"You've been reading too much Milton," Morningstar sneered in my direction. Snapping back into focus, the trench coat solidified. Like a blanket thrown over a lamp, it blocked out most of the image, but I still saw a bright light glowing at the center of his chest.

"Don't fool yourself with such romantic images. We aren't even crafted from the same stuff as you. What I truly am you can't comprehend, just as you can't comprehend God." Morningstar's brown eyes bored into me. "Though in so many ways you are more like God than I will ever be."

My head felt light. I was hallucinating, clearly. "Michael?" I rasped, "Where is ... ?"

"He's left you in my more-than-capable hands, Deidre." Morningstar dusted off the edge of the altar and sat on it. "It seems Michael needed some time to think."

"Get off the altar! Get out of my church!" Eion yelled, rushing down the processional toward the altar dias. In his hands he gripped a gilded cross like a spear.

Morningstar recoiled as though someone had slapped him. Heat rose on his cheeks. "Your church?" Standing up, he snapped his coat out behind him. "You would do better, priest, to remember by whose grace you were elevated from animated clay to the likes of gods."

Eion stopped at Morningstar's admonishment. His hands trembled, but he remained firm. "This is His church," Eion repeated. His unfinished vestments hung loosely around him like a dressing gown. The fire in his eyes contrasted the vulnerability of his undress. "If you are ... what you say you are, you don't belong here," Eion commanded.

Morningstar's back straightened. I saw fists clench at his sides. Then, with a forced breath, his shoulders relaxed. "We are all God's creations. I belong here as much as any, perhaps more. I was the first, the best."

"Yes, you were." Michael stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the morning sun. His shadow stretched nearly the length of the processional, its edges protectively touching Eion's shoulder.

I tried to sit up. My shoulder came away from the altar cloth with a wet sound. I no longer felt any pain, or, rather, I felt as though the pain was distant from my consciousness. Morningstar's hand touched my chest, pushing me back down. The pressure of his hand seemed to anchor me in the present. I wrapped my hand around his and held on as though my life depended on it.

"I was and I still am." Morningstar sat back against the altar, his hand resting lightly on my stomach. "What you can't stand, dearest brother, is that even now, after everything, They still love me."

Michael's jaw flexed. Then with a shrug, he said, "Thank you for bringing Deidre safely here. I'll take over now."

"Dismissed with a shrug? Fuck that." The hand on my blouse balled into a fist. I was jerked upright. "I could kill her and destroy your plans."

I tried to pull away, but my body no longer seemed to be under my command. I could hear someone gasp and murmur a prayer. It had to be Eion, because Michael pounded toward the altar. A crackle like flame brushed my consciousness. I turned my head toward the sound.

Large pure, white wings billowed from behind muscular shoulders. The feathers were fanned out, completely obscuring the church from my view. Looking twice his size, Michael held a flaming sword in one hand – ready to strike.

"Sheathe it, Captain," Morningstar said with a smirk. "I have no intention of cowering like a snake at your feet."

"I'm willing to bet that I'm faster than you."

"You are?" Morningstar's voice was full of surprise. "That's an awfully devilish risk you're taking."

Michael said nothing, holding his position.

I groaned. Using all my reserve strength, I pitched myself forward, trying to distract Morningstar. My arms flapped against him uselessly. He laughed. Still gripping my blouse, he pulled me closer. The smell of patchouli and sweat overwhelmed my senses. It was a strangely appealing yet repulsive smell, and not at all what I expected from the dapper Morningstar.

"When this is over," Morningstar whispered, "remember me. Some things done in the name of love have a bitter edge."

With that, Morningstar let go of my blouse. Michael's reactions were fast enough to cradle my head before it smacked against the stone. I felt so foolish being tossed around like a rag doll between these two men, especially in front of Eion.

"I hate it when you rescue me." I tried to prop myself up by the elbows. Michael helped me into a more upright position. In his arms, the pain in my shoulder settled into a dull ache.

"I'll try to remember that next time," Michael said.

"Do."

From my elevated position, I looked around the church. I was surprised not to see any trace of Morningstar. "Where did he go?"

"Disappeared," Eion said, his eyes wide.

I grimaced. A sharp jab of pain shot through my arm when I tried to move it. The pain cleared my mind, and I remembered last night. "Like someone else I trusted. What happened to you, Michael? Why'd you leave me with Morningstar?"

"I needed to know if Morningstar told the truth," he whispered, not trusting himself to look at me.

"And, did he?"

"I'm afraid so," Michael said quietly.

I struggled to a sitting position. As I pulled my legs down clumsily, the altar cloth came part of the way with me. I reached out to straighten it. My body felt thick, and I stumbled. Michael untangled the altar cloth from between my legs. Eion rushed up the steps, trying to grab the chalice and candles that I'd brought down with me. The candles broke on the stone, and the chalice rolled down the stairs noisily. I stared at them stupidly, unable to do much of anything.

"I'm sorry, Eion."

Eion pushed the candle crumbs aside and sat down next to me. "It's okay, Deidre. It's okay."

"Deidre," Michael said, laying my head against the altar stone. The stone felt cool and hard against my back. "I have a lot to explain, I know. You need to know the whole truth."

"Damn straight," I said. Then remembering where I was, I turned to Eion. "Sorry about the 'damn.' "

"Dee ... don't worry about it, really." He patted my knee, then glancing over at Michael, he said, "I think she's delirious. You need to take her to a hospital ... or do something." Eion accented the last words as if they held special meaning.

I looked at Eion. Despite years on the force, I'd never been shot. Maybe I was delirious. After all, just a second ago I swore Michael and Morningstar were talking as if they were real angels, and I thought I saw wings ...

I shook my head to clear it and almost fell over with the effort. Michael reached out a hand to steady me. His hand was firm, solid, real. Yes, I told myself – the conversation, the wings – they were all part of some kind of fever-induced dream. That's all this was. After all, this was New York 2076, not some biblical backwater. Angels, real angels, didn't walk the Earth. Right?

"Something will be done," Michael said ominously.

"God's will be done." Eion kept his gaze slightly averted.

"There's the proof." I said, with a little smile. "I am dreaming. I think you're genuinely concerned about me, big brother."

Eion glanced up at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Of course I'm worried about you, Diedre. I always have been. I guess ..." He looked over at Michael with an odd, almost worshipful look, "... I guess my prayers were answered."

"Right." I grimaced as pain lanced through my shoulder. I slumped back against the altar. Michael's hand rested on my shoulder, steadying me. I felt a warmth seeping through my limbs, and I breathed deeply and relaxed. My consciousness floated away from the pain. Looking at Michael, I saw his lips moving as he talked to Eion, but I couldn't make out any of the words. I wondered if I should be panicked at my sudden loss of hearing, but I felt at peace.