Linda was feeling a bit more upbeat today than had been her recent norm. There were a number of reasons for her good mood. It was a beautiful Friday morning. Charlie had slept through the night. She had a party to attend later tonight, along with Amenadiel.

And her patient caseload had been lightened significantly.

Over the past week she had shed clients like a cat shed fur. All the problem patients were gone—the ones who consistently missed appointments, the ones who constantly needed counseling outside their appointed times, the ones who were slow to pay, the ones who blamed her for their own inability to move forward. All gone, and she wished them the best on their journeys towards enlightenment—or, at least self-awareness.

She supposed her colleagues were happy to receive her referrals. Good for them! As for her, she was ecstatic to see her problem patients gone. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

But she also felt a little guilty about her decision, if she were being honest with herself. The patients she had fired had all been pains, true; but she hadn't gone into her profession only to help nice people. Some of her now-former clients had, perhaps, really needed her. Their lack of progress might have been as much her fault as theirs, if not more so. Her conscience pricked her a little bit for that. But the rest of her was ebullient that her caseload was going to be smooth sailing from here on out.

Thus, despite her conscience telling her off, she faced this particular Friday with considerably more anticipation than had recently been the case.

Only two patients today, Two hours of therapy, probably about 45 minutes of notes, no more than a half-hour of billing input. Less than four hours of work—maybe as few as three if things worked out. Now that was how a Friday should be!

And it gave her all afternoon to get ready for Lucifer's party. Dress up, he'd said in the text. She didn't really have anything that reached Lucifer's standards of proper party attire, but then her doorbell had rung. A deliveryman with packages; several of them—each containing Lucifer-level attire. She'd even made an appointment to get her hair done, which was a luxury her schedule had not afforded her for the past couple of months.

She was going to look amazing tonight!

Linda's ebullience carried her through her the two sessions, and the notes, and the billing details. Right up to the point when the doorbell rang again, and it was an LAPD Detective who wanted to talk to her about one of her patients. That didn't make her happy—at all.

"Ah, Detective Dutton," she said, after he introduced himself. "I know some of the Detectives at the LAPD. But I've not met you before."

"Uh, right, Doctor Martin," he replied. "I'm kind of new. Transferred in from … another Division."

"Right," she said. "And you are here because-?"

"You've been seeing a patient, Charles T. Pearson, of Pacific Palisades. Is that correct?"

Linda had to think about it for a moment. The name didn't ring a bell. Then she made the connection. "Oh, you mean Chuck. Yes, I've been seeing Chuck Pearson." She paused. "Or at least I was seeing him. He and I decided to part ways earlier this week."

"Oh, really?" the Detective said. "Mind if I ask why?"

Linda hesitated. This was getting close to the line that set the doctor-patient confidentiality boundary. Still, that question was in bounds: it could be answered. "We mutually decided that he would make better progress with another therapist. I referred him to a colleague."

"Who would that have been?"

"Darlene Corden. I referred several patients to her recently. Chuck was one of them."

Detective Dutton nodded and wrote down some notes in his little notepad. "Any particular reason you made the referrals?"

Linda smiled. "Turns out that being a single mom and a full-time therapist is not my thing. I decided to cut back on my patient caseload in order to have more time for my infant son."

The Detective nodded again, and made some more notes in the notepad. Linda thought that little notepad was a bit antiquated. Why not use a tablet? Oh, well, it was the LAPD, after all.

After he was done writing, he continued. "You say you've been seeing Pearson as a patient up until this week. When did you first start seeing him?"

Another question that could be answered. "I'd have to refer to my records to be sure, but I'd say offhand that it's been about four or five months. Maybe six."

"All right," he said. "Now I know you won't answer any questions that violate doctor-patient confidentiality…" and he looked hopeful when he said that, as if he wanted her to break the rules. But she shook her head firmly no.

"Detective, I want to help you. I have a very good history with the LAPD and I've always cooperated to the extent I could. But you know that you'll need a warrant in order to get any more information about a patient from me."

He sighed, but he also nodded. He was obviously disappointed, but he knew how the game was played.

"Doctor Martin, I have to tell you that Pearson is the prime suspect in a homicide investigation. The death of a young lady. If you have any information that he committed such a serious crime—"

"I would have to report it. Of course I would report it! One of my closest friends is a former Homicide Detective. Believe me, if I had any inkling that one of my patients had committed a murder, I would have no qualms about reporting it immediately."

"Okay. Thank you, Doctor Martin." He turned to go, but stopped. "Here's my card. If you learn anything—"

"I'll call you."

"Right. Have a good rest of your day."

Well, wasn't that a strange turn of events! Linda thought. Chuck is a dick from time to time, but I don't think he is capable of a cold-blooded murder. Maybe if he thought he was the victim of some wrong done to him … then, maybe. Maybe. But never a pre-meditated crime. That's just not him.

She turned back into her home. She still had time to get her hair done and then get ready. Amenadiel was coming over for dinner, and then they'd go to the party together. The sitter arrived at 7:45; the Lyft car arrived at eight. Plenty of time to drive to Chateau Seurat in order to arrive by nine.

She'd told the sitter they'd be back by midnight or a little later. She remembered her unfortunate nap at Lux and she didn't think she could stay awake any longer than that. She also remembered that Chloe and Ella had been discussing a case just as she had nodded out. Could they have been discussing this case? She wondered …

#

Later than night, with Charlie fed and put down, Linda and Amenadiel enjoyed a Caesar salad with chicken and a glass of nice Sauvignon Blanc. "Only one glass for me, please," she'd said to Amenadiel. "We've got a party to go to—and it's a Lucifer party."

"I agree," he said. "And I'd like to propose a toast."

"Oh, really," she replied. "What are we toasting?"

"I've been accepted into the Academy, Linda! And I start in two weeks."

"That's wonderful, Amenadiel," she said. But while saying that, she wondered—a bit selfishly—how his new police career was going to affect her. Without Amenadiel around to help out and give her a break from Charlie, things were going to get a little tougher. Not that she couldn't handle those things. But her daily load was going to be a bit heavier. Not to mention that, without Amenadiel around, her life was going to be duller, as well. Just having him around lightened her mood.

She was struck by the fact that just as she had lightened her caseload, the other side of the equation—the single mother side—had gotten heavier. She wondered if there was some karmic principle at work here? Like the total effort must always balance? She shook her head. Those thoughts were not worthy of her. She should be happy for Amenadiel! And she was. Only there was a downside to his acceptance into the Academy, and it seemed to fall squarely on her shoulders.

While she was sipping her wine, her phone vibrated. She looked down and saw it was Ella. With an apologetic look at Amenadiel, she picked it up. "Hi, Ella," she said. "What's up? … Oh, really? … Yes, we can fit three into the Lyft car. … Yes, of course you can. … But only one way? … Right. Sure. … Of course! See you at eight, or maybe a few minutes before."

Amenadiel was looking at her. "It was Ella," she explained. "She'd like to ride with us to the party. I said it was okay."

"Of course it's okay, Linda," he replied with a smile. He was always so easy-going! "Ella is more than welcome to come along with us. I imagine it's a little awkward to come to a party alone."

Linda nodded. "Yes, I think that's it. But she made sure to tell me that she'd be leaving separately. Apparently, she has an after-party date."

Amenadiel's eyebrows went up at that news, but he didn't say anything else. They returned to their dinner. They wanted to finish up before the sitter arrived.

As they were washing the dishes, there was a knock at the door.

"I wonder who that is?" Linda said. "It's too early for the sitter, and Ella isn't due until eight."

"I don't know," Amenadiel said. "But I'll go see." He set his towel on the sink and went to the door. From the kitchen, Linda heard the door open and then there was a long pause.

Finally, she heard Amenadiel say, "What are you doing here?"

Linda heard somebody else—maybe a woman?—answer Amenadiel. She couldn't make out the woman's words; but she had no trouble hearing his side of the conversation, though.

"Yes, she knows about Celestials," Amenadiel said to the unknown woman. "Yes, she does. As you know, she's Lucifer's therapist. … All right, you might as well come on in."

Linda didn't know what to expect, but she was still surprised at the woman who entered her kitchen. She was at a loss as to how to describe the woman. Petite and dark-haired were easy descriptors. But her ethnicity? Impossible to say: vaguely Asian but also hints of Spanish. Maybe some Filipino as well? She was like a mix of many ethnicities. Linda would love to know the real story there.

The strange woman looked at Linda and said "Hi." That was it. Nothing else.

Linda responded, "Hi, I'm Linda Martin. Amenadiel is –"

The woman interrupted. "He's the father of your baby. Little Charlie. Named in honor of Charlotte Richards, who was killed by Cain and is now in Heaven. Yes, I know all that."

Linda took a step back. Who was this stranger? She knew things … too many things. She looked at Amenadiel and tilted her head at the woman. Amenadiel got the signal, not that it had been subtle in the slightest.

"Linda, meet my sister, Azrael."

Linda's mouth opened in shock. It took her a second or two to process what Amenadiel had just said.

"Azrael … your sister? The Angel of Death?"

Amenadiel nodded. Azrael just looked at Linda, who was struggling with the situation.

Finally, Linda said, "Oh, wow. I've heard of you, of course. You and your Blade." Then she had an inspiration. "What a tough job you have! I don't know who has it worse, you or Lucifer! I mean, he had to rule Hell and torture sinners, but you have to take all the souls to Heaven or to Hell. That seems like quite a lot of work!"

Azrael smiled at that. "Finally, a human who gets it! Mostly what I hear is 'don't' take me to Hell,' as if I had anything to do with their choice. It's so depressing to have to deal with so many whiners every day."

Linda nodded. "I'm sure it is."

Azrael looked at the table. Linda followed her gaze and saw the bottle of wine, still open. "Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked her Celestial guest.

Azrael nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you."

The three sat at the table and Amenadiel poured. He looked at Linda, eyebrow raised. "I know what I said earlier; but that was before we had our surprise guest." He nodded and poured her a glass.

The three looked at each other. Finally, Amenadiel said, "And what should we toast to?"

Azrael said, "Lucifer and Chloe, and their wedding." They said chin chin, clinked their glasses together, and sipped the wine. Linda took more than a sip.

Azrael smiled and nodded. "Nice. That tastes good. It's been a long time since I've tasted wine."

Amenadiel smiled back at his sister. "Interesting toast, Rae-Rae. You probably know we're going to a party later tonight, hosted by Lucifer. Are you saying that—"

"I don't know what the party is about tonight, brother. But I hope the party about them. Getting engaged, getting married, you know. Whatever humans call it." She looked at Linda. "You humans have so many names for things. So many steps in what should be a simple process."

"We do indeed," Linda agreed. "But that doesn't really explain why you're here, does it?"

"Ah, right," Azrael said. "You are a smart one, aren't you? I see why Lucifer and Amenadiel want you in their lives." She looked down for a moment, perhaps gathering her thoughts. Then she looked back up at the other two. "I'm here because Ella … didn't push them hard enough."

"Ella?" they both said at the same time.

"Yes, Ella. She's been my friend for a long time, since I first met her when she was eight. Lucifer knows … he knows about Ella and me. But Ella thinks I'm just a ghost."

"Why did you tell her you were a ghost?" Amenadiel asked.

"Because, you know, I didn't think she was ready to have a friend who was an angel. By the time she was ready, it was just too late. How awkward would that conversation have been?"

"All right, Azrael," Linda said. "Let's accept that Ella knows you as a ghost and you've been friends for years. With all of that, why did you say you're here because of Ella?"

"Good question, Linda,' Amenadiel said. "She said she was here because 'Ella didn't push hard enough' … what does that mean?"

"Okay, I'll explain," Azrael replied. "I hope you'll have better luck than she did." She looked down for a second, and spoke to the wineglass. "It's about Michael, really."

"Michael?"

"Yeah, Michael. He didn't like how things turned out with Lucifer at the football stadium. He really didn't like that, at all." She paused, then continued in a voice that they had to strain to hear. "So he's been talking to some of the others, you know? Telling them that Lucifer has been influenced by Chloe. That she's making him into something Father never intended."

"But this makes no sense! Michael has no wings—"

"Right. So they come down to him, and they talk. Well, Michael talks, really. They mostly listen. You know him. And now there are a few angels who are afraid of her. Like … really afraid."

"Afraid of a human?" Amenadiel scoffed. "A human with no wings and no celestial powers. Right."

"You haven't heard him, brother. You know what he calls her? He calls her 'Angel Killer'. And you know she did kill two of our siblings."

Linda was shocked. Chloe? Killed two angels? That made no sense. How could she have done that? But before she could say anything, Amenadiel was already speaking.

"I was there, Azrael. I saw what she did. She killed them to save Lucifer—and all of us as well. It was self-defense. Everybody saw it."

"Yes. That's true. Everybody saw it. But now Michael is using that to turn the angels against her … and against Lucifer, really. You know how he uses their fears: if Lucifer is God, can we really afford to have a human consort sitting by his side, influencing him? Influencing him in unpredictable ways?" She looked at Amenadiel. "After all, look how much she's influenced him in just a few years! Imagine if she had centuries to work on him. At least, that's what Michael is saying to the others."

"And you told all this to Ella?" Linda asked. She lifted her wine glass, but the glass was completely empty.

"No, of course not. I just told her to push Lucifer and Chloe to get married as quickly as possible. And she didn't do it. Or maybe she didn't try hard enough. Either way, now it's up to you two."

"Okay, but that still doesn't tell us how the two of them getting married is going to stop Michael's plans."

"Maybe it won't, I don't know. But I think if the others see them as a couple, a package deal, then maybe it will be easier to accept her in the Silver City. I don't know. But this was the only plan I could think of. You know I don't have as much time to sit around and plan things as you do." Azrael took another sip of her wine. "You know, this is really good wine."

The doorbell rang. It was the sitter, Linda guessed. And if the sitter was here, could Ella be far behind?

"Well, that's my cue, I guess." Azrael took her final sip of wine and looked at Linda. "It was nice to meet you, Linda. Thanks for being a friend to my big brothers. I hope I see you again. I mean, of course I'll see you again … eventually. But I hope I get to see you again before that time."

Linda nodded. "It was nice to meet you, too, Azrael. Good luck on your work. I hope you get some nice souls to escort tonight."

Azrael smiled at that. The doorbell rang again, which woke Charlie up. He began to cry.

"I'll get the door; you get Charlie," Amenadiel said.

Linda started to walk upstairs to see to her son, and she heard a rushing sound. When she looked back, Azrael was gone.

What had Azrael said? She wanted Linda and Amenadiel to push Lucifer and Chloe to get married as quickly as possible. Linda understood why Ella hadn't been able to influence them. She tried to imagine pushing Lucifer to do anything he didn't want to do. And Chloe? Chloe was going to be gun-shy after her impetuous and ultimately disastrous decision to accept Pierce's proposal. She wasn't going to rush into a decision this time, just because her friends thought she should. Instead, she was going to think through everything at least three different ways. No, this was a very difficult task that Azrael had given them. She shook her head. The task was almost impossible.

She hoped Amenadiel had a plan.