies had done, Temporiel still had his own
conversation with Theliel to fall back on. The pressure would be on
Uziel for a while, and she could ensure it turned into mania if
Uziel had a problem. He was not a very popular figure in Heaven
after his transgressions of the Fifteenth Century Anno Domini anyway.

She reached the Surface, finally, and slipped around a corner into
an alley. She glanced around, then sat cross-legged and began to
pray.

Almost instantly, a six-pack turned up.

"Well, well," said the leader. "What is - "

"Enough of this nonsense," Temporiel said in a commanding tone. "I
have business with your master."

The entire six-pack began to laugh mockingly, but were silenced by
Temporiel's glare and the warmth and intensity of her golden holy
light.

"One of you go. The others may guard me," she said. "If your
master chooses not to return with your comrade, you may have me to
do with as you wish."

The five subordinates looked at their apparent leader, who was
glowering at the Angel. Finally, he motioned to the others and they
surrounded Temporiel, weapons drawn.

"If this is a trick," he told her, "we will turn your remains into
pits of agony. Capice?"

"Understood," Temporiel grinned beneath her birka.

The demon leader disappeared in a puff of brimstone, but Temporiel
made no move against them, to their surprise. They waited in
silence for a few very long minutes.

Then, the earth beneath them began to tremble as a smoldering hole
literally melted open before them. The hideous odor of brimstone,
sulfur, excrement, and a million other rotting things flowed into
the air as though a steampipe had burst. In the midst of this
malodorous cloud rose the massive form of the Demon Lord of War.
His over-muscled body was glistening with the condensation from the
foulness that surrounded him, and Temporiel wrinkled her nose in
disgust.

"You know it's not polite to break wind in the presence of a lady,
Bhaalor," she said.

"Ladies don't help me convince suicide bombers to kill five thousand
people," Bhaalor scoffed in reply. "Ah, those were good times."

"I don't know, my friend," Temporiel glanced at his subordinates and
said, "I'm rather fond of that holy war we kicked up in Spain all
those years ago."

"Yeah, that was fun, too," Bhaalor grinned. "Torturing all those
people in the name of God. I was very glad to be part of that one."

"These sheep will kill each other over lesser things than their
beliefs," Temporiel said. "And as long as they keep doing it,
people like you and I will remain in power."

"You didn't come to chat, though," Bhaalor gave her a piercing gaze
as he dismissed his six-pack. They hesitantly disappeared in
identical puffs of brimstone.

"I have a project for you, Bhaalor," Temporiel sighed. "I know
you've been chasing after that slut of Mephistopheles' ranks, trying
to kill her."

"She's killed a lotta good guys," Bhaalor growled. "She's meat.
She's so dead she'll never reincarnate."

"Good, that's exactly the attitude I was hoping for," Temporiel was
getting excited. This was too easy. "What about her lover?"

"I could care less," Bhaalor replied.

"Again, good," Temporiel said. "I want her dead."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm just your lapdog to order around as you
please," Bhaalor waved her off. "As long as the demon-bitch dies,
do what you want with the angel."

"Okay, then I guess I should warn Cherubiel and the other
Charioteers about the Gargoyles that guard their apartment,"
Temporiel sing-songed.

Bhaalor made a face as though someone had just handed him a love
letter. "Those creatures are nasty, and they stink! We'll never
get into their apartment if it's guarded by gargoyles."

"Exactly," Temporiel said. Check and mate.

"And you can get rid of the gargoyles?"

"Absolutely. As I said, the Charioteers are going to be there."

Bhaalor narrowed his eyes. "So why can't they kill the angel?"

"Unfortunately, the Old Man doesn't see the threat she poses."

Bhaalor grinned. "That's why we're such a great team, Temp," he
said. Temporiel winced at this nickname. "We do evil in the name
of good. Our masters could never think like that."

"And I've taken great pains to keep it that way, Bhaalor. Don't
screw it up for us by allowing that angel to live. Understand?"

Bhaalor nodded, grinning. "Sure, I gotcha. Your guys open the door
to unlimited carnage, my troops go in and make it happen."

"You just make sure the angel, dies, Bhaalor, or else I'll make sure
those gargoyles get you," Temporiel intoned slowly.

Bhaalor shivered. "Ugh. No, I'll make sure your angel joins her
lover among the soulless. Gargoyles are - " He shuddered again.

Temporiel nodded. "I'm counting on you," she said as she began the
long climb back to Heaven.

To Bhaalor, it looked as though she disappeared in a beam of golden
light. He shielded his eyes from it until it disappeared. Bouncing
his giant club in one massive palm, he grinned.

"You'da been a great Demon Lord, Temporiel," he said. Then, with a
snort that was masked in the hiss of his own putrid gateway home, he
added, "You may still get your chance."

* * * * *

"Oh, you have to buy this geode! Don't you hear it calling out to
you?"

"Well... it's awfully pretty, but I didn't want to spend that kind
of money today."

"But it's fine quality amethyst from the hills of North Carolina!"

"But my birthday's in October!"

"Put your hand in it, though. Don't you feel the tingle?"

Well... yes..."

Mama sat in the back room and rolled her eyes as she listened to
Honey blurt out exactly the opposite of the truth, yet again.

"Another sucker," she sighed as she finished spreading her Tarot
cards into a cross pattern on a small square table before her.
Around her, incense smoke curled in tendrils from a generous pile of
hers sitting on a hot coal. Mostly, they masked the smell of the
suspicious cigarette that burned merrily in the ashtray as she
perused her cards.

"Hm. Lovers, new to their love," she observed, looking at three
cards in the center. "But always the shadow of great conflict hangs
over them." She glanced up at the ceiling as she continued. "It
seems that this conflict is coming from a very domineering male
figure, but there is something far more insidious going on here, the
poor dears. And so soon after their courtship." She glanced at the
card at the furthest left and realized, "Soon the conflict will
escalate, no this is bad." She wrinkled her brow and looked at the
line of cards laid out next to the cross, sighing in relief. "Good,
they will stand together, and not alone. They have built too much
to risk losing. They have too much to fight for."

The skeletal face of the final card gazed coldly upon her as her own
clouded. "Puzzling. There will be great change, but for who? Oh,
this will not do at all!"

She rose and exited the office, slipping down the corridor to the
back exit before she had to embarrass Honey in front of her
customer. She looked out the back window before opening it,
satisfied that Moonbunny was, as always, sitting in the fairy
mound. She stepped out, taking in the strangely fresh air and
strolling over to the stone bench.

"Moon, I need you to do me a favor," she said to the teen, whose
back was to her as she was twirling something between her fingers.

"Yes, Mama?" Moon said, not looking up from her distraction.

"I need you to go someplace for the day tomorrow," Mama told her.
This caught Moon's attention, and she turned around, leaning on the
hand that enclosed the object she was fiddling with.

"Why, Mama?" she asked, urgently. "You're not going to do another
skyclad ritual without me, are you?"

Mama chuckled. "No, Moon, I promised you could join in the next
one. You are old enough."

Moon sighed with relief, then wrinkled her brow with worry.

"Then what's wrong? Why do I have to leave?"

"Just for the day, dear," Mama assured her. "I feel a storm coming,
that's all."

Moon's silky golden hair rustled for a minute, and Mama chuckled.

"No, Izzy," she said aloud. "You and your friends need to stay in
your mound. You must promise."

There was a momentary silence before Moon turned to face the little
fairy, who stood defiantly on her shoulder.

"C'mon, Izzy. If Mama thinks you shouldn't be here for it, then
promise."

"Fine," Izzy harrumphed, plopping down with her arms and legs
crossed in an insolent huff.

Mama nodded. "Good." She rose. "If it makes you feel any better,
I'm staying in my office all day."

"What about the Normals?" Moon's eyes widened in concern.

"This is far above their capacity," she smiled. "They'll be fine.
Oh! I'd better go see if Doug has something to do tomorrow!"

With that, she scurried inside, leaving Moon alone in the garden
with Izzy.

Moon lifted the hand she'd been leaning on as Izzy asked her
excitedly, "What do you think is going on?"

"I don't know, Izzy." Leaning back with her legs tucked beneath
her, Moon took on a puzzled expression, gazing at the item laying in
her palm. "I don't know."

In her palm, glowing with a pale blue light, was a single white
feather.

* * * * *

"We need to talk. Now."

Father Al Lorenzo was shocked by the appearance of his friend, but
was even more shocked by his friend's attitude. Lipton had grabbed
his arm and was now half-guiding, half-dragging the priest to the
rectory. His grip was like iron, and coursed dull black pain into
the muscles in Al's arm. He remained silent, however; his past with
the detective assured him that Lipton was angry, but that meant no
danger to him.

Once in the rectory, Lipton threw his friend down into a chair, then
proceeded to pace before him as Al rubbed his sore arm.

"You look agitated, Bruce," he said. "What's the matter?"

With vehemence, Lipton whirled upon his friend.

"I'll tell you what's the matter, my friend," he replied. "I was
attacked by angels last night. What holy rules say angels can
attack people?"

Lorenzo shook his head, chuckling. "The rules that govern a bad
dream, Bruce. Angels don't attack people, unless they have
committed great sins. They attacked Sodom and Gomorrah for their
lustfulness, their unheedingness of God's natural law that man must
lay with woman, not other men. But those were entire cities
committing that sin, not one man. There was an angel assigned to
prevent Balaam from warning the Philistines of the coming of Israel,
but he did not actually attack Balaam for his transgression, because
Balaam finally turned aside. There was the angel sent to kill the
Firstborn of Egypt during the Ten Plagues, but he was only killing
heathens. And of course there were the angels that tested Abraham
and Jacob, which led to God favoring their line with his only
begotten Son. But I don't think you've committed any of these sins,
Bruce. Have you?"

"Oh, give me a break," Lipton retorted. "Your examples suck. What
makes your God so great that he gets to kill all of Egypt's
firstborn, and call them heathen? And what's wrong with a little
homosexuality, Lorenzo? Your profession seems to have developed a
taste for it over the years!"

"Bruce!" Lorenzo held up his hands, pained. "You cannot blame the
entire calling for the indiscretions of a few! What makes you come
to me like this?"

What Lipton tossed to the ground was enough to give him pause. In
fact, he gasped, and he could see dark edges where the pressure of
what he was seeing clouded around his line of sight. The seven
silver rings that decorated the floor appeared to be flickering with
holy light, when they should have been blazing, and crowning seven
of God's messengers. He looked at Lipton in horror, this new
revelation about his friend's behavior causing him to see Bruce in a
new light, a most unholy light, sickly and blue like a bloated
corpse. He shook his head.

"These can not be what I think they are," he said. "If they are,
you have condemned your soul for all eternity."

"Guess what, Al," Lipton's eyes held a hint of hysterical
madness. "They are. And I need to know why."

"You didn't warn the succubus of some just and worthy attack, did
you?" Lorenzo suggested, his voice wavering. His heart was beating
hard in his chest, and the line of his vision, now so narrowly
confined, started to fade off as though he were looking through a
telescope. He wished it were so; that would mean Lipton was far
away.

"I didn't warn the succubus of anything! They were willing to
condemn me just for not killing her!"

Lorenzo sighed. "I cannot say that I have much sympathy for you on
that score. But it would seem that you have encouraged the wrath of
The Lord, Bruce. I don't know what help or sanctuary I can give
you. I don't even know if I should."

"You mean that despite all the other demons I've killed, 'The Lord'
would hold it against me because I didn't kill just one?"

"Demons are like cockroaches, Bruce," Lorenzo said quietly, his mind
churning. "Their evil spreads more quickly that you know, and just
one can beget evil in many. I do admit, though, it is strange that
the goodness of your past deeds should outweigh your present
circumstances. If you didn't warn her, and didn't commit any other
serious sins, I can't imagine why angels would attack."

"You said something about testing people. Why would they test
someone?"

"Well, Abraham and Jacob became the patriarchs of their families,
which meant a lot more back then than it does today. They became
men of great wealth, piousness and wisdom, and were blessed as God's
chosen line. As I said before, it is from that line that our Lord
and Savior, Jesus Christ - "Lorenzo blessed himself at the mention
of the name. " - was descended."

Lipton considered that for a moment, then chuckled. "No. They were
definitely not testing me. So what's going on?"

Lorenzo looked at him very seriously. "You have been corrupted by
the succubus, Bruce. You must cleanse, atone, and hope that God
will not punish you."

"Al, I haven't even met the succubus!"

Lorenzo wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"Then she could have no influence over you. Only if you were in her
presence."

"Well, I have been in her presence, but she has never spoken
directly to me. And besides, I have the protection of - oh,
nevermind. I have sacred protection." He said the last hurriedly,
recalling the last time he'd mentioned Mary to Lorenzo.

"I would rethink your 'sacred protection,' Bruce. If the woman
claiming to be The Holy Mother is as you described, I would not
trust that she is really the Mother of Christ. She could be a
demon, too."

"She gave me these; you tell me," Lipton tossed him a clip of the
blessed ammo. Lorenzo was impressed as he handled it.

"Yes, these are very sacred, and I believe you've met a very
powerful angel, but not The Virgin. If you choose not to believe
me, then please don't bother me any longer with uninformed
suppositions." He paused before adding, "But with protections like
this, why would you have been turned against? This doesn't make
much sense."

"Well, I saw her again this morning, and she denies having anything
to do with it. We both know angels don't lie."

"Then I can offer you no explanation."

Lipton took a step back and a deep breath. In frustration, he
punched at the air, swearing under his breath.

"I tried to warn you, Bruce," Lorenzo said, finally pitying his
friend.

"I know, everybody did," Lipton sighed. "But no one ever told me
I'd be fighting the good guys, as well as the bad ones." He began
to head for the sacristy, and the door.

Lorenzo stared after him, sighing. Then, his head awhirl with
curiosity, he headed for the library, and the Internet.

He busily spent the majority of the next few hours researching every
incidence of angelic attack he could think of, from the ones he'd
mentioned to places throughout the Bible, and folklore. He even
checked the Koran and Torah, but he couldn't find anything of the
magnitude Bruce had described. Not for anything Bruce had claimed
to have done.

This made him reflect on the state his friend had been in ever since
he'd gotten involved with Seraph Darkfell and the fallen angel. The
more he thought about Lipton's obsessive behavior, and the report
Giuseppe had recently sent him, the more he realized what Lipton
refused to accept - that he was under the succubus's spell.

That she had such a strong will as Lipton's under her throes was
proof enough of her power. That she also had an angel enchanted
gave Lorenzo pause, but he knew that there was only one thing that
could be done to solve this problem, and he was the only one who
knew enough to do it.

Rising, he returned to the rectory and went to a breakfront behind
his desk. There, along with his chalice of office, his censor, and
his robes for High Mass, in a red leather-bound book, lay the Rites
of Exorcism. He gazed at the whole cabinet of holy paraphernalia
for a moment, weighing his decision. He knew what he was taking on;
he knew her power.

"Father," he said, crossing himself. "Protect me. Protect me
against Seraph Darkfell."

Crossing himself again, he grabbed the robes, chalice, censor and
book, and set off in pursuit of his friend.

* * * * *

Seraph might not have been a fan of sunrises, but she was not above
sharing a nice sunset with Heart as they partook of her latest
attempt at cooking. Heart had been really surprised when Seraph had
produced a jar of spaghetti sauce; to her, such an endeavor took
hours and hours to properly prepare. When Seraph had explained it
was pre-made, she'd immediately insisted on adding meatballs to the
mix, which was something she did know how to make. Even though
Heart seemed to prefer sauce made by her own hand to the stuff in
the jar, the meatballs were excellent and Seraph had even found an
old bottle of Chianti to liven up the meal.

They dined on the balcony, looking east at the orange clouds that
hovered over New Jersey and Pennsylvania, which while it wasn't as
good as a sunset, still made for a romantic setting.

"Looks like snow," Seraph observed, looking out over the river.

"Oh, goodie! Snow is so much fun," Heart clapped in excitement.

Seraph snickered. "Not around here," she replied.

Heart frowned. "Why not?" she asked.

"It's hard to drive in," Seraph explained. "You'll see. But maybe
we'll go out to the mountains and play. The snow is a lot of fun
out there."

"I would love to see the mountains!" Heart exclaimed. "And the
beach. And the rain forest! They talk about it on TV, and they say
it needs to be saved, but I don't get it, because I didn't know
trees worshipped The Creator."

Seraph laughed, and it was a few moments before she regained her
composure enough to fill Heart in on why the rain forest needed to
be saved. Heart found it all very depressing, so Seraph turned the
conversation elsewhere.

"Would you like to go shopping tomorrow, and pick up some clothes
for work?" she asked the angel.

Heart cocked her head to the side, considering this.

"As a day of rest," she said. Seraph knitted her brow in confusion,
prompting Heart to explain, "The Creator made the world in six days,
and took the seventh to rest. We made our world in six days, so we
should spend tomorrow relaxing, too."

Seraph nodded. "That makes sense," she said. "And how would you
like to relax?"

"I would dearly love to know what a Jacuzzi is," Heart
exclaimed. "Mama made it sound so nice, and from what she said, I
think it's in the bath. And I can think of no better way to relax
than in a bath."

"All day?" Seraph asked doubtfully.

"I didn't say we'd spend the whole day just sitting in the tub,"
Heart smiled teasingly, leaving no doubt how they would fill the
remainder of the time.

"That sounds wonderful," Seraph grinned back. "Are you coming to
work with me tonight?"

"Well," Heart said hesitantly. "I was kind of thinking I would stay
in tonight and watch some TV."

"Is everything alright?" Seraph asked, concerned.

"Oh, everything is fine!" Heart protested. "I'm just not in the
mood for naked ladies and loud music."

"Ah," Seraph nodded. "If it's any consolation, I'm not in the mood
for it tonight, either. But I do want to have a little spending
money around the house, so I do want to go in tonight. I'll make it
early, though, and I'll certainly make it clear I won't be there
tomorrow."

Heart grinned as she began clearing the table.

"That would be wonderful. We can spend tomorrow night cuddling."

Seraph cuddled her right then. "My favorite pastime," she replied.

It was all too soon before Seraph had departed for work and left
Heart all alone in the apartment. Heart didn't mind, though, since
she'd had every intention of doing exactly as she'd said. She
flipped channels, hoping to find something interesting to watch when
she stumbled upon a channel that seemed to be showing some
blockbuster movie. She settled in, hoping it would be something fun
and not too scary.

It proved to be extremely violent, but she was transfixed by it
anyway, for several reasons. For one, humans in this could execute
moves and skills with perfection and speed she'd only seen in the
moving paintings. She watched as the man who seemed to be the hero
battled another man with the blurring speed she'd only seen demons
succeed at. Later in the movie, the same man in the first battle
began to see in what Heart thought of as combat time, a slow watery
blur that made the surrounding world seem still, when truly the
opposite was happening - the combatants were moving so fast that the
world around them was slow.

The other reason she sat transfixed by the film was because the
villains in it reminded her of the angels from the night before. In
an odd way, she felt satisfied when the hero got the best of them.

The film that followed was a comedy featuring the hero from the
first movie, and Heart settled in to watch that as well. As he and
his friend bumbled their way through the plot, Heart giggled and
stretched out on the couch. Soon, she was fast asleep, only to
awaken for a moment much later as Seraph carried her to bed.
Sleepily, she curled an arm around Seraph and only replied to
Seraph's whispered "I love you" out of reflex.






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