Lucifer's Daughter

OR

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Satan

by Dr. Bender

A Heaven and Hell tale

           

Chapter 4 – Damned in New York

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Az shouted happily as she bounced into my bedroom. I didn't remember seeing her leave.

"Garg," I gurgled with feeling. The 24 hours beforehand had been rather vigorous. It was my 10^th morning waking up as a Sedu and I was feeling much more content about my new lot in life. After day 4, I started to relax and enjoy being a girl more than I ever would have thought possible, and my new intellectual gifts finally kicked in. For three days I learned at such an incredible rate that my teachers were hard pressed to keep up with me. I cruised through explosives with Angelique and moved right along to security systems and stealth techniques. I even managed to get a few hits on her when we sparred. Then on the eighth night, Az skipped into my room to inform me that they'd given me the next day off; and so, on the 9^th day I rested. Or, rather I would have rested if my big sister hadn't had other ideas. So much for a relaxing day off… though I had to admit, it was enormous fun. Naturally, the next morning I ached more than a little bit and my eyes were ringed in black.

Having her call out 'oh, sister' right in the middle was more than a little disturbing, though.

"Come on, time to get up, little sis," Az poked me until I rolled out of bed, "we've got a date to keep with Lady Lucifer. It's your first real mission today!"

"Mission?" The word made my heartbeat kick up several notches but she wouldn't say any more, grabbing me by the arm and literally dragging me all the way to Lady Lucifer's audience chamber. I'm embarrassed to say that I showed my status as a total newbie by gawking at the other weird and wonderful demons that we passed by, but I plead the ignorance of youth on that charge.

Angelique was there when we arrived along with her only Valkyrie Clanswoman, a striking athletic redhead. Lady Lucifer was still dealing with a petition from Clan Oculus for something to do with eyeware and health coverage, so we were free to chat for a minute or two while we waited. The silver-haired Princess greeted me with a mimed kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Zee. How did yesterday go?"

I blushed in remembrance. "Um, it went ok, I guess."

She smiled sympathetically. "Don't be so hard on yourself, you're performing much better than any of us could have hoped and Lady Lucifer is suitably impressed with you. You'll be fine, won't she Azazel?"

Az nodded with a smile on her face that reached from ear to ear. "You'll knock 'em dead, sis." She even ruffled my hair like we were real family.

The next thing I knew, I was literally pounced upon by a familiar blue ball of limbs intent

on squeezing the life out of me from behind. In other words, Baroness Lorilei hugged me from behind, impacting with such force that I was almost bowled over.

"Well, well, well, look at you! My, you have shrunk, haven't you? Though not all over, I notice," the Baroness gave me a quick peck on the cheek before pulling away.

Naturally, I was stunned, though I did have a goofy smile on my face. "You can touch me?"

"Just a little spell…"

"Lies," the man with her sighed, a devilishly handsome Incubi (hey, the description fits, you get to wear it), "she's been working on it since she heard you were drafted into the Sedu. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Richard and I would kiss your hand only my lovely companion refuses to share."

He was turning on the charm, giving me the dark piercing stare that's the male version of goo-goo eyes. My body reacted to him, his air of confidence, his deep masculine voice, the line of his body and a raw supernatural aura that literally screamed sex to the viewer. But you don't try to play a player; I read the signals he was putting out like they were stamped on his face in cheap newsprint. To an untrained eye he may have seemed sincere but, since I could resist his otherwise compelling low-level charms with my own unearthly will and faculties, I could see right through his façade.

"Oh, what a pity," I cooed, which he found most delightful as I stepped into his body while keeping at least an inch away with everything but my hand, which I slipped through the crotch of his pants, "what a shame. It's soooo lonely being a 'look but no touch item', so very lonely…"

He couldn't feel my touch at all but the power of suggestion alone caused a bulge to rise in his pants and a surprisingly large bulge at that. For a moment I had him panting before I stepped away, giving him a light telekinetic slap as we parted. "Can it, Dick, you're not all that."

My feminine companions had to try very hard to stifle their guffaws as I left Richard quite red in the face from something other than anger. Fortunately, the Dumiurge called on us to approach the throne at that moment, so nothing more could be said. The incident helped me steady myself but I was nervous. In fact, I hadn't been in such a state since just after my death. We stepped forward once the Oculus demons had departed and bowed before Her Hellish Majesty.

"Zizili, it's so nice to see you again," Lady Lucifer smiled warmly, "and time for your first mission to Earth as well. Azazel and Pazuzu speak highly of your achievements and tell me that they believe you are ready for this challenge. In all honesty, however, I wonder if this task is within a fresh demon's grasp, simple though it may be, as it does require you to navigate the battlefield that is New York."

"New York, your Majesty?" Angelique asked, seemingly shocked. "New York is no place for an inexperienced demon."

Pazuzu sighed and shook her head. "Unfortunately, Azazel and Zizili are the only two Sedu I can spare at the moment and even they will require back-up, which is why I asked you to assign Victoria. Azazel will provide the experience in field operations to the team, Zizili will assist her and Victoria will provide muscle only if it becomes necessary. The mission is as simple as picking up a parcel and delivering it to a certain person at a certain bar. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider giving the assignment to Zizili but, as the bar is in the newly minted neutral zone, no-one would dare try anything and risk Jade's wrath."

"I agree with Pazuzu," Lady Lucifer nodded, "it's a good job to cut our new girl's teeth on. Azazel, you've already been briefed by Baroness Pazuzu and nominal control of this operation falls to you as the most experienced member of the team. Now, while you three are performing the assignment, Baroness Lorilei will be heading another team alongside Lady Angelique with Richard as their second in command. Several Angels will also be joining them in a joint strike at one of the Bathorian's known hideouts, a storage warehouse in New Jersey. This will distract the Bathorians and should allow the trade to take place unhindered. Now go, and show me the skill of the Lilin Clans."

"Yes, your Hellish Majesty," we all said in unison before rising to our feet and walking out of the throne room.

Angelique, Lorilei and Richard left us with some fond farewells and Victoria, the red-haired Valkyrie. "Call me Vickie," she grunted once we were alone before turning to Azazel, "so what's the plan, boss?"

"Our first step is infiltrating the city, which is a little complicated. We'll be gating in through a particular alleyway chosen for its proximity to objective one, the parcel pickup, as well as its relative privacy. There will be two sympathetic mortals waiting for us, a dark-haired man with a black briefcase and his wife, a blonde. Zizili will possess the man, I'll possess the blonde, just look for the hair color to clue you in. Naturally, Vickie here can craft her own disguise. We'll take the mortal's car to the pickup point. Zee will discretely trade her briefcase for another from a man with bleached blonde hair, gold rimmed glasses and a red-and-gold tie with Superman's emblem on it. Once that's done, we move on to objective two, a private gentleman's bar on the edge of the financial district. It's a fancy place where men take their high-priced hookers and mistresses to have some fun, so Vickie and I will be playing your bits of stuff, Zee. You'll trade briefcases again, this time for an empty one. And then we all come home. Questions?"

"Yeah," Vickie nodded, "what's in the package?"

"None of us need to know that," Azazel rebuked, "it doesn't matter what's in the package. Lady Lucifer and Baroness Pazuzu want us to deliver a package, so we are delivering a package; it's as simple as that. Welcome to the game of espionage. So, if that's all then, we better be getting on. I'll cast the gate spell, you two hold my hands. Vickie, these mortals may be alarmed by your current appearance; you need to take on a more acceptable form before we shift."

Nodding, Vickie shifted into a human form that looked much like her demonic self, a tall, athletic, flame-haired bombshell in a tight black dress with matching purse and high heels. She looked familiar to me from somewhere I couldn't quite place but, unfortunately, I didn't have any time to consider my sense of deja vu. We held hands as Az chanted something under her breath. With the final syllable, the world seemed to turn grey for a moment before everything snapped back into focus.

We arrived in the dingiest, garbage-clogged, rat-infested piece of Hell on Earth that ever polluted existence. There was even a corpse half buried under a pile of trash. Spray painted on one wall was some sort of gang tag that read 'SPAWN WAS HERE', which was curious to say the least. The man and wife that were waiting for us couldn't have been more out of place, dressed to the nines in the middle of what must be mugger central. If I didn't know that they had infernal protection, I would have said they were crazy.

Remembering myself, I jumped at the male figure and trusted instinct to do the rest. It did, I felt myself literally pouring into his body and taking residence in his mind. In moments, I learned his name, his job, his wife's name, where they lived, the names of their pets, literally everything about him. The number of times he'd cheated on his wife was also quite surprising. Despite the relative ease with which I passed into him, putting on his body took a short amount of time and, once the process was completed, felt rather awkward. It was like I was wearing a set of clothes that were at once too large and too tight in all the wrong places.

Blinking my new eyes, I held out my hand to Victoria, trying to block out the smells that assaulted me. "J-John Vasange," I introduced my Host while trying not to gag, "nice to meet you, Vickie."

Vickie took the hand and allowed me to kiss it. "Bloody Hell, that's just freaky."

"Ugh," Azazel, or 'Mary' now, straightened her red dress, "this girl's brain is so empty. Come on, let's get out of here."

I am so glad that our Hosts only have the memories we want them to have after we're gone. That comment could have been embarrassing otherwise. Azazel's Host may have been dumb (not that it made any real difference) but she was definitely attractive. Vickie still won out in the end, though more due to her supernatural allure than pure physicality. I decided it'd more depend on whether you liked your women soft or hard. Me, I couldn't decide and neither could my new Mr. Winky.

As the man of the team, I was volunteered to drive by the womenfolk. Az looked after the briefcase riding shotgun while Vickie slipped gracefully into the back seat of our car, a Bentley no less. John had money. Az directed me to a coffee shop which had a few tables out in the open air, though I had to park the car around the corner.

"Ok," Az began, handing me the briefcase, "the blonde man will be sitting out the front of the shop waiting for you. Sit down at his table with the briefcase in the hand which will let you place it down next to his one under the table. You say to him 'Unusually chilly today' and he'll answer 'not really for this time of year'. He'll talk to you, probably about the weather or something equally trivial, you order a coffee and he'll leave before it arrives. Drink your coffee and come back here with the new briefcase."

"Isn't that code phrase a little vague?" I asked, incredulous.

"What do you think the chances are that a blonde man with gold-rimmed glasses and a superman tie sitting in that coffee shop with that exact same briefcase under the table is going to answer in those exact words would be? One in a billion? Besides, if he's not the one, he'll take offense at you sitting down and even if he doesn't, he'll take his own briefcase with him. If all that still goes wrong, then it's clearly a case of divine intervention and Lady Lucifer will be able to wring concessions out of the big guy for several centuries to come, so don't sweat it. Now, what do you say?"

"Unusually chilly today; not really for this time of year. Yeah, I got it…" I hopped out of the car and closed the door before she could lecture me any more. With the daylight slowly fading over the city, I strolled around the corner avoiding the hussle and bussle where I could, blending in with the rest of the suits. I spotted my man immediately; he was the only person fitting his description on the entire street. I kept my briefcase in my right hand nearest to his briefcase as I approached him, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Unusually chilly today," I said cheerfully as I sat down, shaking his hand.

"Not really for this time of year," he replied curtly. He seemed nervous. "So, how about those Mets?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow Baseball," I answered as I beckoned the waitress over. I ordered my coffee and turned back to my companion.

"Uh, so, been in town long?" He asked, his eyes flicking strangely to one side without moving his head, like he was signaling something to me.

"Only just arrived," I replied, trying to follow the direction of his eyes. He seemed to be glancing at a man who leaned against a building across the street wearing a tatty army surplus green jacket with a tiny digital camera hanging from his neck and a three-day-old growth of dark chin stubble. He kept his hair close cropped as well and wore casual blue jeans. He was also conspicuous in the fact that he stared continually at some point to his right, never directly at us yet within his field of vision.

I tried to read Mr. Blonde's surface thoughts, as chaotic as they were, and kept flashing on the image of the same man following his taxi on the way here in a black sedan, the second most inconspicuous car in NY (first being the yellow taxi). Probing a little deeper, I couldn't discern anything else about the man, it was doubtful that Mr. Blonde had any idea who his stalker was so I pulled out. Reading thoughts is like that, you can't get anywhere unless you know the right questions to ask or if you're willing to spend the time hunting for every neural pathway and traveling down it. Yeah, it's not often I have several days to interrogate a subject… in fact, its never happened.

"Well, I better depart now, anyway," my companion nodded, "goodbye."

I said my goodbyes with another smile as he took away my briefcase and left me his in return. I couldn't help but notice that a moment later, a female college student with a book bag over one shoulder hurried out of the coffee shop talking in rapid French into her cell phone. She went in the same direction as my contact, perhaps twenty paces behind him. The camera man across the road stayed put, so I put on a show of drinking my coffee for him. Finally finishing, forcing myself to take my time despite my nerves, I picked up the new, much heavier, briefcase and went back to the car.

Turning about as I opened the door, I couldn't see anyone tailing me, so I got in and pulled the door shut, handing the case to Az.

"Took you long enough," Vickie growled.

"Change of situation, someone was staking out the meet," I informed them, "did you see a man in a green jacket, dark stubble, blue jeans with a camera around his neck? Or anyone that looked like they were tailing me?"

Az nodded, looking worried. "I saw the guy in the green jacket. He crossed the street coming towards us, then turned to our left, crossed the road again and disappeared around the corner just before you got in."

"So that means we've been made," Vickie scowled, "I guess we have to abort, then. Take that thing with us."

"No," Az said firmly, "this doesn't change our mission. We're heading into neutral territory; we don't fight each other there."

I looked at my big sister. She might have been wearing a new body, but I could tell her personality by her mannerisms; the look of concentration on her face was pure Az. "You think they're Angels? I thought Angels eviscerated us on sight?"

"That's been the basic policy for a few thousand years," Az sighed, "but right now, neither side is ready for another War. Present reality is; if one side could prove that the other was violating the truce, we might even have the Apocalypse on our hands. Killing one of us would be a major breach of the peace treaty, particularly once we're on neutral grounds. Our best bet is to stay on task; we'll be much safer at the bar and we can call in more backup from there."

Without further ado, I started the car and pulled away from the curb. Once again, Az gave me directions to the parking garage where a space had already been booked for us near the entrance to the bar. I kept one eye on the rear view mirror but it was impossible to see anything in New York traffic, let alone spot which of the umpteen millionth yellow taxis might be following you.

My curiosity piqued, I had to ask. "Az, what do you think the Apocalypse would be like?"

"Hmmm," Az seemed to consider the question, voice empty and emotionless, "hard to say. I know what would probably happen if Apocalypse was declared, though. First, both sides would descend onto Earth en-masse and set about killing every man, woman and child. Angel or Demon, they'd slay every human without question or pause to bolster their own ranks as efficiently as possible. Then, when there were no humans left, they'd start on each other. The war would escalate and escalate until Lucifer faced the big guy himself for the ultimate title, and the winner would inherit the wasteland that was left. Michael may have kicked Lucifer out on her ear the first time but she's way beyond his power now."

I heard Vickie gulp. It occurred to me that this was the sort of information that humans really needed to know but, looking out of the car window at the passers by, I realized that it didn't matter what they knew or thought or did. What matters is the choice they make with what they do know. In a meaningless life, that was the only thing that had meaning, which drove home the iron spike of my own situation. My choices in life had meant nothing, as good as I thought I was, I still ended up in Hell. Had I deserved it? Had Lorilei deserved it? Had the molested child deserved to become the molesting demon in Lucifer's pool? What sort of God allows things like this?

"Thinking awful hard there," Az mumbled, bringing me back to reality.

"It's nothing," I dismissed my melancholy thoughts for the practicality of the moment.

We were alone when we arrived that the parking space; well within, Az assured us, the boundaries of the Neutral Zone. The Bouncer at the front door knew 'John' by face and by name. I dredged his name out of John's memories and palmed him a customary tip from the great steaming wad of hundred dollar bills that was burning a hole in John's pocket before I walked inside with a beautiful woman on each arm. The club didn't have a name over the door, it was just expected that everyone knew it, like the price of drinks or food off the menu. The place was packed with rich men spoiling beautiful women; gambling, smoking and drinking away fortunes without a care in the world.

We split up as per Az's orders. Vickie slinked over to the bar and ordered a drink, Az mingled with the crowd and I searched the tables for my next contact. I didn't think it'd take me long, the man's signature item was supposed to be a neon purple leopard skin beret. I was right, he wasn't hard to find but not because of his hat. Aside from the hat, he looked relatively normal. He wore a brown leather jacked over a cream colored shirt, open at the collar to show off his chest, with pants that matched his jacket. In fact, though the beret might have been a little tasteless on its own, in combination with his conservative attire, it gave him character that he mightn't have had otherwise. He looked ordinary, though well groomed, with a well-trimmed patch of beard around his mouth and artfully controlled stubble running up to short sideburns and brown eyes to match his leathers.

What was out of place was the woman he was with. I didn't know the man from Adam, but unless he had some sort of quality I wasn't seeing, then he had to be paying just to breathe in close proximity, surcharged by cubic foot of gas exhaled. She was literally stunning; the sort of girl who's looks hit a man between the eyes and leaves him reeling in confusion. And I should know; she hit me with the full blast. She wore a long silver-grey silk bib that tapered off into a point over her midriff; just enough to cover the breasts while the thin straps kept her back in full view. Her miniskirt was a belt with pretensions of being a loincloth, split to the hip as it were rather than to the thigh. Her panties were red, which everyone in the room knew. To top it off, dark green high-heeled sandals wound around her calves like vines, with tiny cloth roses dotted here and there like spots of blood. She tanned herself naked to a golden brown, seen for the complete lack of a bikini line around her back, and her skin was the sort of flawless ordinary mortals only get with make-up. Slicked back blonde hair completed the sleek and sexy look; she could have been a model who'd just stepped straight off the boardwalk. She saw me when I saw her, pinning me in place with ice-blue eyes that most would probably presume were colored contacts.

It was the state of the man she was snuggling against that tipped me off that not all was as it seemed. She had one hand on his shoulder, stroking his collarbone under the open shirt. Her other hand was at his crotch under the table, in a position that left me no doubt it was down his pants despite being obscured by the tabletop. That arm moved ever so slightly so that, unless you were close or particularly astute, you'd take her position as overly affectionate showing off rather than the sex act it actually was.

Of course, if it was sex that was on my contact's mind, he had a funny way of showing it. He was sweating bullets, lips pursed in a tight frown, shivering from cold fear rather than arousal. I knew the difference from years of acting and human observation, despite her massage his shoulders were tight and his back rigid, his feet twitching involuntarily. Reaching out to his mind with my own, there was one overwhelming sensation dominating his thoughts, the feel of serrated teeth at the base of his partly erect penis.

I paused, assessing the situation. Obscenely beautiful, able to manifest snapping mouths anywhere on their bodies, she fit the textbook description of a Bathorian. On the other hand, if there was one, then there were probably many in the club. A quick glace told me that for every man of any stripe, there were two beautiful women waiting for their beck and call. All my neurons were screaming trap simultaneously, it took a second for my brain to go into high gear, a second I couldn't really afford. Taking a deep breath, I bought some more time by sliding calmly into the seat opposite the couple.

My options were severely limited. If I ran, I was betting that her friends would open fire right in the middle of the crowd, not all of them could be Bathorians, so 'innocent' people would die. I could attack first, but then my contact was dead if not myself and the rest of my team. So I sat calmly as if I hadn't noticed anything, though I kept hold of the briefcase.

"The sun is shining," I said.

"B-but the ground is slippery," he replied. It wasn't the right code; he was trying to let me know that we were in big trouble.

I raised one eyebrow, still keeping hold of the briefcase as I glanced at the girl. "Maybe we should lose the broad before we conduct business."

"I'm fine right where I am," she purred, making him draw in a sharp breath with the teeth around his cock.

I glanced at them both. "So, what's the deal here? What, he's the submissive and you're his dom? You attached at the hip, maybe? Oh, no, let me guess. You're the ventriloquist and he's the dummy."

"Just put the case down and get out of here," the blonde said without changing expression.

"I can't do that," I stated flatly. "The deal was: I give this case to a man with a purple hat sitting alone. You only fit two of my three criteria."

"Then you're screwed because I'm not moving, oh, and if you don't do as I say, your friends are dead." The blonde finally dropped all pretense.

"Great," I smiled, "light up the barbeque, I'll eat them with brown sauce."

The blonde blinked and her captive drew in another sharp breath. "If you think I won't do it…"

"Oh, no," I interrupted, "I know you'll do it without batting one pretty little eyelid. The problem is; I don't care if you bite his dick off or not. You seem quite intent on starting this little dance, probably so intent that you haven't noticed what my left hand is doing."

She glanced down at the tabletop, my left hand atop the briefcase in my lap out of sight under the table. I noticed a droplet of sweat start to form on her brow.

"I'm sorry," I continued, "but I can't do anything as dramatic as cock the hammer on basic principle. I don't have to pull the hammer back on an automatic to fire the first round, though, so you'll just have to take it on faith that at this range I can remove a hefty chunk of your spine. But don't worry; I'll try not to get too much blood on your outfit."

She smiled. "Guns won't work on me."

"So I hear, but I'm willing to bet it'll slow you down. After that, head shots become much more convenient. Gunshots in a place like this would cause a massive panic so it might take a second or two for your friends to get here."

The hand on his shoulder slid down behind his back. "You'll die too," she hissed.

So she does have friends with her, I thought, bugger.

She jerked my contact into the 'firing line', which was a nice waste of time since I was totally bluffing. What I didn't expect was the magical dagger she had stashed behind his back. I managed, somehow, to get the briefcase up in front of my chest, absorbing most of her strike. The magic of the dagger, however, wasn't so easily stopped. Supernaturally keen, it sliced straight through the steel reinforcements and left a burning arc of pain across my chest. In the same move, she surged forward, toppling the table over in her haste to drive the dagger into my heart.

Fearing gunfire from the crowd as much as her blade, I threw myself backward, rolling backward over my chair as the briefcase disintegrated, spilling its contents onto the floor. I discarded the broken pieces and grabbed the Bathorian's wrists as she threw herself on top of me, one hand filled with a dagger, the other a bestial thing with claws and snapping teeth. Oh, I mean that, her palm had sprouted a maw like a cross between a cat's and a shark's, serrated rows of teeth and fangs that could ruin anyone's day.

The shock of gunfire startled us both for a moment. The sheer noise of it in the confined space after the peaceful silence of moments before made John's heart skip a beat. I shut it out of my mind, ignored everything else in the room and concentrated on the danger in front of me. I needed to get her off before she realized that she could just eat my hands, so I planted one boot onto her chest and thrust her away. I think she was surprised, probably not used to dealing with opponents who were just as fast and strong as she was.

I didn't really look at what I was picking up, my subconscious brain just processed the glint of gold in the ruins of the briefcase and labeled it 'heavy blunt instrument' and left my hands to do the rest. I grabbed it and jumped to my feet just in time for her to bounce back off the wall, bringing the heavy blunt instrument down on her head with all the strength I could muster.

The results were disgustingly spectacular. The blunt object crushed in the left half of her cranium, causing a spray of blood before her brain started leaking out of the wound. She dropped like a stone, leaving me at a loss for the tragic waste I'd just committed.

A spattering of bullets ripped up the walls and furniture around me, reminding me to keep my mind on the business at hand. Self flagellation could wait 'til later.

I took cover by dropping to the ground lying flat behind the table, which was only good for cover because the gunmen (or gunwomen, I hadn't bothered to check their gender) couldn't see me to shoot. It seemed to me that their strategy was to destroy the table and deprive me of cover, which from where I was lying on my belly seemed like a damn good plan.

I had one of those moments of relative peace in the middle of all the chaos when I saw what was in my hand. I was holding, I jest you not, a blood-spattered golden dildo. The detail in the sculpture was so precise that there could be no confusions as to what the object was: a solid, shiny, gold wing-wong.

Then the war resumed and I felt the pain. I'd landed on top of the Bathorian and managed to sheathe her dagger in John's stomach and, by mystical extension, my own.

"Woah," I grimaced stupidly, "déjà vu."

Looking up, ignoring the dagger for now, I couldn't believe the scene that met my eyes. Bystanders running for exits, small groups of Bathorians in skimpy clothes blasting away almost at random with rifles that they couldn't have possibly smuggled into the bar unnoticed, bodies littering the floor. One body I did recognize was Mary, brains leaking out onto the carpet. Vickie was nowhere to be seen in the chaos.

The spray of bullets around me stopped for a moment and I caught sight of my own personal Bathorian Death Squad reloading. I took the only chance I was likely to get, leaving my contact either dead or unconscious behind me while I charged for the kitchen door, bursting through as I put John's shoulder to the task moments before the gunfire resumed, literally chewing up the wood around me. My flight was so raucous that I tripped and fell onto my back again, spinning from the impact with the door. Blood loss also probably had something to do with that, but I wasn't really in my right head at the time.

"ZEE! GET IN HERE!"

I twisted my head around slowly toward the source of the sound. Dimona stood in an open doorway that had a glowing sign marked 'EXIT' over it, propping the spring-door open with her legs and back while holding what my fuzzy shell-shocked brain identified as a pineapple-style grenade in both hands. I slipped and skidded in my own blood, but I managed to wrangle John's feet under me as I ran towards the escape, launching myself down the stairwell without losing a beat, though I did bash my right shoulder against the concrete wall on the turn.

I took the stairs so fast, dancing downward two steps at a time, that I couldn't avoid another jarring bash against the opposite wall. Dimona swooped after me a moment before an explosion tore the exit door off its hinges, spewing fire into the stairwell.

"We've got to move! Now!" Dimona urged me on, but I hesitated.

"Hang on a sec," I paused, ripping off my jacket before getting a good grip on the dagger. Clenching myself, I pulled it out, bundled it in my jacket with the dildo so that they'd be concealed, and wadded the entire thing against the wound. Damn it hurt, and there was nothing I could do about the gash on my chest either, but the stomach was the more serious of the two injuries.

Then we started running again, the stairwell empty. Dimona alighted at the base long before I managed to stumble down the last few steps. She pulled a white dress on which she seemed to have left at the base of the stairs, making herself look like any other pretty little girl once she had the tail tucked back away under the skirt and the wings properly folded around her trim waistline. A tight bra kept her breasts flat, and I certainly wasn't going to envy her ability to breathe in that getup.

"I need a new body," I gasped when I got to ground floor.

"It's ok; I've got a contingency plan," Dimona nodded, "just concentrate on moving."

I did. She got the door and I stumbled through it, very aware of the trail of blood I was leaving behind us. There were blurry lights outside, flashing blue and red.

"HELP, HELP!" Dimona started crying out in a scared little girl voice. "MY DADDY'S BEEN HURT!"

I had to smile. It was a good plan; an ambulance could get us away in nothing flat. I was almost glad I'd been stabbed.

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

I didn't know how I'd gotten onto the ground, which probably wasn't a good sign. "Yeah," I replied, focusing on the faces that hovered over me, "I've lost a lot of blood, compressed the wound…"

"And you just keep right on doing that," the paramedic replied, a woman with dark hair tied back, "I need you to stay awake, ok? We're taking you to hospital."

"My little girl…"

"I'm right here, Daddy," Dimona squeezed my hand, "the other one's gone to get a stretcher."

I'll give Dimona this: she knows how to get the right info across without being obvious. Without further ado, I grabbed the paramedic by the back of the head and drew her down into a passionate French kiss.

She never knew what hit her and John didn't either, since I took all memory of the events away with me when I abandoned his body for hers. The shift in perspective was slower than the first and I had to hang onto the kiss for dear life itself, but finally I slid myself into place.

Blinking, I had to say it was nice not being in pain any more. Not to mention that the new female body actually felt like it fitted correctly. John, thankfully, passed out from his exertions. I'd have hated having to explain his amnesia.

"Doris," my new body's partner arrived with the stretcher, "no time to zone out now. We've gotta move him."

I jumped to my feet and helped transfer John to the ambulance, keeping the shirt stuffed with priceless objects tightly pressed against the wound. I picked Dimona up in my arms in the middle of a street filled with crying people, smoke and policemen. I just prayed that none of them had Guardians or, if they did, they had better things to do with their time. "You drive," I said to my partner, "I'll ride in back."

He nodded curtly, heading 'round to the front while I hopped into the back with Dimona, closing the doors behind us and making sure John was strapped in properly. My next order of business was changing his bandage for something more suitable and less valuable, stashing the dildo and the dagger into a first aid kit that I handed to the imp for safe keeping. Then came the business of trying to keep John alive as best I could.

I failed.

Do I feel bad about that? Yep. Was there anything I could do about it? No. I had all of Doris' medical training at my fingertips and I still couldn't save him, he died in transit. Of course, I tried resuscitation and cardio and flappy electric pads and adrenaline but nothing helped. He just lost too much blood.

I might have thought more about it, been more devastated, if the notion of the looming Apocalypse wasn't giving me worse things to worry about. With John dead and the window between the cabin and the driver's seat closed, I turned to Dimona intent on a good heart-to-heart conversation that would involve an answer on exactly what the fuck she was doing there.

Besides, I knew John, he was an asshole.

"Before you even ask," Dimona started before I had a chance to open my mouth, "Lady Lucifer sent me to pull your ass outta the fire if it looked like it was about to be burnt off. And a damn lucky thing she did."

"Ok," I sighed, uncomfortable in the eerie quiet sitting next to the corpse, "lets just take it as read that I believe you for now, since I don't have much of a choice at the moment, and give you the benefit of the doubt for saving my life. Next question is: what the fuck is going on? Everyone keeps telling me, NOBODY breaks the peace in the Neutral Zone, but unless I'm mistaken, somebody just did."

"No shit," the little girl grunted, "even I wasn't expecting it to go down like that. Bold move… stupid but bold. Truth is, Zee, we recently became aware that someone on our side's gone Rogue… and it just happens that they haven't bothered mentioning it to us yet. Lady Lucifer's been whittling the suspects down to a handful of highly placed members of Hell's Hierarchy for the last week. Your operation was designed to lure the mole out but it seems like he was a step ahead of us."

"Hang on," I rubbed my temples, "Lady Lucifer used me as bait?"

"No, you were the hook, this," Dimona held up the first aid kit and shook it, "was the bait."

"Ok, what is it?"

"I don't know." She noticed my look and scowled. "Hey, I'm just a grunt like you; I don't need to know everything, so they don't tell me everything. But I can surmise a few things. They teach you much about Artifacts in Sedu Academy?"

"It wasn't on the curriculum."

"Ok, exposition time then. The world wasn't always like it is now, kid, where most people don't believe in their own shadows. Nowadays you've only got a few people in the know, but back in the day there was more room for mages and vampires and such to roam about the world poking their noses into the way things tick. In addition, there was more room for Angels and Demons to wander about causing mischief without the violent repercussions that you'd get nowadays what with the mass media and all. Anyway, some of these supernatural creatures did a lot of things that didn't make the bosses upstairs very happy, breeding with mortals and each other was one of them but of far more concern were the objects that they created. Some of them were harmless; others might just tip the balance of power if one side got a hold of something best left alone. So after the War, the treaty they drew up included the magical equivalent of arms limitations."

I looked at the first aid kit. "Are you trying to tell me that I've been carrying around the metaphysical equivalent of a tactical nuke?"

"Something like that, or it could just be a fake. I'm hoping it's a fake, but even so, it was destined to be locked up in a vault somewhere in the Neutral Zone. We can't take it back to Hell and risk royally screwing the Treaty."

"So we're stuck here a while? With the Bathorians on our tails?"

"And their ringmaster, yup," Dimona scratched her chin, "and any Ang… oh, crap."

"What?"

"We're heading for a hospital."

"Yeah so?"

"A hospital," Dimona growled at me, grabbing the front of my shirt, "ANGEL CENTRAL!"

The window between cabins slid open and the other paramedic's eyes peered through the slot. "We're here guys. Guys?"

Dimona was a quick thinker, she thrust her head into my breast and started balling her eyes out, rubbing her eyelids on my clothing to induce real tears. My arms wrapped around her naturally in response. I just looked at Doris' partner and shook my head. He sighed and nodded. "You take the girl inside, I'll finish up."

Nodding, I opened the door and carried Dimona out into the night air. The Hospital entrance was packed with people, for which I was very grateful. I slipped by the reception desk and into a janitor's closet unnoticed by anyone. It might have been tricky explaining why Dimona was carrying a first aid kit otherwise. There was a sink in one corner which the little Imp used to freshen up before we moved on; just me, a paramedic, taking a little girl to see her parents.

When we were ready, I stepped outside with the first aid kit in one hand and Dimona's hand in the other. I wasn't expecting to see Vickie in a nurse's uniform hanging around the reception desk, trying to look like she was sorting through some papers. Turning without pause, I led Dimona away.

"Hey," the Imp squeaked in a low voice, "that's Vickie!"

"I saw her, I saw her," I whispered back, the loud murmur of the crowd enough to conceal our voices, "lets not get distracted here. She could be one of them."

"She's not," Dimona stated, sounding completely certain.

"Dimona," I replied, "I'm not entirely certain that you aren't one of them yet. Don't push me."

"You're going to have to choose someone to trust."

"I have. I trust Lady Lucifer."

Dimona snorted. "You kidding? There are two types of people in Hell: Lady Lucifer and expendable pawns."

I couldn't argue with the voice of experience so I just kept my opinion that if all Lucifer wanted was a stalking horse, I was the most expensive one in history.

"So," Dimona continued, "where we headed, kid?"

"Cancer ward," I mumbled, stopping to look at the signs, "I need a better Host."

"HEY! Hey, you!"

I stopped and turned around. A security guard with a weird blue glow around him was hailing me down. "Where you taking that little girl, miss?"

Bloody Guardians, not now, I thought, smiling my best smile. "Oh, sorry, I'm new, just taking her up to see her mother in J Block."

He didn't seem convinced. "Can I see your ID?"

Smiling, I handed the card to him. As he peered at the piece of laminated plastic, his blue glow seeped out of his back, forming into a tiny glowing blue figure that shook its little fist at me. "You're dead, Sedu! You wait and see! I've got six Elohim in this building at the moment and ERK!"

The 'erk' was induced by Vickie stepping out of the crowd and casually grabbing the little blue thing in one fist. "What seems to be the problem, sir?" She asked the guard, who wasn't quite sure what to make of me and hadn't seemed to notice the little glowing blue thing in the least.

"You know this woman, nurse?" He asked, suddenly enthralled by the Valkyrie's wiles.

"Oh, yes, she works here."

Grunting, the guard handed my ID back. "Sorry, miss, can't be too careful, you know?"

I smiled as I took back my card. "No problem, nice to know our security staff is so vigilant."

He was vigilantly staring at Vickie's breasts as I said it. I stiffened when the redhead took me by arm with the first aid kit. "Come on, Doris, I'll show you and this charming little girl around…"

Once we were out of sight of the guard, Vickie's grip on me tightened. "Don't move. Where do you think you were going?"

"Cancer ward," I replied.

She glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes. "What on Earth for?"

"HELLSPAWN!" The little glowing Angel in her fist managed to squeeze his head out. "HELP!"

Vickie shifted her claw-like red thumbnail under his throat. "One more sound and I'll pop your head off like a bottlecap."

He shut up.

"I need a new body, a better one." I repeated.

She seemed to consider the problem. "Good idea. But why the cancer ward?"

"She wants to bargain for a mortal's soul," the guardian scowled, "you'll rot in Hell forever for this!"

Vickie sighed. "Been there, done that. Ok, elevators are…"

I searched Doris' memory and pointed. "Over there."

We rode the elevators up and, since we were all trapped in the same confined space and Vickie could overpower either of us with only one hand, she let go of her grip and stuffed the Angel down her cleavage. "Dimona, what the fuck are you doing here? Where's Lorilei?"

Dimona shrugged. "In Jersey, like Lady Lucifer ordered. I was a fifth wheel, so I got the job of looking over the three of you in case something went wrong."

"Where the fuck were you Vickie?" I asked harshly.

"Fighting for my freekin' life, that's where," Vickie scowled, "I'm sitting there, watching you sidle on up to the table and sit down, when all Hell broke loose! There must've been twenty of those bloody things!"

"TWENTY!" Dimona squeaked.

"Yeah, give or take one or two," Vickie nodded, "so I jumped behind the bar, whipped a couple of Ingrams outta my purse and returned fire. Next time I popped my head up, I saw you barreling out the door bleeding like a stuck pig, so I hightailed it out the front door myself, leaving a few presents behind to keep the freaks busy. I figured you'd make it out the back and go looking for help, so I dodged the crowd and flew out of the parking garage in time to see you, er, John being stuffed into the ambulance, so I followed from there."

I blinked. "Didn't anyone see you?"

Vickie chuckled. "Oh, Hell no, mortals don't see shit unless they want to."

"Sheesh," the guardian commented in a well-muffled voice, "she must be green."

I ignored him. "And you couldn't come up with a better disguise?"

Vickie's scowl returned. "Hey, I wanted you to recognize me! Just like I want to find out what the fuck's going on!"

I held up my hands. "Ok, ok, sorry. We don't know yet either, we've just got to buy ourselves some time to figure things out. Think you can change into a different body? We really don't want to chance being recognized."

Nodding, Vickie concentrated. I watched enviously as her skin turned from a pale cream to light beige. Her hair darkened as she shrank, the nurse's uniform shrinking to accommodate her form. Features shifted until her face became heart-shaped, with shallow Asian eye sockets even as her hair straightened into a silky black cascade. Finished, she looked herself over and nodded approvingly. "There we are…"

Looking at her ID tag, even her picture and name had changed to reflect the new form. I was impressed. "What do they need us Sedu for anyway?" I mumbled to myself.

"Oh, we can't do specific people," Vickie supplied, "mainly because we can't do anything less than a perfect woman. Even if we could, we couldn't duplicate their memories and skills."

I looked at her. "You seem to be taking this all very lightly."

Vickie shrugged. "What's there to take seriously? We work out a new trade, deliver the goods and get back to Hell. No problem. Let the big wigs hammer out the details."

Dimona and I looked at each other. "Uh," Dimona started, "you don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

At that moment, the elevator arrived at our floor. Peering out, the hallway was empty. "Ok, no more time," I said as we stepped out, "I promise we'll bring you up to speed, Vickie, soon as we get out of here. Right now, I need a body…"

We walked down the hallways looking into the rooms as we passed. I handed Dimona off to Vickie to keep up appearances while I inspected the charts, looking for a suitable candidate. The rooms only held one guest apiece, for which I was very grateful, and the wards were quiet. Most of the patients were asleep, so I didn't have to worry about explaining myself.

I found the perfect candidate in a corner suite, completely bald from her leukemia treatments, thin as a rail far beyond even the most anorexic of supermodels. Her chart said that she was Alison Dewinter, age 19, and she was dying.

In a word, perfect.

I knew what I was about to do was, in some ways, reprehensible, but I was desperate. When I was done, nobody would be able to connect this girl to the leukemia patient lying before me. A girl would have go missing, but description? Shrunken mass of flesh waiting do die, no hair, no possible means of locomotion. I was about to stake my life that nobody could track me based on that.

I shook her shoulder gently to wake her up. "Alison? Alison, I've got a deal for you."

She groaned. "Wha? It's still dark out… just leave me alone."

She sounded as miserable as she should be. Sighing, I grabbed her face and pulled her head up so that she could look into my eyes. I put the power of my will into my eyes, trying to mesmerize her. Az had told me it was possible but this was my first attempt. "Alsion, I don't have a lot of time, so you will believe everything I say to be true."

I saw the blank look slide onto her face and I knew I had her. I couldn't just order her to do a bargain with me though, I only commanded her to believe what I was about to say, because what I was about to say would sound fantastical even to me. "Pleased to meet you Alison, my name is Zizili and I'm a Demon from Hell. I have a deal to make with you," I skipped over that bit fast so I could continue with the rest of it. "As you can probably infer, I'm a possessing demon…"

"Like in The Exorcist?" She squeaked.

"Sort of, I'm not that nasty or capricious," I shrugged, "just don't get the idea that I'm nice. What I am is desperate, or I wouldn't be here, and as you probably know desperate times call for desperate measures. To make a long story short, Alison, I need your body. I could take it, but that won't do me much good in my present situation. I said I had a deal for you and the deal is this. You submit to being my Host until I can return to Hell and I'll not only cure your cancer, I'll make you one of the most beautiful women on Earth, with the athleticism of an Olympic athlete and the grace of a Prima Donna. In return, I also promise not to make you do anything really evil, though I can't guarantee you won't be in some danger."

She scooched down under her covers. "I believe you," she murmured, little realizing that her belief had been coerced, "but I don't know, it sounds too good to be true."

I sighed. She was going to force me to be a bad guy. "Ok, there's a flipside to this request, you know. If you don't take my offer, I'm going to torment your family and believe me, torment is what we demons do best. And I'll do it all before you die so you can watch them suffer. I'm sorry that I have to go to these lengths, but there's this thing called situational ethics. Ever heard of it?"

She shook her head, close to tears.

"Basically, I'm about this close to death, understand?" I held up my hand with thumb and forefinger almost touching. "I know you do, it's what made me think of coming here. You're desperate, I'm desperate. I figure that you can help me if I help you; that's the bargain. If we do this deal and I go back on my word, I'm dead, understand? If I don't do this deal, I'm dead. I don't want to die, I know you don't want to die, I can read it in your mind. So if you screw me, you can be sure that I'm going to screw you. But if you help me, everything turns out like roses. You get yourself cured and can go on to lead a prosperous, healthy, life. I hate to rush you, but you need to decide in, like, the next thirty seconds."

Alison turned away from me, looking over my two companions. She seemed to appraise them before coming back to me. "Oh, what the hell, desperate times. Shit. If you're a hallucination, I'm going to kick myself in the morning."

"Oh, no," I leant in and stroked her cheek, "believe me, I'm very real. Let me show you."

I kissed her, slipping in the tongue, which made her jump but eventually she relaxed into it. Then it got a little more serious. Hey, I was in a hurry, and that IS the quickest way to possess someone. Once I was in Alison's body, nice and comfy, I came to a true understanding of what a wreck it was. But this possession was different from the other two; much, much different. I was like a big kid set into the middle of a playpen filled with smashed Lego blocks and it was my job to put them all back together.

My first job was getting rid of the cancer, which was easy; I just absorbed it back into her body tissue. Rebuilding muscle was my next priority and while I was at it I did a little genetic tinkering. I threw off the covers and looked down, letting Alison watch her body start to fill out once more, and casually noticed Doris collapsed unconscious on the floor. In the future, I discovered that my Hosts seem to do that whenever I take their memories of the possession with me; though leaving them behind usually reduces the poor things to gibbering insanity, at least for a time.

With complete control over Alison's development, I made sure there were several visual improvements based on her ideal body image. I had to lengthen her legs a bit and clear up her skin. I grew out her hair into waves of gold that slowly crawled down her supple back. Her ass rounded slightly, but I made sure it became small and tight the way she preferred. Hey, who am I to criticize personal taste? Despite the hospital gown, Vickie gave us a low whistle when I was done.

"Nice," Dimona nodded.

"Can I cook or can I cook?" I asked with a grin, not quite knowing where the expression came from. Putting that aside, I hopped gracefully out of bed and stretched my muscles. Alison nearly had an orgasm.

"What's it like?" Vickie asked curiously.

I frowned. "Possesing people? Interesting. With John and Doris, it was like I was the pilot with a drugged passenger in the back seat. This feels more… natural. Alison's still in the back seat but she's awake and enjoying the ride. Speaking of which, we've gotta move."

We put Doris in the bed and tucked her up so that no-one would notice Alison was gone until she woke up. With that done, Vickie tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the windows. "Come on, we can take the Demon Express."

My eyebrow shot up. "Fly? I still don't think it's such a hot idea. Can you carry me?"

"Sure," Vickie shrugged, "easy."

I had to feel envious of my fellow Demon's strength but at least I had other compensations. "Ok, we fly. But where to? I'm new in town; I don't even know the layout. Either of you have friends here?"

It was Vickie and Dimona's turn to look at each other. Dimona answered first. "We can't go back to Hell yet. We don't know the situation. I used to live out here way back; people owe me some favors if we can get to a call box that works."

"Well, the one in the lobby's not on," I muttered, "ok, I'll trust you both to get us to a phone of some sort, even if we have to indulge in a little B&E."

Flying in someone's arms is an experience. Both terrifying and exhilarating, I can't say it's a good experience or a bad experience definitively. To assuage my fear of being seen, Vickie cast an invisibility spell on the three of us in case we attracted any immortal notice. The hunt for a working telephone booth was one of those epics that is simply so boring in the telling that it kills any mood that strikes it. So, to make a long story short, we found one after much searching, shouting and gnashing of teeth in front of an all-night gas station that had enough bright lights and people to scare away any crazies looking to stir up trouble.

Magic, specifically Vickie's, supplied me with a new wardrobe. After some more creative attempts, I went with the simple cargo pants, t-shirt and sheepskin jacket to keep out the cold, along with a set of sneakers. I thought the silver cross around my neck was an ironic touch.

Vickie leant against the door on the outside, keeping a lookout while we made the call. She'd changed the nurse costume for something more casual, though the glove leather pants weren't exactly what I'd call less eye catching. Dimona had so sit on the bench on top of the telephone directory in the cramped booth with me while I dialed the number as she dictated from memory. Once I had a ring tone I handed the receiver to the Imp.

"Hey, Zesher, it's me. Ze… Zesher, would you take a valium or something? I'm calling in a chip. Yeah, that's right. I need to know about what's going down in town tonight and I want everything you know on the table. Ok. No. No, Zesher, I won't sleep with you. Yeah, if there's action, I'll remember you, don't worry. Uh-huh. Yeah, that's the one. They've what? A Lilim and a body-shifter shot up the bar?"

I gulped.

"So both sides want these creeps then," Dimona held her hand out in apology. "Alive or dead? Ah, that makes it easier then. They got any leads yet? Hmmm, a hospital, huh? That's pretty cheeky. What about the Bathorian/Vampire angle? Oh, come on, do they really think this isn't connected? No, I don't have anything, but think about it, a bar full of hookers and rich guys, it's an obvious Vamp hangout, and this town's been like a powder keg for the last month with this thing. IF I were a betting girl, I'd lay good money one side or the other is involved somehow. Yeah, well, I guess I'll see how the hunch plays out. What about the deal in Jersey? Warehouse is still on fire, huh? Any casualties? None, huh? Still no Bathorian/Vamps? Oh really? Well, well, well. Thanks a bundle, Zesher, you're a pal. Don't worry, if it pans out, you'll get your cut. Seeya."

Vickie poked her head through the door before I had a chance to put the phone on the hook. "So what's the word?"

"We're screwed," Dimona sighed. "The Bathorians really cleaned up the mess at the bar. Hell's party line is that two rogue demons shot their superior and killed one of Jade's representatives, possibly in order to defect to Heaven. Heaven is claiming that this is a Hellish plot to destabilize and already tumultuous situation and provoke the Vampires and Bathorians into all-out war. It seems that neither side is mentioning the dildo. Oh, and rumors are that Baroness Pazuzu is coming to NY personally to help track the culprits down. No mention of the Bathorians at the bar is being announced or even intimated, which means that they really cleared up their tracks. The bodies were all human; it's the worst diplomatic incident since Shen-dai. Jade's going nuts."

"Jade?" I asked.

"The keeper of the Neutral Zone. She's been hosting the Bathorian/Vampire peace delegations, so she was a little distracted when the shit hit the fan. Now she's howling for the blood of those responsible so, no matter what, one side or the other is going to have to produce someone to blame within the next few days."

I had an idea. "Do you know her number?"

Both Dimona and Vickie stared at me, blankly astonished.

"What? It's a legitimate move. By morning, the Bathorians will have a spiel about themselves being the victims of a heinous attack on one of their warehouses while keeping their hands clean of the shootout at the bar. If Mammon wants to come to a concession with them, he and Pazuzu might just hang us out to dry rather than discredit the Bathorians and the Angels just might go along with it to avoid all out war in the streets. Heck, both sides want to avoid a new War in Heaven. We were right, we can't just waltz on back to Hell, we're the convenient scapegoats. The only person in the whole fiasco who has an interest in finding the real culprits is this Jade person, because if they get away with it once, they might get away with it again or someone else might get the idea that they can get away with it. And we are, as of this moment, the only people who can actually link the Bathorians to the bar."

They both shifted uncomfortably.

"What? What is it that I don't know?" I asked impatiently.

The two girls looked at each other. "We're outside the Neutral Zone," Dimona observed, "she can't touch us here, even through the phone."

Vickie winced. "I don't like taking the risk."

"Ok, I take it this Jade is one of the big bads?" I sighed.

"Only inside the Neutral Zone," Dimona explained, "you don't mess with the big guy in Heaven, you don't mess with Lucifer in Hell and you don't mess with Jade in the Neutral Zone. But I think it's worth a shot. You want to talk to her or will I?"

"You get her on the phone," I decided, "I'll talk to her. I'll be better able to describe what happened."

The phone rang for a long while before someone answered. "Hello," Dimona began, "I have some information for Mistress Jade. Tell her Dimon's on the phone. Yeah, I'll hold."

We waited even longer before Jade came online.

"Mistress Jade, I have someone here who would like to talk to you privately, are you alone? Good, I'll pass her over."

Dimona held out the phone. I wiped my hands on my pants before taking it. "Hello, Mistress Jade? My name is Zizili."

"Really?" A mature woman's voice answered, the tone more than slightly miffed. "And what about, hmmm? Reparations and apologies for shooting up part of my town? Theft of my property? The likely destruction of the known universe? Exactly what do you have to offer that could pay for all that?"

"I'm not the one that owes you an apology and neither do my friends."

"Oh? So you wish to plead your innocence?"

"If you don't mind, I'm not that much into begging. I can tell you the story from our side and you can see how it fits into your world view. Whatever happens, we can take it from there."

I told her the story, omitting very little that wasn't about the internal workings of Hell.

"Hmmm" was all she said for a while afterwards. The long silence started to make me sweat. "If this is true, why do I have eyewitness reports from both the Angels and your own side pointing the finger at you?"

That little piece of information was like a hammer blow. "I don't know. All I can think of is that we're easy to set up as scapegoats. If the Bathorians can be proved to be implicated in the attack on Neutral Ground, then both sides will have to exterminate them, which could be bad for business. A bloodbath on that scale would cause a stir and operations would have to be scaled back for a while. Hanging us out to dry is just good business sense. On the other hand, Hell has been looking into the possibility of a rogue still within our own ranks. It may be possible that the Angels have their own rogue who's in on the plot."

"That is an awful lot of 'possibles'."

"Hey, I can only tell you the facts that I know, anything beyond that is speculation."

"All right, then why should I be interested in what you have to say?"

"Because, right now, we're possibly the only two sides in this affair that have a common purpose. If the peace deal goes through, then Mammon will sweep the whole affair under the carpet. We lose our chance to clear our names; you lose the chance to uphold your reputation as one with whom one does not fuck."

She laughed. "All right, then what do you want?"

"If we work together, we have more options than if we remain enemies. You have contacts but are limited in scope by the boundaries of the Neutral Zone. We need a safe house and can operate anywhere we want without drawing suspicion. And, if you help us, you have us under your thumb in case it turns out we're not dealing straight with you. I'm sure you realize that we're taking an awful risk; personally if we were guilty I'd say it was a stupid move on our part. My other motive for this call is that you are the only person who can delay the peace process and give us more time in which to investigate. And that's it, really, that's all my cards laid out on the table."

More silence. Finally, she spoke. "I don't know whether you're the most foolish new demon I've ever met or the most foolhardy. But innocent or not, I like the idea of having you under my thumb. If you can get to 227 Karnak Drive, you'll find an alleyway on the left side. Go down that and you'll find a short flight of stairs that leads to a brown metal door. Knock on that door and wait for an answer, he'll be expecting you."

She hung up.

#

"This is a monumentally stupid idea," Vickie growled as we stood outside the brown metal door waiting for an answer, shivering in the cold.

Dimona shrugged, also shivering. "I don't know if this is brilliant or bone-headed."

I had to rub Alison's arms in order to stop shivering, even with the jacket on. The night air had certainly gained a chilly bite in the last hour. "Oh, shut up," I scolded, "we need a place to stay for a bit. This is the safest thing we could have done. Nobody's going to expect Jade to be sheltering us."

There were finally several clicks and clacks from numerous locks before the door swung open. The man on the other side peered out at us for a moment, puffing on his cigarette. He was handsome but unkempt and unwashed, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. "None of you are pregnant, so I guess you must be Jade's friends. Come on in."

Dimona stared at the man as we shuffled inside, mouth open.

"Get in, little girl," he grunted, closing the door behind her, "you'll catch flies."

The basement was small and dank, the ceiling cluttered with pipes. I hadn't seen worse living conditions since my visit to the underside of the City of Brass. But still, it was dry and warm. Alison cringed at the dirty plates and empty packets of potato chips strewn about the concrete floor. Beyond the main area, there was a hallway leading into the dark and several other rooms containing beds. One seemed to contain a doctor's office, complete with a chair with stirrups.

"You're Kasdaye!" Dimona pointed, both excited and unbelieving.

He sighed. "Yell it a little louder, why don't you? I don't think they heard you in Berlin."

"He's who?" Vickie asked. I was glad I wasn't the only one who had no idea what she was talking about.

"Kasdaye," Dimona said patiently, "the Angel of Abortions! The Angel the big guy took back after he sided with Lucifer! Come on, you've got to know the story!"

Vickie shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

Kasdaye sighed, stalking towards the kitchen. "Take a seat. I'll get some coffee."

"Oh, of course he doesn't like to talk about it," Dimona winced, flopping into one of the cleaner chairs, "sorry, I got carried away."

Rapt, Vickie and I sat down on another chair. "Well," Vickie growled under her breath, "spill the goss, shrimp."

Dimona leaned forward to whisper. "Ok, right back when Lucifer was recruiting, Kasdaye was an Angel of Death who specialized in small children and miscarriages. For some reason, he chose Lucifer's side in the Descent…"

"Because she only tells the truth," Kasdaye shouted out from the kitchen, "and God's a right bastard."

We all winced at the mention of his name, but Dimona continued. "Anyway, we all know what happened next. Michael kicks Lucifer out on her ear and she takes her legions with her. All except for Kasdaye, who preferred death to dishonor."

"But not enough to kill meself," he added.

"Right, there were a few who did that. But then the big guy comes down and gives him a full pardon, no questions asked."

"I told him where he could stick it," Kasdaye growled, "but 'e gave it to me anyway!"

"You see, Heaven needed him where he was. As the only Angel of Abortions in history, it's his purview to cull the number of half-breeds and monsters born to the world through Angelic or Demonic interference, or even just Mother Nature's screw-ups. But the other Angels no longer trusted him and thought he got off too easy, so he became a pariah in the whole community. Then Dominic decided to pull out all the stops and call for his expulsion…"

"Dominic?" I interrupted, remembering Lady Lucifer's bedtime slip.

"Yeah," Kasdaye snarled, still out of sight, "bastard was a right mess after his lady love slipped down to Hell. I decided it wasn't worth the hassle and moved down here to Earth. That's the story in a nutshell, and I'm damn sick of hearing it."

He came out with four mugs of coffee and set them on the coffee table.

"Uh, you do clean the mugs, right?" I asked before taking one.

"Of course," Kasdaye shrugged, "I got a dishwasher, just don't use it much. So, now you know my story, what's yours?"

I was rather getting sick of telling our story as well, but I gave him the gist of it.

"Man," he snorted, "if it's one thing I hate, it's fucking inter-departmental politics. That shit really sticks it in and breaks it off."

I looked at Dimona. "Do Angels always curse this much?"

"Oh, no, most of the time they actually blister the air," she giggled.

"So," he continued, "you girls need a place to stay. Me casa su casa. Now, which one of you do I get to sleep with?"

There was a heavy silence as we all stared at him.

"Hey, whatever works," he shrugged, "the little ones aren't usually to my taste, but I can see she's all woman under there. You, blondie, you're all types of fine and, hey, red you can suck my bus anytime."

I looked at him flatly. "If you really want to get laid tonight, I suggest you paint your right hand pink and call it 'Sue'."

Vickie almost sprayed her coffee all over the room, barely managing to hit the cup.

"HA!" Kadsaye laughed slapping his thigh. "Good to see y'all lightening up. For a minute, I thought a funeral procession 'ed hit me door. Right, well, the bedrooms are all there. Help yourselves to anything in the house, it's not a problem."

He stood up and headed for the dark corridor but stopped and turned back to us. "Oh, and my room's just down the hall, if any of you would like to come and join me…"

He fled from a salvo of warm coffee cups.

Things may have been less complicated if I hadn't screwed up that night. I would like to say that it was no fault of my own but maybe, just maybe, I could have prevented something unfortunate. It's another of those things that tortures me on occasion. Maybe if I'd had a little more self control, maybe, maybe, maybe, if, if, if. Maybe I should just accept that some things are destined to happen, but I've never been that fond of predestination and I don't want to start down that road now.

You see, I woke up that night with the itch. An interesting little fact that I learned that night was that Hosts who drive a Bargain with me seem to feel exactly what I feel at the time, so both Alison and I were aching to scratch that particular itch.

So that's my excuse for sneaking out of my room at 2:30 in the morning, ok? The ache was burning us up from the inside! No amount of masturbation was going to calm the fever, so we both made a positive decision together to tip-toe down the hall to Kasdaye's room. After all, he had offered, right? Even if it was just a joke…

When we saw him sleeping in his bed, several parts of us lit up like a Las Vegas Christmas tree. With his shirt off, wearing nothing but boxers, and his wings stretched out behind his back, he looked like every girl's dream… when their dreams involve artfully scruffy rogues at least. We became painfully aware that all we were wearing was a t-shirt, in our haste we'd left everything below the waist back in our room.

Oh, well, we agreed, less to take off.

I slid my silky legs onto the bed and crawled up his body. It took a moment for him to realize that there was someone on top of him. I held back a giggle when he slowly pried his eyes open to see my face smiling down at him. He closed his eyes again, counted to ten and then opened them again.

"Either you're real or I'm dreaming." He said.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm real," I cooed.

He sighed. "Get off."

"Hey, you offered."

"I offer and I say a lot of things. Get off."

I slid my hands up his sides. "Oh, come on, it'll be fun."

"You might want this, but I'm laying odds Alison don't."

"How do you know I'm not Alison?"

He seemed confused. I decided to press my advantage by grinding my hips into his. "We both want you, the poor, lonely, bad-boy Angel. How long has it been, Kas?"

"A number so big, it'd make your head explode."

I pouted. "That'd be no fun. Then I couldn't do this." I kissed him, long and deep.

When I pulled back, he was trembling. "Dear God, I'm sorry, I can't hold myself back any more…"

I took my hands in his cheeks and looked him in the eyes. "Maybe I'm a gift from him, Kasdaye. We both want this now…"

So, for the first time I made love as a woman. As I've said before, with Az, it was just fucking, something to do to pass the time. We made love to Kasdaye, we rode him and he rode us, we orgasmed so many times that I lost count. It felt beautiful and right. I still blame myself for getting that far out of control, but then I think back on that night as something wondrous. We were two people that needed healing and we healed each other all night long.

I woke up feeling better than I had in almost a week. My Angel was gone and I could smell the sweet scent of frying bacon wafting into the room from the kitchen. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I put on one of Kasdaye's shirts and slinked out of the room, still basking in the afterglow.

I encountered Dimona in the hallway and flashed a goofy smile at her. Chuckling, the little Imp hopped into the air with her wings and hugged me. "You did good, kid, you've done some real good."

I blinked. "Well, it felt good to me…"

Slightly stunned at the reception, I sauntered out into the lounge to find a wide-eyed Vickie staring into the kitchen. Even more shocking was the fact the lounge room was immaculate, not a single chip packet spared. "Hey, Vickie," I greeted, "what's u…"

The view of the kitchen caused me to freeze in mid stride. Kasdaye was there, cooking a mammoth breakfast that could have fed a dozen full grown men. The immaculateness had swept through his kitchen, but that wasn't all. He stood there, his wings still unfurled, with a blazing halo glowing over his head. He also had a goofy grin on his face which simply magnified when he saw me. The grin made several things pull tight in our loins.

"Oh, we are in soooo much trouble!" Vickie broke, grabbing two handfuls of hair. "You've gone and screwed the Heaven back into him!"

I couldn't help feeling anything but pleased with myself at that moment. He hopped lightly to my side and pulled me into a very long, deep, kiss that I heartily returned.

"Hey," he said to me, looking deep into my eyes.

"Hey," I said stupidly.

"You ok?"

"Tell the truth, I'm famished."

"Good thing I laid on the bacon, then," he grinned, "I went out and got a paper too. You need to take a look at it."

I gave him a long look from head to toe. "Not looking like that, I hope."

He shrugged. "I toned it down a wee bit."

Giggling, I took a seat and snatched up the paper. The front headline made me gasp. Before long, Dimona and Vickie were reading over my shoulder. We'd made the front page news, or at least the bar incident had. It was an exclusive report by 'Vanessa Goodkind', which had pictures of the atrocity inside and blamed the devastation on 'two lone female gunmen'.

Yes, if she hadn't been talking about us, I would have laughed too.

The mass slaughter at the bar outshined the devastating New Jersey Warehouse Fire by thirteen pages but neither had anything new to report so I handed it off to Dimona, who gave it a more through read.

"How'd this Vanessa Goodkind get into the bar for those pictures? The photographer would have had to be in the room…"

Squinting, I remembered the man who had tailed me from the first meet but kept the idea to myself. After all, I had nothing to base even a theory on.

I was helping myself to eggs, bacon and French toast with maple syrup and butter-roasted mushrooms when our diminutive companion cried out in alarm. "HEY! Listen to this! Famous Smithsonian Contributor Buried. Today, Gerald Whitticker, the celebrated biblical archaeologist who committed suicide three days ago after returning from his latest dig in fabled Egypt was buried in a private cemetery this morning. Whispers of yet another 'Mummy's Curse' are even now spreading around campus. It is said that Professor Whitticker had behaved very strangely since his return with several priceless artifacts including the controversial ancient golden sex toy of one of the by-gone queens of ancient Egypt! Sources say that this very object has disappeared from the collection and is now presumed stolen by the police. The Metropolitan Museum of Art has placed a reward for the return of the priceless historical object… oh, and look, they've blurred out the picture of it so that it doesn't offend our pretty little eyeballs, how cute. Professor Whitticker's assistant, Andrew Thomson, said at the funeral that science had lost one of the greatest minds of the age before his time."

I snorted. "Good work, Sherlock, a real clue."

Vickie was staring at my plate. I'd half finished what I had and was going back for seconds. "Ugh! How can you eat that stuff?"

I looked down at the great heaping pile of sticky protein on my plate. "What?"

Dimona glanced at my plate but ended up staring. "Whoa! Girl, that is so gross!"

I shrugged, getting back to the food. "Sorry, but I'm huuuuungry! Seriously, I could eat a dragon."

Vickie sighed and gave Kas the evil eye. "You dog, you."

"Seriously, all fun aside," Dimona got back to the point, "what do we do now? Jade won't be able to delay the peace talks forever, so our window's going to be fairly short…"

"Try 24 hours," Kasdaye interjected, "that's what the grapevine says is how long Jade was able to pospone the talks. The Bathorians spent last night making concessions left and right, the Vampires were right pissed that Jade called off the signing while their irons were hot."

"They know," I sighed, "Mammon knows the Bathorians ruined the trade for the Dildo, trying to steal it so they could get some bargaining power against the Demons and he's blackmailing them for the concessions. So, we've got a deadline… oooh, these mushrooms are just divine, Kas."

He saluted me with his towel.

"Um, hello," Vickie waved a hand in front of my face, "a little focus please?"

I sighed, putting the knife and fork down for the moment. My stomach emphasized my displeasure by grumbling. "Well, as I see it, we have two choices. Either we shake down one of the Bathorians for some answers or we track down Andrew Thomson and find out why everyone might want this thingy so much."

Leaving them in a state of shock, I went back to eating my delicious mushrooms.

"Now I know you've gone mad," Vickie scowled. "Shake down the Bathorians? The entire hierarchy of Hell has been tip-toeing around them for weeks!"

"What have we got to lose?" I shrugged. "They're already trying to hunt us down, it's not like they can expel us twice is it? And the other side won't be expecting an attack on one of its members during the peace talks either, so if we pick on one that's alone…"

"Don't choke, girls," Kasdaye nodded, "it's a good plan. We'll be able to get the real gossip right from the horse's mouth."

"What's this we, Kasdaye?" Vickie glared at him.

"Hey, it's not like you guys have a platoon of friends at the moment. I'd take what's on offer if I were you."

I couldn't help but smile. My man was going to help us… the thought made me pause. Did I really think that? Was he my man now? My Angel? It seemed a little presumptuous but… I looked at him, and just looking at him I knew.

He was mine.

#

Looking at the house across the street from Kasdaye's car, the four of us considered the layout. It was a thin three-story house wedged in between two apartment blocks, perfect for the woman on-the-go. It had a garage, a front door and six front windows, heavily barred. If there was a back yard, it didn't have access from the front of the building, such were the rigors of urban living.

"What makes you think Vanessa Goodkind is a Bathorian?" Vickie asked.

"If she isn't, she knows some of them," I replied, "whoever took those photos waited until after they took away their dead and injured and the Bathorians did nothing to impede the photographer. Would you want a guy with a camera around your ultra-secret crime scene? No way. I know she's a link in the chain… oh, look, someone's finally risen for a nice brunch."

As I spoke, a woman on the top floor drew back her blinds and opened the window, letting fresh air into the house. She didn't realize that wasn't all she was about to let in. I tugged at the waistband of my jeans, which had felt a little tighter ever since this morning. I'd had more trouble with the clasp than I'd had the night before, though by large breakfast probably accounted for it. While I was there, I also checked by new boots where I'd tucked the magical knife for safe keeping. The golden dildo was still in Vickie's extradimensional purse with her personal arsenal.

"Ready, Vickie?" I asked.

She nodded, casing the invisibility spell. I flew up using my own power this time, since it was only a short distance, and the more combative members of the group were better suited to clearing the house. Dimona's job was scouting the rest of the house and keeping a lookout just in case.

When I alighted in the elegant bedroom, I could hear muffled screaming from the bathroom just over the noise of the running shower. Striding through the room, I found Vanessa literally stuck to the tiled floor inside a great glob of goo, several mouths with serrated teeth manifesting in various places on her body in an attempt to chew her way out, though the struggles were futile.

"Well, that's one way to bind it," I shrugged as Vickie and Kasdaye reappeared, the spell dismissed, "but how do we talk to her?"

"Guys," Dimona's voice interrupted from nowhere, "the coast is clear, house is empty. She's alone."

Looking about, I scowled. "This is too easy."

Vickie shrugged. "I thought you said it was going to be easy."

"I didn't expect it to be this easy. What, is it so strange for me to presume that a supernatural creature would have some sort of magical defenses? Vickie, why don't you check the house for magic while we deal with this?"

Nodding, the leggy redhead strode from the room with a purpose. I love military minds, they're so bendable.

I took the magical dagger out of my boot and made sure the girl-in-the-goo could see the blade. "I know how to kill you things. Take the hands off and then behead you, right? Well, beheading you may take a bit of time with this thing. I'll probably have to saw through the spine a bit. Still, not a pleasant way to go. Now, if you tell us what we want to know, you may just get out of this with a bit more of your life to spend. I'm going to pull your head out, if you so much as make a peep before we give you permission, I will start cutting pieces off that won't kill you. Get me?"

She nodded as best she could, so I reached into the glob of goo and extricated her face. The stuff was a lot easier to navigate in when you had leverage, so I still had the advantage. She didn't make a sound, as instructed.

"Good," I encouraged her, "you're a quick learner. I'm going to make a wild stab here, let me know if I hit the mark. You were at the bar last night, yes?"

She nodded, her chestnut hair waving slowly in the viscous fluid with the motion.

"So who took the pictures?"

"Eh-Ehnasor."

Kasdaye whistled. "I know the guy. He's an Angel, high priced photographer down here, does freelance jobs tailing people for the powers on either side. Not terribly powerful or bright but rumor is he does good work. What's he getting mixed up with people like you for?"

She seemed to consider the answer for a moment. "Money."

"Sorry, wrong answer," I said, plunging the blade into her shoulder.

She grit her teeth and groaned piteously before I pulled the dagger out. The wound sealed up almost immediately.

"Let's try that again," I smiled.

"He works for money, I swear! He and… and the master have some sort of arrangement." She was gulping down air, almost on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Ok, who's the master?"

He hesitated again but cracked when I went to stab her again. "BELPHEGOR! Ok, his name's Belphegor. He's a Demon, we take our orders from him."

I looked at Kasdaye, who shrugged. "I've heard of him," he admitted, "the old guardian demon of Paris, he's been missing for a few hundred years now, presumed dead. Highly unlikely, but possible."

"I-I swear," Vanessa gasped, "that's what he called himself. He and his p-pet wizard, some French businessman named Cheveau or something like that. Claims the Hall kicked him out f-for being too extremist."

Kasdaye snorted. "The Hall has standards now? Since when?"

"Uh, guys," Vickie stumbled into the doorway, looking slightly pale. "I think you should come and look at this… kitchen…"

Concerned, Kasdaye pulled her into the bathroom. "I'll check it out, you watch her."

I followed the Angel down the stairs, leaving Vickie to guard the prisoner. Entering the kitchen, everything seemed normal except for the door. The house was equipped with a walk-in fridge, the big metal door slightly ajar. Kasdaye opened it a crack and peeked inside. "Holy Mary mother of Christ…"

I winced. "Um, could we keep the holiness out of the swearing?"

He looked at me and I could see that his face had gone pale. "We can't let them live."

I felt the frown form over my entire face, one of those deep frowns that seems to sink into your skin. I stepped forward to take a look inside but he stopped me with one hand. I took a deep breath. "Kas, I've seen Hell. I doubt there's anything in there worse than that."

He shook his head and stepped aside. "The evil that mortals do to each other can be far worse than anything Hell spews up. But if you wish to look, I won't stop you."

My mouth went dry as I stepped past him; my pulse thudding under my tongue. I smelt what was inside the fridge long before I saw it. Even on ice, corpses stink. It was impossible to count how many, they were in pieces all heaped together haphazardly. Dried blood covered a rack of butcher's knives.

A wave of nausea hit me and I turned to vomit into the sink. Kasdaye closed the door solidly shut, "I did warn you. You ok?"

I nodded. "This isn't like me," I gasped, "I have seen worse."

"Maybe bonding with your Host is affecting you. I've heard of it happening before," he informed me, handing me a box of tissues and helping me clean myself up. "So, if I heard right, we have to remove her hands before we behead her?"

Nodding, I looked up into his eyes. Without a word, he hugged me tight. It was a nice feeling. "I still have questions for her, though."

"Go ahead," he nodded, letting me go, "but when the time comes, let me do it. I'm an Angel of Death, it's my job."

I promised him before walking back up to the bathroom, what little pity I had for the creature was gone. When I looked down at her, trapped and helpless, I felt nothing. Kneeling next to her, I shoved the dagger into her stomach. "This changes things," I said calmly as she squealed in pain, "new deal. Tell me what I want to know and I'll take out the dagger. What do you things want with the package?"

"B-Belphegor o-o-ordered us to… we have to… obey…"

"Or he withholds his unholy baptism, right? Don't answer that one, it's rhetorical. Why does he want it?"

"R-ritual… he invented… harness the… power… didn't tell us anything more."

"Ok, now for the million dollar question. Where is he?"

"I don't know."

I twisted the knife.

"I DON'T KNOW! He moves around… all over the city… he tells us where to meet and we go."

"Ok, last question. How many of you are there?"

She squirmed but answered all the same. "Fifty or so Bathorians, give or take. Cheveau has some half-blood cultists he uses as servants. That's all I know about."

I swore, pulling the dagger out. "Come on," I nodded to Vickie, "time to go." Stepping out of the room, I saw Kasdaye in the hallway, holding a meat cleaver loosely in his right hand. I nodded to him as I walked past. We collected Dimona and went back to the car to wait. My Angel emerged from the building clean, but I could feel his deed weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was still slightly pale when he got into the car.

"They don't bleed like mortals," he informed us, "not dead but not really alive any more. The cops will probably find the ashes in the bathtub rather puzzling. So, where to next?"

"Just drive," I said, "we need some time to work things out."

He nodded and stepped on the gas. A few minutes later we were cruising the highways, not exactly intent on any destination.

"This Belphegor knows his shit," I began, "he runs his organization like a spy network. One point of contact in no set, specified, location. All information given on a need to know basis. The Bathorians are the perfect lackeys; they get beauty, fame and fortune in return for absolute obedience without question. He gathers around him only those that are beholden to him in some way and the rest he binds with his pet Mage. Nobody is trusted, nobody is negotiated with. No reason for Belphegor to ever reveal himself."

"Please tell me that wasn't a complete waste of our time," Vickie growled.

"It wasn't," I reassured her, "we know some names now. Maybe we can start asking the right questions."

"Then what do we do?" Dimona asked from the back seat. "The ball's still in our court."

"The only way is to draw Belphegor out," I pondered, "make him come to us. For that, we need to know how to get in touch with him… Kasdaye, you know a good internet café around here?"

He nodded, taking the next turn off. Five minutes later, we found ourselves crowded around a PC sipping coffee while I typed. "Ok, lets see what the mortals have to say about Belphegor… wow, nine hits on demonic porn sites, one Wiki entry. Guess we'll try wiki… hmmm… Guardian Demon of Paris, demon of invention under the Lord of Sloth, yadda, yadda, yadda…"

"Invention's under Sloth?" Vickie asked, perplexed.

Dimona shrugged. "Most inventions are all about saving humans time and effort. Sheer laziness drives humanity onward an upward on the technological scale so invention comes under both Lady Meserach and Lord Vapula."

"Nothing really new there," Kasdaye sighed, "try the other guy, Cheveau."

"Not much to go on, but worth a shot… I… oh, wow."

"Click the Forbes link," Kasdaye pointed it out to me, "she said he was a business man and you don't create this sort of network in the moral realms without money to grease the wheels."

"Impressive," I whistled, "Forbes number 92 and main stock holder in Sundyne Limited. Hang on let's see if my hunch is right…"

Going back to Google, I entered the search phrase 'Sundyne + Archaeology + Egypt'. The first hit at the top of the page read 'Archaeologist unearths sex toys of the Pharaohs!' I clicked on it for the full article.

"The embarrassing truth in archaeology is that sometimes one unearths items of great importance that impinges on the puritan views of our ancestors," I read aloud, "the nature of which often causes us to sweep such findings away from the public eye. There is no hiding the latest discovery of Prof. Gerald Whitticker, however, as he holds aloft in triumph a solid gold dildo that he believes was actually used by several Queens of Egypt and perhaps in the religious deflowering ceremonies of the priesthood of Hathor. The base, apparently, bears an inscription that has yet to be translated but the Professor is hopeful that the artifact will prove to be a link between the priesthoods of Isis, Nephthys and Hathor. He is also effusive in his thanks to the Sundyne Corporation, whose generous donation to his project is currently the largest corporate grant on record."

Kasdaye pointed at the picture, or rather the caption under it. "Photographer: Derek Clay. That's one of Ehnasor's aliases."

Leaning back in my chair, I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to sort out the mess in my head. "So, it all links back to this dig. Belphegor thinks this Professor is onto something, so he orders his pet wizard to fund him generously. The Doc was actually on the money, and he drags his prize back here when… something goes wrong. Heaven and Hell get involved before the Bathorians can steal it, so he learns the details of the handover mission from his mole, then sets us up at the meeting point but the Bathorians screw up again, so he…"

I paused, hitting a sudden mental blank.

"He what?" Dimona encouraged, tapping me impatiently on the arm.

"It doesn't make sense. Either he's stalling for time to find us, which would be almost impossible, or… or he's trying to force us to make a deal with him. If the Bathorians capitulate and give Mammon what he wants, then they'll leave us twisting in the wind. Our only hope for survival would be to side with him and hand over the dildo, but we got clever and called Jade, which bought us time. He won't tip his hand until he's got the full house, so he won't put the word out for us until the peace deal goes through."

"We could just give it back to Jade, right?" Vickie suggested. "Just waltz into the Neutral Zone and…"

Dimona and Kasdaye were shaking their heads. "It'd be your word against theirs," Kasdaye sighed, "you don't have any hard proof that the Bathorians are the bad guys here and Mammon will support them since, as things stand, he has quite a bit to gain from the alliance. Zizili's right, he'll throw you to the wolves in a heartbeat and the Angels will view it as the lesser of two evils rather than spark off a war."

"Great," the redhead sighed, "so we get back to the big question, what do we do?"

"The dildo's the key," I said, thinking very hard, "everything links back to it. Belphegor wanted it a long time before the Bathorians even came into the big picture, it can take years for a dig to come to fruition. Maybe this is something more than just a bargaining chip in the game; maybe it's something more specific, more personal."

"Right," Kasdaye nodded, "so if we can find that out, we may be able to throw a spanner in the works of his plan. He'll have to come out and face us directly, on our terms."

"Great," Vickie smiled evilly, "and the guy most likely to know is the Professor's assistant, what was his name, Di?"

"Andrew Thomson," Dimona supplied.

I smiled. "You know he's probably a trap, right?"

Vickie blinked. "Huh?"

"Belphegor's proved that he's not an idiot. He might not have been able to predict that we'd check our facts by interrogating one of his Bathorians, or if he did he might not care, but he will foresee our move on Anthony Thomson. If I were him, I'd set up one big old trap for us in a place of my choosing, probably Thomson's home."

Vickie nodded, grinning down at Dimona. "Right, then we spring the trap. I have a plan."

"Is it a cunning plan?"

"Shut up."

  

  

  

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