The Pandemonium Moment

By Prinder

Rated: R for violence, Religious warping, and questionable topics.

Summary: Can a Devil, a Sinner, actually be the son of god? Taking measures into his own hands, Edward has acted on his own and contacted the infamous Duke Duffau, who all-too-easily agreed to meet with the mysterious devil-child Yashua. Sister Kate is, of course, weary, and assigns Mary and Claire to the case, but what awaits them away from New York? Meanwhile, Aion and Satan make their first moves; what significance is Lucia to their plot? And what is their plot, exactly?

Disclaimer: Chrono Crusade does not belong to me.

Legend: "talking"

'thinking'

reading

written

"Talk Electronically sent somehow"

Chapter Seven: Duke Duffau

The trek to Sister Kate's office was uneventful for Mary and Claire, Azmaria had come running into the chapel at close to lunch time, while they were in prayer (they missed morning mass because they were out on a mission and were making up for it when she interrupted them) and she told them that they had marching orders and Sister Kate was waiting in her office to brief them.

"Ever since Rosette died, she's been picking on us." Mary complained, who could be considered a bit of a slacker when she was allowed to be one.

Claire smiled good-naturedly, she just couldn't help it; Mary was calming that way, she always seemed to make the world seem a brighter, happier, place with her innocent ways of thinking. "I'm sure it's just in our heads," Claire responded, "We can't be away any more than Anna and Azmaria are."

"Yeah…" Mary sighed with pity for them, "They never stop moving." She said before letting out a long wail, "AND NEITHER DO WE-EEE!"

Claire shook her head and giggled, raising a hand to her mouth to hide it, before turning the corner, leading them down the corridor to the Headmistress' domicile. Making it to the imposing door, Claire knocked twice before opening it slowly and looking in. "You wanted to see us, ma'am?" She asked, peering at the aging woman at the large desk at the other end of the room.

"Come in Sisters. Close the door behind you, what I am about to tell you is not to go beyond these doors; Not even to the ones involved." Kate commanded, setting her pen aside for the time being and direction her attention solely on the two young women. Carefully, she inspected them with her keen eyes through her spectacles that hung off of the bridge of her nose.

Mary, a short woman with short blonde hair, large blue eyes, and nearly limitless amounts of energy. Her habit was always askew and seemed as naturally lighthearted as she was clumsy. Seeming to illustrate Kate's perception of her, Mary tripped over the corner of the area rug on the floor. Many would be shocked to know that she was born, and raised until she was seven years old, in Queens, New York.

Then there was Claire, who was the same age as Mary, but stood at least two heads taller, with dusty brown hair with matching eyes. Even when she was younger, she was known among her friends for being the most sensible and calm. As a grown woman, that had not changed in the slightest for Claire and, more often than not, she served as a means for counter balancing the chaos that followed in her haphazard partner's wake.

"Ooh, it sounds so secretive! I feel like a double-agent…" Mary announced, her excitement bubbling as her arms curled up on herself, her balled hands at her own shoulder height as she fought the urge to squeal.

"Ma'am, is it that serious?" Claire asked, disregarding Mary's enthusiasm, walking closer to the desk.

"In difficulty, if all goes according to plan… Neither of you should be much more than eye-witnesses, observers to the whole thing. However, since in concerns devils very directly, if it should go wrong, I want two of my best people with no qualms about pulling the trigger." Kate answered, being intentionally vague to test their perceptiveness. Neither one spoke, seeming to wait for her to continue. "The Elder has informed me that Yashua is have difficulties learning to control his demonic powers on his own. Last night, the Elder placed a called to Duke Duffau, a Pursuer who assisted us is the past in the Aion case."

"We remember him," Mary supplied, her personality becoming more somber as she pieced the information together, "It was our first time working closely with devils." Seeing Sister Kate nod her approval, Mary beamed and quieted down for her to continue.

"Duffau has agreed to meet with Yashua and assist him in learning to control his powers before he becomes too dangerous to keep around. I hoped that Yashua would take to his power like a human does to breathing, but it seems that would be expecting too much of him." Kate said, pausing for them to consider the news.

Mary spoke again, her voice becoming shrill with worry, "I saw Yashua running to the water pump yesterday; he's almost as tall as Chrono was in his child form now!"

"I don't think any of us realized that devils grow at an alarming rate when they're younger." Claire added.

"This will be a good chance for the Order to gain new insight about devils. While your task is mostly to ensure that Duffau, while seeming a devil of good intent—he is still a devil, and because of that, he Must Not Be Trusted—, we cannot ever assume that he will not try to sway Yashua to not only train his powers, but to tap into that darkness. I also want you both to keep your eyes and ears out for information about them. Encouraging Yashua to ask questions for you will undoubtedly harvest fruitful bounties of information."

Nodding understandingly, Claire spoke calmly to their headmistress, "You can count on our very best, Sister Kate."

Closing her eyes with acceptance, Sister Kate nodded in return. "May God be with you." She said, the two women smiling softly as they turned and exited the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Yashua found himself sitting on his bed, wringing his sheets in his small palms as Edward packed a suitcase for him. Having been abandoned before, Yashua suffered from an anxiety about having a similar experience again. "So you will be leaving me with them?" Yashua asked, his body trembling.

"Only for a short while!" the Elder replied, placing another pair of socks into the rigid case. Yashua was not convinced and seemed to grow only that much more fearful. Looking at the boy devil, Edward sighed.

"If I promise to try to master changing my form harder, will you let me stay?" the small boy asked as he wailed, lunging forward to the edge of the bed and clinging to the old man's waist.

"Now see here! It has nothing—Okay so it has a little to do with it, but that isn't the point! The point is that you need help that we can't give you, help that Duffau CAN offer, knowledge that he is willing to share. You can't pass this up, my boy! Do you realize what could happen if you don't get that kind of help now?" Edward encouraged, trying to pry the devil child off of him whilst it sobbed into his white lab coat.

"But if I leave, Sister Kate might not let me back in! You could forget me! What if—"

"—That's not going to happen!" Mary announced cheerfully, standing at the top of the stairs with Claire just behind her, having run all the way to the workshop after receiving their orders. Yashua blinked at them, his eyes still watery, not sure just what she meant when she interrupted him.

"Well hello Sisters!" the Elder exclaimed, using Yashua's momentary shock to peal him away. "You look well."

"We were told by Sister Kate that we were accompany Yashua during his visit with Duffau." Claire stated crisply before making eye contact with the small devil and adding, with a smile, "To make sure everything will be all right." It was hard to not be comforting to the poor thing while his face was written with distraught, every inch of him seemed to be exuding senseless panic.

"See that!" the Elder chimed, looking down at the boy, who seemed to suddenly become shy, having slipped off of the bed and shuffled his small form behind the old man's legs. "These girls wouldn't let you down! They'll be with you the whole time!"

Yashua only peered at them from his hiding place, his large yellow eyes trembling with something that Claire could not decrypt. Mary, on the other hand, seemed to understand what he was feeling, because she squatted down to his level and gave him a large smile that seemed to envelop her whole face. "You'll like us. I'm pretty stupid, so I'm easy to talk to, and Claire's the gentlest person that I've ever met." She said, laughing as she made fun at her own expense.

Slowly he seemed to lessen his trembling and inched out from behind his guardian. While he had decided to not wear the red trench coat (it was still much too big for him), he still wore the shorts and white button-up shirt with all of the other accessories; at first, he had been confused by the thin black material that looked something like nylons (it was tucked out of sight inside the shirt) but as it turned out, it was a full-body suit that stretched beyond all reason, yet shrank back down to fit like a second skin. The end result was that, now, the only bare skin of his that was exposed were his hands and face—which only served to make him just that much more like his predecessor. In some ways, he was very glad that he still could not hide his horns, because that seemed to be the only thing that kept people from calling him by the sinner's name.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, an indicator of his discomfort at their scrutiny, he opened his mouth to ask, "Who are you?" Part of his reason for his fear was that he did not particularly know who they were (though, he had seen them around, and Sisters Anna and Azmaria seemed to get along with them well) exactly, and what their feelings were about him. Some of the Nuns were terrified of him, and many made it a point to make that very clear right away when they would see him. A few others, though not nearly as many as he would have expected (he never forgot for a minute that this was a house of God, the people there were ones who were trained to kill his kind, and that he they likely had seen enough of his race who were cruel enough to justify their reactions), were to be considered overtly hostile and he took great care to avoid them whenever he had the chance. He knew for a fact that some of them wouldn't bat an eye at training their glowing pistols on him and pulling the trigger. While they did not seem to fit either of these people-types in the times that he had seen them, he also know humans to be fickle and tended to change their opinions when others who might disagree were present.

"I'm Claire Marshall," Claire responded tonelessly, neither sounding displeased nor very ecstatic, "And this is my Partner—"

"Mary Campbell!" Mary interrupted, reaching her hand out to shake his small one, her palm nearly encompassing his own.

Smiling, though still slightly nervous, Yashua moved his arm to return the shake once before being released from her grip and saying, "Yashua… Yashua," He paused to look at the Elder, as if to ask him silently for permission for something. Edward nodded, and Yashua looked at them again and finished his introduction, "Diablo Richardson. Yashua Diablo Richardson." It was a name he pieced together with the old man's help. Once he had learned what his birth parents' last name was, he felt the need for something to distinguish the devil part to him, the part that was not woolly something he considered to be proud of, so the name 'Diablo' only seemed natural to him, as it implied exactly what he felt he deserved.

At first, Edward had questioned the boy, 'Why would you want everyone, even when you eventually will be able to hide it completely, anyone, to know that you are a devil?' the Elder had pondered, and then asked the boy.

"Why do you choose to use the name Elder when people can look at you and tell that you're old?" the boy had rebuked, only to be chased by a flying wrench that was hurled in his direction by the peeved Mr. Hamilton.

'Why indeed? The same way that doctors announce themselves as such needlessly, the same way that small children let you know that they are four-and-three-quarter-years old.' the old man thought, as he watched from the window as the two sisters drove off with the small devil in the car that Sister Kate had issued to them for the trip. He squinted through his, ironically, rose-tinted glasses as he noted that the boy in question had his nose pressed to the back window longingly, seeming to be even more unwilling to leave than when he had been sitting on his bed.

'A more pressing question should obvious. Instead of asking why it is, you should ask,' parting his worn lips to speak, he murmured the last of his thought aloud, "Why not?"

Ewen looked over at Pandemonium's head, it placed in a large jar next to his cage; it was a rare occasion when both Satan and Aion were not in the place they kept him, and he found himself both bored and slightly curious. Sometimes, when no one else was around, he would see the head's mouth and eyes open and seem to take-in the world around it. Wryly, he found himself striking up a one-sided conversation with the object.

"Are you as concerned about what they want with you as I am about what they plan do to with me?" He asked, pausing to chuckle, "So you're the mother of all devils… I bet you weren't planning on Aion taking your head, were you? Good help is to find these days, and people you can trust is even harder…" He glanced at the head again, noting that its eyes had opened and were drowsily scanning the room, "Even from your own kin, I guess, it must be next to impossible." He said, its eyes seeming to settle on his own.

His interest seeming to increase, raising blonde eyebrow at it to punctuate that fact, he shifted so that he could face it more fully. "Can you hear me?" he asked. "Just wink your right eye if you can." He added as an afterthought, in case it was unable to speak without a windpipe, lungs, diaphragm, or vocal cords—which, considering all of the things it lacked, despite being a devil head, the chance of it being able to speak was laughable.

It winked its right eye, complying with his request. Though surprised by this fact, he was determined to make sure it wasn't a simple fluke.

"Are you the real head of the Pandemonium?"

Again, it winked its right eye, being unable to do much else within the confines of the tube-like case that held it suspended in green-tinged liquid. Ewen raised one of his hands to his face and stroked his jaw, ignoring the long bristles that made his beard; under other circumstances he would never have allowed it to become as scruffy as it was, but his cage was rather small, and they had made it a personal point to not leave anything that could be used as a weapon within his reach. Turning his attention to the room where they were kept, he considered his situation for the umpteenth time since he had been placed there.

'How long has it been? More than days, that's to be sure; weeks, months, it's also possible that it has been years.' He thought, scanning the room. The space beyond his cage was small, no more than eight-by-ten cubic feet, and was covered completely with fake oak paneling, which matched the stain on the wood floor and door. The only parts of the room that were, in fact, not oak, were his metal cage, the head's enclosure, and the white ceiling with a small fan that turned slowly circulating the air in the room.

If anyone saw him in the state that he was in, he was sure that two things would happen; one, he would be accused of being too lazy to move, and two, they would laugh at his misery. He couldn't blame them if they did either or both; without his wings he was weaker than most humans, the only thing that gave him an edge at all was that he still had experience and knowledge of things that Aion and Satan didn't realize. In short, he was in a stalemate, unable to move, but unable to be just pushed aside.

Wryly, Ewen chuckled to himself, 'It seems that I am still left to just sit and watch this whole thing play out. God does have a sense of irony.'

Pandemonium's head opened its mouth slowly, a yellow light flickering within its gaping jaws. Ewen blinked at it as a woman's voice rang through his head, much in the same way God's own voice had done, before the fallen angel had taken off his wings.

"Jehovah is not the one who you must place your ire." The voice said, every syllable in time with a flicker of the glowing light.

Ewen smiled charmingly; a habit he had trained himself into making when he noticed something others didn't. "So you hear thoughts as well. You must also be connected to your real owner, still, am I right?" He queried, his lips still twisted up in a disarming smile that, at one time, made the stone-hard Sister Kate at ease with him. There were times when being an angel had it's perks; having the skills to make anyone trust them wholeheartedly was very useful in his work—or it was when he still worked for God. Though he doubted the Mother of Devils would be so easily enchanted; he couldn't hold himself back. He would never be certain if this tactic was effective on the devil-woman's head, because it had closed its eyes and did nothing more.

Lacking anything better to do, Ewen stood up in his cage, his fine blonde hair brushing its ceiling, and stretched his legs. It wouldn't do him any good if, when the time came (and it would come—he had to stay optimistic for his own sake, if not for the sake of the rest of the world), he couldn't stand on his own feet or move on his own. Looking at the doorway at the other end of the room, placing his hands on his hips, Ewen spoke to the quiet, "So where in the blazes are those two devils now?"

After seeing Yashua, Sister Claire, and Mary off, Sister Kate returned to her office to contemplate their current situation. Sighing, she turned her gaze down to the Earl Gray tea in her china cup. Being a headmistress, there was a heavy burden placed on her by the Magdalene Order, which was first established overseas and then moved to Chicago; in future, it would be called "The Main Branch." There were many branches all over America, but none (much to Sister Kate Valentine's credit) were as organized or capable as the New York branch. With this, however, came setbacks; the other branches expected a level of ability from New York that, unfortunately, Sister Kate always feared that they would not be able to provide.

Though the Magdalene Order upheld the facade of a Catholic Church (strictly speaking, they used proper terminology and the lower class exorcists—Assistants to Novices—wore proper Catholic garb, to hoodwink the public, as they were generally the classes that were assigned to deal with social affairs), though many upheld differing views of the same religion within the order (Gilliam, from the San Francisco branch, was actually a Jewish rabbi) they maintained the look and general feel of Catholicism as it was the best cover for their order.

At the same time, however, many of the "Nuns" and "Monks" that worked under her, still took official Vows of Service (Such as the Vow of Devotion and Chastity, which her niece, Anna, took—the same vow that Kate, herself, took when she stepped up as headmistress, much to the dismay of the brothers of the Order, who considered her to be more than attractive in her youth) when asked if they would like to continue working for the Order when their time for renewal came up. All of these vows were optional, and, so long as one kept up and maintained the appearance that they were being upheld (at least when out in public), they were only just simple tokens of commitment to their cause.

Within the order itself, there was an order. Those at the top were the Chairmen, who were the senior members of the order and, as such, and they were in charge of maintaining the sanctity within the organization. Below the Chairmen, there were Headmasters (such as Sister Kate). Below the Headmasters were ones like Remingtion and Gilliam (Called Fathers, Ministers, or Reverends—usually determined by levels of excellence on the field, gender, or for how long they have been a part of the order). After them came the Militia (Often called by that name—though the men in the Militia were also called Brothers as they skipped the Novice level altogether), below that, the Novices, then Students (those learning how to use weapons, not to mention strengths and weaknesses of devils), and finally the Assistants (who were only given minimal training and gained experience in the field by working with those in higher ranks).

Sister Kate considered herself to be exceptionally knowledgeable when it came to the inner workings of the Magdalene Order, and her intelligence in regards to religions was second only to Remingtion, who was an Archangel and lived with the order longer than Edward Hamilton. Despite all of this, (or, rather, because of it) Sister Kate had a never-ending problem.

"How do you explain things to those who need information, but not give away information that they do not need?" She questioned to her self, glaring into the brown liquid that steeped in her cup, her mind drifted onto a separate topic; the Devils, Yashua and Duke Duffau.

Like the Angels, Devils serve God; though the means in which they do so differs from that of the angels, who aid God by being a protective and holy light to guide the people, could be considered Shepherds, tending to God's flocks. Devils, in contrast, act much like the dogs, who heard the sheep with fear; acting as a means to scare them from stepping off of the path of light. Devils feed off of this fear and, with more fear, they become stronger. Angels receive their power through prayer, and so, when there devils, there is fear, and when there is fear, the sheep of God pray, and this prayer gives the Angel's strength enough to protect the flock from the devils stepping out of line.

That is the natural order of things in God's world. But the similarity between Devils and Angels doesn't end there. Both in the Devil and Angel worlds, there exists a hierarchy, for angels, these classes are called "Choirs," and, going from 1 to 9 (one being the weakest and nine being the strongest), these Choirs are (from weakest to strongest) Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. In Devil society, there exist Seven ranks (excluding that of the Queen), the highest being a Duke, the other ranks are (from weakest to strongest) the Nameless, Legion, Baron, Viscount, Marquis, Earl and then Duke.

For those that are aware of the close connection Devil's have to God, deciding, or continuing, to fight against them is somewhat of a conundrum. It is also because of this uncertainty that Sister Kate had allowed the Sinner Chrono, and now, the Devil Yashua to live within the confines of the New York branch. While she was not pleased to continue making deals with devils, even with ones like Duke Duffau, who had a strict code of ethics that he expected his minions to follow; she understood the Elder's reasons for doing so without speaking to her first.

'If the Devil boy does not learn to control his powers, he may risk calling out to that darkness and bringing chaos and mayhem in his wake. However, by sending him to a devil to learn these skills, we may run the risk of him intentionally being corrupted and cause the same problem anyway!' she thought as she raised her cup to her lips, sipping the delicate brew to calm her nerves before returning it to its saucer, the china meeting with a subtle clink. 'Catch 22.'

A knock at her office door drew her out of her thoughts. Lifting her head, she turned her gaze to it and spoke in a clear voice, "Come in." The handle turned slowly, and Azmaria, her rose-toned eyes narrowed somberly, walked in, followed by the freckled face of her partner, Anna.

"We heard about Yashua." Anna stated as she stopped just behind Azmaria in front of Kate's desk.

"I can understand why you think it's best for him to go learn how to use his powers with other devils, but why didn't you send us with him?" Azmaria asked, her voice cracking slightly, becoming shrill with worry. "I know Duke Duffau, I could have made things easier for him, I could—"

"Sister Azmaria," Kate said, raising her hand, her tone demanding silence. Both women grew quiet. Breathing deeply to calm herself, Kate paused to sip her tea, "That is exactly why I chose not to have you accompany him." Seeing their perplexed stares in her direction, she reiterated, "Because you both are already so close to both devils, I thought it best to have two who may not be so lenient in regards to what sort of training Yashua will get."

"Ehhh," Anna said, scratching the side of her head, "I don't get why you'd think we'd do that—" Anna and Azmaria inhaled sharply, startled, when Sister Kate slammed her hands onto her desk, her eyebrows twitching with frustration.

"Because you're emotionally attached to the boy, and because Azmaria knows Duke Duffau on a first-name basis, you stand a greater risk of trusting him instead of your GUTS!" She bellowed, her eyes clamped shut with barely suppressed rage. Knowing that they had been stunned silent once again, she continued, saying, "The fact that you are in here now only proves my point. As it stands now, the circumstances around Yashua's existence are mysterious at best. The fact that he looks like Chrono did NOT go unnoticed, Sisters, and neither did the fact that he also seems to share the late Sinner's powers." Turning her head slightly to look at Azmaria pointedly, she added, "I also know that some of you would give nearly anything for that to be true. But it must never be forgotten that he is still a devil and that everyone that he has come into contact with in his short time before coming here has either died mysteriously or at the very least been mentally traumatized."

"Ma'am, I know he's a devil, but can you really blame that on him when he was only just a baby?" Anna questioned incredulously.

"Sister Anna, how old is the devil boy now?" Kate asked, not waiting for a response, "And how old does he look, or behave? Is it not true that he is growing both mentally and physically at an alarming rate? Time has little ruling on devils, and I suspect that it holds even less control on one that can manipulate it."

Sensing that the discussion was a lost cause on their part, Azmaria curtseyed lightly, her partner stared at her with surprised silence, as she said to the headmistress, "We're sorry to have bothered you Ma'am. Excuse us, please, and we will be on our way."

Kate sighed, leaning back slightly into her chair, nodding her head slightly in turn. "You may leave." She said, allowing Anna to follow her partner's example and leave the room, waiting until they had closed the door behind them before standing to look out the large window. 'Unfortunately, the only thing I can do, now, is pray that we are not wrong in our actions. If he is Chrono, what reason does he have to come back? What could God have planned for us?'

"Ester! Get me a sinker and a cup of mud!" Lucia called as she slapped a note down onto the order rack, it being secured up by a small hook as she spun it around to the kitchen side of the busy diner before hearing a call from one of the other waitresses and adding, "Make that a double! Table 14!"

"Dry up, Lucia! We're going as fast as we can!" Ester hollered back, but not before turning on the rest of the kitchen staff and spurring them into going faster. Lucia sighed, glancing around the diner, swiping her hand up to push a stray hair away from her face, only to have it fall back again. Hearing the order bell, she turned and quickly grabbed the plates that were set out for her and taking them to the proper tables.

If she let herself think about it, she could be honest and feel like she had been working in this place forever, and yet still feel like she had only left the shelter of the orphanage yesterday. It had been surprising when she had left the place she had called her home for six years; even some of the strange children cried, almost more so than Tabitha and Pheobe. Remembering to smile as she greeted two customers as they sat down, she thought, while nodding her greeting, 'Not that it made a lot of difference. They've probably already forgotten all about me by now.' Turning her attention to the men who had picked up their menus. "Anything to start off with, fellows? We have ice tea?" she asked, hinting as she leaned slightly forward on their table. It wasn't that she was a gold-digger, not really, more it was just something she had learned to do out of habit; men tipped better when you flirted, and when so much of your living wage depended on the generosity of the customers, there was just no way around it if you liked such luxuries as eating and living indoors.

"Is it sweet tea? Real sweet tea?" one of the men asked, his blue eyes lifting up from his menu to gaze at her; his accent was southern. Sighing, he added, "They just never make it like they do back home."

Taking his statement as a challenge, she smiled broadly, putting her knuckles onto her hips. "You sure? How sweet is sweet? I'll make a bet; if it's not sweet enough, I'll pay your tab."

At this the other man, his hair was bleach white to match his coat and pulled back into a low ponytail, looked up at her as well, his violet eyes glimmering with something unreadable. The blue eyed man smiled, flicking a spiked bang out of his eyes. "That's an offer I just can't refuse. Make me a cup of tea that's sweeter than a woman's kiss."

Lucia smirked, quickly scribbling, in big letters; 1 Sweet tea. Make it cough syrup, Ester before turning to the other man, punctuating her writing by saying, "Copacetic… Something for you, sir?"

"A cup of coffee. Black, strong, with no sugar." He said, his voice rich and smooth.

Quickly, she wrote 1 Java—make it curl nose-hairs. "Anything else?" She asked, attempting to hide her faint blush from hearing the voice of the man with white hair. Considering his friend's less refined speech, she was taken by surprise by his delicate base and his carefully chosen words. Michigan was not well known for people with almost European rhythms in their talk, so when she had the pleasure of meeting people with that rare cadence, she found herself thinking back to a time when she, too, could talk in such a manner.

"We will have to look over the menus further." The violet eyed man answered, nodding to the waitress as she drifted away, lost in her own thoughts.

Satan raised an eyebrow at Lucifer. Lucifer, who still considered himself to be Aion, smirked back at him, his eyes peeking over his glasses and sparking with mischief. "What do you think of Holy, now?" Satan asked, leaning back slightly in the booth, propping one arm up onto the back of the seat, twisting his head to the side to look over his shoulder at the rest of the diner.

Aion reached his hand up and placed it onto the menu that was spread open in front of him, running his fingers over it, as though immersed in the words on the jacket-covered page, he answered, "She will be perfect envy." Looking up at Satan again, he added, "Yes, she will suit our plans nicely."

Satan pressed his lips together in a somber line, seeing their waitress returning with their drinks out of the corner of his eyes, he refocused his gaze onto his charge. "Ducky. Let's hit her on all sixes."

Returning to table seven, Lucia placed the sweet tea and black coffee in front of the respective customers. "There you go." She said cheerfully as Satan lifted the iced glass to his lips to take a sip. "Well, sweet tea, isn't it?" She asked.

"And how…Copacetic, Holy." He answered, snapping his fingers lightly under the table. Lucia paled as her eyes grew wide.

"H-how did—" She stammered as she backed away from them, screaming when she tripped over something solid and fell to the ground, crashing into the trash bins behind her. Gasping, she looked around herself wildly, realizing that she was no longer in the diner.

"We know all about you, Holy." Aion replied as he sipped his coffee, no longer sitting in the booth, rather, standing next to a worn picket fence with chipped white paint. Satan leaned down to stare into her eyes, his spiked blonde hair mingling with her dark locks, only a breath away from her face.

"Everything about you, Holy. Everything. Even how you lied to hide your own memories." Satan said, reaching a hand up to caress her face, smirking when her breath hitched in her throat, Aion coming to stand next to him.

"We know your darkest desires; your secret wish to reclaim the position of power you once had…"

Lucia started to tremble, shaking her head back and forth, unable to close her eyes. "No… No…" she chanted, the two devils chuckling at her distress. Aion reaching down and touching her forehead, a shock wave of force ripping into her form before she fell into unconsciousness.

Chapter Seven end

Oh no! The horror! The shame! Say it isn't so! It's ANOTHER FILLER CHAPTER! Again, I'm sorry for all of that, but it's very important to the story, I assure you.

Oh, and to those who wonder why the Sisters like Azmaria and Anna think that they are working for the church and not just for an organization that deals with devils, it's all part of the cover. If you repeat the same mantra enough, eventually, one would assume (if you've done it since you were a kid), you would start to believe it yourself.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Love you oodles!

Prinder