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Switching Souls By: pboy Introduction: A being of light rose from the infernal depths, its colors leprous and foul. It was a thing unclean, tainted by its disobedience and its pride. Entering the mortal world, it concentrated. Dust whipped around it, swirling faster and faster as its particles fused with the form imposed by the demon's will. Bael looked in the mirror and gazed at its new face. Yes: charismatic, but not too exotic. A nice face. Mortals would trust such a face. Bael walked out of the changing room. Mortals gazed at it in horror. Bael looked down at its new body in consternation - had it erred in its making? What had it done wrong? Then it remembered, and blushed. "What are you looking at?" Bael asked the women. "Haven't you ever seen a man walk out of a woman's dressing room before? Where else am I supposed to go to try on this stunning dress?" Mortal gender roles. Sheesh. Well, it - that is, he - intended to do something about that. Would it work? Would his plan really make a difference? There was only one way to find out. Chapter One: Later that day Bael was properly attired, and chatting with his mark. "It's true," he assured the man. "I have magical powers." "I can see that," said Frank. "That must be why you're magically wearing a skirt." "It's a kilt," said Bael. "Men wear these. I did research." He sounded hurt. "We don't wear lipstick," said Frank. "At least, most of us don't. And I've never seen a kilt with a floral print before." "Now you have," said Bael. "Anyway, none of that's important. What's important is what I can offer you." "Thanks, buddy. But no thanks," said Frank. "I don't swing on that set." "But you could," Bael said earnestly. "You could swing anywhere you pleased. Haven't you ever been curious what if might feel like to live in the body of another, feeling their passions, their lusts? And finally being free of your own. Think about it - no more dark cravings, no more being a slave to your addictions. You would be free." That struck a nerve with Frank. He had been struggling with his alcoholism for years. He really didn't see any way out... just long years of blackouts, of waking up in strange places with a mouth full of vomit and a pounding head... of one night stands he couldn't even remember... of having his driver's license taken away... of the nights in jail, the terrible fines. Of Stella, and the life they might have lived. Each time he swore would be the last time, but it never was. Too bad it wasn't possible. "Yeah," said Frank. "It's a nice dream." "It's more than a dream," said Bael. "I can set you free." He reached into his blouse. "Here. It's a ring that I've tuned to my spirit. When you see someone you want to exchange with, just wish. I'll hear you." Frank looked at the ring. It looked valuable. "Is that real gold?" he asked, amazed. "Yup," said Bael. "I made it myself, drawing the elements from the sea. Here: take it, it's yours." He thrust the ring into Frank's hands, and allowed his form to dissipate. Frank stood alone in the street as the dust blew away, joining the fallen leaves. "Holy shit," he said. "A cross dressing genie." Chapter Two: "Stellaaa!" "What's up?" she asked mildly, letting him in to her home. She didn't see much of Frank anymore; since he had his license taken away, he didn't go out much. Not unless he was too drunk to care. But now he was miraculously sober, and she hoped that things could be like old times. For a short while, at least. "See what I got? A magic ring." "Okaay. What's it do?" Stella didn't want to ruin the day by having to turn down a surprise proposal. "It exchanges souls." "Really?" Stella asked, skeptically. Some weird kind of wedding vow? "Yes," said Frank. "Really. Really, really, truly." "Like in Freaky Friday, you mean." "I guess so. Which version?" "It doesn't matter." Stella had to smile. "Hey, sit down. Tell me about your ring." "A genie gave it to me," said Frank, sitting down. "You want to try it?" he asked impulsively, not sure why. He didn't want to be Stella, as much as he admired her self- control. Still, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd trust with a secret like this. "I guess. How does it work?" "Close your eyes. Close your eyes and touch the ring." "Okay." She did so, clinging to his hand with a desperate glee. He was Frank again, playing silly games like he used to. "Now the incantation: Eeny Meeny Alley Oop!" Frank made that last part up for effect. Deep inside himself, he made a wish. The two crumpled to their knees. There was a sensation of traveling through a tunnel: darkness into twilight? and an abrupt left turn into a new darkness. Stella opened her eyes. Let there be light. "Did it work?" she asked. "Am I you?" "Yeah," said Frank. "It worked." He didn't know why, but he knew. The feeling ran deep in his soul. Stella's hands went to her chest. "Wait? no it didn't. It didn't work. I'm still a girl. I'm still me." "No, now you're Stella." Stella looked at him in frustration. "Stop it! I was always Stella!" Frank laughed. "Sure, that's what your memories say. After all, they stayed in Stella's body. In my old body. It was only our souls that changed." "But? but? what? If our memories stay behind in our bodies, how are we even supposed to tell the difference?" "It feels different to me," Frank said with confidence. Stella did feel strange. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. But she did. Looking at Frank, she felt a sense of ownership she couldn't quite place. And also an incredible sense of relief. Stella thought about beer: no craving at all. She felt giddy with inexplicable joy. She acted like she was joking. "Take good care of my soul, you." Frank smiled. "Right back at ya. I'll see you two around; I've got a few errands to run." Stella smiled at that. "Yeah, have fun at the bar." It slipped out accidentally; she didn't mean it in a bad way. It just slipped out. Guilt filled Frank's mind. He was going to the bar, wasn't he? This wasn't fair. Sure, his soul was free - it was safely in Stella's body, where it would finally have a chance at happiness. But Stella's soul was now condemned to a life as Frank. It didn't deserve that; nobody deserved that. What could he do? He couldn't kill himself, could he? That would damn Stella's soul just as readily as his addiction would. He was sure that was how it worked. "Stella," he said sadly. "I can't do this to you. We've got to switch back." "No!" Stella shouted. "I don't want to do that again. And besides... I don't know what you're talking about." "But you... but I don't deserve to be me. I've unfairly burdened an innocent soul with an sinful body. I have to set it right." "What?" Stella demanded. "Are you totally crazy?" "I know I did," Frank insisted. "I feel like I initiated it. It's what I wanted. My memories tell me I've been Frank all my life. But I know that somewhere, deep inside me, a soul is suffering in a way not intended for it. It's blasphemy, Stella." "It doesn't feel like blasphemy," she said. "I feel the same as always. How do I know anything happened at all? Maybe we were returned to our own bodies." "We weren't, Stella. Your soul knows we weren't." "My soul doesn't know anything, Frank." She knew it was a lie, but she wouldn't switch again. She couldn't switch again. "Get out of my house, you drunk, selfish, shit." "Stella," Frank said desperately. "This is wrong! Stella... I'm not asking you this for myself. I don't care about myself. I care about the soul I've jeopardized. It's your soul, Stella, the one you've lived with all your life. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you care about the part of you that's eternal?" "It's part of you now, Frank. Now get out before I call the police." The police. Fear automatically rose within him. The police had never been a positive thing in his life, or what he remembered as his life. "Don't do this," he pleaded. "You're damning both of us. Heaven and Hell are real, Stella. I know. I've met a... what can only be a demon. Where do you think I got my ring from, Stella. Stella!" "Heaven and Hell are just a matter of perspective," Stella said. "Like souls. Leave now." Shattered, Frank left. He managed to travel several blocks before he burst into hellish flame. His charred corpse dropped on the sidewalk, disintegrating into nothing. Chapter Three. "What did you do?" Camael asked its fallen friend. "What the hell did you do?" "I saved a soul," said Bael. "Maybe two." "You took a mortal life," Camael whispered. "This means war, Bael. If the archangels find out, this means the war begins again between the Hosts of Heaven and Hell. Apocalypse, Bael." The newly liberated soul looked at them both in bewilderment. At this time, it was little more than a globe of light. All thoughts and memories gone with its bodies. It barely knew anything. "See how clean it is," Bael mused. "I freed it before its new body could taint it. Now it will see the Heavenly Jerusalem, like it was meant to. And now the other one finally has a chance." "Look," said Camael. "I'll try to clean this up somehow, before the ripples reach the Most High. But this isn't over. Don't think this is over. There will be consequences. An act this evil will taint everyone involved." "These flawed bodies are the only true evil," said Bael. "How the Creator could imprison its creations in such things..." "The Creator has its reasons," said Camael. "Ours is not to question..." "Remember who you're talking to," said Bael. "If I didn't question, I'd still be like you." Camael looked over its own pure light, and then at Bael's rotting, tainted hues. "I thought the first time taught you a lesson," it said. "I thought you were on the path to redemption." Bael's colors began to darken, putrefying further. Its beautiful features began to drop off its face, revealing a skull carved from darkness. "I am," it said. "I think, finally, I really am." Chapter Four: Camael flitted through the ether at the speed of light, panicked beyond reason. "WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo? Holyshitholyshitholyshit..." Finally, it calmed himself down. It gazed down at the mortal universe, and at the glowing package it carried in its arms. How to hide a soul? There was nowhere in the cosmos that it wouldn't be obvious to those who knew how to look. The Powers would catch it any moment. Not to mention the Thrones. Oh, God, the Thrones... Camael had a vision of itself answering to the great wheels of fire, staring guiltily at all those eyes... Except, maybe, unless... During the first trimester of a pregnancy, an embryonic soul has only just begun to bud from the soul of its mother. So many fetuses miscarry during this time, and the bud is simply reabsorbed, either into the mother or into what might have become the embryo's twin. Most women hardly notice, their grief for the lost potential - and, sometimes, their relief - masking the twinge they feel as a piece of themselves snaps back together. If it happened early enough, they might not notice at all. After that, the soul-bud becomes more and more complex, generally becoming a separate person a few months before it is born. It detaches with the fetus, normally, although sometimes a spiritual umbilicus remains between mother and child for years, allowing them to unconsciously share their deepest emotions, virtues, and sins. Two souls, part of the same whole. It happens. Heaven knows it happens. Two wrongs don't make a right, Camael told itself. And this, what it was contemplating... this was at least as wrong as what Bael had done. Remember the fate of the Watchers. Remember the Nephilim, the giants of the earth. But this was different, it rationalized. And I'm averting premature war. The end doesn't justify the means... Camael pictured the fiery eyes of the Thrones. Then it pictured the carnage of angel fighting angel, of the world being consumed between them. Camael made a decision. It entered the womb of a mortal woman. From some discarded cells of her uterine lining the angel shaped something new, a tiny cluster of pale single-celled things with wriggling flagella. They carried the same essential information that they started with, the genes of the woman. An X chromosome. This wouldn't be like what the Watchers did. Camael wasn't introducing anything alien to a mortal womb. At worst, it was incest, but incest of a sort that had never been explicitly banned. Camael was within the letter of the Law. The angel guided the newly created gametes to a ripened ovum. Before its celestial vision, the woman's soul began to split. A tiny piece of it, scarcely recognizable in the main body's somewhat dingy light, begin to move toward the fertilized egg. Camael cut it short. It slipped its bundle into the zygote in its place, then stepped back. The soul-bud moved toward the zygote quizzically, acting confused for a moment, and then pushed itself into the soul of the innocent. Camael breathed into them, making them soft enough to merge. The angel eyed its handiwork. Not perfect - the graft showed in places. They weren't a perfect fit. But close enough. The mother's soul would mask the other. In a few short months, nothing would look out of place. Camael sped back to its duties. Chapter Five: Stella flushed the toilet for the third time that morning. Vomit, piss, more piss... she didn't remember ever feeling like this before. But what did memories mean now? Her sense of identity was still skewed. All she ever knew - all that she was aware of knowing - felt wrong. Her whole body felt wrong, and she didn't know why. She felt like her body was trying to reject something. And she missed Frank. She always missed Frank, but he was always around, even if he was hiding depressed in his lonely house. But now he was gone - nobody had seen him in a month, not even in a bar. She ached with guilt. She couldn't get any work done. How she had treated him... he had been so sober, so kind, so worried, even fun. And she had thrown him out. Again. He had been acting crazy, she rationalized, but she knew he had never been so sane. The ring had been real. No, it hadn't; it couldn't have been. But what else could explain... Her bladder ached. She ran back to the bathroom. Chapter Six: Two months pregnant, the doctor had said. Impossible. She hadn't gotten laid since November the previous year. That was true, wasn't it? She wouldn't have forgotten something like that. She still had her memories. She may have lost her sanity, and possibly her soul, but she still had her memories. Frank used to have blackouts. Maybe she had had one too. Maybe she had drank more than she thought she had on Saint Patrick's Day. Maybe she had a stroke of some kind. A stroke. That would explain a lot. A minor stroke that caused hallucinations, a blackout, a feeling of displacement. Anything else could be explained by the pregnancy itself. It didn't explain Frank, though. He had seemed so sure that he had magical powers. Or had Frank even been there that day? Had Frank ever existed at all? Stella wasn't sure of anything anymore. She hurried to the bathroom. She was sure of one thing, at least. Chapter Seven: Bael had to admit; it was impressed. Camael had done a very clever thing, a brilliant coda to Bael's already brilliant work. The demon had thought it had given a soul a free ticket to Heaven, but here it was alive again. Two lives, two souls; everything was as it should be. Neither was tainted by the sin that Frank had inherited from his own parents, and there was no reason for the divine host to get upset. Sure, a mortal body was missing, but they went missing all the time. As long as there weren't any lost souls haunting the living, or floating confused in Limbo, there was no reason to suspect that whoever-it-was wasn't exactly where it was meant to be. And maybe it was. God works in mysterious ways, right? Bael laughed to itself. "If God was really that clever," it thought, "I would never have bothered to Fall. The God that would arrange this - I would sing it all the hosannas it wanted. "Which reminds me - I should see how Camael is doing." Bael sped toward the mortal world, where Camael was performing its duty looking after mortal governments. "Hi!" Bael said cheerfully. It grinned at the angel with its gruesome face. "How's my favorite genius servant of the Lord doing?" Camael seemed upset for some reason. "Go away," it hissed. "Hey, tough day, buddy? What happened; another squabble between nuclear powers? Hey, tough break, but I'm sure you'll sort it out." "Begone from my sight, unclean thing," said Camael. "You are foul in the sight of the Lord." "Feh," said Bael. "That kosher junk went out with the Levites. Nobody pays attention to it anymore - when was the last time you guys smote someone for eating pork?" "Bael," Camael said seriously. "Your face has fallen off. You really don't think that's a sign that something is wrong?" "Some of my best friends have no faces," Bael said. "It was just a matter of time. Demons don't hold together the way angels do. It's like a team jersey, really. It helps us pick each other out in a crowd." "You hold together for eons," Camael said patiently. "And your spiritual leprosy doesn't take a turn for the worse until the exact day you murder someone?" "Murder, schmurder. He got better. Great job on that, by the way." "I can't talk to you anymore," said Camael. "I mean it, get out of my house." "Your house? I thought this was the U.N.'s house." "Go to Hell, Bael." "All right, all right. I'll talk to you later." "No, Bael. Never talk to me again." "Aw, baby. Don't be like that. We can work this out." "Don't make me exorcise you." "I'm gone! Jeez." Then Bael saw it. "Hey, before I leave - why're you holding your arms across your chest like that?" "Because I'm being stern." "Don't give me that. You're a being of light; you're translucent. You can't hide anything that way." Camael's look of righteous anger crumbled. "Is it that obvious?" the angel whispered. "No," Bael lied. "Nah, it's hardly anything. A pimple. Not even that." "I'm unclean, aren't I? I'm like you. I'm wearing the... the team jersey. I've become a demon." "You say that like it's a bad thing." "It is a bad thing!" Camael howled. "That's the definition of demons!" To Bael's surprise, Camael wrapped its arms around the skull-faced demon and began to cry. Tears of light trickled down Camael's cheeks and Bael's back. "No," Bael said uncomfortably. "No. There, there. Don't cry, Cam. It'll be okay, really. Mortals cleanse themselves all the time, don't they? Just sacrifice a sheep or something." Camael bawled harder. "They don't let us back into the Light. Ever. Forgiveness is for living mortals. Angels are supposed to be perfect. Our wings don't grow back." Bael looked at its own wings. Most of the feathers were gone, but they were still there. "Metaphorically!" Camael screamed. "I knew that," said Bael. "Really." Chapter Eight: "Hey, honey," said Stella's mom, through the phone. "How are you guys holding up?" "We're fine," said Stella. "Stop worrying, Mom." "I'm sure it's rough, being a single mother. You know you can come home. We're happy to help. We're not mad at you." "We're fine," Stella repeated. "We're getting along fine." "The baby needs a male role model," said Stella's mom. "No, she doesn't." "Your father can - " "Dad's a sweetheart, but he can't. I have to do this myself." "If only that bastard hadn't run off on you two..." "Stop blaming Frank. I told you, he didn't even know." She had told her mother that the baby was Frank's. It was better than admitting she didn't know who the father was. She had never told her parents that they had broke up. She just had never gotten around to it. Stella's daughter didn't look much like Frank, though. She didn't look like anybody except Stella. She had checked her old baby pictures, and compared them to the new baby's: they weren't identical, but they were damned close. That didn't stop her from naming the baby Francine. "He still shouldn't have just run off," her mother insisted. "Mom," Stella blurted out, "Frank is dead." "What?" "I think... I'm sure that Frank is dead." "What happened, did the police call?" "No. No, I just know." "Oh, baby. You're still shaken up by this whole ordeal. You should come home..." "I can't, Mom. I'm sorry." "Baby doll..." "Bye, Mom." Stella hung up the phone. Chapter Nine: "Mommy," called Francine, running into Stella's studio. "The doorbell is ringing." Stella sighed. "Okay, Frankie. Thank you, baby doll. Go play, and I'll go get it." "Okay," said Francine, agreeable as ever. Stella smiled. She was such a good girl. The couple at the door were strangers. They were dressed in formal suits, and looked at her with anxious smiles. Stella smiled back, politely. "Can I help you?" she asked. "Do you believe in angels?" asked one of them, a woman with black lipstick matching her raven-black hair. "I'm sorry," said Stella. "I already belong to a church..." "No," said the man next to her. His hair was blond, with black roots showing. "I mean really. Do you believe in angels?" "No," said Stella. "I don't." "You should," said the lipstick woman. "'Cause..." "I'm your baby's father!" the man blurted out. He looked extremely embarrassed, and covered up his mouth. "No, you aren't," his companion said, seeming more amused than anything else. "Not really." Stella's lips firmed. "I think you both should leave," she said, closing the door. The woman stuck a black leather pump in the crack, stopping the door short. "Heh," she said wryly. "That's what you said to Frank, wasn't it? More or less." "Bael!" the man said in a shocked tone. Stella swung the door open again. She looked at the man carefully. "Frank? Is that you?" The bleach-headed man shook his head. "No," he said. "Not me." "I'm sorry," said Stella, chagrined at her own leap of faith. "Do you know something about Frank? Did you come to tell me how he died?" She looked at the woman. "You aren't..." She had no idea why she was still clinging to the idea of the magic ring. The woman looked embarrassed. "You mean this ring?" she asked, holding it in her hand. "Frank?" "No," the woman snorted. "But yes, we can tell you how he died. If you want. I warn you: it's pretty weird." Stella found herself not trusting them at all. "Come in," she said. Turning around, she saw Francine standing statue-still behind her, her mouth open. "Go play, Frankie." Francine shook her head. "Frankie, what's wrong?" Her daughter ran into her room. "I'd better go see what's the matter," Stella told the strange couple. "Please wait here - I'll be just a minute." "We won't go anywhere," said the woman called Bael. Stella suppressed a shudder and went after her daughter. "This isn't going well," Camael said worriedly after Stella had gone. "What did you expect?" asked Bael. "Pretty much exactly this," Camael admitted. "I still don't like it." "Neither do I." "Your lipstick isn't helping." "I like my lipstick. At least I'm taken female form." Stella came back in. "How's your daughter?" Camael asked politely. "She's fine," Stella said. "She's just a little tired, I think. Now what do you two have to tell me? What happened to Frank? Who are you? Have we slept together?" "You'd better sit down," said Camael. "I'd prefer to stand," said Stella. "Why don't you sit down?" "We like standing, too," said Bael. Camael nudged her and dragged her toward the couch. "Now then," said Camael. "I'm Camael and this is my associate, Bael. And we're angels." "Demons," said Bael. "Angels!" said Camael. He sighed. "Yes, we're demons, really. Fallen angels, but not so very fallen." "You're angels," said Stella. "Demons," Bael contradicted. "Yes, we've mentioned that," said Camael. "I'm afraid everything is our fault." "How so?" Stella asked, keeping her voice neutral. "Well, my associate..." "I gave you a ring..." "Frank?" "No, you're Frank." "Well, she was. Her soul was..." "Now your daughter's Frank." "I put the soul that used to be Stella's in your womb. I hope you don't mind." "Mind?" Stella asked, her voice almost manically steady. "Why would I mind? Who is my baby's father?" "Well, you are." "I am? Ho ho!" "Really. I used your DNA. Stella's DNA. Your DNA." "Did we or did we not sleep together?" "Not. That is, not physically." "Are you saying that my baby is the product of the psychic rape of a demon?" "Exactly!" smiled Bael. "No!" shouted Camael. "That's not what it was! I wasn't even a demon, then." "Weren't you?" asked Bael. "Stop it!" Camael screamed at the top of his lungs. Tears were dripping down his cheeks. "I did what I had to do, you murderer!" Bael patted Camael's back. "Now see what you've done," she said to Stella, accusingly. "What I've done? How did Frank die?" "Bael killed him!" "I set him free!" "What the hell did you people do?" They were all interrupted by a piercing scream. Stella whirled her head around. "Stop fighting this instant!" shouted Francine. Everyone stopped. "Oh, baby," said Stella, her heart melting. Her big little girl... Then she noticed that Francine was floating. Floating between two towering figures, dressed in ancient armor and carrying wicked swords. Great wings stretched behind them. They seemed to be made of pure white light. "We are not pleased," said the Powers. "Not pleased at all." Chapter Ten: "Oh, God," moaned Camael. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." "Have you been spying on us all this time?" Bael asked the enormous angels irritably. "We're Powers," said the Powers. "We keep our eyes on the activities of demons. It's our job." "I'm surprised at you, Camael," one of them continued. "You were chief of the Principalities. And now this: conspiring with a demon, hiding evidence, unauthorized immaculate conception. What happened?" "I did what I've always done," said Camael softly. "I tried to stop a war." "It's far too late for that," said the Power. "The Hosts are already marshalling." "What the hell is going on?" Stella screamed. "I said, STOP FIGHTING!" shrilled Francine. "That's what I wanted," said Camael. "What took you guys so long?" Bael asked. "We were waiting for you to confess," said the Powers. "That wasn't it," said Bael. "Yes, it was," said the Powers. "You didn't know, did you?" said Bael. "Camael was too clever for you." "We knew," said the Powers. "Ha!" laughed Bael. "The omniscient Powers caught with their pants down!" "Shut up," said the Powers. "You're in a lot of trouble." "More trouble than Armageddon?" "Don't make us fetch the Thrones," one of them bluffed. "What?" asked Camael. "I said, don't make us?" "You can't 'fetch' the Thrones. They dwell in the Divine Majesty. What are you playing at?" One of the Powers nudged the other, who looked around the room nonchalantly. "Look," it said. "This is all a tremendous cock-up. We're as embarrassed by it as you are. Please don't tell anyone that this happened on our watch, and we promise not to tell anyone about you." Bael was grinning delightedly. "Are there any angels left who haven't fallen?" "Yes," said a Power. The other one shuffled its feet. "All of you," Stella said tiredly. "Get. Out. Of. My. House." Everyone looked at her. "We were going to fix you up?" said a Power cautiously. "Out," said Stella. "Yes, Ma'am," said the Power. All the angels and demons vanished. Francine was on the floor again. Avoiding her mother's eyes, she started to slink off to her room. "Not you, baby doll," said Stella. Francine ran into her mother's arms. Epilogue: "Mme. Ambassador?" The middle-aged woman looked up politely. She was quite pretty, with a large silver streak through her raven-black hair. Her eyes widened. "Bael?" she said. "You look ridiculous." Bael grinned, showing gold-capped teeth. She was a large black woman wearing heavy gold chains and earrings; her hair was done in careful cornrows stained with blue and red dye. Beneath that she wore the conservative suit of a diplomat, a match for Camael's own. Instead of answering the former angel, she bent down and gave her a deep kiss. They remained that way for a long moment, their mouths and tongues interlocked, made one. "You busy?" asked Bael, breaking free at last. "No," Camael admitted. "We're done for the day." "Great!" said Bael. "We've got visitors!" Before Camael could protest, Bael dragged her into a secluded area where they could drop their earthly forms. Two mortal souls were waiting for them. They were taking the shapes of androgynous human children, with a glowing umbilicus connecting their navels. One was shining white; the other's light was slightly soiled. "Frankie and Stella?" Camael asked in bewilderment. "Hey," Stella said shyly. Camael smiled widely. "You two came to visit us all the way from the Heavenly Jerusalem? I can't believe this; when I last saw you two you hadn't even learned to speak." "The two Powers have been teaching us," said Francine. "We've learned to evolve our forms, too!" "I can see that!" Camael enthused. "They're very good! How are our friends in the choir of the Powers doing?" "They're coming around," said Stella. "They're still trying to pass as angels?" Bael snickered. "Not for much longer, I think," said Francine. "I'll make some room in our place by the Lake," said Bael. Camael gave the demon a shove. "Just trying to be hospitable," Bael sulked. "Eternal torment aside," said Camael, "You two should visit more often. We're trying to set up more collaborations with the heavenly hosts. There's a lot of good we can do by working together." "I hope to have everyone there damned by August," said Bael. Camael hit the demon with a small lightning bolt. "Ow," said Bael, rubbing its sore rear end. "There goes your face." Camael just laughed.